Texas. With Hell’s Eight.” He didn’t mind her knowing that. He’d be drawing a map for her, so she could go there if anything happened to him. He’d sent a telegram to Tracker, using their special code when he’d been stealing back his gear. Breaking into the telegraph office and sending the telegram had been a risk, but it couldn’t be helped. Fei needed protection. The message would be relayed from telegraph office to telegraph office in a preplanned pattern until one of Hell’s Eight picked it up.
“Why did you leave?”
“A little disagreement between me and the army.”
“You are a deserter?” She sounded shocked.
“Would it matter if I was?”
She turned and looked at him, eyes narrowed. Then shook her head. “You are not a deserter.”
“No, I’m a murderer.”
She threw up a hand. “Why you always wish for me to think bad of you?”
Because it was safer than the alternative. “Do you know your English slips when you’re upset?”
“Do you know you get evasive when you worry I see too much?”
She saw too damn much. “Maybe we should just shut up and ride, then.”
“And do you always get to pretend to be mean when you wish to end a talk?”
“Honey, there’s nothing pretend about my mean.”
She made a noise that sounded like pfft.
“What’d you say?”
“I scoff at your mean.”
She was too far ahead to catch his muttered “Son of a bitch.”
She slowed her horse and let him catch up. “And I ask why you tell me you are a murderer.”
Leaning over, he gave the mare a light slap on the rump. The mare scooted forward. Fei grabbed for the saddle horn and shot him a dirty look.
He smiled back.
Settling into the saddle, she straightened her tunic and informed him, “If you do not ride up here with me, I will be forced to shout.”
The brush was sparse enough that they could ride abreast. “So?”
“Ahead is an area popular with the Indians for stopovers.”
“You travel alone through Indian country?”
“It is necessary.”
He swore again and kneed his horse forward. The slight smile on her lips at the victory irked him further.
“Do you always get your way?”
“I believe in persistence.”
“And I believe you need your butt paddled.”
“You are my husband. I cannot stop you.”
“It would go a lot further to settling my anger if you sounded the least bit scared.”
The smile grew. “You have promised that you would never hurt me. A paddling would hurt.”
“I’d enjoy it.”
She cocked her head to the side and studied him with that way of hers before declaring decisively, “No, you would not.”
There was no way she could know that any more than there was any reason for her to believe his promise. “What makes you so sure?”
“I just know. Just as I know that, if you murdered someone, there was cause.”
“Not enough for the army.”
Pfft. “I have had encounters with this army. Not all who are in charge are men of balance.”
“Interesting way of putting it.”
“I do not know all the words, all the time.”
Neither did he. Especially when someone who had no reason to believe in anything had absolute faith in him. It made him uncomfortable. “I’m not a saint, Fei.”
She pulled her horse to a stop. “No, you are a dragon. And for the moment, mine.”
Mine. The claim settled far too comfortably on his ears.
“Be careful what you claim, little girl.”
“Be careful how you judge,” she retorted. “I have not been a girl for many years.”
Son of a bitch, she challenged him. How he wanted to accept that challenge. “Just how many years?”
“I have seen twenty-three birthdays.”
“So old.”
“How old are you?”
“Coming up on thirty-one.”
She nodded. “I see. Very old.”
“Not that old.” Urging his horse closer, he put an end to the game with a simple maneuver. Her eyes widened, and her breath caught as he hooked his fingers behind her neck. Fear? Interest? Her attention dropped to his mouth as he leaned in. Her tongue came out and smoothed over
“Why did you leave?”
“A little disagreement between me and the army.”
“You are a deserter?” She sounded shocked.
“Would it matter if I was?”
She turned and looked at him, eyes narrowed. Then shook her head. “You are not a deserter.”
“No, I’m a murderer.”
She threw up a hand. “Why you always wish for me to think bad of you?”
Because it was safer than the alternative. “Do you know your English slips when you’re upset?”
“Do you know you get evasive when you worry I see too much?”
She saw too damn much. “Maybe we should just shut up and ride, then.”
“And do you always get to pretend to be mean when you wish to end a talk?”
“Honey, there’s nothing pretend about my mean.”
She made a noise that sounded like pfft.
“What’d you say?”
“I scoff at your mean.”
She was too far ahead to catch his muttered “Son of a bitch.”
She slowed her horse and let him catch up. “And I ask why you tell me you are a murderer.”
Leaning over, he gave the mare a light slap on the rump. The mare scooted forward. Fei grabbed for the saddle horn and shot him a dirty look.
He smiled back.
Settling into the saddle, she straightened her tunic and informed him, “If you do not ride up here with me, I will be forced to shout.”
The brush was sparse enough that they could ride abreast. “So?”
“Ahead is an area popular with the Indians for stopovers.”
“You travel alone through Indian country?”
“It is necessary.”
He swore again and kneed his horse forward. The slight smile on her lips at the victory irked him further.
“Do you always get your way?”
“I believe in persistence.”
“And I believe you need your butt paddled.”
“You are my husband. I cannot stop you.”
“It would go a lot further to settling my anger if you sounded the least bit scared.”
The smile grew. “You have promised that you would never hurt me. A paddling would hurt.”
“I’d enjoy it.”
She cocked her head to the side and studied him with that way of hers before declaring decisively, “No, you would not.”
There was no way she could know that any more than there was any reason for her to believe his promise. “What makes you so sure?”
“I just know. Just as I know that, if you murdered someone, there was cause.”
“Not enough for the army.”
Pfft. “I have had encounters with this army. Not all who are in charge are men of balance.”
“Interesting way of putting it.”
“I do not know all the words, all the time.”
Neither did he. Especially when someone who had no reason to believe in anything had absolute faith in him. It made him uncomfortable. “I’m not a saint, Fei.”
She pulled her horse to a stop. “No, you are a dragon. And for the moment, mine.”
Mine. The claim settled far too comfortably on his ears.
“Be careful what you claim, little girl.”
“Be careful how you judge,” she retorted. “I have not been a girl for many years.”
Son of a bitch, she challenged him. How he wanted to accept that challenge. “Just how many years?”
“I have seen twenty-three birthdays.”
“So old.”
“How old are you?”
“Coming up on thirty-one.”
She nodded. “I see. Very old.”
“Not that old.” Urging his horse closer, he put an end to the game with a simple maneuver. Her eyes widened, and her breath caught as he hooked his fingers behind her neck. Fear? Interest? Her attention dropped to his mouth as he leaned in. Her tongue came out and smoothed over
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