CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The same could not be said for Norton.
Slowing the buggy down to a steady walk, Roose steered it under the cover of low trees clustered around jagged rocks and smooth boulders. Jumping down, he stretched out his back before taking a look at the wounded Norton. The man’s head was lolling on his chest, a trail of saliva mingled with blood drooling from the corner of his mouth. Lifting the man’s head by the chin, Roose sucked in a breath. “Wish you’d been able to get him to the Doc’s. He’s bad, miss. Very bad.”
She was sobbing, face in hands. “It’s my fault,” she said. “I should have tended to him better back at home, but I insisted on him goin’ to the Doc’s. One of the wounds was festering, and I didn’t have the means …” She looked across at the stricken Norton and release
