With it in hand, I get the propane torch and head back to the house, finding her exactly where I left her, except Judge is licking her hand. She’s awake, but barely.
There’s not much I can do for the pain, and I keep my eye on her as I heat the branding iron until it glows. I test it against the table to ensure it’s hot enough and when that leaves a smoking scorchmark; I know it is.
I only hesitate for a second before I place the steel to her thigh and the smell of her burning flesh fills the kitchen.
She doesn’t even get out a scream before she passes out.
CHAPTER 4
What the fuck do I do with her now?
Judge watches her like a hawk, his dark eyes not faltering for a minute as I dress her thigh and clean up the rest of her wounds. There are some deep cuts in her feet but they’ll heal just fine on their own, same with her arm, but I clean them up regardless, making sure to remove the caked on dirt and grime.
Now, what is a woman like her doing out here?
And who the fuck shot her?
She is covered in filth but like fuck am I taking her out of her clothes, she’ll likely wake up and try to castrate me, so I lift her from the table and start toward the spare room at the back of the house onthe ground floor. There’s a bathroom she can use whenever she wakes up. I lay her onto the mattress, the dried blood on her skin and the midnight black hair a startling contrast to the white sheets.
Maybe I should clean her up…
I scrub a hand across the coarse hair on my chin, staring toward the strange woman. I hadn’t even noticed that even in sleep, she’s clinging to that gun like it’s her lifeline. It very well might just be.
Life is rough. I’ve no fucking idea what her story is and in these parts, it could be anything. This town isn’t shy to corruption or death, has known and witnessed the reach of men powered by greed. Just look at the farms all around us, the ones left vacant and decimated after hundreds of years of running. The working ranches left, much like mine, struggle to make ends meet, but we do because to let go would be to erase history.
So who knows which part of the line she’s sitting on but we’re all on it, walking the tightrope, hoping to find solid ground at the end.
I let out a heavy sigh, I can’t leave her in this filth. The risk of infection is too high despite her wounds being cleaned.
“Let’s hope she doesn’t murder me in the morning,” I speak to the dog, who simply cocks his head in response and lets out a little whine.
Leaving her to his watchful eye, I head throughto the bathroom and get the water running to fill the tub. The old pipes creak and groan as it comes, sputtering from the faucet initially until it begins to run smoothly and steam rises from the tub. I get everything I need ready and head back to her.
She lays in the same position; hair spread across the sheets while Judge rests his head on the edge of the bed.
“Like her, huh?” I scratch behind his ears. “I always knew you were a poor judge of character.”
Reaching for the knife in my belt buckle, I lift the hem of her dress away from her skin and press the blade to the material, slicing through it like it’s nothing more than butter.
I don’t even make it to the top of her thigh when the butt of her gun slams against the side of my head.
“Fuck!” I holler, stumbling until I catch myself on the mattress.
“If you want to get me naked, cowboy, you’re gonna need to ask first.” She growls at me, pushing herself away so her back presses to the headboard and the gun is pointing at me once more.
I wipe away the trickle of blood that rolls down my temple, lifting my eyes to her. She’s pissing me the fuck off.
“Bath’s done,” I snap out, “Get clean, rest. I want you out by morning.”
I start for the door, boots thumping.
“And where am I supposed to go?” She calls to my back. I turn to see her getting to her feet, holding her weight off her injured leg.
“Why the fuck do I care?”
The door slams behind me, my anger boiling inside my veins. People. This is why I don’t fucking deal with people. Grabbing the bottle of whiskey, I drink straight from it, letting it burn all the way down. It’s not the good stuff, can’t afford that anymore, and I haven’t taken from the stash my father left behind in the office.
I swipe my hand across my mouth and then lean on the counter, staring out the kitchen window to the darkness beyond, the shadow of the mountains boring down on my ranch. Judge trots out her room, leaving her door open and I catch just a glimpse as she pulls the dress over her head, leaving her in a lacy black bra and panties to match.
