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gone. Only Charlie and the wounded Jed were still with her. And Jed was still sleeping.
    Later, as she sat by the fire sipping her first cup of decent coffee for days, she plotted and discarded several plans for escape. She sensed that Charlie and Jed were the weakest in the gang. There might not be a better chance for her to break free. Considering the direction they were headed, she was sure Pueblo could not be too far away. It surprised her that Hunter had left only those two to guard her.
    Unfortunately, her planning was interrupted by a new problem: Jed. The wounded man looked decidedly unwell, and Charlie kept glancing worriedly at his friend. Cursing softly over what she considered a treacherously soft heart, she rose and walked over to Jed. Even as she reached the man’s side, Charlie loomed up beside her.
    “You just get away from him. You’ve done him enough harm.”
    “It was hardly a mortal wound.”
    She frowned at Jed, who was giving her a weak glare. He looked awful. His color was a sickly shade of green, and sweat beaded on his face. Though she found it hard to believe that a gunshot wound in the foot could make a man so ill, she knew improper care could make even the smallest scratch dangerous.
    “You did take the bullet out, didn’t you?” she addressed the question to Charlie, who was leaning against the tree Jed lay under.
    “Yeah, with this.” Charlie briefly stopped cleaning his filthy nails with his knife to show it to her.
    “Cleaned off first, of course.”
    “Cleaning it couldn’t make it no sharper.”
    Inwardly, Leanne cursed. She had a good idea of what ailed Jed. It was not something she was eager to deal with. Nevertheless, she could not turn her back on the problem. If the man’s wound had become infected, leaving it untended could kill him. That was not something she wished to have on her conscience.
    “Let me see his foot.”
    “What for? You’ve done it enough hurt, if you ask me.”
    “I did not ask you, Charles. Now let me see his foot.”
    When a wide-eyed Charlie scrambled to obey, Leanne decided she had sounded as imperious as she had meant to. It was astounding, she mused, what could be accomplished with the appropriate tone of voice.
    Then Charlie bared Jed’s foot. It took Leanne a moment to stifle the urge to be sick. She fought to gain some semblance of calm. She did not think she had ever seen a dirtier foot.
    “Don’t you ever bathe?”
    “Sure I do. Nearly once a month. ’Bout that time now, ain’t it, Charlie?”
    “Reckon so, Jed. Can’t rightly recall.”
    “I’m not surprised. Charles, get me some water.”
    “What for?”
    “To clean this foot. It’s infected, poisoned. If nothing is done, it could kill him. That filth is what’s helping to make him look like death warmed over.”
    “I look that bad?”
    Charlie stared at his friend for a moment, then nodded. “You do look poorly, Jed.”
    “Reckon you better get the water, then.”
    Once Charlie got her some water Leanne began to wash Jed’s foot. She had Charlie heat up another pot of water as she did so. Everything went smoothly until she asked Charlie for his knife.
    “No sirree, ma’am.”
    “I need the knife to lance this wound.”
    “Why?”
    “It needs to be opened. Then I’ll use the heated water to draw out the poisons.”
    “Yeah, and just maybe you’ll use this knife to stick us and then run.”
    “Now, I might be able to—er, stick one of you, but I would guess the other would act quickly. I couldn’t possibly kill both of you. As far as Jed is concerned, if I wanted him dead, I only need to leave this foot to rot.”
    “Rot?” Jed looked at his friend with pleading in his eyes. “Give her the knife, Charlie.”
    After careful deliberation Charlie finally gave her the knife. Leanne cleaned it, then held it in the fire for a moment. Once it had cooled some, she had Charlie hold Jed still as she lanced the wound. Quickly she began to place cloths soaked in the hot