“And I’ve had enough of your jabbering. Sleep or don’t sleep, doesn’t matter to me, but the animals need rest, so we’ll stay here till dusk.”
Then what? “Does that mean you intend to ride at night?” He only nodded, which brought the alarmed question, “But isn’t that dangerous?”
“Shouldn’t be, as long as the sky remains as cloudless as it’s been today. Moonlight can be pretty bright out here.”
His lack of concern should have been reassuring, but it wasn’t. She kept her eyes on him as he went to get her blanket from Carla and spread it out under the tree for her before he unsaddled his horse.
At least she wasn’t hungry. The last meal had been quite filling and palatable—minus the snake. But she shuddered to think what the next one would be like, so she wasn’t looking forward to it. And then she saw the deer at about the same time Morgan did, some hundred or so yards away.
He reached for his rifle. Violet let go of her parasol to clap both hands over her ears before he could fire. She was watching him, not their soon-to-be dinner, and frowned when he put his rifle away without shooting. She figured the deer must have fled. But when she glanced around, she saw it was still there and so indifferent to their presence that it actually lay down near the river’s edge.
“You’re letting it live?” she said in surprise.
“Takes time to bleed it so it doesn’t taste so gamy. I don’t like gamy.”
She was surprised that a man who ate snake could be so picky. But she didn’t share that thought with him, or how much she abhorred being dependent on him for every morsel of food she got. She wanted to get some rest while she could, even if she couldn’t sleep. Dusk came late in summer, but that might be only a few hours away, for all she knew. In Butte she was usually done with dinner long before it started to get dark.
She proceeded to ignore Morgan and inch her way to the blanket. Each little step she took was painful, but she managed not to cringe. Finally sitting down on the blanket in the shade, she continued to watch Morgan because she didn’t trust him one little bit. When he walked away, she lay down to rest her back, planning to sit up when she heard him returning. She never heard him. Despite her sore muscles and the lack of a bed, she fell asleep instantaneously.
She awoke to the crackling of a campfire, surprised that she’d fallen asleep on the hard ground after all. And it wasn’t dusk, but full dark. That was disappointing. She had counted on seeing the sun setting so she could get her bearings. She was also facing her parasol now, but didn’t remember opening it and positioning it on the blanket with her. Had Morgan done that to give her extra shade? She doubted he could be so considerate. She must have done it.
The day’s heat was gone. She had no idea how long she’d slept, but she felt refreshed. And hungry again. And cold. But when she sat up, all the pain came rushing back. How on earth had she managed to sleep at all when the slightest turn would have hurt like this?
She didn’t think she could make it to Carla to fetch her jacket, but detested the idea of asking Morgan to get it for her. She wasnothelpless. And her abused muscles would never get better if she didn’t use them. And then she felt her jacket slide down from her shoulders to her lap. Thank God for small favors. Morgan had probably just tossed it toward her and it had ended up covering her. She didn’t, couldn’t, credit him with actually placing it carefully over her, but she slipped her arms into it.
He was sitting on the other side of the fire watching her. He was wearing a cream-colored jacket now, made of some sort of smooth animal skin. She saw the vest beneath it, but still no shirt.
He’d built the fire at the foot of her blanket. She started to get up but was brutally reminded by the pain in her legs that she couldn’t. He’d predicted that she’d be crying from it. She fought back the tears by getting angry—at herself. Why did she have to be so bloody stubborn? She could have ridden on his horse from the start and avoided the worst of these aches and pains. He’d offered, but she’d been too furious to accept.
She managed to roll toward the fire without leaving her blanket. And saw two fish resting on some twigs next to it, already cooked, as well as another chunk of bread and an apple.
She didn’t try to sit up again, just lay there on her stomach resting on her elbows within reach of the food. “Have you changed your mind about continuing on in the dark?” she asked.
“No.”
“Then why didn’t you wake me before dusk?”
“Maybe I like watching you sleep.”
That was absurd when she had to look a fright, her face dirty and dusty, her hair a wild mess, so she put him on the spot, asking, “Why?”
“Why not? For all your lies, you’re still a damn fine-looking woman. ’Sides, look at my choices.”
She followed his gaze as it turned to his mules and almost laughed, since only their rumps were within view. A joke. Who would have thought a bear could joke?
Glancing at the food again, she asked, “Is half of this repast for me?”
“All of it is,” he said. “I’ll store whatever you don’t eat.”
Then he’d already eaten? And caught the fish. Which had her ask, “You didn’t sleep a’tall?”
“I will, later,” he said, and got up to resaddle his horse. “Just hurry it up, lady. Time’s wasting.”
She picked apart just one of the fish, then ate all the bread and the apple, but now her fingers were utterly sticky from eating without utensils. She glanced toward the river longingly, before he said, “Here,” and turned back to see that he was tipping his canteen toward her. She quickly stuck out her hands, and he poured the last of the water over them before he went to the river to refill his canteen. Then he did the same with hers while she flicked her hands to dry them.
Then she became uncomfortably aware that she couldn’t leave yet, and started looking around for a bush. And she had to do this on her own. She couldn’t very well mention it to the bear.
But she was scooped up in his arms. “Wait! I’m not ready to leave yet. Put me down!”
