The Ruination of Essie Sparks (Wild Western Rogues Series, Book 2) by Barbara Ankrum Page B
Authors: Barbara Ankrum
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deeply, ignoring her earlier reluctance about the receptacle.
She sighed aloud when she'd drunk her fill and handed it back to him. "What does that name mean, ' Náhkohe '?"
"Bear," he said, lowering himself down on a rock beside her. "Because he's brave and has seen many battles." Gingerly, he lowered his pants again to loosen the blood-soaked strip of fabric from around his leg and allow some circulation to return. It began bleeding again in earnest. He covered himself again and rinsed the cotton in the stream. He squeezed the cold water over the wound with a hiss of pain.
He caught her watching him warily and he pressed the already wet cloth against the bullet hole in his leggings and leaned his head back against the rock behind him.
The wound needed a hot knife against it, which required fire, which they didn't—couldn't—afford to have. But he would lose either the leg or his life if he didn't take care of it soon. Perhaps once they crested the mountain and were out of sight on the other side... if his strength held...
"Please. You can unbind me now," she said, gesturing to her hands. "Where would I go now that you've got me in the middle of nowhere?"
"No."
With a frown, she pulled at the leather strip where it chafed her wrists. "What do you intend to do with me? Where are you taking me? At least I have the right to know."
"We've been following Little Wolf's trail since we started up the mountain."
Surprise replaced her frown. "What? Where? I saw nothing."
It mattered not to him if she knew how to follow a trail. It mattered little to him what this woman thought at all. "He is still hours ahead of us, moving faster alone."
"And the men from the school?"
He wrung out the cotton again and soaked it in the cold water. "They found the place where we left the creek over an hour ago."
The consequences of that information dawned in her expression. "Will they catch up to us?"
"Not if I can help it."
She stared at the swiftly moving water. "And what of me? Do you intend to kill me?"
He sliced a sideways look at her. She had reason to believe that, he supposed, considering how he'd put the knife to her throat. And dragged her off into the wilderness. In truth, he didn't know what he intended to do with her, but killing her had never entered his mind. "Do you always ask so many questions?"
"Do you always avoid answering them?"
"Most of the time," he admitted. His head ached and he felt like retching. But he took another sip of water to stave it off. Until today, the most English he'd spoken in the last year or so was with the whores at the Lucky Diamond Sporting House in Magic City, and with them, there was little talk. Still, Ollie made sure he was welcome there and he was grateful for that.
A pause that lasted only minutes stretched between them. Then Essie said, "I know your horse's name. Shouldn't I know yours? In case you die, I mean," she added, as if it mattered not to her either way. "That is, if I ever find my way out of this godforsaken place on my own, if you bleed to death." Glancing upward, her gaze followed what he first thought was a hawk, but was, in fact, a buzzard. "Won't someone be missing you? Your wife, perhaps?"
He nearly laughed. " Wife ? No."
Leaning back against the rock behind her, she said, "You should do that more often."
Opening his eyes at that, he slid a look at her. "What?"
"Smile. It makes you look almost... civilized . "
"Then I must remember not to do it." Without thinking, he moved his head so the curtain of hair fell across the scar on his left cheek.
The afternoon sun beat down on them and the river rushed by in a hurry to reach the waterfall that roared somewhere below.
"You needn't hide that on my account, you know. The scar, I mean."
"I wasn't," he lied, but knew it had become second nature to hide it.
She lifted her foot out of the water and touched the place on her heel that the rock had sliced open. "It does seem quite unfair that a scar on a man's face can
She sighed aloud when she'd drunk her fill and handed it back to him. "What does that name mean, ' Náhkohe '?"
"Bear," he said, lowering himself down on a rock beside her. "Because he's brave and has seen many battles." Gingerly, he lowered his pants again to loosen the blood-soaked strip of fabric from around his leg and allow some circulation to return. It began bleeding again in earnest. He covered himself again and rinsed the cotton in the stream. He squeezed the cold water over the wound with a hiss of pain.
He caught her watching him warily and he pressed the already wet cloth against the bullet hole in his leggings and leaned his head back against the rock behind him.
The wound needed a hot knife against it, which required fire, which they didn't—couldn't—afford to have. But he would lose either the leg or his life if he didn't take care of it soon. Perhaps once they crested the mountain and were out of sight on the other side... if his strength held...
"Please. You can unbind me now," she said, gesturing to her hands. "Where would I go now that you've got me in the middle of nowhere?"
"No."
With a frown, she pulled at the leather strip where it chafed her wrists. "What do you intend to do with me? Where are you taking me? At least I have the right to know."
"We've been following Little Wolf's trail since we started up the mountain."
Surprise replaced her frown. "What? Where? I saw nothing."
It mattered not to him if she knew how to follow a trail. It mattered little to him what this woman thought at all. "He is still hours ahead of us, moving faster alone."
"And the men from the school?"
He wrung out the cotton again and soaked it in the cold water. "They found the place where we left the creek over an hour ago."
The consequences of that information dawned in her expression. "Will they catch up to us?"
"Not if I can help it."
She stared at the swiftly moving water. "And what of me? Do you intend to kill me?"
He sliced a sideways look at her. She had reason to believe that, he supposed, considering how he'd put the knife to her throat. And dragged her off into the wilderness. In truth, he didn't know what he intended to do with her, but killing her had never entered his mind. "Do you always ask so many questions?"
"Do you always avoid answering them?"
"Most of the time," he admitted. His head ached and he felt like retching. But he took another sip of water to stave it off. Until today, the most English he'd spoken in the last year or so was with the whores at the Lucky Diamond Sporting House in Magic City, and with them, there was little talk. Still, Ollie made sure he was welcome there and he was grateful for that.
A pause that lasted only minutes stretched between them. Then Essie said, "I know your horse's name. Shouldn't I know yours? In case you die, I mean," she added, as if it mattered not to her either way. "That is, if I ever find my way out of this godforsaken place on my own, if you bleed to death." Glancing upward, her gaze followed what he first thought was a hawk, but was, in fact, a buzzard. "Won't someone be missing you? Your wife, perhaps?"
He nearly laughed. " Wife ? No."
Leaning back against the rock behind her, she said, "You should do that more often."
Opening his eyes at that, he slid a look at her. "What?"
"Smile. It makes you look almost... civilized . "
"Then I must remember not to do it." Without thinking, he moved his head so the curtain of hair fell across the scar on his left cheek.
The afternoon sun beat down on them and the river rushed by in a hurry to reach the waterfall that roared somewhere below.
"You needn't hide that on my account, you know. The scar, I mean."
"I wasn't," he lied, but knew it had become second nature to hide it.
She lifted her foot out of the water and touched the place on her heel that the rock had sliced open. "It does seem quite unfair that a scar on a man's face can
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