“Take another drink of the awful stuff and it will make the ouch fade away,” the stranger told her. “I promise.” The canteen was held to her mouth again and poured heavily, forcing her to gulp painfully and gag.
“Promises are lies told when you want something,” she bit out, sputtering at the raw fire that burned with each sip. “I’ve got nothing, so there is no reason to lie to me.” She hated the bitterness and acid in her voice. This wasn’t like her at all. She was hurt, mentally and physically.
“Turns out for you, little diosa, that I’m telling the truth. Drink up and you might not feel the needles when I pull them from your skin. I also need to look at that wound.”
“Just let me lie here,” she argued, feeling extremely sleepy and dejected. Everything hurt. It struck her that maybe if she just passed on, things would be over. Her cares would be gone, but so would her opportunities. Her chance at happiness, exploration of wherever she was. Her chance at someday having a family of her own she could love, one she’d never give away like she’d been disposed of as a young girl. “I will be fine.”
“Have another sip and try to rest,” his voice prompted and poured another large sip of the nasty drink into her mouth, causing her to gasp yet again.
“I hate that stuff.”
“Same here, but I think we will both be thankful that you’ll be out cold soon.”
“Go away and leave me alone.”
“I don’t think so, diosa. Let the whiskey do its magic,” he crooned, forcing another sip on her. She felt herself swallowing almost instinctively as the ground beneath her began to lurch. She was quite dizzy and felt almost boneless. Sighing, she felt herself slipping into a deep sleep.
“There you go, rest and try to relax.”
Standing back, Anthony stared at the odd woman before him. As he rode through the darkness, he had heard a horse whinny nearby, drawing his attention. Seeing the horse riderless, he prepared himself for an ambush or figured that he would get the horse. Whatever was in the saddlebags would be for whoever needed it at Fort Defiance. He never imagined as he grew closer that there would be the most delicate-looking woman lying in the cactus bed near where the horse stood. She looked nearly dead and if she hadn’t groaned subconsciously, he might have passed her by thinking she was a corpse. She was lying there, horribly sunburned and looked to be injured judging by the amount of blood on her chemise. He saw no evidence of a fire, her clothing or anyone else in the area.
Drawing his gun, he had gotten down from the horse and stepped towards her. Nudging her limp hand with his boot, he asked if there was anyone else nearby and received no response. He poured water slowly into her mouth only to see it bubble up as she choked unconsciously. Suddenly, she jerked and coughed as she awoke, greedily drinking the lifesaving water.
Staring in shock, he continued to give her water and encouraged her to talk to him. He had no idea who she was, but she was desperately in need of help. The little, pink goddess, as he had dubbed her, was extraordinarily beautiful even with the cracked lips and sunburned skin. He could not imagine the pain she was in, lying there in the cactus. He switched from water to whiskey in order to drown out some of the discomfort that pulling the cactus needles would cause. She didn’t need to be awake for that. In fact, it would be better if she was out cold, allowing him to work. Pulling her free, he noticed that she was limp and didn’t fight him a bit. It was like there was no spark left in her.
Who was she?
As she lay there in the grass, he unrolled his knapsack of tools and flinched at the idea of having to cut the needles out. Carefully inspecting her unconscious form, he saw that the needles were fairly large, and he might be able to remove them with tweezers. He had a few in his own hands from where he pulled her free. Addressing his own hands first, he then moved closer to where she lay on the ground and began the arduous task of removing the needles from where they punctured her skin. He was pleasantly surprised that where her chemise was, they didn’t puncture deeply and came right out.
The woman seemed to have almost nothing with her. The horse had a knapsack on it, but it was nearly empty. Anthony didn’t see any canteen on the pommel or on her. He hated to remove her chemise but needed to inspect the wound. Getting up from his seat on the ground near her unconscious form, he grabbed a cotton shirt from his own knapsack and some pants. It would be better than nothing and would help prevent him from sliding up the fabric of her chemise if he could just cut through it to see the skin. It looked to be quite ruined regardless. Folding up the two items of clothing, he put it next to her with a canteen and a piece of dried beef. He didn’t want to scare the lady if she awoke.
