He made another noise and his fingers flexed at my waist. “I’m not giving up. If something happened to him, I will level this entire forest to make the people who hurt him pay.” The certainty in his tone made me shiver because I believed him.

I was trying to think of a proper response when suddenly, the trees started to thin out making the downpour even more difficult to navigate. I saw Edgar slip a little and Cy struggle to keep his balance as the horse danced erratically to the side in the mud. Grady called out to make sure everyone was okay and I almost cried tears of relief when a tiny, nondescript cabin came into view. There was a clearing that was currently nothing more than a mud bog but the cabin was there, just like Cy had promised, looking like a rustic oasis. Behind the cabin was a wood and metal tower that rose high into the sky. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed before, since it rose like a pillar above the trees. It showed how tired and anxious I was that I had missed it. We all needed out of the rain and the boys needed their injuries tended to.

“Cy, there are tire tracks in the mud. Someone was here not that long ago.” Grady pointed out the obvious marks in the loose soil and it had all of us exchanging nervous looks with one another.

“Could be the rangers. Those look like ATV tracks.” Cy swung out of the saddle and gave his horse a pat on the side of the neck. “You guys head inside and see if there is anything you can use to fix up Webb’s shoulder. I’ll take care of the horses. I need to find someplace semi dry to hitch them up.”

“I’ll help you with the horses just in case we aren’t alone. I think making it through one ambush a day is enough for all of us.” Grady sounded as weary as I felt and as Webb looked. It was obvious Cy was also running on fumes because he accepted the help with no argument.

Webb limped and shuffled his way to the cabin door with me propped up under his arm as a crutch. I was surprised when the door opened easily under my hand and even more surprised that the interior was far from sparse and utilitarian as the outside had led me to believe it would be. The cabin was decorated with woodsy touches but there were curtains, a braided rug on the floor, a cozy looking comforter on the bed, and a kitchen with cute and rustic tin cookware. The place was fully stocked, looked well lived in, and incredibly comfortable. The only thing missing was a bathroom, which I would have killed for, but knew that beggars couldn’t be choosers and a roof over my head during the storm was all I really needed. It was obvious that the rangers who were stationed out here during wildfire season had gone out of their way to make the place as welcoming and as livable as possible. I wanted to kiss each and every one of them in gratitude.

I muscled Webb over to the bed. I pulled off the poncho, which immediately left a soggy puddle on the floor at my feet, and started to scavenge through the cabin for a first aid kit. I opened cabinets and drawers, pulling out anything that seemed useful or necessary as I went. There was plenty of canned food stashed throughout the kitchen, as well as a flare gun and a regular old shotgun along with shells. When I finally found the sturdy aluminum box with the familiar blue and white writing on it I let out a victorious whoop and did a little shimmy as I turned around with the first aid kit held above my head.

I was expecting a similar excitement at the discovery from Webb but when I was met with silence I knew something was seriously wrong. He was pitched over on his side on the bed, clutching his shoulder and shaking all over. Even though the rain had soaked him through, his skin was clammy and fiery to the touch when I grabbed him and rolled him over onto his back.

“It feels like my entire body is burning.” There was blood still leaking thick and crimson from between his fingers.

I pawed through the first aid kit and handed him a handful of painkillers. “I wouldn’t normally mix Tylenol and Ibuprofen but I think this case calls for extreme measures. Can you sit up? We need to get your shirt off so I can put something on your shoulder to stop the bleeding as much as possible. If you can handle it, I’ll pour this peroxide on the wound and then cover it with the antibiotic cream. I think the fever might be from an infection and I don’t even want to think about how much blood you’ve lost. There’s nothing in here to close the wound but we can get it as clean as possible and wrap it up as tight as you can stand.”

He groaned loud and long as we both struggled to get him into a seated position so that I could tug his shirt off of him. It was tricky because the material soaked from the rain clung to him. I offered to cut the garment off to make it easier but he shook his head and powered through while I peeled the rest of the shirt down his arms.

The bullet wound was angry, red, and puckered. The skin around it was hot pink. I’d never seen anything like it up close and personal, so it was all I could do to focus and not let the lightheadedness at the sight of the gore and blood overtake me. I found a dishtowel in the kitchen that looked unused and got it wet. As soon as I pressed the material to Webb’s shoulder it turned red. I had to switch it out with another before the trickle of blood slowed enough that any kind of bandage would be able to stick to his skin.

I poured the peroxide on one of the bandages and stared at Webb before touching the cotton to his shoulder. “This is going to suck.”

His eyes widened and his jaw clenched. “I know, but do it anyway.”

We both held our breath as I inched the bandage toward the opening in his flesh. As soon as it touched the injury, a scream that made my ears ring echoed throughout the cabin. One of Webb’s hands shot up and wrapped around my good wrist. He squeezed so hard that I knew I was going to have a bruise there, but he didn’t pull me away as the liquid stung him and as his blood turned the white cloth red.