Savage. Part 41

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 shiny, same as the skin that showed between the edges of her shirt. 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 shirt 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 shirt off. "I told you mine," I reminded her.

"Give." She wiggled her fingers at my shirt.

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 shirt 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."

"Not any more, I reckon." She unwound the cloth I'd wrapped it in. "Or are you gonna shoot me?"

"Do you always do just as you please?"

"Pretty near." She bared her teeth and ripped a chunk out of my hare. Her eyes closed. She chewed a few times and sighed. Then she tore off another chunk and worked on it. Some juice dribbled down her chin. She wiped it off with the back of her hand, then opened her eyes and said, "Mighty fine, Trevor." Her words came out sounding thick and mushy. "It's gonna be a pure pleasure riding with a feller that's such a good cook."

"You have a notion to ride with me, do you?"

"Name's Jesse. Jesse Sue Longley."

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE.

Pardners "Which direction are you traveling?" I asked, figuring this might let me off the hook.

"None in particular," said Jesse Sue Longley.

"Why, you must be going to to somewhere." somewhere."

"Ain't going to to anyplace. Just anyplace. Just away away from where I been." from where I been."

"Where's that, then?"

"That's my nevermind."

"It's my nevermind if you aim to ride with me. What is it you're running away from? Have you got someone after you?"

Her eyes narrowed. "n.o.body's after me. What about you? How'd you get yourself shot?"

"That's my my nevermind," I said. nevermind," I said.

She smiled. "Looks like we're even, huh?"

"Looks that way. Far as I know, though, I'm in the clear. Those who caused my troubles aren't looking for me."

"I can say the same," she said.

Mine were all dead. From Jesse's manner, I couldn't help but wonder if maybe hers were dead, too. Instead of putting me off, the notion made me feel like we had more in common.

"Where is it that you don't want to go?" I asked.

"Only just Texas."

"Well, that's not where I'm going."

"I knew that. I saw you on the trail. You was heading the wrong way for a feller bound for Texas. Not as it would've mattered if I could've nabbed your horse."

"How'd you get out here, at all, without a mount of your own? Did you walk the whole way, or...?"

"Do I look like an addle-head?"

"Not at all."

"I should say I'm not. No, sir." She dipped her head down and brought it up sharp as if agreeing with herself rather fiercely. Even though she had a frown on her face, something in her eyes stayed amused-like she was up to some brand of mischief. She'd pretty much had that same glint in her eyes all along. It seemed fitting the times I knew she was having me on, but times like now it didn't rightly belong there and seemed peculiar-as if she carried a secret knowledge inside that maybe set her apart from whatever was actually going on.

"I had me a horse," she said, "till yesterday when a dang rattler spooked him and he threw me. He run off, and I ain't seen him since. Sorriest excuse for a flea-bitten nag I ever did did see. Lost him, and everything I owned but the clothes on my back. Lost me a good Sharps rifle," she added, as if that were an especially sore point. see. Lost him, and everything I owned but the clothes on my back. Lost me a good Sharps rifle," she added, as if that were an especially sore point.

"A spot of bad luck, that."

"Worse luck for the rattler." A grin came up, matching the usual gleam in her eyes, and she patted her tummy.

"You ate ate it?" it?"

"Killed it first. Stove in its ugly head with a rock."

"The same as you did to me?"

"Well, your head ain't so ugly, and I didn't stove it in."

"You certainly had a go at it, didn't you?"

"I only just meant to knock you off your saddle," she protested. "If I'd aimed to kill you dead, you'd be stretched out in the dust before now."

"I doubt that."

"Not me." She bent over, hitched up a leg of her dungarees, and s.n.a.t.c.hed a knife out of her boot top. It was just about the biggest knife I'd ever seen, the blade near as long as my forearm. She tapped its point against my chest. "This here's my Bowie knife," she said.

I gazed at it, and felt myself shrink and get cold here and there. She'd had that awful weapon all along. If she'd used it instead of the rock, she could've split my head open. She hadn't even gone for it when we were fighting hard on the ground, and there'd been moments when she'd had the chance. She'd chosen chosen not to pull it and gut me. not to pull it and gut me.

"Why didn't you use it?" I asked.

"Makes a terrible mess," she said, and slid it back down into her boot. Standing up straight in front of me, she lost her smile. "I didn't have any call to kill you. I just needed a horse to ride on."

"I'd be pleased to have you ride along double with me," I told her.

"Much obliged," she said.

She gave me the water pouch. I took my hat off the saddle horn and hung the pouch there by its strap. I needed both hands to mount General, so I put my hat on and winced as it squeezed the lump on my head. Then I reached down. Jesse took hold of my hand, and I gave her a tow as she swung up behind me.

"Mind?" she asked.

Before I could inquire what she meant by that, she plucked the hat off my head. "Lost mine down a canyon two days back," she explained.

"It seems you've lost a good deal."

She slapped my shoulder. "Gained more than I've lost, pardner."