Kneeling back down, he rolled her onto her back and carefully cut through the stained side of her gown. Anthony grimaced at the sight. No wonder she was ill! The wound had copious amounts of pus around it and was brilliantly red. Carefully, he palpitated the laceration and found that it looked to be a gunshot wound but had only grazed her, leaving a deep mark. He washed it out gingerly and stitched it closed. He then poured whiskey directly on the wound, expecting her to come flying off the ground at the pain he knew he was causing her. The poor woman barely moved, only giving a wretched, heartfelt groan of pain before her taut body fell limp.
“I know, but you’ll feel better soon,” he soothed, feeling horribly guilty for causing so much pain. Getting up, he glanced around the makeshift campsite and snapped off a large branch of aloe. Smearing it lightly on her reddened skin, he noticed the blisters on her palms. These were the hands of a woman that had done hard, manual labor. Not the delicate lady he suspected she was. Regardless, he felt admiration for the strong woman that she seemed to be. He put the aloe on her blisters and her stitches. Stepping back, he took a seat silently under a nearby tree to watch her and the three horses laden with goods. They would not be moving anywhere tonight and possibly tomorrow while she was in this condition. Fort Defiance would have to wait a day longer.
Four
The sun was high up in the sky when Maggie cracked open her eyes, glanced around and shut them again. She didn’t move a muscle and listened to her surroundings. She remembered someone coming and helping her. A man coming to help her. She was instantly wary at being alone with him. So far, all men wanted one thing from her. It was something that had cost her dearly and scarred her emotionally. She lay there for several minutes, opening her eyes again and staring at the clothing beside her head.
Think, Maggie, she urged herself silently. You were on your back and stuck, now you are under trees and protected from the sun. She closed her eyes and took inventory of her body. The needles were gone, her side still ached and throbbed but it had seemed to have lessened in intensity. Her face was still tender and her throat was parched. She could hear a small fire crackling nearby and smelled something amazing. Is that food? Her stomach chose that moment to give a loud rumble.
“You can open your eyes,” she heard a deep voice say gently. “If you are feeling up to eating, it will be ready shortly. Do you like rabbit?”
She rolled her head the other direction and stared at the man that sat about ten feet from her. He was extremely tall with broad shoulders. Tanned skin and long black hair that fell into his face. His face looked very solemn, but the creases at his eyes showed that he was used to smiling. Just then, the curve of his lip slid upwards in a lazy smile at her.
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” Maggie hated the wariness and weakness in her voice. She had to be ready to run or defend herself if needed. She would never, ever be taken advantage of again or pushed into a situation without having all the facts first. She’d learned that lesson well from Solange.
“Fine? I bet you are sore. You had quite the adventure, diosa. Put some of that leaf lying there next to you on your skin and stay in the shade. It will help with the sunburn.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she retorted quickly and bit her tongue expecting retribution for her smart mouth. At the orphanage, they mig
ht have made her stand in the corner with a bar of lye soap in her mouth or beaten her as an example. She tensed as she waited for him to respond.
“Fine. Take it as a suggestion from a friend.”
“I don’t know you.”
“No, and I don’t know you either. But strangers introduce each other, talk and become friends. I am Anthony Mejia and you are…” She saw he was looking at her expectantly waiting for an answer. He was watching her with dark, knowing eyes and she felt tears start to well up at the unconditional kindness he was offering.
“I’m no one.”
“I doubt that, diosa. I doubt that very much. There is a set of clothing next to you if you would like to cover yourself a bit more than what your chemise is doing for you. I promise I won’t look.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you calling me that word, diosa? Why aren’t you wanting to look? Men look at women all the time. I know this,” she bit out scathingly, looking away to hide the hurt she felt. The bitter shame of how she’d been used and what was expected from women apparently.
