Clouding: Day 1

Word Count: 6,012

Summary of Events:

Asher headed for New Mexico Territory, where he'd been summoned to by a sheriff there. As he camped for the night, though, his mare nickered, which she only did around other horses. The next morning he discovered tracks of someone who appeared to have just ridden up, looked at him, and headed back where they'd come from. He decided to follow the tracks until they got washed away in a thunderstorm that left him hard-pressed to find a place to sleep for the night. Somewhere during the night he recalled being tied, but was knocked unconscious before too long . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

A dull ache throbbed across the base of his skull. He laid with his eyes closed for a few moments before opening them and taking in the first thing he saw: an adobe roof.

He was indoors. How could he be indoors? He hadn't seen any buildings since he'd left San Diego days ago.

Tossing his head from side to side in annoyance at the throbbing, he realised that he was in a bed in a building that had one window and one door, and no furnishings aside from the bed on which he lay. His curiosity about just where he happened to be prompted him to forget his pain somewhat and try to get a view out of the window.

When he made that attempt, however, he discovered that he was tied to the bed, and that his boots had been removed.

Worse yet, his holsters were empty, and because his hands were tied to the head of the bed there was no way he was going to be able to get a hand on his jackknife.

He remembered the hands, the cold ring, the blow. Someone had grabbed him from where he'd slept. But where was this place they'd taken him to? How had he gotten here? Who where they and why did they want him?

Grabbing hold of the ropes that extended from his wrists to the bed, he gave them several hard jerks trying to get them to release, but to no avail, all he did was make the metal bed rattle.

In moments a man surged into the room, gun drawn and cocked. The man relaxed when he saw that the ropes still held, but he said nothing.

The face of the man looked familiar to him. He knew it from somewhere, but he wasn't putting his finger on it. Who was this man? Was he on a wanted poster somewhere?

"Where am I?" he asked.

The man smiled and holstered his gun, but gave no response, he merely walked out of the room and spoke in hushed tones the door easily muffled when he was safely on the other side.

He loathed being ignored by those who could respond to him but chose not to. He jerked on the ropes again and the man reappeared.

"Are you going to answer my question?" he asked.

"The boss will," the man replied.

"And who's the boss?" he asked.

"Don't play dumb, you know who he is," the man replied.

"I'll be the judge of that," he retorted.

In moments another man came into the room and they untied his bindings.

Immediately he surged up from the bed only to be greeted with a gun barrel to the breastbone.

"You'll come quietly," the man who'd spoken before said firmly.

The two men seized his upper arms tightly and guided him toward the door. He could only begin to wonder where he'd been taken.