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He gasped in a breath, and kept moving.
It didn't matter that his body was one big target for the men shooting their rifles from the river bank below.
It didn't matter that his arm was radiating agony, stiff and painful from a bullet that had ricocheted off one of the bridge's metal beams.
It didn't matter that he didn't have a free hand to wipe the blood trickling down the side of his face from where another bullet had left a furrow in his scalp while blowing his hat straight off his head.
His only focus was the bundle of dynamite nestled in the bridge, with the fuse almost burnt all the way down. These men were practiced professionals for sure. The explosives would detonate perfectly timed right as the train was passing the middle of the bridge.
It would be a tragedy and a disaster. Bullets whizzed past him, as Roy pulled himself up the crossbars, closer to his goal. He was almost out of time.
The train was close. He could feel the bridge shaking as the train hurtled down the tracks closer and closer.
At last he was within arms reach of the dynamite. Gripping the metal beam precariously with his thighs, he grabbed the fuse box with his good arm and brought it down to his other hand. Somehow desperation gave his weakened hand strength to grip the box, while he yanked the fuse out of the box with his good hand. He dropped the now defunct fuse box, and for a good measure threw himself forward to push the bundle of dynamite out of the bridge trestles.
Mission accomplished. Roy's whole body went limp, and it was all he could do to hold on to the beam as he slumped across it in relief.
The train roared overhead, safe on the wonderfully whole tracks.
-
The foiled saboteurs began firing on Roy with renewed vigor.
He took the smallest moment to contemplate his limited options. I'll be swiss cheese before I make it down. But I've got to keep moving.
At some point, the pain of his bullet wounds edged out awareness, as all his focus went into descending from the bridge safely. His arm was a burning weight at his side, and his head pounded miserably.
He was surprised that he made it down to the ground without gravity's assistance and without any new bullet holes.
But the lack of bullet holes made more sense when Frog Millhouse met him at the bottom of the trestles. Roy swung down the last rungs painfully, out of breath and dizzy.
Frog looked Roy over with obvious concern, "Are you hurt bad?"
"It's my arm," Roy replied, turning to give Frog a better look at the bloody hole in his arm.
"We better get you to a doctor!" Frog exclaimed, pulling out his handkerchief. He fashioned a makeshift bandage, and wrapped it tightly around Roy's arm.
"Sorry, Roy," he apologized sympathetically as Roy grimaced in pain from the pressure on the wound. But they both knew it was important to stop the blood loss.
Frog wrapped a makeshift bandage around Roy's head as well, borrowing a clean bandana from one of the boys.
By the time Frog had finished with his field medicine, the bad guys had all been corralled, tied up, and put on their horses ready to ride to town and then jail.
Roy made it back to Trigger on his own steam. And then somehow he stayed in the saddle on the way back to town. He could feel Frog watching him, and tried to straighten up a little more in the saddle.
Finally, the group was stopping by the sheriff's office with the captured gang. Roy was looking forward to sinking into the hard little cot in the smallest cell, and not moving for a while. The Sheriff no doubt would still be interested in holding him for Dave's murder, until a confession could be taken from Maurice, but lying down anywhere sounded heavenly.
However, Frog didn't give him the chance to dismount, calling over to the posse, "Me and Roy are heading down to see to the doc, we'll catch you boys later!"
Roy urged Trigger up alongside Bullseye, protesting, "But Frog I've got to give a report to the sheriff."
The boys can do that, "Roy, I meant what I said about getting you to the doctor! Besides, I don't want that sheriff clapping you in jail alongside Maurice and his thugs."
"If that's what the Sheriff needs to do, I won't resist, Frog," Roy replied quietly.
"I know you won't, Roy, but dang if I'll let you go in there without getting that bullet out of you first! I won't let Maurice enjoy watching you sweat and grit your teeth while the doc digs around inside your arm."
Roy laughed a little, despite his headache and fatigue, "You have a point, Frog."
"I know I do! I'm not going to be the one telling the governor we lost you to an infected bullet wound. Maybe he'll give me an award for assisting you as you were investigatin' for him," Frog puffed up with self-importance, and Roy laughed again, before becoming serious.
"We may never get recognized for what we did, Frog, especially if the good governor doesn't pull through... I hope you realize that."
"Well sure, Roy," Frog was whining a little as he replied, "but it doesn't hurt to dream!"
Finally they were dismounting outside of the doctor's practice. As soon as his boots touched the dusty street, Roy had to hold on to Trigger's saddle horn as a wave of nauseating dizziness swept over him.
Thankfully, Frog was already coming around to steady him, concern all over his face. "Your head wound is still bleeding, Roy. That bandana is all soaked through."
He gave a low whistle, as he helped Roy up the stairs, "Forget the Sheriff, the girls are going to mother-hen you to death. You won't be allowed to leave bed for a week!"
"That sounds fine by me right about now," Roy grunted in reply, as Frog let them into the doctor's office.
_
The old doctor's first priority was to stop the bleeding from Roy's head wound. He had to clean the wound with alcohol, which made involuntary tears roll down Roy's face, even though he didn't make a sound. The doctor just absently passed him a clean handkerchief to wipe his face, and began putting a clotting mix on the bullet furrow, followed by something soothing and cool. Then he was wrapping a thick white bandage around Roy's head, and tying it off tight.
