River

Stu

Well, that sure went to shit.

I told myself I was being a coward, too scared to leave my dull job, and that I needed to just snap out of it and do whatever Mason said. It had been years of lugging boxes up and down the docks. It was boring and hard and tedious, and here was the perfect opportunity to break out of it to have some freedom and fun.

So I ignored the voice shouting a warning in my head, and went along.

Why didn’t I just listen to the fucking voice?

I still can’t believe the sight of him standing there, blood everywhere, after she had gotten away from him, looking like he still planned to seize the woman and make off with her.

I had to physically force him to get out of there. At least he came along with me once I grabbed him, and we managed to make it past the treeline before anyone could follow us.

I’m very familiar with this area so I’ve been able to get us far enough away from town that I am pretty certain nobody will find us. He says he knows a place to hide, where his other partner Little Harpe will be waiting, so we’re heading there.

Fine.

It’s not too far away, should only take us a couple of days to get there. Under normal circumstances, at least.

But Mason is not doing well. He has lost so much blood. I don’t think he appreciates how much. He was so obsessed with keeping hold of that whore that he lost all perspective and was paying no attention to his wound until she kneed it. But I certainly saw it, blood gushing everywhere, alarming the hell out of me.

He’s still walking, but barely. I am having to hold him up from one side, while he staggers along, barely able to control the leg that was shot.

After a couple of hours of walking, when we get to a spot where I know nobody else will see us, I make him sit down and rest.

“Let me look at that,” I tell him.

He only grunts, leaning back against a tree, closing his eyes.

So I move over to him, and look at the wound through the hole in his blood-soaked trousers that the bullet burned through on its way in. Blood is still seeping out of the wound, but not as much as had been at first. I lift his leg a little, and he hisses. I look around the back of his leg, but there is no hole in the trousers there. As far as I can tell, the lead ball must still be in there somewhere.

Well, he’s going to have to live with it. I’m no surgeon, and besides I wouldn’t have any way to dig it out. We don’t even have Mason’s knife, since that fell out of his hand right before he lost his grip on the woman.

At least I can try to bind the wound up a little. I tear some strips off the bottom of his homespun jacket and tie the cloth around his thigh. Hopefully at least this will stop it from bleeding so much.

By the time I’m done with that I think he has passed out.

God.

What have I gotten myself into?

Well, I’ll just wait it out, give him a little time to rest, before I have to wake him up so we can be on our way.

Henry

I have kept the mercantile open extra late tonight, since I had neglected it all afternoon, and I want to make sure that anyone who still needs to come by will be able to get whatever they need. I do have some late customers.

I’ve been too busy to spend much time actively thinking about the dramatic scene that unfolded in front of Gregor’s house, although it has been in the back of my mind.

Finally, though, I’m closing up shop. Just as I am finishing, Gregor and Samuel arrive, looking quite somber.

I wasn’t expecting this, but I’m glad for it, because I am dying of curiosity. What on earth happened today?

“Hello, Henry,” Gregor says. “Thank you for running along to help out.”

I nod. I still don’t know what it was I was supposed to be helping out with.

“I would like to explain everything to you, Henry,” he says. “Can we come in?”

“Well, how about we just go to the club? I’m past due there for supper with Samuel.” I look at my nephew, standing quietly alongside. “The other Samuel.”

He pauses a moment, apparently considering, then says, “Yes, of course. Is this all right with you, Samuel?” he asks my nephew.

He only nods.