Slowly, Dela began to notice Gareth’s head swiveling from side to side as they walked, as though he searched for something specific. She wanted to inquire, but the very idea of speaking hurt her parched throat. Absently, she swatted at a mosquito. Then another. As Dela wondered what else could go wrong, Gareth turned off their path.
“Where are we going?” she croaked.
The land grew uneven, with little hillocks and micro valleys. Gareth didn’t answer, but turned to her and delivered the lethargic infant into her arms. She looked down at it—wrapped in the remains of its mother’s dress, still caked in afterbirth and blood—and felt her chest constrict. It was unconscious, but she didn’t know if it was due to natural sleep or something else entirely.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
“Wait… what?”
Before she could finish asking, Gareth scrambled into a narrow gap between a hillock and a large boulder and disappeared. The next thing she knew she was alone… except for the infant. As she waited, she watched the sun sink lower. It wouldn’t be long before the sun set entirely and the temperature started to drop. Would the little orphan survive the night? Once again, her eyes burned with the need to cry, but no tears came forth. She was just about to sink into the dirt to wait for Gareth, when he popped up again, his head barely clearing the bolder. To her annoyance, he grinned.
“C’mon,” he said. “Come through the crack.”
Dela rounded the boulder to the narrow gap. She passed the infant over to Gareth and moved sideways through it, her breasts scrapping against the stone. As she burst free of the narrow gap, she caught Gareth eyeing her chest. She wanted to tease him about it, but even the idea of swatting his arm exhausted her.
At that moment, Gareth stepped aside to reveal a narrow path leading downward. At the far end, Dela spotted a tuft of green—real green, not the brown-green of the desert. Gareth gave a jerk of his head and led her down the narrow path into the tiny nook. Stones, mixed with determined bushes, rose up around them until they had their own little fairy-tale hiding place. In the center of the oasis sat a little, brown puddle of water. Even the color of the water couldn’t turn her off it. Dela sunk to her knees and prepared to drink when Gareth laid a hand on her shoulder.
“We have to boil it first. You know that, Dela.”
Her shoulders dropped. It would take forever to boil the water, much less letting it cool. When Gareth removed his hand, Dela sunk to her backside and scooted back up against a rock. At least they were sheltered by the warm rocks.
“Here,” he said, handing her the infant.
Dela wanted to scream as she reached for it, all her various wounds hurting with the movement. She cradled the infant, holding it close. If these were the child’s last and only hours, she intended it to feel all the love she had to give. Gareth turned to the tangled bushes and began combing through their branches. Within a minute, he turned back and presented her a long vine.
“Eat this for now. It will have some juice in it.”
“What is it?” Dela asked as she took it.
“Greenbriar. It has tubers, too, which we can eat once I get a fire going.”
Dela put the broken end in her mouth and began to gnaw on it, watching Gareth do the same. It didn’t taste great, but there was liquid coating her tongue, so she didn’t care much. As she gnawed on the vine, she fingered the baby’s stained skin. Heat poured off the child.
“She’s feverish,” Dela cried out.
“Unwrap her. Let’s try to cool her down a bit.”
Dela was already opening the wrapping. She placed the tiny babe on her thighs, using them as a sort of cradle and tugged the cloth free. Careful of the tiny thorns on the vine, she dabbed the pulverized end of the vine on the infant's lips, hoping to dribble a little of the plant’s natural fluids into the infant's mouth. Gareth worked quickly to build a fire in the center of their little hiding place, using what dried wood and bracken he could find underneath the plants.
Once the flames licked upward on their own, Gareth began digging for rocks. What rocks he found he rinsed in the water before putting them in the fire. Dela had no idea what he was doing. She glanced down at the infant and found it moving its tiny fingers. Relief flooded her as she watched the tiny sign of life. She munched on more of the vine, building more juices at the end before dabbing it into the infant's mouth.
Gareth turned back to the foliage surrounding the tiny puddle and began searching. “Ah-ha!”
“What?”
