Page 50 of Cutter’s Lady

“But not if I go alone.”

“Right.” Leslie gave a decisive nod.

“Then I might as well stay here and keep what you’ve already paid me.”

“You can’t!”

“What’s to stop me?” Cutter folded his arms.

Leslie stared at him, all her hopes suddenly crashing around her. She couldn’t keep back the tears that welled in her eyes. “Cutter, no…please. Please go. Please let me go with you.”

Cutter had thought he was immune to anything Leslie could do to convince him, but he wasn’t prepared for this. The sight of her luminous dark eyes awash with tears shook him deep in his soul. He sighed. “Yes, damn it, I’ll go.”

Leslie put her hand on his arm. “With me. Please? Don’t say no. I can’t bear to stay here and not know what’s going on. Let me go with you.”

“Oh, all right!” Cutter jumped up, shooting his chair back from the table. His brows were drawn together in a dark frown. He spoke roughly. “It’s your neck. But be ready to move at 5:00 A.M.”

Leslie smiled dazzlingly. “I will.”

***

They set out the next morning as early as Cutter had threatened. Leslie was still half-asleep, but she stumbled out and climbed on her small donkey. Cutter had made her leave her purse and everything else except her most necessary clothes, which he had compressed into a small bundle and stuck in a small weatherproof bag. He now strapped the bag onto one of the pack animals, then climbed onto the lead donkey and tapped it with his heels. Leslie smothered a grin at the sight of Cutter’s long legs dangling on either side of the little creature.

The trail wound back into the mountains. At first it was wide enough for the two of them to ride side by side, but it soon narrowed until there was room for single-file riding only. The trees grew up thick and tall beside the trail, and often vines twisted between them and draped over their heads. Leslie called a few questions to Cutter about the trees, and he identified some—the strange-looking cannonball tree, with its rounded mounds on the trunk; the towering pouis, under whose shelter stood the cacao trees; the mango, flowering now in tiny pink, hairy blossoms; the sturdy mahogany. But it was quickly apparent that riding in single file made it difficult either to talk or to hear, and Leslie abandoned her attempts at conversation.

The trees shaded Leslie from much of the sun, but now and then they emerged into an open spot, and the sun blazed down on her. She was grateful for the wide-brimmed hat Cutter had given her and the sunscreen she had smeared on her arms before she left that morning. Even when the sun didn’t hit her directly, it was decidedly warm, the heat thickened by the dampness in the air. Leslie, in jeans, shirt and boots, soon began to sweat. Before long the discomfort of the heat was increased by a steady ache in her back; she wasn’t used to sitting without back support, as she now sat on the donkey. Next, pain began in her thighs and buttocks from riding, and then her lower legs started growing numb.

By noon, Leslie was tired and plagued by aches all over her body. Not only that, her stomach rumbled with hunger, but Cutter didn’t even suggest stopping to eat lunch. She was beginning to have serious doubts about her sanity for insisting on accompanying him.

When at least he pulled his mount to a stop and hopped off, Leslie discovered, much to her dismay, that her legs didn’t want to work, even to get off the source of her torture. It took forever to swing her leg over and slide the short distance to the ground. When her feet touched the dirt, her knees buckled and she would have fallen if she hadn’t grabbed hold of her saddle. Cutter was quickly by her side, his hand under her elbow to support her.

“A little wobbly?” he asked, and Leslie was amazed to see that his eyes were soft and kind—and perhaps the tiniest bit amused.

“Yes. Thank you. My legs went to sleep.”

“Ready for some lunch?”

“I was ready hours ago,” Leslie answered truthfully, and Cutter smiled.

Yesterday she had pissed him off, and Cutter had vowed to himself he wouldn’t touch her again voluntarily. Of course, the condoms he had somehow managed to find space for in his small traveling pack disproved his intentions before he’d even loaded up the donkeys. And his anger had faded more and more during the ride.

He liked having Leslie with him; there was a pleasant sense of companionship between them even when they weren’t talking. He kept thinking about her riding behind him, kept picturing her swaying along on her donkey, and he had to admit that he wanted her as much as ever. He had more than one twinge of guilt—he shouldn’t have let her go along, no matter what she’d said or the tears in her beautiful eyes, and now he wondered if he had given in because deep down he really wanted her with him. It was selfish, knowing how much danger it placed her in.

Cutter sighed and pulled out the food Mary had fixed earlier. He handed Leslie a thick ham sandwich and one of the LifeStraw Go water bottles he’d packed for them that could be refilled from a stream. He figured Leslie had probably never even heard of bottles that filtered out bacteria and parasites, much less had thought to bring her own. They stood as they ate, grateful for the relief to their sore muscles and chafed skin.

“Where exactly are we going?” Leslie asked when she’d eaten enough to satisfy the hardest pangs of her hunger.

Cutter shrugged. “In the general area of Monte Viejo; that’s the last place the Moristas were, according to the men at the mission.”

“That’s awfully vague, isn’t it?” Leslie protested. “How will we find them?”

“We won’t. They’ll find us.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. It was too uncertain—and somehow frightening. “But—”

“There’s no way I could locate their camp, except by sheer accident. They’re constantly changing their location so the army won’t find them.”

Leslie frowned. This was going to take much longer than she had anticipated. Again she wondered if she had been crazy to come with Cutter. Still, she kind of liked it out here, despite the heat and uncomfortable mode of transportation. The soft green of the forest was soothing, the flash of colorful parrots and the chatter of monkeys intriguing, and occasionally they came upon a cascade of flowers that she’d tried to capture with her cellphone but her pictures just couldn’t compare with the real thing. She even liked being with Cutter; he made her feel safe and yet at the same time adventurous.