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seated position, swung his legs around so that his feet touched the floor. He was about to try to stand when he got dizzy. Spots appeared in front of his eyes, so he closed them and began to breathe deeply.
    It didn’t help. If the doctor hadn’t come back in at that moment and caught him, the Gunsmith would have hit the floor.

SEVEN
    When Clint came to, he was looking at the ceiling again.
    â€œDoc?”
    The doctor rushed in from the other room and looked down at him.
    â€œHow are you feelin’?”
    â€œTerrible,” he said. “Come on, Doc, you’ve got to tell me. How long is my hand going to be like this?”
    â€œThe truth is, I don’t know, Mr. Adams,” Doc Jacobs said. “There was significant damage to the ligaments in your arm.”
    â€œWill they heal?”
    â€œThat’s what we have to wait to find out.”
    â€œHow long?”
    â€œHonestly? I have no idea.”
    â€œDoc, look,” Clint said, “do you know who I am?”
    â€œYou’re the second person to ask me that today. Yes, I do know who you are, Mr. Adams: the Gunsmith.”
    â€œIf word got out that I couldn’t use my right hand—” Clint started.
    â€œI understand that, Mr. Adams. I assure you, no one is going to hear it from me.”
    â€œSecond,” Clint said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou said I was the second person today to ask you that,” Clint said. “Who was the first?”
    â€œOh, the sheriff. He just asked me that a little while ago.”
    â€œAnd what did you tell him?”
    â€œWhat I told you.”
    â€œSo he knows I can’t use my right hand?”
    â€œHe does,” the doctor said, “but as far as I know, he doesn’t plan to tell anyone.”
    â€œBut that doesn’t mean he won’t, at some point.”
    â€œHe’s the law, Mr. Adams.”
    â€œSorry, Doc,” Clint said, “but I’ve run into a lot of badge-toters who had their own ideas about upholding the law.”
    â€œI see.”
    â€œCan I leave?”
    â€œYou can’t even stand,” the doctor said.
    â€œI can at least try that again.”
    â€œOkay,” Jacobs said, “let’s try it.”
    He helped Clint into a seated position, then backed away so the man could try to stand on his own. This time, Clint made it to his feet.
    â€œOkay,” he said. “I can stand.”
    â€œNext,” the doctor said, “try takin’ a step.”

    Rosemary got two rooms at the hotel. She figured she would share one with Jenny. The other three girls would share the second room. If Delilah and Morgan didn’t kill Abigail by morning, it would be a miracle. Maybe Rosemary would take the older woman instead.
    She waited in the lobby for the four other women to appear. They had brought whatever they could carry with them.
    â€œHow’d you know which hotel I’d be at?” she asked.
    â€œWe asked the man at the livery stable which hotel was the cheapest,” Jenny said.
    â€œOkay, here,” she said, handing Jenny a key. “You share a room with Delilah and Morgan. Abigail, you’re with me.”
    â€œFine.”
    â€œTake our belongings to the rooms,” she told them.
    â€œWhere are you going?” Abigail asked.
    â€œI’m going to go and check on Clint.”
    â€œWhy are you worried about that man?” Abigail asked. “We don’t need him anymore.”
    â€œAbigail,” Rosemary said, “he got hurt trying to help us.”
    â€œIt wasn’t our fault,” Abigail said.
    â€œIt was your fault,” Jenny said to her.
    â€œIt was not!”
    â€œYeah, it was,” Morgan said.
    â€œGirls,” Rosemary said, “just go to your rooms. I’ll be back in a while and then we’ll get something to eat.”
    She turned and left them in the lobby, still arguing.
    Â 
    Clint took a step, then two, then three. There