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that.”
    “Yes, ma’am. I agree with you. But it’s always been like that, and I suppose it always will be, at least to a certain extent.”
    She smiled at him again. “You don’t exactly talk like a gunfighter, Mr. Morgan. You seem more like an educated man.”
    “A man can be handy with a gun and still be educated.”
    “There I go again, saying things that sound worse than I really intended them.”
    The Kid shook his head wearily. “Don’t worry about it, ma’am. I’m in your debt as much as you are in mine. You and your husband saved my life.”
    “You wouldn’t have been hurt if it wasn’t for us.”
    “No, ma’am, that’s not right. I wouldn’t have been hurt if it wasn’t for those four men who rode in just before I did. They’re the ones who caused all the trouble, and it doesn’t make any sense to blame yourself for what they did.”
    “I know.” Frannie paused. “My goodness, I’m about to talk your ear off, and here you are just now starting to recover from the awful fever. I’ll bet you’re thirsty.”
    The Kid’s mouth was like cotton, and talking hadn’t help. “Yes, ma’am. Parched.”
    “I’ll get you some water. And how about some food?”
    The Kid hadn’t realized it until she mentioned it, but he was starving. “I could do with something to eat,” he admitted.
    “Stay right there.”
    He smiled. “I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere just yet.”
    But soon, he hoped. He needed to be back on his feet just as soon as he could.
    Before trouble came calling again, as it always did.

Chapter 4

    By evening, The Kid was sitting up in the bed with pillows propped behind him. When Sean Williams came in, the rancher grinned to see him doing so well and came over to shake hands.
    “I haven’t had a chance to properly thank you yet, Mr. Morgan,” he said. “You’ve been, uh, out of your head for a while, at least most of the time.”
    The Kid nodded. “I know. There’s no thanks necessary. You and Mrs. Williams saved my life.”
    “After you saved ours.”
    The Kid gestured toward the bandage that Sean still wore around his head. “How’s that bullet graze?”
    “Just about healed up. I probably don’t even need the bandage anymore.” Sean inclined his head toward the stove, where Frannie was stirring a pot of stew with her back to them. “But she thinks it’s a good idea.”
    “I heard that, you know,” she said without turning around.
    Sean grinned. “Anyway, I’m fine, and I’m glad to see that you’re on the mend, too, Mr. Morgan.”
    “Call me Kid.”
    “That’s all? Kid?”
    “It’s enough.”
    “Sure. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
    The Kid waved a hand to show that he wasn’t bothered by what Sean said. “You haven’t had any blurred vision, double vision, anything like that?”
    Sean frowned and shook his head. “No.”
    “Any loss of memory?”
    “Nope. Those sound like questions a doctor would ask. You’re not—”
    “A doctor?” The Kid shook his head. “Not hardly. I’ve just been around men who had head wounds before, and sometimes they didn’t realize just how badly they were hurt until a few days later.”
    “Well, I’m fine. I had a headache for the first day, but once that went away, I’ve never been better.” Sean lowered his voice again and held up his hand with his thumb and forefinger almost touching. “There’s something about coming this close to dying that makes a man really appreciate living, you know?”
    The Kid nodded. He knew, all right. Despite the fatalism that gripped him most of the time, he had experienced those moments of sheer exhilaration that sometimes followed a brush with death. He had drawn in a deep breath and realized that the air had never smelled sweeter, even though a tinge of gunsmoke might linger in it.
    “I was wondering about my horse.”
    “I found him picketed up on the hill behind the barn. He’s in there now with my horses. Don’t worry, we’ve been taking good care