He was still asleep when I woke up, but I wasn’t surprised. He’d had a pretty close shave, and it would be a while before he was back to himself – whoever that was. In the meantime, I had finally stumbled upon a plan, and it made me feel a lot better as I went to get more water. Even the empty snares didn’t stop me from whistling as I made the last bit of my coffee.

“You seem in a good mood.” The kid rolled over slightly and sat up.

I shrugged. “Check your pockets.” I said.

“What?”

“Your pockets. See if there’s anything there that can jog your memory.”

His fingers slid first into his jacket pockets, then his pants and finally his shirt, and he pulled out a few crumpled pieces of paper. He carefully peeled them open and then frowned and tossed them to the side.

“Too water stained to read.” He said.

I nodded. I had figured as much. “Nothing written on your shirt?” Maybe I’d get lucky and he’d be an escaped convict with a prison number written on the back of his shirt. But after taking his shirt off, he shook his head.

“Lack of foresight on your part.” I muttered.

“As if you have your name branded on the backside of your pants.” He shot back as he pulled his shirt back over his head. “What is your name anyway?”

“Call me Wade.” I wasn’t telling him my last name. “And I don’t suppose you care what I call you?”

His shrug was about the most bewildered and dispirited that I’d ever seen as he gestured with both hands out. Lucky for him I had a backup plan.

“Have you ever been to Coledale?” I asked.

The air of helplessness turned to anger.

“How should I know?” he snapped.

“I don’t know, does the name sound familiar?” My voice matched his sharp tone.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” His forehead wrinkled. “Could be. Why?”

“The Spruce River runs by it about seven miles upstream of where I found you. Maybe someone there knows you. Maybe you’ll even find that Zeke Sullivan you were rambling about when you were unconscious.”

Instantly I had his attention. “I was? What else did I say?”

“Not much.”

He frowned disappointedly. “Well I guess that’s something.”

I nodded. “More than something.” And it was the best he could hope for from me. It would mean a day’s riding back the way I’d come, but if it meant I could get rid of this young problem without my horse staring at me reproachfully, then it was worth it.

“Thanks. If I find out who I am and it turns out I have money I’ll repay you.” His smile was weak; he was trying to put a brave on an impossible situation. For a moment the corners of my mouth twitched as if to return the smile; then I stood.

“It’s too late to start today, and you might as well get another day of rest anyway.” I said gruffly.

~*~

He wasn’t strong enough to go the next day either, so we waited another day. I didn’t think he would make it the day after that, but he stubbornly insisted, and I wasn’t going to argue. I hadn’t forgotten the fact that there were two of us and only one horse, but I’d preferred to ignore it. But the next morning as I saddled the said one horse, there was no way to push that fact to the back of my mind anymore.

“You’ll ride, I’ll walk.” I finally said when we were ready to go. I couldn’t ask Tip to carry two people for that long.

“We’ll take turns.” He said stubbornly, and I nearly laughed out loud.

“You can barely stand up. At least this way there’ll be someone to catch you if you collapse and fall off.”

He opened his mouth to argue, and I effectively ended the conversation by walking away. A moment later I heard him mount and there was the sound of hoof beats following me, muffled slightly in the hard packed dirt.

We stopped at the creek near where we had first camped to refill my canteens. I shook one thoughtfully. It was heavy now, but it wouldn’t last that way for very long. Not with two people drinking out of it, one of whom would be down on foot.

As the day wore on, I became resigned to the fact that it was going to take more than one day to get to Coledale. Even if we’d both been on horses, there was no way the kid would have been able to manage more than a walk. Despite the fact that I’d been joking when I’d said I’d catch him if he fell, there were several times when I’d almost thought I would have to. Each time he’d shake himself a little and say he was fine, his firm eyes daring me to disagree.

Too bad he can’t lie down up there. I thought after a few more minutes of watching him sway unsteadily, both hands clutching the saddle horn after nearing tumbling forward to the ground. Then I slapped my forehead.

“Hold on.” I pulled Tip to a halt and dug my hatchet out of my saddle bags.

“What are you doing?” he asked. He leaned forward slightly, and I saw perspiration on his forehead despite the crisp breeze.

“This isn’t working.” Fortunately we had reached the river, and there were small limbs and branches strewn about. If I’d tried this earlier I wouldn’t have been able to find anything large enough. It made me feel better about thinking of making a litter only just now.

“I’m fine.”

“And in another hour or so you’ll be shivering and that fever you worked so hard to get rid of will be knocking on your door again.” My hands worked as I talked, and soon I had a large enough surface of branches to tie behind Tip. By then the kid had dismounted and was sitting in the edge of the road despite the fact that he claimed to be fine. I shook my head. You had to give him credit for pure orneriness. He glanced doubtfully at my creation, probably wondering whether it would hold. I didn’t give him the option.