“True. A lot of men like to look at women and I am no different, however, I prefer it to be wanted –”
“And it’s not!” she interrupted quickly.
“– and as I was saying, I prefer to look at a woman who wants to be seen, not a woman that wants to hide. Diosa is a nickname I gave you until you woke up and told me your name. You are welcome to hide away from whoever you are running from but that will require food, water and time to heal your wounds.”
This man, Anthony, seemed to have the patience of a saint, apparently, by the way she was interrupting him and talking to him. It would have never been tolerated back at the orphanage. Yet, he sat there. He turned the rabbit over the fire and looked at her knowingly. “This needs to cook a bit longer. Why don’t I go refill the canteens from that stream over there? You can stay here and change by yourself.”
Anthony stood slowly, as if he knew she was nervous and scared of him. She watched his lithe body stretch as he got to his feet and began to walk towards the pile of saddlebags lying nearby. She saw that he left her little gun she had stolen on the ground near the saddlebags. Picking up the canteens, she watched as he took two of them and headed off towards the water bubbling in the nearby creek. Sitting up quickly, she felt a wave of dizziness roll over her.
Steadying herself, she shook out the clothing and noticed it was quite large. Carefully, she slipped the pants onto her legs while she sat on the ground and stood up slowly. Reaching out, she grabbed the tree again to stop the spinning in her head. She pulled the pants up and drew the string tightly on the pants in an effort to tie them around her waist. Staring off towards where he walked off, she could see his dark head off in the distance as he kneeled by the stream. She grabbed the shirt and slipped it over her head, flinching at the pain in her side that the movement created. She pulled off the chemise while hiding under the large shirt. Shoving her arms in the sleeves, she yanked up the fabric and stared at her exposed side. It was puckered and angry looking where the stitches were at.
“It’s looking better than it was last night,” Maggie heard him say nonchalantly, his voice breaking the silence. She quickly dropped the shirt, hiding the skin. He walked right past her without a second glance. He headed towards the fire where the rabbit was cooking. “You might want to put aloe on there, too, diosa.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Fine. What’s your name? I promise you that I can’t find out who you are by your first name alone,” he told her with an open smile. She watched him warily.
“How did you stitch my wound? Yanking up my slip? Did you take liberties?”
“No, and never would on an unconscious woman. If you look carefully, you will find a cut in the side of your bloodied slip. That let me stitch you up without undressing you.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care what you believe but it’s the truth. Look for yourself. Your things are right there, too, if it makes you feel better.”
Maggie stared at him warily and sat down next to the tree that she had been standing beside. She was lightheaded and didn’t want to appear weak in case he tried to make a move towards her. She pulled her filthy chemise that was on the ground next to her, towards her. Turning it over, she found a cut in the fabric where the stain was at.
“I didn’t lie.” Anthony told her. “I haven’t yet. Now, would you like some rabbit and some water?”
“Yes, and my gun if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all,” he smiled easily. “You know, that type of gun only holds one bullet though.”
“I only need one if I have to shoot you.”
“I suggest you brace yourself before you pull the trigger then, if it comes to that. If you suddenly feel like you need protection and you decide you want to try to be friends, then maybe I could loan you one of my pistols, as a friend. They hold six bullets, so if you miss, you can shoot again to protect yourself.” She saw he was completely serious, but his dark eyes sparkled with mirth. “Diosa.”
“Stop that. I feel like you are mocking me.”
“No, not in the slightest.” He pulled a large piece of meat from the rabbit and put it on a tin plate. She watched him put a piece of hardtack on there as well. As he got to his feet and moved to bring her the plate, the sudden nearness caused her alarm. She found herself scooting backwards and drawing herself into a ball, and he stopped immediately in his tracks.
