First, there was darkness, then I slowly began to see a light

My eyes had trouble focusing, my head was pounding.

“Looks like yer coming to, sonny,” said a voice.

Through the haze, I managed to finally to look at the owner of the voice.

“Whu… where am I?” I managed to say.

“Why, you’re at my cabin, of course,” said the owner of the voice. “Be careful now, you’re still hurtin’ from the beatin’ you took.”

“Who… Who are you?” I stammered.

“Why I’m Yooper T. Flintlock, that’s who,” the man answered. “I’ve been prospectin’ these hills for nigh on 20 years. You’re the biggest thing I’ve caught, though. Heh heh heh.”

“How’d I get here?” I looked around the cabin. Then I winced in pain. My shoulder was killing me.

“I brought you and the Marshal here after I pulled you two out of the river,” Yooper answered. “You’re lucky I was there, too. You fellas were in some sad shape!”

“That explains the pain,” I winced. “Thanks for bandaging me up.”

“Oh I did more’n that,” he laughed. “I ain’t just a grizzled old prospector character, y’know. I know how to use some of the saps and roots to heal you up. Be careful, though, you’ve got a ways to go. Heh heh heh.”

“How’s Marshal Hawks?” I asked.

“He’s alive,” Yooper answered. “He ain’t doin’ as good as you are, though. You must be strong as an ox.”

“Almost as smart, too,” I replied. “I can’t believe we stumbled into an ambush like that.”

“Well, yer lucky, that’s fer sure,” he smiled a partially-toothy grin. “Can’t say that I can comment much on your intelligence, though, heh heh heh.”

I moved over to where the Marshal was lying down. He squinted in pain as he looked over at me.

“Bein’ a lawman’s a young man’s game,” he coughed.

“Aw, don’t say that,” I replied. “You got plenty of good years left in you.”

“I don’t think so, son,” he coughed. “I’m gettin’ too old for this stuff. Lettin’ us walk right into an ambush just like that.”

“I walked right into it too,” I said. “I wasn’t thinkin’ too clearly myself. But you’ll get better and we’ll go get the Jango James Gang.”

“We gotta get ‘em now,” he coughed. “They know we’re down and once they get the gang all together, they’re gonna be headin’ straight to town with guns blazin.’”

“The Marshal ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Yooper interrupted. “Least not yet. He’s still hurtin’ too much to uphold much law right now.”

“Then I’ll go.” I reached for the belt holstering my two pistols. I winced again as needles of pain ran up and down my shoulder and torso.

“You ain’t gonna last long against those coyotes,” Marshall Hawks objected. “You can’t do it alone.”

“I’ll do what I can, then lead them back to town,” I answered. “The townspeople will have to defend themselves. We outnumber the gang there.”

“It’s suicide to take them on yourself,” the old Marshal shook his head. “You can’t do it.”

“Then either stop me or go rally the town folk.” I looked him in the eye solemnly. He knew I meant business.

Wincing in pain, I buckled my gun belt around my waist. I looked at the hat that the Marshall gave me, it was black as coal. I looked at the salt-stained headband and after a pause, I settled it down on my head, then ran my forefinger and thumb across the brim. I gave my two companions a quick salute and closed the door behind me.

“That’s quite a deputy ya got there,” Yooper said to the Marshal. “Real brave.”

“Yeah,” the old lawman looked at the door. “Just brave enough to get us all killed.”