“Found the good stuff.”
Gareth returned with his hands full of maroon-colored bulbs covered in tiny spines. His hands bore the results of the spines, blood forming in drops. He dumped them on the ground near the fire and picked out a stick from his pile of dried twigs. He sat down beside her, pulled his knife out, and began sharpening the end of the stick. In a few conservative swicks of his knife, he had it sharpened into a point. He took the first fruit and stabbed it with the stick before holding it out over the fire. He didn’t leave it in the fire long enough to cook it, but when he pulled it out, all the spines and hairs had been burned off. He used his knife and cut the fruit open.
He handed her one half and quickly sunk is upper teeth into the flesh, digging the soft inside out of the harder rind. Dela copied him and groaned as the spongy flesh sent liquid down her throat. It hurt a little, as her throat was so parched, but it was worth it. As she chewed, she dipped her pinky in the remaining flesh and carefully wedged it between the infant’s lips.
The little girl made a face before sucking on Dela’s finger. Dela withdrew it to retrieve more of the juice, causing the newborn to let out a tiny wail. As she fed the little infant tiny drops of the fruit juice, Gareth prepared the other fruit. By the time they finished the fruit, the infant’s temperature had lowered and both Dela and Gareth felt a little life coming back to their aching limbs.
But Gareth wasn’t done working his magic. He pulled the leather pouch off his belt and emptied it of his little pack: flint and steel, three bullets, and a stone for sharpening his knife. With everything out, he rinsed the pouch in the puddle before filling it. Gareth hung the pouch on a strong branch by the strap normally wound around his waist. Then, he removed the stones from the fire and dropped them into the pouch. They hit the water with a hiss. After a few minutes, he pulled the stones back out and returned them to the fire.
“Want some hot water or you want to let it cool off?”
“Cool off.”
“‘kay.”
Gareth kept working, harvesting this plant and that. Dela leaned her head back against the stone and tried to imagine herself somewhere else. The nameless infant had gone back to sleep, and Dela wanted nothing else than to join her, but she knew she needed to drink real water. To keep herself awake, she watched Gareth and considered his story.
So much of his personality and the distance he had kept between them made sense now. Their brief, romantic interludes must have reminded him of Marie, and if he held the guilt of her death, then he would likely see Dela as just another dead girl. Or at least another potential dead girl. Suddenly, Lath’s hints made sense. Lath hunted because Gareth hunted. And Gareth hunted… because his heart couldn’t do anything else. Or at least that was how Dela translated it all.
Dela’s heart gave a twinge, almost a physical pain. She hated to see Gareth hurting. Especially hurting over something that wasn’t strictly his fault. He had had a hand in it, for sure, but so had the woman. Dela knew what that felt like. She had her own guilty burdens to bare. Broken as she was, she doubted she had the power to relieve Gareth of his own burdens, and yet she wanted nothing more than to heal his wounds.
She was still deep in thought when Gareth brought the leather pouch over to her. Based on the darkened color around the seam, she suspected they had lost some water while it cooled. With a large leaf, she scooped out some of the lukewarm water and poured it into her mouth. He took a drink next, then poured the tiniest dribble into the
newborn's mouth. Dela tipped the infant into a more sitting-like position as it sputtered, eventually swallowing the few drops of water. They did it again and again.
Once they felt they had gotten enough liquids down the infant’s throat, Gareth presented his finished product. He had made a little nest for the infant out of innocuous leaves, using vines to hold the leaves in a sort of crib shape. He lifted the infant out of her arms, wrapped it up snuggly in its mother’s dress, and placed it in the “crib.”
“Now, let’s take a real look at those wounds.”
Dela groaned. “They’re fine.”
“Don’t make me tear that shirt off of you.”
Dela’s gaze jerked up toward him. He grinned down at her as he lowered himself to his knees. It was then Dela noticed another pile of leaves, flowers, and a single gourd. Despite her exhaustion, she wanted to flirt right back. She cocked an eyebrow and gave him a daring look.
