Part 41 (1/2)
I rather hoped she might do just that. Run off and hide. I didn't know what to do with her, anyhow, if she stayed. She had already caused me a spot of trouble. The sooner I could get shut of her, the better.
So I took my time going after General. He'd wandered off a piece. I found him nibbling some leaves off a bush, and let him work on it for a while. Watching him, I had a mind to mount up and ride away. If I did that, I'd be clear of the girl whether or not she'd decided to vamoose. Only problem was, my hat had gotten knocked off when she clobbered me off my saddle and I didn't aim to leave it behind.
Besides, I was curious.
Maybe I was more than that.
The hat was the excuse I gave myself, though.
After a while, I took the reins and walked General back through the rocks. Along the way, I found my hat and picked it up. Its crown was caved in some, but the dent popped right out when I gave it a poke. I knew better than to wear my hat, what with the sore lump on my head, so I hung it over my saddle horn.
A few more steps took me past the rocks. The girl was leaning back against a boulder, arms folded across her chest.
”You didn't dodge off,” I called. Didn't quite know how I felt about that.
”Where would I go?” she asked.
”You aren't afraid of me, then?”
”Oh, that beats all.”
”Perhaps you ought to be, you know,” I said, and lifted down my water bag.
”You're just just a boy.” a boy.”
”Used to be one.”
She watched me come toward her. Even though she didn't smile or smirk, she had a sa.s.sy look about her face. ”And how old are are you?” she wanted to know. you?” she wanted to know.
”How old are you?”
”I asked you first.”
”Older than you, I suppose.”
”Ha.”
”I'm nineteen, going on twenty,” I told her.
”You're a liar's what you are.” She reached out and grabbed the water bag. ”I bet you're no more than thirteen.”
”Eighteen,” I said.
”More likely twelve.” She unplugged the pouch, tipped back her head and commenced to gulp down my water.
She had a tiny, pale scar under her chin. Her neck was smooth and s.h.i.+ny, same as the skin that showed between the edges of her s.h.i.+rt. Staring at those places, I all of a sudden lost my urge to squabble with her.
”Actually, I'm closing in on sixteen.”
She lowered the pouch and smiled. ”That sounds more like the truth.”
”It is the truth.”
”Truth is, I've got you beat. I'll be seventeen come October.”
”So you're sixteen.”
”Older than you by a country mile. Go on and take your s.h.i.+rt off.”
She helped herself to another swig while I started to work on the b.u.t.tons. ”What's your name?” I asked.
”What's yours?”
”Trevor. Trevor Bentley.”
”Mighty hifalutin.”
I finished with the b.u.t.tons and pulled my s.h.i.+rt off. ”I told you mine,” I reminded her.
”Give.” She wiggled her fingers at my s.h.i.+rt.
I handed it to her. She bunched up the tail and soaked it with water.
”What sort of name should should I have?” she asked. She pushed herself off the rock, stepped closer to me, and reached the wet cloth toward my wound. ”Pick up your arm.” I have?” she asked. She pushed herself off the rock, stepped closer to me, and reached the wet cloth toward my wound. ”Pick up your arm.”
I raised my arm, forgetting to take my Colt with it. By the time I caught the mistake, she was already patting the cloth against my raw gouge. She was gentle about it, too. With both her hands full, she'd have trouble going for either of my guns, so I tried not to worry about it.
”You want me to guess your name, then?” I asked.
”Bet you can't.”
”Rumplestiltskin.”
She laughed softly. ”Yep. You got it on the first try. That's Rump for short.” She stopped swabbing my wound and gave the s.h.i.+rt to me.
As I put it on, she stepped back and slipped the strap of my water bag over her shoulder.
”Saw you cooking up a jackrabbit,” she said. ”You give me some, I'll tell you who I am.”
”You've already told me, Rump.”
”You don't wanta see me shrivel up and die,” she said, and walked on around me.
Here we go again, I thought, figuring I might have to throw her down. But she didn't try to mount General. Instead, she gave my horse a few pats, then opened the saddlebag and pulled out the remains of my hare. Turning around, she smiled and said, ”Much obliged.”
”That's my supper.”