The rawhide had chafed the skin and it dug into his flesh. His wrists were a mess of cuts and sores. So were his feet and legs. They’d been cut and ...ruised on rocks and by brambles. His back looked like someone had beaten him. Once I’d cut his wrists free I laid him back upon the ground, and I slipped the lead rope that hung about his neck off of it. By then Gabon had returned with my pack.“We need to start getting him warm,” I told the man in a low voice. “Lay out my bedroll and we’ll put him. "Let's go, guys," the cop said, motioning us out of the car.Mack and Bear led the way, almost as if they knew where they were going.Brad and I fell in after them with the cop, holding the briefcase,bringing up the rear. We walked into an area that looked familiar. Itwasn't because I had been there before, but I had been in places likeit. It was a police station. But the odd thing is that there was no onethere except us. Usually, even in a small town like Ovid, there would bea couple of cops. More

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