Page 22 of Westbound Awakening

John shook his head at the direction of his thoughts, yet the picture of them together refused to dissipate.

* * *

In the late afternoon, through sheer willpower, John was able to get dressed and ride from town to the general area where he'd been told Carla and the outlaw lived.

Thanks to the medication the woman back at the hotel had given him, John was able to ride without passing out from the pain. The fever had lessened, but the dizziness and aches, remained, although a bit dulled.

Several hours later, John grimaced while dismounting in a clearing, a short distance away from a shack with a lean-to tacked to its side. The drooping structure housed a thin horse. The wretched beast turned in his direction, its dull eyes taking him in.

John eyed the dilapidated cabin, attempting to determine if anyone was inside. How anyone could live in such deplorable conditions puzzled him. It seemed deserted, although with only one window, it was hard to see into the darkened interior.

With his eyes on the structure, John pulled Lasitor forward and maintained a good distance. Unsure if approaching was safe, he hesitated beside the horse. Just as he went to move closer, the fluttering at the edges of a tattered curtain told of someone watching him. John raised his hand toward the window, and the curtain fell back into place.

Moments later, the front door opened just enough for a thin tall women to squeeze through and close it firmly behind.

Carla? John remained where he stood, protected by the horse's rump. Once he ensured she was unarmed, he limped away from the horse the reins tight in his fist.

All sharp angles, with her bony arms swinging as she approached, John considered how strange it was he'd thought himself in love with her at one time. Now with a new perspective, he questioned those old feelings. Her harsh appearance coupled with the angry tightness of her lips changed what at one time was an attractive woman. The passing of years and her lifestyle had definitely changed her. Not been kind to her.

Dressed in dull brown skirts, she held the sturdy fabric up from the ground and neared him. Shrewd eyes met his and darted to his injured leg. "I thought you were dead. How did you find me?"

"Came close. I spoke to your sister. She told me you were here," he replied looking past her to the house. The curtain moved again, but he could not make out who looked out.

"Teresa could never keep her mouth shut. I shouldn't have said anything." Carla glanced over her shoulder toward the shack and back to him. "You should leave or this time you may not live John."

"I can't do that," John replied. "Is the child really mine?"

"Of course he is," Carla spat.

"He?" John swallowed at the news. "Look Carla, I didn't come all this way to argue with you. I want to meet my son and ensure he's taken care of. I promise not to interfere with your life. Be reasonable, I have a right to know my son. Allow me to see him."

"A right!" She backed up and put her hands up, fingers curled. "You never came back, never tried to see him for over three years. I sent word."

"To my parents, who didn't tell me after you refused to allow them to come and see about you nor did you accept their invitation to live with them." She rolled her eyes and John blew out a breath to keep from losing his temper with her. "I was away, assigned to a remote location. There was no way for me to come and see about you. When I did come, I got shot."

"It doesn't matter anymore. I've made a life for myself and Wesley. We don't need you. I tried to keep my husband from shooting you. You startled him."

Wesley. He'd not heard much more than that. John held back from rushing past her and going into the dwelling. He'd come so close, and the possibility of meeting his child made it hard to now shove the woman out of his way and see if she spoke the truth. "Let's just cease this nonsense. Let me meet my boy and I'll be on my way."

Carla seemed to soften until once again she looked toward the house. "Look, please just go John. My -- my husband will shoot you if he finds you here. You're lucky he's out back hunting right now."

"I want to see my son." He repeated not moving.

Nervous hands twisted the fabric of her skirts. "What for? We're not staying here long anyhow."

"I'm not going to stop coming after you until I see him." John stated not sure how he'd manage to keep his word, yet he would.

"You calling the law on him?" She was obviously not speaking of Wesley.

"No, I don't plan to."

She took a step away. John touched her arm, stopping the woman from leaving, and her eyes snapped to his hand. "Look, I'm staying in the hotel in town. Can you bring him? I won't bother you afterwards. I promise you. "

"Maybe...yeah, I suppose I can do that." She hesitated for a moment, as if meaning to say something else and then continued to walk to the house her shoulder's stiff.

Without any choice, he returned to town.

"Mister McClain," the doctor tapped at the syringe and leaned in to inject him in the thigh. "I'm afraid it can't be put off much longer. You must make a decision very soon. If not, you will die. If it were up to me, I'd take care of it today."