Lizzy & Carroll Hudson 

He had braced against the wind

all day.

It could make a man crazy.

By midday the Devil Wind

materialized

into sleet blowing 

sideways.

Lizzy seemed not to notice.

She plodded on

finding footing on the upward

path through the high notch.

She was a good pony.

Somewhere behind

that damned posse trailed him

and they would not give up.

They had a dead sheriff

to avenge. 

But he had the drop on him

and gave him no choice.

He bent over in the saddle 

to stroke Lizzy's neck.

She understood.

Pulling his coat tighter

around him

he shivered. 

He'd been cold before

but this was becoming 

a blizzard of ice

wind

cutting cold

and numbing hours

on a frozen saddle.

Come on, Liz

old girl.

You get us out of this mess

and I swear

we won't do this again.

We're both getting too old for this.

Damned sheriff.

His side suddenly blazed

with penetrating 

stabbing pain.

Hanging onto Lizzy

with one hand 

tightened on the reins

the other grasping 

the pommel

a second flame

blew away much

of his left shoulder.

That's when Lizzy stumbled

and fell 

in the center of the snowbound

trail

a geyser of blood

spraying from a hole

in her neck.

The snow around them

turned crimson

with blood.

Her powerful legs pumped

pumped

then slowly pulsed

until they forever stopped.

Her big, black eyes

freezing pallid with snow and ice.

Six deputies made their way

down from the high

boulders

moving carefully to the scene.

One knelt to look into

the dying rider's face.

"Carroll Hudson

for a fact."

Another:

"Whatta we do with his

carcass?" 

The leader:

"The hell. We leave it to rot.

But that ain't gonna happen

till spring."

Grab his gear.

We'll divide it later."

Another:

"Hated to shoot the horse though.

What did she ever

do?"