The Telegram at Dawn
The telegraph boy's knock rattles your door before the sun has cleared the mesas. You read the message twice. BLOODFEVER COFFIN CREEK. TWELVE DEAD. SEND SERUM IF ANY GOD HAVE MERCY.
Sixty miles of hard country between you and the dying. The serum vials clink softly as you buckle the saddlebag. Three roads. One choice. Every hour, another grave.
The fastest road is rarely the safest — but the slowest may cost lives you cannot spare.