had!
“Might as well make the best of it.”
She turned slowly to face the man sitting beside her. “The best of it? And what, exactly, is the best of it?”
He grinned, displaying even, white teeth. “You can cuddle up next to me if you get cold during the night.”
“I’d as soon curl up beside a snake.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
She bit down on her lower lip to keep from screaming. This could not be happening to her. Shackled to some criminal when all she wanted to do was go back home where she belonged.
She was on the verge of sobbing when she heard a deep rumbling sound. It took her a moment to realize it was Ravenhawk’s stomach growling.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he muttered.
Determined to ignore him, she turned her back to him and lay down on the hard ground, the blanket pulled over her. She was acutely conscious of the man lying beside her. She could feel his heat, his nearness, the shifting of the blanket as he sought a more comfortable position.
And then she heard his stomach growl again. With an aggravated sigh, she reached inside the sash tied around her waist and withdrew the bread she had hidden there.
“Here,” she said, thrusting it at him. “Eat this.”
“Obliged.” Ravenhawk offered her a crooked grin as he took the bread from her hand. He glanced over at Yellow Thunder. The bounty hunter was sitting on his bedroll, staring into the fire.
Ravenhawk ate quickly. It wasn’t near enough to fill his empty belly, but it took the edge off his hunger. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a glass of whiskey hidden in there?” he muttered.
“Hardly.” She stared over her shoulder at the man sitting beside the fire. “Who is he?” she asked.
“His name’s Jesse Yellow Thunder.”
“Is he a lawman?”
Ravenhawk laughed harshly. “Not exactly. He’s a bounty hunter.”
“A bounty hunter.” She had heard it said that most were little better than the men they hunted. She scooted as far away from Ravenhawk as she could get, wondering what crime he had committed.
The move was not missed by Ravenhawk. “Thanks again for the bread,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement.
With a nod, Kaylynn huddled under the blanket again. A criminal and a bounty hunter. What would her father think if he could see her now?
Chapter Seven
They were on the move early the following morning. Kaylynn had rarely felt so dirty and disheveled in her whole life. Her hair fell over her shoulders in a scraggly mass. She needed a long soak in a tub of hot water. She needed a comb and a brush, though she was beginning to wonder if she would ever get all the tangles out of her hair. She needed new clothes, though she wondered if she would ever get used to wearing a chemise, pantalets and a mountain of petticoats again. She glanced at her hands, rough and dry, the nails broken. She needed a manicure, too. And a good night’s sleep in a real bed…
She stared at Ravenhawk’s back, and told herself she would not cry. But it was hard to keep her tears at bay. Living with the Indians had not been easy, but it had been better than this. At least she’d had a bed of soft furs to sleep in, clean water to bathe with, a change of clothing. She’d had to work hard, but she had been treated well enough.
She rubbed her eyes. They felt gritty from lack of sleep. She had been all too aware of Ravenhawk lying beside her the night before. She had been afraid to fall asleep for fear of what he might do, afraid she might roll over and touch him. Apparently he had not been bothered by her nearness. He had slept soundly through the night.
He had a broad back, Ravenhawk did. And long black hair, though it was not as long as Yellow Thunder’s. Wisps of his hair brushed her cheek from time to time. She sat as far away from him as possible, but there wasn’t a lot of room to spare on the back of a horse. She held lightly to his waist to keep from tumbling over the Appaloosa’s rump.
The bounty hunter rode
“Might as well make the best of it.”
She turned slowly to face the man sitting beside her. “The best of it? And what, exactly, is the best of it?”
He grinned, displaying even, white teeth. “You can cuddle up next to me if you get cold during the night.”
“I’d as soon curl up beside a snake.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
She bit down on her lower lip to keep from screaming. This could not be happening to her. Shackled to some criminal when all she wanted to do was go back home where she belonged.
She was on the verge of sobbing when she heard a deep rumbling sound. It took her a moment to realize it was Ravenhawk’s stomach growling.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he muttered.
Determined to ignore him, she turned her back to him and lay down on the hard ground, the blanket pulled over her. She was acutely conscious of the man lying beside her. She could feel his heat, his nearness, the shifting of the blanket as he sought a more comfortable position.
And then she heard his stomach growl again. With an aggravated sigh, she reached inside the sash tied around her waist and withdrew the bread she had hidden there.
“Here,” she said, thrusting it at him. “Eat this.”
“Obliged.” Ravenhawk offered her a crooked grin as he took the bread from her hand. He glanced over at Yellow Thunder. The bounty hunter was sitting on his bedroll, staring into the fire.
Ravenhawk ate quickly. It wasn’t near enough to fill his empty belly, but it took the edge off his hunger. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a glass of whiskey hidden in there?” he muttered.
“Hardly.” She stared over her shoulder at the man sitting beside the fire. “Who is he?” she asked.
“His name’s Jesse Yellow Thunder.”
“Is he a lawman?”
Ravenhawk laughed harshly. “Not exactly. He’s a bounty hunter.”
“A bounty hunter.” She had heard it said that most were little better than the men they hunted. She scooted as far away from Ravenhawk as she could get, wondering what crime he had committed.
The move was not missed by Ravenhawk. “Thanks again for the bread,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement.
With a nod, Kaylynn huddled under the blanket again. A criminal and a bounty hunter. What would her father think if he could see her now?
Chapter Seven
They were on the move early the following morning. Kaylynn had rarely felt so dirty and disheveled in her whole life. Her hair fell over her shoulders in a scraggly mass. She needed a long soak in a tub of hot water. She needed a comb and a brush, though she was beginning to wonder if she would ever get all the tangles out of her hair. She needed new clothes, though she wondered if she would ever get used to wearing a chemise, pantalets and a mountain of petticoats again. She glanced at her hands, rough and dry, the nails broken. She needed a manicure, too. And a good night’s sleep in a real bed…
She stared at Ravenhawk’s back, and told herself she would not cry. But it was hard to keep her tears at bay. Living with the Indians had not been easy, but it had been better than this. At least she’d had a bed of soft furs to sleep in, clean water to bathe with, a change of clothing. She’d had to work hard, but she had been treated well enough.
She rubbed her eyes. They felt gritty from lack of sleep. She had been all too aware of Ravenhawk lying beside her the night before. She had been afraid to fall asleep for fear of what he might do, afraid she might roll over and touch him. Apparently he had not been bothered by her nearness. He had slept soundly through the night.
He had a broad back, Ravenhawk did. And long black hair, though it was not as long as Yellow Thunder’s. Wisps of his hair brushed her cheek from time to time. She sat as far away from him as possible, but there wasn’t a lot of room to spare on the back of a horse. She held lightly to his waist to keep from tumbling over the Appaloosa’s rump.
The bounty hunter rode
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