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controlling the pain.
    “The bullet went clear through,” he said through gritted teeth. “Make sure there are no pieces of cloth in the wound.”
    Dawn nodded. “Can you get to your feet if I help you? You need to be in bed. I’ve done this for Billy before. Do you have some whiskey? Billy always said whiskey was the best disinfectant.”
    “In my saddlebag. If I hang on to your shoulder I think I can get up. Damn that bastard! Did you see who it was?”
    Dawn bent and placed his arm over her shoulder.“It was Sam Pickens. He came for the money. I think you wounded him.”
    Cole grimaced. “He’ll be back. So will Spider Lewis.”
    “All right, easy does it. Up.”
    Cole flexed his knees and lifted himself to his feet, trying not to put too much of a burden on Dawn. She was far too frail to bear his full weight. The pain was bearable, but nevertheless he was damn glad to reach the bed.
    “I’ll remove your boots and get the whiskey,” Dawn said, concern coloring her words.
    Cole thanked God he wasn’t badly injured but was upset at his carelessness. Now this pesky wound was going to put him out of commission for a day or two. He shifted against the cornhusk mattress and closed his eyes, willing away the pain.
    Dawn returned with the whiskey and stopped short of the bed when she saw Cole lying so still with his eyes closed. Fear spiraled through her. Upon first glance she thought he was … No, she thought, giving herself a mental shake. Cole’s wound wasn’t serious. He was a strong man. Billy had received wounds more serious than this and survived. So would Cole. Then she saw the steady rise and fall of his chest and chided herself for a fool. Of course Cole would live.
    Dawn approached the bed and set the whiskey bottle down on the floor. “I’m going to take off your shirt and cleanse the wound,” she said as Cole sensed her presence and opened his eyes.
    Cole cooperated by lifting his torso so she could take his arms from the sleeves.
    “This is going to hurt like the devil. Billy always had one of his men hold him down.”
    He gritted his teeth. “Go ahead. I’m no stranger to pain.”
    Dawn caught her lower lip between even white teeth and angled the whiskey bottle over Cole’s wound. He jerked at the first spill of the amber liquid against his raw flesh and then went utterly still.
    “Are you all right?”
    “Fine.” His taut voice and pain-darkened eyes betrayed his agony. “Just get it over with.”
    Dawn continued to pour. “Turn over, I need to disinfect the exit wound.”
    Beads of sweat gathered on Cole’s forehead as he slid to his side, then onto his stomach. “You … make … a … good nurse.”
    “You’re a better patient than Billy. He didn’t dare go to a doctor and expected me to treat his wounds. I’ve dug a bullet or two out in my time.” She worked quickly and efficiently. Once the area was clean, she tore her only spare sheet into strips and bound his wound securely. When she finished, she raised the whiskey bottle, saw there was an inch or two remaining and said, “There’s some left, perhaps you could do with a healthy swallow.”
    Cole tried to rise but couldn’t. “I’m going to need help.”
    Dawn poured the whiskey into a battered tin cup, lifted Cole’s head and held it to his lips. He drank until the cup was empty. Then he lay back with a sigh and closed his eyes. Tomorrow he’d feel stronger. Tomorrow he’d be out of bed andable to resume his search for the money. He hoped to God that Sam and Spider wouldn’t show up until his strength returned.
    Cole wanted to sleep but couldn’t. He knew there was something he was forgetting. Something he had to tell Dawn. With great effort he opened his eyes. Dawn was still there, out of focus, but still there. He remembered what he wanted to say.
    “The gun. Get it.”
    “If Sam or Spider show up while I’m still under the weather, take my guns and shoot to kill. They’re vicious men. They’ll stop at