Your horse reared the moment a rattlesnake appeared from its hiding spot in a bush.
"Go, go, go," you begged. Your boots hit the side of your horse. The reins slapped against its skin to bring it back to reality. The reality that the sheriff of the town was hot on your trails.
You managed to turn around to see Sheriff Adam Page on his horse. Two other men followed after him. The three horse riders were closer than before. One pulled out their pistol and shot. The pain in your shoulder was instant. Blood stained your shirt and splattered onto your house.
"Go," you strained. Your hand gripped your shoulder. The rattlesnake took off from the commotion. Your horse, now afraid of the gunfire, took off once more. Every movement caused the pain in your shoulder to intensify.
Your vision was blurred from tears. The last thing you heard was Sheriff Page telling his men to hold back. At least you wouldn't get arrested. Not today.
As the stars rose above the night sky, you managed to find an abandoned shack. When no other options were available, you slid off your horse and walked inside. Holes were abundant in the roof. The place had an odd odor. Layers of dust covered the broken furniture, but it was a place to stay.
You spotted a wooden dresser. In your current state, you wouldn't put up much of a fight. With your body weight and good shoukder, you managed to push the dressed to the door.
Your feet dragged as you walked to the bed. The bed creaked under your weight when you laid down. Your revolved lay on the nightstand. You kicked off your cowboy boots and drifted off to sleep.
A loud sound jostled you awake. The dresser moved to the side. Sheriff Adam Page stood in front of the open door. Drops from the rain fell from the brim of his cowboy hat.
"Not today," you begged. The confidence you once had slipped through your fingers. You reached out for your gun and screamed in pain.
The sheriff walked inside the shack. His light eyes never left you.
"You look terrible," he quipped. "Definitely different than your wanted posters."
You grabbed your revolver. Your hand shook as you pointed it at him. A mixture of pain and fear coursed through your veins. "Ch-charming."
"Now, I ain't a betting man, but something tells me you ain't gonna pull that trigger."
"What makes you say that?"
Adam made a point to stare at the hand that held the gun. Your shot would miss him even if you had the strength to pull the trigger.
"I'm not here to fight, ma'am," he spoke. His words were backed by his actions once he placed his pistol and rifle on the table. The weapons were not in reach of either of you.
"Scared I would win?"
Adam grabbed a chair from the table. He placed it a few feet away from you. The sheriff showed genuine concern for you. "Your blood led me here, and I'm sure these sheets weren't covered in it when you laid down."
"What are you going to do?"
"I am not going to let you die."
Adam allowed you to drink some alcohol. A leather strap lay next to you. His hand held tweezers. He vowed to remove the bullet from your shoulder. At least he was a gentleman enough to let you get drunk first.
"Just get it over with," you sighed. The leather strap was placed securely in your mouth.
Adam rolled his long sleeves to his elbows.
"This is going to hurt."
The tweezers sunk down in your wound. You started to hyperventilate before all composure was gone. Screams left your mouth. Tears streamed down the side of your face. Your back arched as your body squirmed in an attempt to stop the pain coming from your shoulder. After what felt like an eternity, he was able to take the bullet out of you.
He used the leftover whiskey to clean your wound and bandaged you up. You passed out from the events that took place that day. This was only the beginning.
A strong fever took hold of you. Sweat poured down your body. Hallucinations made you believe you were somewhere else. Your breath was ragged from the aches and pain associated with the fever. You prayed for death. Anything to be rid of all of this.
Adam was there through it all. He made you drink water. Stews were a staple with him as they cooked over the fireplace. Your wound was cleaned, and bandages reapplied regularly.
After a few days, you woke up like it was just another day. Your eyes fluttered open to look at him. His eyes swum through the pages of his Bible.
You licked your dry lips. "Why?"
Your question caught him off guard. He peered at you above his Bible.
"Why what?"
"Why am I not in jail? You have me right where you want me," you answered. Your eyes drifted to the handcuffs that hung from his belt.
Adam placed the Bible down on the nightstand. His fingers tapped the book gently. "The men you stole from were hurting innocent people. I swore to protect the good people and not the bad ones."
The corner of your mouth weakly rose to a smile.
"So I'm free to go?"
"You still broke a law. Several laws even, but I won't be arresting you. At least not today."
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