Bandita threw her head back and exploded in laughter.
“Redeem myself? Surely, you must be joking.”
The Wanderer glanced at the Shepherd, but he’d already closed his eyes and bowed his head. When he glanced back at Ella Bandita, he was filled with sorrow.
“How can you be so naïve, Wanderer?” she said, scowling at him. “If I accept, the only thing ahead of me is death, and a humiliating one at that.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“I would be arrested, thrown into prison, and then hung.”
The Wanderer remembered the Lawmen who had come to their camp. He could
still see them prowling around their tents, their bloodless faces, and their weapons shaking in their hands. His hollow ached when he realized Ella Bandita was right.
“Can you picture the spectacle it would be, Wanderer?”
Her voice was soft, yet she still pierced through the chaos of stolen hearts. With his heart in one hand, Ella Bandita stretched her arms out and turned in wide circles as she continued.
“A mob of ladies and gentlemen dressed in their finest, all of them gloating as I walk to the gallows. Can you see their faces, Wanderer? See them throwing their rot at me? Do you hear the shouts of jubilation when the hangman slips the noose around my neck and kicks away the chair? Do you think any would look away, much less leave before I’ve twitched my last?”
The cadence of her speech was mesmerizing. The Wanderer stood motionless, staring at his heart beating in the hand of Ella Bandita while those in the tower pulsed at his back. She stopped spinning and dropped her arms.
“So Wanderer, is that what you call redemption?”
Before he could answer, the Shepherd spoke up behind him.
“You have to atone for the evil you’ve done.”
“The evil I’ve done?” she retorted, nodding to the tower. “Are you trying to be funny, Shepherd? Perhaps I was their divine comeuppance.”
“Don’t mock me.”
“Stop speaking nonsense and I won’t. Just listen to that racket. Do you think any of those came from a decent human being?”
In response, the Shepherd looked pointedly to the heart in her hand. Ella Bandita rolled her eyes and sighed.
“I’ll admit the Wanderer isn’t the worst sort of man. But he’s not the best either.”
“You’re right,” the Wanderer interrupted. “But if you give me a chance, I will be.”
Both Ella Bandita and the Shepherd started and turned his way, their eyes wide with surprise. They’d forgotten the Wanderer was there. He suddenly realized his friend and his nemesis must know each other very well. Their bickering held the rhythm of familiarity. Before he continued, he prayed silently for the Shepherd’s forgiveness for what he was about to do.
“If you were to live with me as…” the Wanderer paused. “If you were to be my wife, then the law would never find you.”
Ella Bandita froze, her eyes wide and staring, her mouth dropped slightly open.
Then she shook her head and blinked. Her face cleared, the corners of her mouth twitching.
“Your impulse is generous, Wanderer,” she said. “But I’m going to decline.”
Her tone was not unpleasant. But she sounded amused and rage surged in his hollow again. Ella Bandita peered into his face and raised her brows.
“Spare me your wounded pride, Wanderer. Did you really think I would say yes?”
“I don’t know what I expected, but I think I deserve better than ridicule.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she replied. “I think you’re very kind and I hope you don’t find insult in that.”
Ella Bandita had her arms folded across her breasts, her eyes as cold and blank as ever when she met his gaze. The Wanderer looked at the Shepherd again. But he found neither jealousy nor censure in the clear green eyes, only a deep sorrow and understanding. The Wanderer turned back to Ella Bandita and shook his head.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked. “You have nothing to lose.”
“No, I don’t,” she
“Redeem myself? Surely, you must be joking.”
The Wanderer glanced at the Shepherd, but he’d already closed his eyes and bowed his head. When he glanced back at Ella Bandita, he was filled with sorrow.
“How can you be so naïve, Wanderer?” she said, scowling at him. “If I accept, the only thing ahead of me is death, and a humiliating one at that.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“I would be arrested, thrown into prison, and then hung.”
The Wanderer remembered the Lawmen who had come to their camp. He could
still see them prowling around their tents, their bloodless faces, and their weapons shaking in their hands. His hollow ached when he realized Ella Bandita was right.
“Can you picture the spectacle it would be, Wanderer?”
Her voice was soft, yet she still pierced through the chaos of stolen hearts. With his heart in one hand, Ella Bandita stretched her arms out and turned in wide circles as she continued.
“A mob of ladies and gentlemen dressed in their finest, all of them gloating as I walk to the gallows. Can you see their faces, Wanderer? See them throwing their rot at me? Do you hear the shouts of jubilation when the hangman slips the noose around my neck and kicks away the chair? Do you think any would look away, much less leave before I’ve twitched my last?”
The cadence of her speech was mesmerizing. The Wanderer stood motionless, staring at his heart beating in the hand of Ella Bandita while those in the tower pulsed at his back. She stopped spinning and dropped her arms.
“So Wanderer, is that what you call redemption?”
Before he could answer, the Shepherd spoke up behind him.
“You have to atone for the evil you’ve done.”
“The evil I’ve done?” she retorted, nodding to the tower. “Are you trying to be funny, Shepherd? Perhaps I was their divine comeuppance.”
“Don’t mock me.”
“Stop speaking nonsense and I won’t. Just listen to that racket. Do you think any of those came from a decent human being?”
In response, the Shepherd looked pointedly to the heart in her hand. Ella Bandita rolled her eyes and sighed.
“I’ll admit the Wanderer isn’t the worst sort of man. But he’s not the best either.”
“You’re right,” the Wanderer interrupted. “But if you give me a chance, I will be.”
Both Ella Bandita and the Shepherd started and turned his way, their eyes wide with surprise. They’d forgotten the Wanderer was there. He suddenly realized his friend and his nemesis must know each other very well. Their bickering held the rhythm of familiarity. Before he continued, he prayed silently for the Shepherd’s forgiveness for what he was about to do.
“If you were to live with me as…” the Wanderer paused. “If you were to be my wife, then the law would never find you.”
Ella Bandita froze, her eyes wide and staring, her mouth dropped slightly open.
Then she shook her head and blinked. Her face cleared, the corners of her mouth twitching.
“Your impulse is generous, Wanderer,” she said. “But I’m going to decline.”
Her tone was not unpleasant. But she sounded amused and rage surged in his hollow again. Ella Bandita peered into his face and raised her brows.
“Spare me your wounded pride, Wanderer. Did you really think I would say yes?”
“I don’t know what I expected, but I think I deserve better than ridicule.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she replied. “I think you’re very kind and I hope you don’t find insult in that.”
Ella Bandita had her arms folded across her breasts, her eyes as cold and blank as ever when she met his gaze. The Wanderer looked at the Shepherd again. But he found neither jealousy nor censure in the clear green eyes, only a deep sorrow and understanding. The Wanderer turned back to Ella Bandita and shook his head.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked. “You have nothing to lose.”
“No, I don’t,” she
Similar Books
