They sat together and watched the moon rise. They had all concluded the Indians were too starved down to do anything. In his rangering days he had helped bury several men who had had such things done to them, and memories of those charred and gouged corpses was with him in the darkness. They'd rather do battle on sunny days, which is only sensible.
The doctor put his hands to his temple again. If Dish was lost, and probably he would be, the letters would be lost too, and they were Gus's last words. Besides, he had a derringer in his right boot, and knew it was his last hope. His hand slipped off the crutch and he felt it falling from him.
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