Josie asked as she stepped into the house. “Get out!” Grey barked. He grabbed her arm and shoved her back outside. “Don’t lay your hands on me that way!” she snapped, wriggling out of his grasp. He popped his head outside the door. “Sorry. Just stay put and let me find out what’s happening in this town. The man in there has the fever.” She gasped. “Then you come out of there, too,” she begged, reaching for him. He stuck the revolver in its holster. “I won’t go near him. I’ll stay right here and talk to him.” He raised his voice. “What kind of fever you got, mister?” The man coughed again. “The killin’ kind.” “I mean, yellow or typhoid?” The voice was so weak and scratchy. “Don’t know. I need water. Please give me water.” “Where’s everyone else in this town? They all got the fever, too?” Grey asked. “That or already dead.” Josie’s breath hitched. “Grey, what are we going to do?” “Can’t you get up and get the water yourself?”
