She walked away without saying another word, her back stiff with resentment and defiance.He wished he didn’t feel a sense of loss as she disappeared inside the cabin.
Chapter 9
Rafe tried to stay away from his prisoner the rest of the day, leaving the trout for her to eat alone.He’d lost whatever hunger he had after that acrimonious conversation, and he knew he couldn’t eat.But she needed to.
He consciously shoved thoughts of her from his mind as he worked with the bay.Finally, in late afternoon, guilt overwhelmed him.As he’d told her to do, she’d been staying in the cabin—much to his surprise.He had expected her to defy him.The fact that she didn’t worried him.He finally knocked on the door.
The trout was gone.Both of them.Her appetite apparently hadn’t been affected as much as his.He allowed her outside, although he warned her to keep at least part of herself in sight as she saw to her needs.She did, her back so stiff, he thought it might break if he touched her.
And then, without asking, she went inside the cabin, retrieved her drawing materials, and came back out, seating herself on the tree stump with a look that dared him to object.
He didn’t.He ignored her as much as possible, continuing to work with the bay.
He kept all his attention on the horse, teaching it to obey voice as well as touch commands.Training a horse was a matter of patience and concentration, and God knew he needed concentration to keep his mind from the disturbing woman.
The sketch of Ben had been damned good.So good that it could condemn him.Rafe suspected she was now sketching him, with those quick, darting looks at him and then rapt attention to the pad she was holding.He should take it away, but it really made no difference.She would undoubtedly be able to draw him from memory.
And he really didn’t care much what happened to him beyond this one quest to even the score.He would merely exist until he died.With the brand on his hand, he had no prospects other than death.No dreams, no hopes, and he wasn’t fool enough to allow himself to even consider them.
Hedidcare, however, about what happened to the men who rode with him.He’d already burned the drawing of Ben in the fireplace.But he had little doubt she could re-create it, as well as produce a drawing of Clint.
Which made things very complicated indeed.
He would have to let her go eventually, but only after Ben and Clint left the territory.His stomach heaved.In his quest for vengeance he had accepted help.Now he fully realized the price the others might pay.He had always thought they could remain … remote, unknown, but they were not remote any longer.
Because of a brown-haired girl with eyes that seemed to look right into him, and wince at what they saw.Dammit all to hell.
He focused his attention back on the horse, moving back and calling softly, gratified when the horse moved with him.There had been times in his life when such a trick had been very, very important to his continued existence.He took out a dried apple and fed it to the animal, his hand running gently down its neck.
They had become friends, he and the horse, on the trip West.That relationship and the one with Abner were the only ties with which he’d felt any ease since his court-martial.
He certainly didn’t feel any ease with the prickly lady sitting on the tree stump.Nor should he.
The thought made him feel even more alone than he had in prison.There was something about being physically close to someone but millions of miles distant in other ways that was disconcerting.
He glanced her way again.She was still dressed in the trousers and shirt, her hair braided once more.The long braid had fallen over her shoulder and lay alongside her right breast.Her head was bent over the pad, her hands moving gracefully but with purpose.
She was … attractive with the sun sparking streaks of gold in her hair, her face so intent.He’d never known a woman like her before, one apparently content with herself, able to occupy herself.She was so completely different from Allison, who had always been the center of attention, who constantly flirted and was unhappy unless she was surrounded by a crowd of people.He’d mistaken her vivacity, her demand for all his attention, for love.He hadn’t realized how shallow her feelings were, that she was more enamored of his uniform than of the man inside.
The horse nuzzled him for another apple, and Rafe longed to mount him.He didn’t need a saddle, not since he was little more than a tadpole when he’d climbed from a fence onto the back of a horse.But he couldn’t ride these mountains as he had the past few weeks.He couldn’t leaveher.
But damn, he was restless.He hobbled the horse, so it could graze on the rich mountain grass, and made his way over to the woman.He looked down at the pad and saw a version of himself glaring back at him.
Rafe wondered if he really looked that way, that … soulless.Perhaps he did.Perhaps he was.
“Are you going to destroy that one too?”she asked.
He shrugged.“It’s not very complimentary.”
“Did you expect it to be?”
“You obviously don’t believe in currying favor.”
“It wouldn’t do any good, would it?”
He smiled grimly.“An intelligent woman.”
“When are you going to let me go?”