He cleaned Roy's cheek next, wiping away the dried blood. The wound there had already scabbed over, so he just cleaned around it and applied antiseptic cream.
Through all this, Frog was providing a rambling explanation of the recent events.
"Waaall then, Roy took off for the bridge and we all followed after him, but that Trigger has speed like a bullet. By the time we arrived, Roy was already at the top of the bridge. We kept waiting for an explosion but there weren't none. Those gangsters were sure disappointed, you shoulda seen their long faces as we was rounding them up..."
The good doc was less than impressed by Frog's nervous chattering. He seemed more impressed by the way Roy was watching over his own shoulder as the doctor dug around inside his bicep. The doctor had been able to numb up the arm with a syringe of something before diving in to find the bullet, so Roy's grimaces of pain were minimal. But still, even the toughest cowboys usually got squeamish about watching themselves be operated on. Roy was just watching with patience and a sort of morbid curiosity.
"Got it!" The doctor's tone was uncharacteristically delighted, as he eased the shiny blood-covered projectile out of Roy's arm. It made a satisfying ping sound as the doctor dropped it into a little metal tray, along with the bloody tweezers.
"Well, you're very lucky, young man. Since the bullet ricocheted off something before hitting you, it didn't break your arm."
The removal of the bullet had caused a fresh cascade of blood. Roy leaned his head back against the chair, feeling lightheaded as the doctor hurried to pack the bullet hole with something to slow the bleeding and fight infection. He wrapped a bandage around Roy's upper arm with expert hands, applying just enough pressure to support the wound, but not cut off circulation.
Roy didn't realize he had closed his eyes until the doctor was gently tapping his cheek, Frog looking anxiously over the doctor's shoulder.
"Here son, you've got to drink this, you've lost a good pint or two of blood." The doctor helped steady Roy's hand without asking, as Roy lifted the glass of water to his lips.
"It's got a pinch of good salt and a spoon of honey as well," the doctor explained when Roy immediately made a face after his first sip. "It'll help your body replace what it's lost, better than just plain water."
Roy dutifully drank down the salty sweet water, and then also the cup of beef bone broth the doctor offered afterwards. The doctor was pleased by Roy's cooperation, as he commented, "As I said before, you're very lucky. I just made a batch of this nutritious stuff for a sick patient in the next town over."
"Yeah, he's just the luckiest pup," Frog commented wryly, looking down at Roy who was visibly fighting to stay upright and awake in the doctor's chair.
Just then the door to the doctor's office slammed open.
"You!" The sheriff's deputy was pointing at Roy. He seemed oblivious to the white bandages wrapped around Roy's head and arm, as he declared, "We've added assaulting an officer of the law to your list of charges! I'm taking you back to jail right now."
Roy seemed resigned as the deputy pushed between the doc and Frog to grab him by his good arm and haul him to his feet. He couldn't hide his wince of pain as the deputy immediately pulled his wrists behind his back. The numbing agent in his arm was definitely wearing off. The irate deputy wasted no time snapping handcuffs on Roy's wrists. Judging by the thunderous look on the doctor's face, he was just as ready as Frog to protest this turn of events, when the door opened again.
"Hold on a minute," a cool, calm voice made everyone turn to the doorway.
"Governor Shuville," Frog exclaimed, "Boy, am I glad to see you!"
Despite his calm, commanding tone, the governor didn't look any better than Roy. He was sporting a matching bandage around his head, and had minor cuts and bruises across his face. His arm was in a sling, and he was standing with a hunch that indicated he was healing from internal injuries. But he was there, in the flesh.
"What is it with patients just turning up on my doorstep today," the doctor grumbled, going over to the governor's side and helping him into the room, where he could lean against the doctor's sturdy desk.
The governor's eyes were scanning over Roy, taking in the bandages and exhaustion, and the way the deputy was gripping Roy's arm above the elbow. "I came as quickly as I could, after I woke up. Deputy, thank you for your efforts in apprehending this suspect. I'm taking Roy Rogers into my own custody, effective immediately. Please forward his list of charges to my office."
The deputy opened his mouth and shut it. He swallowed, and tried again, "He's wanted on suspicion of murder, sir, are you sure you want custody immediately?"
"I'm sure," the governor replied, his eyes flashing dangerously under his drawn eyebrows. This was not a man to be questioned. The deputy swallowed again, before replying.
"Yes sir, Mr. Governor, sir." He reluctantly walked Roy forward and dropped the key to the handcuffs into the governor's hand. Frog could tell Roy was biting the inside of his cheek, to hide a smirk.
The governor's bodyguards burst into the room at that moment.
"Sir! Are you alright?" They were instantly by his side pushing the deputy and Roy away.
"Yes, yes, I'm fine, try to keep up with me next time, hmm?" The governor rejoined with an air of dry amusement. "Oh Simmons, take the good sheriff's deputy outside and get him my card, so he can send some requested documents to my office."
The bewildered deputy was quickly and firmly escorted outside.
