How the Stars did Fall Read Online Free Page A

he was, had managed to aim his rifle at Faraday but his shot was errant, hitting the nearest horse twice. It shrieked as it collapsed, the beast’s weight bending the beam on which it was tied, nearly breaking it. Now the other horses entered into a frenzy and tried to run away, pulling at their reins, and this force was enough to snap the beam like a twig. The loss of that single column was enough to destabilize the whole structure of the porch, the awning cracking off the rest of the cabin, falling and just missing the drunkard by a hair as he jumped over the steps and off the porch.
    Holding on to the reins of the largest horse, Faraday tried to calm it down and mount it, but its fury proved uncontrollable and Faraday soon lost his grip on the reins. By now the drunkard had reloaded his rifle and aimed it at Faraday from a prone position. The shot caught Faraday in the thigh just as he found cover behind the fallen awning. He fought through the pain and, knowing the drunkard would have to reload before he could fire again, came out of cover and unloaded his revolver’s last three shots into the man, killing him.
    By now a small crowd of black slaves had come together to watch the altercation. Most of them were women, but from behind them came a man bearing a machete. He inspected the bodies and, finding the men dead, put aside his machete and stood over Faraday like some ebony colossus, his skin slick with sweat.
    “I need help,” Faraday said. “Can any of you dress a wound?”
    If the slave understood he gave no sign. Instead he lifted Faraday off the ground and carried him away, into one of the slave huts. Then he had one of the slave women come in with a bucket of water and some rags and she ripped Faraday’s pants up around the wound and wiped it.
    “You have to get the bullet out,” Faraday said.
    The woman also did not appear to understand. She continued wiping and when she was satisfied she took the rags and dressed the wound, tying the pieces together tight as she could manage to stop the bleeding. Then the black man urged Faraday up from the bed with gestures and pointed outside, where another slave had calmed one of the horses down and given it water and hay.
    “Thank you,” Faraday said. “Thank you.”
    He mounted up, wincing as he did so, for the wound stung badly, and he looked up at the sky. The sun had begun to descend in the west and Faraday rode hard in that direction. He remembered that there was a town near the Tuttle estate, on the coastline, and he needed a doctor with some urgency. He knew abandoning his brother’s trail would make it almost impossible to find Daniel later but the wound had left him with no choice but to postpone his quest for the moment. While the horse negotiated the terrain, Faraday thought about his brother. Before bringing the idea of robbing Tuttle to Daniel, Faraday had considered the possibility that Daniel could take the gold for himself. But he had dismissed this risk as one worth taking if it meant freeing his family from debt. Now there he was, wounded and on the doorstep of death, with nothing to show for it. He tried to think about what his best course of action would be once he was healed, but the pain clouded his thinking, and he decided to put off all thought of the future and concentrate on saving himself. The sun burned hot and steady above him and Faraday thirsted for water and thanked God for his hat and the small shadow it carved out for him in that hot and inhospitable land.

Chapter Four

    The hours passed and Faraday’s injured thigh gave him no respite, the throbbing pain increasing, the sharp ache coinciding with the gait of the horse as it carried on past the flat fields surrounding Tuttle’s estate and entered into the rocky terrain of the coast, passing by clusters of trees like immobile families, their foliage verdant and lush. Faraday stopped the horse when he saw a few shrubs bearing little red berries. These he approached with relish,