Anthony stared at her for several minutes, as if trying to decide how best to proceed. She saw a series of expressions cross his face. Surprise, dismay, understanding and compassion. Instead, he took a step backwards and picked up her pistol. He placed her pistol down on the ground not far from where she sat, along with his. He set the plate down slowly as she stared at him, waiting for any indication of threatening behavior.
“I am not going to hurt you, I swear it,” he told her gently. His sympathetic dark eyes looked infinitely black and all knowing. “I want you to eat and feel safe. If you want more food, push the plate out and I will come get it for you. I am going to back away from you now, slowly.”
Maggie watched him and gave a jerky nod. He moved back from where the plate and guns sat, pointed towards him. Once he had returned to the fire, she slowly slid forward, keeping her eyes glued to his black ones. Her fingers made contact with the plate’s edge, and she began to pull it back towards her. She grabbed her gun as well, scooting it backwards in the dirt and grass. His gun sat there between them, untouched. Leaning back against the tree, she finally glanced down at the plate and picked up the succulent meat. Taking a bite, she closed her eyes in pleasure and whipped them back open again to look at him.
“Is it good?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
Staring at him, she saw he pulled off some rabbit for himself and sat on the ground. He ate silently. She could have sworn he was watching her, but he never looked up from where he sat. He had kept his word so far and was giving her space. Was she foolish to think that maybe he could be trusted? She had been a horrible judge of character so far. Was this just another mistake?
“Would you like more?”
“Is there more?”
“Sure is, and if not, I will get us another rabbit. Push your plate out away from you, so you aren’t scared of me.”
“I’m not scared,” she argued hotly.
“Okay. Good. Push your plate away from you a ways,” Anthony told her with a knowing smile. Getting to his feet, she felt herself tense up. He stopped in his tracks. “I am going to walk over to get the plate, okay?”
Maggie watched him move towards her. He picked up the plate and refilled it. Instead of setting the plate down and stepping back. He held it out towards her with a smile. “I’m Anthony.”
Her hand trembled as she reached for the plate. Her worried eyes met his and she saw that somehow, someway
, he understood what she was feeling. She didn’t see pity or anger. She saw kindness and tenderness. This stranger was genuinely trying to be nice to her.
“Maggie,” she said softly, taking the plate and pulling back away.
“Well, Miss Maggie, it’s very nice to meet you.” Anthony smiled and walked away from her, taking his place by the fire. “I think that we should rest one more day here and then I am heading towards Fort Defiance, if you would like to travel with me.”
She gave an almost imperceptible nod as she watched him. That seemed to be enough, because he sat down and finished his meal. They did not talk anymore for quite a while. He went about cleaning the rabbit skin off in the tall grasses, so she couldn’t watch. He spent some time sitting against a tree not too far from where she sat in the shade. He had picked up a piece of wood and silently began to whittle it. Maggie felt herself nodding off and pulled her gun close to her as she laid down.
Jerking herself awake sometime later, she clenched the gun and got her bearings. She was in the grass under the tree. She hadn’t been disturbed and she could hear Anthony nearby. Sitting up, she pushed her blond hair back away from her face and began to reapply the aloe to her skin.
“Good, it’s already looking less red. How was your nap?”
“It was fine.”
“Rabbit again tonight? Or shall I try to catch some fish?”
“Which one is easier?” she asked eagerly and tried to stop herself from sounding so enthusiastic. She was starving since the rabbit had only partially filled her stomach. The hunger pains in her stomach were finally easing. She wasn’t feeling so desperate, rabid, raw like a wounded animal.
“Hungry?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Then I will be back shortly with a rabbit for you. Maybe tomorrow, we can set out some lines and see if we can get a few fish. Sound good?”
Maggie nodded silently and watched him walk away. She cursed herself at noticing how appealing his physique seemed to be to her. There would never be another chance that she would ever let a man touch her again. Regardless of how handsome he was!
Fallen Bride (Bride Books Book 6) Page 3