“Is that a promise?”
Gareth rolled his eyes. “You aren’t up to anything fun.”
She shrugged her good shoulder. “Try me.”
Gareth rolled his eyes before turning to put more rocks in his fresh supply of water. “Take your shirt off,” he ordered again as he removed the rocks and began the process all over.
Dela obeyed, wincing as she removed the makeshift bandage, undid her vest, and pulled her chemise to the side to reveal the wound. While she worked, Gareth used a flat rock as a cutting board and broke the gourd open. Inside was a white, porous flesh. He scooped a tiny bit out and mushed it up, removing the seeds from the flesh. Gareth took her previous bandage made of his sleeve and dipped into the steaming hot water, wincing as his fingers touched the water. With cloth in the water, he tore off his other sleeve. Dela watched as he removed the wet one, folded it into a thick bandage, and covered one side with the goop from the gourd. He set the wet wad of cloth and goo on his knee before examining her shoulder.
“I need to clean it before I put the poultice on it. This is gonna hurt.”
Dela turned away, unable to watch him work the dried blood off the wound and surrounding flesh. Once he had cleaned her shoulder down to the actual wound, he pressed the warm wad of cloth against the injury and used the dry sleeve to bind it to her shoulder. By the time he was done, fresh tears dribbled down her cheek.
“Now, let me see that hand,” he ordered, mercilessly.
She presented her hand, the bit of cloth turned brown with blood and dirt. He peeled it away to reveal the cuts on her palm and four fingers.
“How did this happen?”
“I grabbed my knife by the blade.”
“That’s the wrong end.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Gareth grinned at her, and Dela felt her heart flutter again. Dela wanted to see his smile every single day, but she knew her time with him was limited, making each new smile painful. Gareth went to work, cleaning the wounds just like before. He tore the lower portion of his shirt off, revealing a hint of his hard abs, and wrapped it around the cuts.
“They don’t look too bad.”
“I’m fine.”
“Good. Let’s get some sleep.”
Dela pulled her chemise back into place and hooked her vest closed. A shiver ran up her spine. With the sun lost behind the horizon, the temperature was dropping. They moved the infant’s crib between them to protect her from the chill.
Gareth lay on his side, facing Dela. Dela lowered herself down with the dying fire at her back. She stared at Gareth in the dying light. Her eyes were heavy, but she didn’t want to close them. She knew her time with her Hunters was limited. Soon, they would leave her at the Harem House. For the first time, Dela didn’t feel any sort of anger or betrayal. As she grew to know them better, she better understood why they did what they did. Also, the more she mixed with the world, the more she understood the system. She didn’t like it, but she understood the need.
Her only wish was… No, don’t even think it.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lath glanced over his shoulder. The path remained empty aside from the trail they were leaving. After the attack, Leroy had insisted on packing the wounded onto the horses and moving onward. He feared another attack from a gang within the Dead Zone, and Lath couldn’t argue the point. And so they left with three people missing.
“Gareth will find her,” Adrian said, catching his backward glance.
Lath gave him a fake smile. “Of course, he will. He’s the best of us.”
“I’m not sure I’d go that far.”
The two men chuckled, but even Lath could tell it was forced on both accounts. Neither of them wanted to admit to the other just how stressed they were, and yet they both already knew it. Lath, though, had his own reasons for worry. He knew better than the others what sort of pain remained dormant in Gareth’s heart. While Gareth was the better Hunter, he relied heavily on Lath’s support. Especially if drink was involved.
Lath wasn’t some guardian angel. Guardian angels weren’t cowards.
“The real question is,” continued Adrian, cutting off Lath’s thoughts, “what is Gareth doing with the girl.”
Lath tried to smile. Knowing Gareth, not much. He wouldn’t risk compromising another catch. He’d learned his lesson. But then again, Gareth was a passionate man. Most people failed to see it, but the passion was there. Lath wondered why he continued to think on the inner workings of his partner.
