Deeper than the Night - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,81

a key.

"Thank you, Randy," she murmured. Unlocking the door, she stepped inside.

It was a quaint little one-room cabin, the perfect place for a rendezvous. There was no phone, no electricity, a single window that overlooked the lake. A Coleman stove stood on a small square table; there was a box of groceries on the sink top. She poked inside, finding a loaf of French bread, mayonnaise and mustard, apples, oranges, bananas, paper plates and cups, a bottle of rum. An ice chest revealed a carton of milk, a couple of steaks, some lunch meat and a variety of cheeses. There was also a six-pack of beer, and a two-liter bottle of 7-Up.

A pair of sleeping bags were spread in front of the fireplace; there was a good-sized pile of wood on the hearth, a box of matches on the mantel, and a Coleman lantern.

Pleased that Lucy had decided not to stay at the cabin without Randy, and grateful that she hadn't gone inside and seen the groceries, Kara murmured another prayer of thanks, then hurried outside.

Alex lay across the seat, his eyes closed, his breathing rapid and shallow. He'd told her once that he'd never been sick, that he had always recovered quickly when he was hurt. She wondered if his body's ability to heal itself included gunshot wounds.

"Alex? Alex, wake up!"

His eyelids fluttered open and he stared at her, his gaze unfocused.

"You've got to get up. I've found a place to stay."

He nodded, groaning softly as he sat up.

"The engine," she said. "Can you turn it off?"

Grunting softly, Alex reached under the dash and disconnected the wires. The sudden silence seemed deafening.

"Put your arm around my shoulder," Kara said. "It's not far."

He didn't argue. Kara groaned as she shouldered some of his weight. Mercy, but he was heavy! One step at a time, they made it into the cabin.

Kara helped Alex get settled on one of the sleeping bags, then went to close and lock the door.

She was surprised and relieved to find the cabin had running water and clean towels.

She felt the bile rise in her throat as she began to wash the blood from Alex's shoulder. The bullet hole was small and ugly, and it didn't go all the way through.

"Alex? Alex, what should I do?"

He glanced at the bloody hole in his shoulder. "Now might be a good time for one of us to faint."

"Very funny."

"Yeah. Mind if I go first?"

"Don't you dare faint on me!" The wound continued to ooze blood and she pressed the cloth against it in an effort to stop the bleeding. "I don't think the wound in your arm is too serious, but your shoulder ... I think the bullet's still in there."

"I'm afraid you're right." He dragged a knuckle over her cheek. "Think you can get it out?"

"I don't know."

"I can do it if you're not up to it."

"You!"

"It wouldn't be the first time."

"You've been shot before?"

"Once, a long time ago."

"When? Where?"

"In the Dakotas." Alex frowned, remembering. "You've heard of Custer?"

"Of course."

"I was fighting with the Cheyenne. Beautiful people, the Cheyenne."

"The Cheyenne? You were fighting on the side of the Cheyenne at the Little Big Horn?"

"Hell of a fight. Custer was an idiot to divide his troops the way he did." He grimacedas pain surged through him.

"Are you all right?" Kara asked anxiously.

He nodded. "I missed the main battle, of course, but there was still some fighting going on after dark. I was prowling around the hill where Reno and some of his men were holed up when I took a bullet in my leg. I dug it out myself. I don't recommend it."

"Thanks," Kara muttered dryly.

He mentioned the battle so casually, a battle that had taken place a hundred and twenty years ago. She looked into his eyes, trying to imagine the life he'd led. America was an infant when compared to most of the countries of the world, and Alex had been here almost from the beginning. Sometimes she forgot how old he was.

"Kara?"

"I'll do it." She spent the next few minutes looking for something to use as a probe, finally settling on a thin-bladed knife she found in a drawer. She heated it over the Coleman stove, then rinsed it with rum. "Maybe you'd like a drink of this?" she suggested, offering him the bottle.

"Why not?" Alex lifted the bottle and took a long swallow. "Not bad." He looked at the knife, at the way it shook in her hand, and grinned. "Maybe youshould have a drink.