“Get me up.”
He opened his eyes then, and Amanda could see just how all right he was. Pain scored creases in his forehead, tautened his eyes and reduced his breathing to careful pants.
“I will not,” she argued. “You could have hurt your back.”
“I didn’t hurt... my back. I hurt my ribs. Now, get...me... up.”
“Jake, I don’t...”
He must have figured it was a waste of time glaring at her. He glared at Clovis instead, who seemed to take that kind of thing more seriously. Between him and José, they managed to wrestle Jake back up to his feet.
“Damn,” Jake gasped, sagging just a little in their support, eyes closing briefly. “I’m gonna have to shoot that animal.”
Clovis laughed. “Either that or recommend him as a bronc.”
Amanda felt foolish trailing behind as Jake, Clovis and José walked very gingerly toward the house. She could see him splinting his side as he walked and wanted to hit him again for even getting up. She saw the flash in his eyes when she challenged him and thanked God he was all right. She thought of how stupid it was for a man to prove himself by wrestling half a ton of animal into submission.
At any other time or place, she would have immediately pictured that scene in terms of her book. She would have taken it, dissected it, transcribed it into the time period. Dispassionately, distanced. Standing in the middle of the present, she’d already be lost in the past.
As Amanda trailed along behind the three men, Jake’s hat in her hand, her own eyes riveted to the slow, very careful way he walked, the way he weaved every once in a while as if the ground weren’t quite steady beneath him, the last thing on her mind was her book.
