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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Bobitron" data-source="post: 2326019" data-attributes="member: 25479">“We’re much obliged, Marshal.” Deke casts a concerned look at the wounded man as the Indian moves to check his wounds. “Richey, Jones. Get back to the wagon and start workin’ on those rocks.” Deke quickly looks back at the Marshal with a grin after those words. “Now that we don’t need help with, sir.” The two men walk back to the wagon and get back to work, but seem too distracted by your presenceto get much done.The man winces as Michael leans over his form and pulls back the blanket, they light of the sun shining bright in his face. He looks like a full-blooded Mexican, and he lets out a quiet groan as the native looks him over. It appears he has a few broken ribs, and one may have punctured a lung. Frothy blood seeps from a small wound on his chest where a tiny sliver of sharp bone can be seen. His right leg is broken in at least 2 places, and the man’s left arm is limp and badly bruised. Michael does what he can to help the man, but it doesn’t look like he will last long out here on the road. The wounds all look like those of a man crushed by rocks after being thrown from horse or wagon.“Maldición del dios, él lastima.”Dakota: From your vantage point, you notice a corner of the tarpaulin fly up in the wind. The two men working nearby quickly pull down the flap and glance around furtively. In the split second the crate was exposed, you see the instantly recognizable stamp of the US Army on the end.Edit: Small adjustment to the description.</blockquote>

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