After taking another sip of water, the man stretched out his arms across the table. His leather riding gloves were threadbare and the exposed skin appeared red, sticky and sore. Looking hard at his shaking hands, the bedraggled and windswept cowboy dragged in a long breath. “I came upon my horse within half a day. I thank God there was a water canteen hanging from the saddle, otherwise I doubt I would have made it, even though there was barely a spoonful inside.”
“Just get to it, Willis,” said Reece, standing at the opposite end of the large table. Beside him Manuela stood, resolute, her eyes fixed on the open doorway beyond, almost as if she were waiting for someone else to appear.
The cowboy sighed. “They shot us to pieces. We was moving fast across open country when they opened up on
