Your fingers gripped his calf, eyes glued to the gaping hole that tore through his flesh and muscles.

Just when you thought the two of you made it out of that stagecoach robbery unscathed and about three hundred dollars richer...someone had to go and get themselves shot. You had to hand it to him...he was taking it pretty well as you carefully removed shrapnel from the gunshot wound. He was tough but you already knew that.

"Hijo de puta..." You heard him mutter under his breath, his fingers dug into the dirt below him. You sigh through your nose, not knowing how to make this any less painful.