I found him back in the barn, doubled over and pressing his side. Red bloomed across his white shirt, starting from his side and spreading in blotchy tendrils across his stomach.  Jon’s skin shown waxy and glistened with sweat.

“Jon!” My boots slapped against the ground as I ran to him.

“Stay...Stay back.” His words came out in a wheeze.

I pulled my gun and swept across the room. “What happened, Jon?”

“The bastard must have had a knife in his boot. He lay still as if dead. Like an idiot, I leaned over him, and pressed my gun to his forehead.” He stopped and sucked in a deep wheeze of air. “I should have just shot him. Or kicked him in the head. Instead, I enjoyed it. I thought, ‘This man hurt my family. Possibly killed my wife. I was going to go slow—let him hear the click of my hammer, let him feel the steel of my barrel.’ I wanted him to know death was coming for him. I’d spent time in his skin. I knew exactly how he’d feel. I knew what it felt like for those hands to tremble, for that heart to race. I knew what cold sweat felt like running down that face and neck. I knew what the cold bite of the gun barrel felt like as I dug it into his skin. I knew it and I relished it.” Jon stumbled and I moved to help him. His hand shot up. ‘No. I don’t know where he is, keep your weapon up.”

He coughed, cringing at the movement in his abdomen.

“Before I could pull the trigger, without even opening his eyes, he drove his knife into my side. He knocked my gun from my hand as he twisted the blade.” He coughed again. “Where’s...where’s Jacoby?”

“He is safe.” Even as I said the words, I didn’t know if they were true. “We have to get you help, Jon. Let’s get Jacoby, get our horses, and get out of here.”

“No. Malachi must die. Remember....if he doesn’t...” his voice trailed away.

“I know. But right now, that doesn’t matter. You have time. Hell, I’ll come back and kill him myself. But right now, if we don’t get you taken care of, none of that will matter. If you die and the witch has your soul, then she gets to keep it.”

He grimaced. I knew he wanted to resist. But as I watched him, I knew my words were taking hold. I was right, and he knew it.

“Lean against me and we will get you to your horse. I will get Jacoby and Lindsey. We can be to New Duluth in less than three hours. Maybe somebody there can help us.”

I knew I was being hopeful and not altogether honest with myself. Stopping in New Duluth would be dangerous, the citizens didn’t exactly seem to be members of my fan club. No one spoke up when Bart’s brother wanted to kill me. But Jon’s complexion was losing color with every passing breath as the red continued to spread from his side. He needed help. I’d make someone help us, even if I had to hold a gun to their head to force them to do it.

We limped and shuffled and panted our way back to the house. There was no sight of Malachi.

I knocked against the wooden door. “Open up. It’s me.”

The lock clicked, followed by the sound of the bar scraping across the wood. Lindsey Willing stood in the doorway.  She paled at the sight of Jon. “Oh, no.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

We shuffled inside and Jon slumped onto a stool, leaning forward. Jacoby’s eyes rounded. He walked up to his father and slid his tiny hand into Jon’s large one.

“We need to go. Now,” I said, keeping my voice even.

“But where is Malachi?” Lindsey pressed her lips together until they were two crimson stripes.

“He got away. But I can tell you, he isn’t going far.”

“Yes, but where did he go? I sure don’t want to run into him.” Her eyes never left Jon, who was grasping his side.

I moved to the kitchen and began pulling open drawers and cabinets until I found what I was looking for. Rags and cloths. “Do you know where the bedroom is?”

She nodded.

“Then go pull me a sheet off the bed.”

Lindsey hurried away and was back within a minute, a crisp white sheet balled up in her arms.

“Jon, I need you to hold your arms out to the sides. We have to staunch this bleeding until we can get you to the doctor.”

I pressed the rags to his wound, then instructed Lindsey to hold them in place and apply pressure. I took the sheet and bound the rags to the wound, doing my best to tie the cumbersome material into a tight knot.

“That should hold until we can get you to the doctor. We need to put some space between us and this place, but we can’t move too fast. Even so, it shouldn’t take us more than four hours to get to New Duluth, even if our horses are walking.”

Jacoby, who’d slid away while I doctored Jon, was back at his side, clasping Jon’s hand. I could see the joy in Jon even through the pain.

Lindsey frowned. “There ain’t a doctor in New Duluth.  Ain’t even a Sheriff right now. I don’t know if you know much about the town, but it has trouble keeping with the law. Good people don’t tend to stay. But don’t worry—I know someone who can help.”

I sighed, if good people didn’t stay, what did that say about Lindsey Willing?  What choice did I have but to trust the woman? I looked at Jon whose pallor was worsening. He needed a doctor, but even in my inexperience I knew that if we didn’t do something, he’d be dead before we reached GloryLand, and then the witches of Red Soot would own him forever. “Okay. Let’s get him to your friend. And let’s hurry.”