The Whippoorwill Trilogy - Sharon Sala Page 0,193

bear children, although all during the years she’d been with Black Dog and the men he sold her to, she had never become ripe with child. It occurred to her that she might be barren, but it was nothing she could control. All she needed to do now was heal, gather enough food to start her journey home, and hope to make it before snow fell.

A rabbit bolted out from the underbrush along the path and ran in front of her horse. She pulled her pistol out of her pocket and shot. The rabbit dropped in mid-leap. She grunted with satisfaction, pulled the horse to a halt and got off to retrieve her kill. It would fill her belly tonight and she would keep the fur to line moccasins she would wear when the winds grew cold.

She cut the rabbit’s throat to let it bleed, and then skinned it with only a few swift strokes. Wrapping both meat and fur into pieces of rawhide, then stowing it inside Black Dog’s saddlebags, she remounted and resumed her journey. A couple of hours later, she stopped on a small rise above a creek, hobbled the horses, and began to make camp. It was almost dark when she heard what sounded like a team and wagon. Millie Sees Crow didn’t like surprises, so she picked up Black Dog’s rifle and slipped into the trees.

Emory James’s butt hurt from bouncing around in the back of the crazy couple’s wagon. His ribs hurt from nearly being pulled in half. His head and face hurt from the beating Black Dog had given him before planting him in the dirt. It had occurred to him more than once that he might be taller now than he had been before they’d pulled him out, because every joint in his body below the waist had been stretched to the point of pain. He still couldn’t stand up without wobbling and wondered if his knees would ever be the same.

He looked up at the couple in the wagon seat. From the back, the woman looked ordinary—even pretty. She had nice curves and the long thick braid down her back was nut brown. But she was scary. She’d laughed at his pain and made fun of his dingus, which had totally pissed him off. Added to that, she hadn’t said more than a dozen words since they’d begun their journey together, and that had been hours ago.

The driver seemed all right, but he was definitely attached to the woman, although Emory was pretty sure that their relationship didn’t have anything to do with sex. He couldn’t put his finger on why they made him nervous, but he’d made up his mind that once they got to Cherry Creek, he would be going his own way.

“Hey!” he called out. “It’s gonna be dark soon. Aren’t you gonna make camp?”

“Been smellin’ smoke for a while now,” Eulis said. “Thought we’d make sure that whoever has made camp isn’t a threat before we stop.”

Emory’s belly flopped.

“What if it’s Black Dog? Damn it, man, why didn’t you say somethin’ sooner? If it’s him, I’m a dead man. I want out! Let me out!”

Letty turned around. The gun turned with her and once again Emory found himself staring down the barrel as Letty spoke.

“Mr., if we wanted you dead, we would have left you in the ground, right?”

Emory swallowed nervously then nodded.

“So, wouldn’t you think it would be in your best interests to be quiet until we find out a few things?”

He nodded.

“Good. Trust me. If that campfire belongs to the man who planted your ass, then we don’t want to spend the night with him, either, do we?”

“No.”

“So, if it was me, and I wasn’t interested in meeting back up with this Black Dog, I’d be flat on my face in the wagon, and hiding beneath that tarp.”

Emory lurched toward the tarpaulin covering their goods and crawled under. Letty heard him moan once, then curse softly. Either he’d bumped something that hurt, or he’d wet himself. Either way, she didn’t much care. She was still on the side of the woman who’d been caught in the middle of the mess, even if she was an Indian.

A few minutes later they pulled into the campsite. The campfire was burning, but there was no one in sight.

“Hello the camp!” Eulis called.

No one appeared, although there was a rabbit on a spit slowly cooking over the open fire.

“Hello the camp!” he called again, then thought about backing up