Part 40 (2/2)

I yelped and let go. Before she could take another swing at me, though, I threw my fist at her chin and got lucky. As her head snapped sideways, I bucked and shoved her. She tumbled off me. I scrambled to my knees and pulled a Colt and pointed it at her face.

”Don't you move!” I gasped.

She was propped up on her elbows, ready to have another go at me. But when she saw the gun, she sank back down onto the ground and lay there, panting for breath. Blood trickled from a corner of her mouth.

Her s.h.i.+rt hung wide open. Her tawny skin glistened in the sunlight. I could see reddish smudges on her side where my punches had landed.

Her blue dungarees had gotten pulled clear down past her hips during the fight. Some gold hair curled out over where they b.u.t.toned shut.

I reckon she saw how I was studying her, for she hiked the trousers up to her waist and shut her s.h.i.+rt. ”You think you're gonna meddle with me...you better think again. You'd have to shoot me first.”

”I've every right to shoot you,” I said. ”You tried to nick my horse.”

”Well, he's all yours.” She propped herself back up again with her elbows. Her s.h.i.+rt slipped open some. She checked to see how much. It left a bare strip down the middle of her chest and hung off the sides of her belly, but it kept her b.r.e.a.s.t.s covered so she didn't fool with it. She was still breathing hard. She blinked sweat out of her eyes, and stared at me.

”You don't need to go on lying there,” I told her.

”It gives me less room to fall if you kill me.”

I couldn't help but let out a laugh when she said that. The laugh made my head hurt worse. I felt around up there and found quite a b.u.mp above my right ear.

My whole face felt tight and sore from the drubbing she'd given me. I checked my right hand. It had a pa.s.sel of dents from her teeth, but she hadn't broken the skin.

”You sure did me some damage,” I said. ”But I don't suppose I'll kill you.” I holstered my weapon, then added, ”Just leave my horse be.”

”You aim to let me go?” she asked.

I didn't rightly know what what to do with her. to do with her.

While I gave it some thought, she sat up. Didn't get off the ground, though. She crossed her legs and watched me.

”Can't let you go,” I said. ”You're no better than a horse thief.” I couldn't help but recollect that I was the same. ”Besides, you bashed me about quite a bit.”

”No more than what you bashed me.” With that, the back of her hand rubbed a dribble of blood off her chin. She frowned at it, then showed it to me. ”You see?”

”I took quite the worst of it, actually.”

”You sure do talk peculiar. Anybody ever tell you that?”

Well, that set me to blus.h.i.+ng. ”There's nothing at all peculiar about how I talk, thank you.”

”Oh yes there is. What are you, a Yankee?”

”I come from London, England.”

Her eyebrows went up. ”I'll be danged,” she said. ”An Englishman. If that don't beat all.” Her eyebrows came back down, and she was suddenly frowning. ”I didn't do that to you, did I?”

”What?”

”Your side there.”

I raised my arm and looked down at where the posse bullet had ripped my s.h.i.+rt. The cloth was bright with fresh blood. ”It was healing up quite nicely before you ambushed me.”

”Someone go at you with a knife?”

”It's a gunshot wound.”

”Let me see,” she said, and got up. I watched her close, wary of tricks. On her feet, she tried to fasten her s.h.i.+rt. Its b.u.t.tons were gone, though, so she pulled it shut and tucked it into her trousers. Then she came on over to me.

”You'd best behave,” I warned her.

”I just wanta see.”

Well, I wasn't fool enough to pull up my s.h.i.+rt and give her a chance at my Colts. So I took them both in my hands, then raised my arms.

She stopped straight in front of me. Her eyes were level with my own, and green as emeralds. I hadn't seen them up close like this. They were so sharp and clear they gave me a squirmy feeling inside.

”You sure are a caution,” she said.

”I don't intend to get myself ventilated by a girl.”

That brought a smile to her face. I saw her lips were dry and cracked. There was a cut at one corner, which I judged must've been caused by my fist. The cut had a drop of blood on it. Her teeth were straight, and s.h.i.+ny white.

”I ain't ventilated a soul all day,” she said.

Then she took hold of my s.h.i.+rt with both hands. It was pretty much untucked from the fight. She hauled out the remainder and hoisted it up. Bending over some, she peered at my wound.

”Why, it's only a scratch, mostly. I bet you just walked too close to a th.o.r.n.y bush.”

”They must have rather big thorns where you come from.”

”Don't they just,” she said. Then she leaned in closer and blew on my wound, which I knew to be more of a furrow than a scratch. Her breath felt pretty good. She did it again.

”What are you doing there?” I asked.

”You picked up some grit and it don't wanta blow off. You got some water, I'll clean it for you. Otherwise, you might just fester up and die.”

”I shouldn't like that to happen.”

”Well, go get your water.”

She let my s.h.i.+rt fall and stepped back. She had a look of mischief in her eyes, so I judged she was up to one trick or another. ”Wait here,” I said. Then I holstered my guns and hurried off to fetch General.

I gave some thought to making the girl come with me. More than likely, she had no intention at all of cleaning off my wound, but aimed to light out.

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