"God, I'm glad to see you—we all are."
I glanced around. Dead men and horses were scattered everywhere, it seemed. I asked if Webster had been captured. The colonel didn't know yet. I began to search among the bodies, but couldn't find trace of Webster. I went farther afield, and was just passing a tall cottonwood when I heard a voice:
"Cardinal, you bastard, I'll get you anyway!" Webster's voice! The tones were shaking with rage, as he stepped from behind the tree-trunk, an orange stream of powder and flame spurting from his gun-barrel.
It was his voice that saved me. At the sound, I swung around, causing him to miss his intended aim. The slug caught me in the shoulder, spinning me off balance, causing him to miss a second shot.
Even as I went down, I was reaching for my .44, my first shot thrown almost at random. I missed, but it caused him to hesitate just long enough for me to roll over and trigger another shot from the ground. I saw him stagger back, clutching his stomach as the gun slipped from nerveless fingers. As he struck the earth, I fired again. I saw his body twitch as the bullet sent up a puff of dust from his vest, but that was the only movement he made.
Struggling for breath, I tried to get to my feet, made it halfway and suddenly dropped again. I guess I passed out for a minute or so, before Mike found me. And Topaz was at his side. Through a haze of blood and sweat I felt Mike fumbling around my shoulder. He muttered something about a nice clean wound that would heal fast. Then men were lifting me to carry me to the house, and I felt Topaz's cool fingers holding my hand. I muttered, "Keep on doing that. It feels wonderful."
And then her soft voice: "I have no intention of doing otherwise, Johnny—for all the rest of our lives…"