under the bed, and then Anna ran into the room and curled up in a corner, her knees tight against her chest.
Ramon rushed in but stopped when he saw the two cooks were there. “You’re not supposed to be in here!” he yelled.
“And you’re not supposed to leave your post!” Sarah J yelled back. “If you say a word about us bringing this poor man water, we’ll tell Toledo how you chase Anna around every time she’s gone.”
“I’ m not hurting her. Go back to the kitchen where you two belong.”
Rachel followed her sister out of the room. “I’ve heard,” she whispered, “that a finger from a fat man’s hand can sweeten the beans. You’ve a worthless hand. You shouldn’t miss a digit or two.”
Ramon glared at her. “Don’t come in here again.”
“Don’t leave your post.” Rachel smiled. “And if I were you I’d sleep with my hands inside the covers. With no feeling in that arm, you might not even miss the finger until you’re eating the beans and think they taste sweeter than usual.”
The door closed and the room was silent except for the crackle of a dying fire. Duncan drifted in and out of sleep, reminding himself over and over to remember that his clothes, and maybe his guns, were under the bed.
Sometime in the hours of stillness, he felt Anna curl up beside him. “I’ll take you with me,” he mumbled, as if he believed he might find a way out.
“I know,” she answered in a soft voice, almost touching his ear.
When he awoke sometime later he tried to figure out if her answer had been real, or if he’d only been dreaming.
Duncan had no idea of the passage of days or nights. Sometimes it seemed colder; now and then he could see into the other room, which appeared to be a large kitchen, and in there it would be day. He slept on and off, not knowing if he’d been out an hour or a night. The only measure he had was Ramon bringing in wood. Once he’d said something about it being Anna’s daily supply. To the best Duncan remembered, he’d delivered wood three, maybe four times.
Anna brought him soup many times, feeding him a few ounces at a time. She never spoke again, if she’d talked the first time, but he slowly talked more and more to her. He thanked her for the meals and for her care. He told her soon she’d be safe and hoped he wasn’t lying.
Each time Toledo came into the room, Duncan pretended he couldn’t respond to her yells or slaps, but he knew the ruse wouldn’t last long. After a week, when he wasn’t dead, she was bound to notice that he was improving. The wound on his leg was healing, thanks to Anna’s constant care.
Anna stayed locked in the room with him for hours at a time. She didn’t escape even when the door was open. The two cooks were now delivering food to both him and her as well as fresh water for bathing.
Late one night, when she’d washed his body and he’d drifted off to sleep, he awoke, more aware that she wasn’t curled up beside him than of any noise. He slowly opened his eyes and saw her in the light of a single candle she always kept burning. She was taking a bath, one limb at a time, using two buckets of water.
He watched as she soaped and scrubbed one thin arm and then the other. He could see several bruises on her legs. Her back was turned to him, but he noticed the flare of her hips as she washed. When she turned to pick up her towel, her body was shadowed in the candlelight. The child was not a child. She was small and bone thin, but her breasts were fully developed.
The shock of it brought him fully awake.
Through slits in his eyelids he watched, unable to turn away. She lifted a band of thin cotton and wrapped her breasts, flattening them out against her chest. Then, using a thin cord belt, she circled her waist and looped more cotton bandaging between her legs.
Duncan tried to make his mind work as she slipped into the plain, simple clothes all children wear. Shapeless, comfortable. But Anna wasn’t a child, and if he was guessing right, she was in her time of the month.
Not that he knew all that much about women, but he did know animals. He asked his father once