Wyoming Dream

De: Curtis Hawk

Narrado por: Virtual Voice

“There are eight of them!” Luke called out. Wesley drove the horses hard. They crashed through a wide, shallow riverbed and continued on the other side. Suddenly, Wesley pulled the wagon to an abrupt stop and jumped to the ground. “Get down from there!” He ordered. “We can’t outrun them. We’ll have to fight them off.” Luke grabbed hold of the woman and dragged her down from the wagon behind him, pulling her toward a cluster of nearby trees. Wesley started off through the woods ahead of them. “Where the hell are you going?” Luke called after him. “Around the other side of those rocks dag nabit, we can get them from two directions that way.” “Just watch yourself be careful!” “You do the same!” Luke, still holding tightly to the woman’s arm, looked around quickly. Spotting a slight rise in the otherwise flat terrain, he moved toward it, kneeling, pulling his hostage to the ground beside him. Luke’s mind was racing as he took aim. If these Indians were her people coming to rescue her, how could he shoot them with her sitting right next to him? She was pulling at the knotted rope with her teeth, but stopped when she realized Luke was watching her. Luke turned, raised his rifle and sighted on the nearest target. “Turn back,” He said aloud. “Please turn back.” Luke felt a blast of air just above his head, then heard a soft thud. He only looked back long enough to see an arrow lodged in the tree behind him. “That was too damn close!” He took aim once again. He heard the report of Wesley’s gun and watched as one of the Indian men tumbled from his horse. Two of the others exchanged a quick glance, then turned and hurried off in the direction of the rifle blast. Five Indians on horseback were still coming toward him, closing in fast. He pulled the trigger, and one of them fell, he continued to shoot. By the time the second man hit the ground, the rest of them had pulled their horses back, calling out to each other. They turned and fled. Luke let out a steadying breath, lowering his rifle. Looking back toward the Indian woman, his eyes met hers. She slowly looked away. “I’m sorry about all of this,” he muttered. She glanced up at him. Luke let out a steadying breath. “Wesley!” He called out. “They’re gone.” He didn’t answer. “Wesley?” Luke stood and looked toward the large rocks. “Wesley! Where are you?” He hurried across the uneven ground toward the heap of gray stone boulders. “Wesley?” He rounded the nearest corner and stopped short.