“How long have you been here? I knowed you was here all the time—I kept seein’ you, but somehow things was a little mixed. But I know that you’ve been here quite a while. How long?”
“This is the second night.”
“You found me layin’ there—in the door. I dropped there, not bein’ able to go any further. I felt you touchin’ me—draggin’ me. There was someone else here, too. Who was it?”
“The doctor and Dakota.”
“Where’s Dakota now?”
“At his cabin, I suppose. He didn’t stay here long—he left right after he brought the doctor. I imagine you know why he didn’t stay. He was afraid that you would recognize him and accuse him.”
“Accuse him of what, ma’am?”
“Of shooting you.”
He smiled. “I reckon, ma’am, that you don’t understand. It wasn’t Dakota that shot me.”
“Who did, then?” she questioned eagerly. “Who?”