“Adrian, why do you hunt?” The words were out of Lath’s mouth before he realized he had ever wondered.
He cleared his throat, suddenly very interested in the dirt under his fingernails. Lath gave up on him answering when he lowered his hands and said, “We all have our reasons. Mine are mine, and there’s no need to dwell on them.”
“You could have just said ‘you didn’t want to talk about it’.”
“Fine, I don’t want to talk about.”
Lath forced a grin to his lips. “Yeah. Me neither.”
“Why do you Hunt?” Adrian asked, beating Lath at his own game.
Lath chuckled. “My reasons are my own.”
“Touché.”
“That’s a big word coming from a hick like you.”
It was Adrian’s turn to laugh. “Look who’s talking… wanting to dig deep into our emotions and what not.”
Lath glanced over his shoulder again, barely aware of the action.
“She’s going to be okay.”
Lath just looked at him. He didn’t know how to respond without revealing everything. “Of course she is.”
“You really like her, don’t you?”
“Don’t we all?”
Adrian didn’t reply.
“Yeah, I really like her.”
“Then why are you helping us take her in?”
Lath hesitated a second. “Let’s not talk about it, eh?”
“You brought it up.”
Lath had no reason for it, but anytime he spoke of settling down, getting married, he felt as though he was betraying his best friend. He had never been attracted to men, and yet his friendship with Gareth went deeper than any other relationship he had ever had—with a man or woman. To even call him brother did not seem enough.
“How much farther we got to go, you think?” asked Adrian, changing the subject.
Though Adrian was the youngest of the four Hunters, Lath saw a depth to him—something often overshadowed by Mason’s good looks and charm. They had been in competition with Adrian and Mason for so long, Lath had forgotten the great qualities hidden in each Hunter. Another forbidden thought came to his mind, and he pushed it away.
Before he could answer Adrian’s question, he heard a ruckus rise above the general sound of their caravan. Adrian and Lath broke out into a run, weaving through the onlookers. They reached the middle of the caravan, where the other pedestrians had formed a wide circle. Those leading horses stayed near the back of the crowd, their necks craning to see within. Adrian appeared ready to stay near the rear of the crowd, b
ut Lath elbowed his way forward. He felt someone at his back and assumed Adrian had followed him after all.
In the center of the circle, two men circled around each other, their fists raised. One young woman—more a teenager than a woman—stood a little apart from the watching crowd, her face a mask of horror and disgust. Lath recognized one of the men to be one of Josie’s boys and the other to belong to Alice. Lath scratched the back of his head, wishing Gareth had been there to solve the problem. He was the leader, not Lath, but Lath waded forward all the same.
As Lath stomped into the makeshift ring, Josie’s boy took a swing. Lath reached him, catching the man’s wrist mid-swing. The movement jerked Lath’s arm painfully, but he stopped the punch all the same.
“What the hell is this?” he demanded before he could consider his words.
“He’s hittin’ on my girl!”
“You’re girl?” replied the other man as he tried to lunge forward to grab the first man around the neck.
Adrian jumped in, blocking the man’s path and taking a hard knock in return. Lath pulled the arm he held behind the back of the man, jerking him into submission. Just as Lath and Adrian worked to pull them apart, Leroy and Greg shoved their way into the shrinking circle.
“What the hell is going on?” Leroy demanded, almost mimicking Lath’s angry words.
Four voices erupted into a frenzy of explanations and demands. Both Greg and Leroy stepped into the center, facing their sons. They both raised their voices, demanding silence. While the fathers worked to calm their sons, Lath released his hold on the man’s arm and turned to find the woman. Not surprising, she was huddled in a crowd of angry women.
Lath approached the women, who quickly formed a protective wall between him and the girl. Lath raised his hands and stopped a few feet away.
“Is she okay?” he asked. “Is she hurt?”
His words seemed to mollify them. The women relaxed their stances, some adjusting their clothing, others crossing their arms, and some shuffling their feet.
Dela's Hunters (The Harem House Book 1) Page 17