“Look,” I said, “you’re tired of riding, and I’m tired of walking. If you think you can manage more than five steps in a row right now, feel free to try. Or you can get on.”

The fight went out of him as he exhaled and pushed himself to his feet. I put the hatchet back in my saddlebags and then tossed him my blanket.

“Cover up.” I said. “I’m not having my hard work go to waste if you get sick again. And if you even think of getting up to walk, I’ll tie you down.” Then I mounted. My tired feet slipped gratefully into the stirrups and I nudged Tip into a walk. I didn’t want to risk going any faster, but at least the walk was brisker. And I felt much better about going back the way I’d come now that I could make a quick getaway if I had to.

We stopped for the night and reached Coledale a little after noon the next day. I halted Tip on the outskirts so I could get rid of the litter. That kind of thing would attract more attention than I cared to. The kid had been whiter than a sheet last night, but today he seemed more alive than I’d seen him yet, and his grip was almost firm as he shook my hand.

“Thanks again.” He said. “You saved my life.”

“Don’t forget it.” I swung back onto Tip. I wasn’t much of one for sentimental goodbyes, and I didn’t like the fact that while I’d only known him for a few days, I already felt worried about him.

“What are you planning on doing?” the question was out before I could stop it.

He shrugged, that bleak shrug that made it seem as if his shoulders were pushing against an entire world resting on them. “I’ll figure something out.” He forced a grin, but he couldn’t keep back a slight tremor in his voice or a darting look around the strange town.

“Well… good luck.” I touched my hat and turned Tip into the town. I wanted to get a few more supplies – namely coffee – but I didn’t want to hang around that kid any longer than I needed to. I’d done my friendly deed, been a good Samaritan, and now it was time to worry about my own problems again.

I tied my horse outside the first general store I came across and went up the painted wooden steps, glancing up and down the street quickly first. I very well might have been risking my neck for fresh coffee, but I wasn’t going to be stupid about it. The streets were about as busy as one could expect on a Tuesday afternoon, but no one seemed to be paying any special attention to me, and so I went in. There were a few women milling about, but no men besides the one behind the counter. I relaxed slightly and my hand dropped from where it had been hovering by my gun.

“Can I help you, sir?” the man behind the counter asked.

“A pound of coffee.” I said. Mentally I ran through my supplies and added jerky, bread, and a few cans of tinned peaches to the list.

“And salt.” I said lastly. I always added it liberally to whatever I managed to catch, otherwise the meat tasted bland. As the man scuttled around the store filling up my box, I idly flipped through a newspaper at the counter, not so much because I cared about local news as because people were less likely to talk to a man reading a newspaper, and I had never been one for small talk.

“New in town?” a woman close to my side asked.

I inwardly sighed. Clearly this woman was unfamiliar with the unspoken rules dictating paper reading and conversations.

“Passing through.” I said without lifting my eyes from the print. So John Blake – whoever he was – was going to run for sheriff since the old one was retiring. Good for him.

“Well that’s too bad; I was going to tell you about the church picnic we’re having this Sunday.”

I flipped the page and discovered that I could read all about it. But I nodded and kept flipping as she chatted away, batting her eyelashes occasionally. I could feel a flush of irritation creeping up my neck. Women.

“But if you’re leaving, I suppose you won’t be able to come. How long did you say you were staying in town?”

“I didn’t.” I flipped to the back page; the obituaries and wedding announcements. I never read this part, too depressing. But I still had hope that if I kept reading she would get the hint.

“Oh, well I’m sure you could find a room at a reasonable price if you decided to stick around. Mike Milligan runs the hotel down the street…”

“And he’s getting married too.” I mumbled and instantly regretted it.

“He is!” she put a gloved hand on my arm, and I couldn’t help but notice that it tightened a little. “You should see his bride to be, such a pretty little thing.”

“I’ll bet.” I mumbled, scanning down to the obituaries. Iram Stoner. Too bad, but then he was sixty three years old. And Mrs. Jerome, well at least she was joining her husband, according to the paper anyway. God might have other plans.

Suddenly my eyes froze as they fell on a name. Ezekiel Sullivan. Zeke Sullivan. I barely heard the woman’s babbling voice as I paid and left, almost forgetting to put the paper down, I was so distracted.

So that’s it. I thought as I loaded my saddle bags. That was the end of the plan. Then again, maybe someone else knew who the kid was. It was possible, more than likely too. He probably had friends all over that could tell him his life story. Wasn’t my problem anymore. I took a deep breath. If I hadn’t planned on getting involved again, why had I left the store in such a hurry?

To get rid of that chattering ninny. Of course. I checked my cinch and swung up into the saddle.

“Not my problem.” I muttered.

Still, it couldn’t hurt to swing by and tell the kid myself. He might as well hear it from someone he knew, no matter how barely. And I was the only person in the world he knew right now, himself included.