“Stop your fucking whining,” I said to my pay day.

“Jesus, friend, my goddamn leg is numb,”Al said from his place on the mule behind. He was tangled in a complicated knot of ropes and strapped firmly across the mule’s back. From his spot, he could see his own leg dripping dark blood from the tip of his boot. “You are one cold blooded bastard, you know that? I’ll probably lose this leg if you don’t help me and then I’ll go hobbling up the gallows on crutches.”

“There aint nothing on that bounty says anything bout your leg. In fact, the only part for sure they care about is your neck which is about to swing from a rope here shortly. I might just saw a few parts off of you to lighten that mule’s load if you keep talking."

“Lord, help me…” he began to whisper prayers.

A glint in the back country caught my eye and I turned to see three distant riders running parallel to us on the river bank. All his damn complaining had let them sneak up, getting between me and the crossing.

“Friends of yours, Al?”