The governor addressed his other body guard, "Frederick, this is Roy Rogers."
The big, serious man turned to Roy and almost cracked a smile, "Oh, so you're what our good governor was in such a fuss about. Nice to meet you."
Something about the man's wry demeanor set Frog at ease. "It'd be a lot nicer to meet ya if you'd let Roy sit down. And maybe take off the handcuffs." It was true. Under his tan and his impressively calm attitude, Roy was looking more pale and unsteady by the minute.
"Go ahead Fred, he's in my custody, but only as a formality until the charges are dropped, as they will be soon," the governor nodded.
Before Frederick could move to get the key from the Governor, the doctor's door slammed open, for the fourth time in the hour. This time it was Judy and Ruby, and they swarmed over the scene, talking a mile a minute.
"Take those handcuffs off of him, he's a hero," Ruby was demanding from Frederick, who looked amused to have a tiny blonde firecracker waving her finger in his face.
"I would ma'am, if you'll allow me to get the key," he drawled in reply.
Meanwhile, Judy was pleading with the governor, not giving him a chance to get a word in edgewise. "We have all the evidence to show it was Maurice who killed my brother, and that he's the brains behind the gang of saboteurs! You have to believe us governor, Roy's really innocent. He's kept working for you through everything, and --"
"JUDY!" Frog's yell carried over the chaos, right before the sound of two bodies hitting the floor. Well, really only one body, since Frog's dive to catch Roy had been successful.
Everyone was frozen in a shocked tableau. One moment Roy had been watching the proceedings with tired amusement and the next moment his eyes had rolled backwards and his body had gone limp.
Thankfully Frog had been keeping an eye on him, or his fall would have been a lot nastier than it was, since his hands were still bound behind his back.
The old doctor was the first to break the spell, coming forward from the side of the room where he had been watching the events unfold.
He plucked the handcuff keys from the distracted governor's hand, and knelt on the floor beside Roy.
"Thank you kindly, Governor, for getting my patient out of the sheriff deputy's tender care. I'll be the one taking custody of him now."
Finally the cuffs were off Roy's wrists, and Frog maneuvered Roy onto his back so that the doctor could check his pulse and his pupils. Judy knelt on Roy's other side and took his hand into her lap, soothing the red line the too-tight handcuffs had left behind on his skin.
"What's wrong with him, doc?" The governor demanded, worry making his tone terse.
"Nothing that some peace and quiet won't fix," the doctor rejoined, his tone even more curt than the governor's, if that was possible. He seemed insurmountably annoyed by all the theatrics, and ready to put an end to everyone's nonsense.
"Time for you all to go find somewhere else to lollygag! Everyone out, now. Excepting you, my good sir," the doctor nodded at Frog, "You're going to help me get this young man into bed."
"Come on, folks, you heard the good doctor," the governor acquiesced reluctantly, standing up and making his way over to the door with Frederick's help.
The governor paused in the doorway, "Take good care of him doc, and send me the bill."
The doctor just waved him off grumpily.
"Come on, honey, we've got to let the doctor do his thing," Ruby was rubbing Judy's shoulders, trying to get her to stand up from where she was still planted by Roy's side.
"She can stay too," the doctor said gruffly, "I'll be needing a nurse to watch him while I have to go out on my calls."
"Oh thank you, doctor," Judy's eyes were shining with gratitude, and the doctor just harrumphed in reply, getting to his feet and heading into the adjoining room to prepare a bed for his new in-patient.
Ruby gave Judy's shoulders another little squeeze, happy for her friend, "Send word over when he's awake, Judy. We'll all be waiting on pins and needles."
"We sure will, Ms. Ruby," Frog assured her.
"But I won't expect it too soon. He might sleep for a while," Ruby commented, looking down at Roy's unconscious face. He had dark smudges of exhaustion under his eyes, and various cuts across his skin, including the big one on his cheek.
"Poor kid, he really got put through the wringer," Ruby shook her head. "I don't need to tell you to take good care of him. See you later, honey."
Her heels clicked on the floor as she showed herself out.
--
Roy had a faint memory of gentle hands soothing over his forehead, and a sweet voice murmuring, "It's okay, you're safe, rest now, Roy," before someone had pressed a soft kiss to his forehead below the bandage.
It must have been a dream. But an awfully nice one, he thought, trying to collect his groggy thoughts even as he held onto the warmth of the dream as long as he could before waking up completely.
Say, this is an awfully comfortable bed for a jail cell, Roy considered, still keeping his eyes closed.
Smells nicer than jail too, almost with a hint of perfume. Wait, is that Judy's perfume?
Roy couldn't help opening his eyes at that. He was confused to find himself in a small, sunlit bedroom, instead of a cell.
That explains a lot, but also leaves a lot of questions...
The sunlight dappled wooden walls were unfamiliar. But questions could wait, because sitting beside his bed, slumped over and leaning her head on the mattress by his side, was Judy. Her hands were gently cradling one of his, and she was fast asleep.
Roy smiled, and closed his eyes again. Maybe he was dreaming again. Or maybe this was wonderfully real. Either way, he didn't mind one bit.
Everything is going to be okay.
--