that way, how he had gotten the dreadful scars on his face and body, if there was any chance of escaping him.
Her gaze moved back to Ravenhawk. He had stripped off his shirt and was splashing water over his arms and chest. He was tall and broad, though not so tall or broad-shouldered as the bounty hunter. His skin was the color of fine old copper, smooth and unblemished as far as she could see, save for one puckered white scar on his forearm, and two faint scars on his chest. He looked up, catching her gaze, and smiled, a long, lazy smile that made her acutely aware that she was a woman. Lord, but he was a handsome man. For a criminal.
With a huff, she looked away. It was a sin, for a man of his ilk to have a smile like that.
“Let’s go.”
She watched Ravenhawk stand up at the bounty hunter’s words, but she didn’t want to move. It was pleasant, sitting in the shade. The grass was cool beneath her, a faint breeze kept the heat at bay. A small lizard sat on a rock, regarding her through beady black eyes, and then, in a flash, it was gone.
She sprang to her feet when she saw Yellow Thunder striding purposefully toward her.
He looked at her, his right brow raised in an expression she was beginning to recognize as mild amusement. She had the feeling he was laughing at her, that he knew exactly how afraid of him she was.
He jerked his chin toward the horses. “Let’s go.”
Afraid to defy him, she walked toward the Appaloosa.
Yellow Thunder rested one hand on the butt of his gun as he ordered Ravenhawk to mount up. The Lakota’s expression was mutinous as he pulled his buckskin shirt over his head, then climbed into the saddle and secured the handcuff to his wrist.
Yellow Thunder lifted her onto the horse behind Ravenhawk, then swung aboard his own mount.
Kaylynn frowned, wondering how long it would take to reach a town, wondering what the bounty hunter intended to do with her when that time came.
She stared across the prairie. It seemed her life had never been her own. As far back as she could remember, she’d had to answer to someone. First her mother and father. Then her schoolteachers. Then old Mo’e’ha. And now this crude, unwashed, heathen bounty hunter. Just once, she wished she could be her own boss, that she could come and go as she pleased, with no one to order her around and no one to answer to but herself. But it wasn’t likely to happen. If she ever made it to her parents’ home again, she would be right back where she started, under her father’s thumb. One thing was certain, divorce or no divorce, she was never going back to Alan.
Lost in thought, she was hardly aware of the passage of time. It wouldn’t be easy, going back home, admitting she had been wrong about Alan. No doubt her father would say “I told you so”. Her mother would be appalled at the idea of a divorce in the family. Decent people did not sue for a bill of divorcement. It simply wasn’t done. It wouldn’t be easy. As badly as she wanted her freedom, she wasn’t sure she could endure the shame, the stigma, of being a divorced woman.
It wasn’t until Ravenhawk reined the Appaloosa to a halt that she realized dusk had fallen.
They made camp as though they had been doing it for years. Ravenhawk had apparently decided food was more important than his pride and after Yellow Thunder unlocked the cuff shackling him to the pommel, Ravenhawk unsaddled the horses and rubbed them down. When that was done, Yellow Thunder shackled Ravenhawk’s feet, then led the horses down to the stream to drink.
Kaylynn fixed dinner, grimacing as she sliced bacon and fried a mess of beans. She was heartily sick of this rough fare.
The three of them ate in silence so thick she could have cut it with a knife. She had eaten first, acutely aware of the tension that simmered in the air between the two men. When she was finished, she filled the plate and offered it to Ravenhawk. The bounty hunter ate out of the frying pan. He sat a ways
Her gaze moved back to Ravenhawk. He had stripped off his shirt and was splashing water over his arms and chest. He was tall and broad, though not so tall or broad-shouldered as the bounty hunter. His skin was the color of fine old copper, smooth and unblemished as far as she could see, save for one puckered white scar on his forearm, and two faint scars on his chest. He looked up, catching her gaze, and smiled, a long, lazy smile that made her acutely aware that she was a woman. Lord, but he was a handsome man. For a criminal.
With a huff, she looked away. It was a sin, for a man of his ilk to have a smile like that.
“Let’s go.”
She watched Ravenhawk stand up at the bounty hunter’s words, but she didn’t want to move. It was pleasant, sitting in the shade. The grass was cool beneath her, a faint breeze kept the heat at bay. A small lizard sat on a rock, regarding her through beady black eyes, and then, in a flash, it was gone.
She sprang to her feet when she saw Yellow Thunder striding purposefully toward her.
He looked at her, his right brow raised in an expression she was beginning to recognize as mild amusement. She had the feeling he was laughing at her, that he knew exactly how afraid of him she was.
He jerked his chin toward the horses. “Let’s go.”
Afraid to defy him, she walked toward the Appaloosa.
Yellow Thunder rested one hand on the butt of his gun as he ordered Ravenhawk to mount up. The Lakota’s expression was mutinous as he pulled his buckskin shirt over his head, then climbed into the saddle and secured the handcuff to his wrist.
Yellow Thunder lifted her onto the horse behind Ravenhawk, then swung aboard his own mount.
Kaylynn frowned, wondering how long it would take to reach a town, wondering what the bounty hunter intended to do with her when that time came.
She stared across the prairie. It seemed her life had never been her own. As far back as she could remember, she’d had to answer to someone. First her mother and father. Then her schoolteachers. Then old Mo’e’ha. And now this crude, unwashed, heathen bounty hunter. Just once, she wished she could be her own boss, that she could come and go as she pleased, with no one to order her around and no one to answer to but herself. But it wasn’t likely to happen. If she ever made it to her parents’ home again, she would be right back where she started, under her father’s thumb. One thing was certain, divorce or no divorce, she was never going back to Alan.
Lost in thought, she was hardly aware of the passage of time. It wouldn’t be easy, going back home, admitting she had been wrong about Alan. No doubt her father would say “I told you so”. Her mother would be appalled at the idea of a divorce in the family. Decent people did not sue for a bill of divorcement. It simply wasn’t done. It wouldn’t be easy. As badly as she wanted her freedom, she wasn’t sure she could endure the shame, the stigma, of being a divorced woman.
It wasn’t until Ravenhawk reined the Appaloosa to a halt that she realized dusk had fallen.
They made camp as though they had been doing it for years. Ravenhawk had apparently decided food was more important than his pride and after Yellow Thunder unlocked the cuff shackling him to the pommel, Ravenhawk unsaddled the horses and rubbed them down. When that was done, Yellow Thunder shackled Ravenhawk’s feet, then led the horses down to the stream to drink.
Kaylynn fixed dinner, grimacing as she sliced bacon and fried a mess of beans. She was heartily sick of this rough fare.
The three of them ate in silence so thick she could have cut it with a knife. She had eaten first, acutely aware of the tension that simmered in the air between the two men. When she was finished, she filled the plate and offered it to Ravenhawk. The bounty hunter ate out of the frying pan. He sat a ways
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