don’t think I can miss. You make a pretty big target.”
He stared at her, his amusement turning to disbelief then anger. “Suit yourself, sweetheart. I’ll leave the food.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. You’ll both be dead inside a week.” He looked at her, his eyes hot. “It’s a damn shame. We’d have been good together.”
Ravenhawk tethered the bounty hunter’s roan to a tree. Moving to his own horse, he quickly saddled the Appaloosa. “Sure you won’t change your mind and come along?”
“I’m sure.”
He looked at her for a moment, his expression one of regret, then he swung into the saddle and rode into the darkness.
Kaylynn watched him ride away, a sudden cold fear knifing through her. Hands shaking uncontrollably, she let the rifle fall to the ground, relieved that he had not called her bluff. She could never have pulled the trigger. She looked down at the bounty hunter. What madness had made her stay with a man who was most likely dying? She could scarcely take care of herself, let alone a wounded man. Yet even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew that wasn’t true. She had learned a lot in the last eight months. She wasn’t helpless, not anymore. She knew how to tell which plants were poisonous and which were safe, how to locate water, how to erect a lodge, how to start a fire with a flint. Of course, the things she had learned from the Cheyenne wouldn’t be of much use to her in New York, but out here they just might keep her alive.
Yellow Thunder groaned softly, and she forgot everything else but the fact that he needed her help. Placing the rifle within easy reach, she added a handful of wood to the fire, filled the coffeepot with water and placed it in the coals to heat.
Kneeling beside Yellow Thunder, she removed his shirt and the bandage beneath, felt her stomach churn as she looked at the ugly wound on his shoulder. It was red and swollen, oozing blood and pus.
She found a knife in one of the packs, heated the blade in the fire until it glowed white-hot. You can do this , she told herself, and slid the point of the knife into the edge of the wound. Yellow Thunder groaned deep in his throat as dark-red blood and thick greenish pus spurted from his shoulder. The sight, the smell, made her gag and she turned her head away. She took several deep, calming breaths; then, turning back to the task at hand, she let the wound drain until the blood ran a bright crimson.
When she was satisfied that all the pus was gone, she washed his shoulder with hot water. She dried it with his shirt, then cut a strip of cloth from the edge to use as a bandage.
When she was finished, she sat back on her heels and closed her eyes. She had done all she could do. The rest was up to him.
Rising to her feet, she covered Yellow Thunder with a blanket, added more wood to the fire, unsaddled his horse. And then, hardly able to keep her eyes open, she crawled under the blanket beside him and went to sleep.
* * * * *
Jesse came awake slowly, aware of a dull throbbing in his shoulder, of a warm body pressed against his back. He frowned, trying to remember where the devil he was.
He glanced over his shoulder, blinked, and blinked again.
What the hell was Mao’hoohe doing lying beside him?
He swore under his breath as his memory returned with a jolt. He had caught up with Ravenhawk and then passed out.
Propping himself up on his good arm, he surveyed the camp. His roan stood hip-shot a few yards away, tethered to a tree. There was no sign of the Appaloosa, or of the Lakota. Or his .44. Damn and double damn.
He glanced at the woman again, surprised that Ravenhawk hadn’t taken her along. The Lakota had quite a reputation as a ladies’ man. It wasn’t like him to leave one behind.
His gaze moved slowly over her face. Her brows were finely sculpted, delicately arched. Her lashes were thick and long. She had fine, clear skin, a nice nose, a beautiful mouth.
His gaze slid lower, following the
He stared at her, his amusement turning to disbelief then anger. “Suit yourself, sweetheart. I’ll leave the food.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. You’ll both be dead inside a week.” He looked at her, his eyes hot. “It’s a damn shame. We’d have been good together.”
Ravenhawk tethered the bounty hunter’s roan to a tree. Moving to his own horse, he quickly saddled the Appaloosa. “Sure you won’t change your mind and come along?”
“I’m sure.”
He looked at her for a moment, his expression one of regret, then he swung into the saddle and rode into the darkness.
Kaylynn watched him ride away, a sudden cold fear knifing through her. Hands shaking uncontrollably, she let the rifle fall to the ground, relieved that he had not called her bluff. She could never have pulled the trigger. She looked down at the bounty hunter. What madness had made her stay with a man who was most likely dying? She could scarcely take care of herself, let alone a wounded man. Yet even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew that wasn’t true. She had learned a lot in the last eight months. She wasn’t helpless, not anymore. She knew how to tell which plants were poisonous and which were safe, how to locate water, how to erect a lodge, how to start a fire with a flint. Of course, the things she had learned from the Cheyenne wouldn’t be of much use to her in New York, but out here they just might keep her alive.
Yellow Thunder groaned softly, and she forgot everything else but the fact that he needed her help. Placing the rifle within easy reach, she added a handful of wood to the fire, filled the coffeepot with water and placed it in the coals to heat.
Kneeling beside Yellow Thunder, she removed his shirt and the bandage beneath, felt her stomach churn as she looked at the ugly wound on his shoulder. It was red and swollen, oozing blood and pus.
She found a knife in one of the packs, heated the blade in the fire until it glowed white-hot. You can do this , she told herself, and slid the point of the knife into the edge of the wound. Yellow Thunder groaned deep in his throat as dark-red blood and thick greenish pus spurted from his shoulder. The sight, the smell, made her gag and she turned her head away. She took several deep, calming breaths; then, turning back to the task at hand, she let the wound drain until the blood ran a bright crimson.
When she was satisfied that all the pus was gone, she washed his shoulder with hot water. She dried it with his shirt, then cut a strip of cloth from the edge to use as a bandage.
When she was finished, she sat back on her heels and closed her eyes. She had done all she could do. The rest was up to him.
Rising to her feet, she covered Yellow Thunder with a blanket, added more wood to the fire, unsaddled his horse. And then, hardly able to keep her eyes open, she crawled under the blanket beside him and went to sleep.
* * * * *
Jesse came awake slowly, aware of a dull throbbing in his shoulder, of a warm body pressed against his back. He frowned, trying to remember where the devil he was.
He glanced over his shoulder, blinked, and blinked again.
What the hell was Mao’hoohe doing lying beside him?
He swore under his breath as his memory returned with a jolt. He had caught up with Ravenhawk and then passed out.
Propping himself up on his good arm, he surveyed the camp. His roan stood hip-shot a few yards away, tethered to a tree. There was no sign of the Appaloosa, or of the Lakota. Or his .44. Damn and double damn.
He glanced at the woman again, surprised that Ravenhawk hadn’t taken her along. The Lakota had quite a reputation as a ladies’ man. It wasn’t like him to leave one behind.
His gaze moved slowly over her face. Her brows were finely sculpted, delicately arched. Her lashes were thick and long. She had fine, clear skin, a nice nose, a beautiful mouth.
His gaze slid lower, following the
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