With the aid of a horse on loan from Sheriff Doody, the landing party escorted Schrader into the desert for retrieval. His shoulder had stopped bleeding and the town doctor had
applied a relatively sanitary dressing after liberally soaking the area with whiskey, after first taking a long draw from the bottle. The sheriff had seemed perplexed at the need to take their wounded comrade
away, though he seemed to have just chalked it up to big city mentality.
Orwig helped the pilot down from the horse, taking care not to disturb his arm, now secured by a makeshift sling.
"Copy, sir", Schultz replied. "Will transport in two-zero seconds. Copy?"
"Roger Escort. Reed out."
Schrader had moved several feet away from the group and was busily removing his gun belt with his good arm. As it slid from his hip, he tossed it to VanTedly who caught it awkwardly.
"Take care of that for me, partner", the pilot said with a lopsided grin.
"Thanks, Lieutenant", VanTedly muttered, seemingly overcome with emotion.
Schrader rendered a loose salute, turned to light, then disappeared.
Reed turned to his remaining crewmen. "Well gentlemen", he said gravely, "that's the last casualty we suffer on this mission. Understand?!"
They all nodded, sharing his mood. VanTedly cleared his throat weakly.
"What is it, Ensign", Reed inquired.
"Uh, well sir", VanTedly began, staring down at his feet as they shuffled nervously in the sand, "it's a long way back to town, and seeing as we have a horse..."
Reed got the picture. "You'd like to know if you could ride it back", he finished the ensign's thought.
"Well yeah", he replied, peering around at the others. "Unless somebody else wants to."
They all shook their heads chuckling. Reed nodded to VanTedly. "Go ahead Ensign. You've earned it."
"By all means", Broski muttered, spitting in the sand, "just keep your hat on so we can tell you apart from the horse's ass."
