Read Online A Lady Bought with Rifles by Jeanne Williams - Free Book Online

gritted through bone, then beat faintly, distantly.
    She went limp. I saw through my tears that her eyes had closed. If she could stay unconscious—For Cruz was bringing over the glowing poker.
    I drove my teeth into my lip to keep from screaming but could not check convulsive sobs as there was a sizzling sound, a smell of searing flesh. The small body in my arms contracted and a moan came from her. I fought back the hotness that rose in my throat. Couldn’t get sick now—not yet. Pray God she’d stay in merciful blackness awhile.
    Trace loosened the tourniquet, wiped his face with the scarf. Some blood had spattered on it and left marks on his face. It didn’t seem to matter. I felt drenched with blood, though it was only sweat, mine and the child’s.
    Cruz was busy with salves and a coarse white cloth he got from a chest. “I think we are in time,” he said in slow Spanish as he bandaged the stump. “We will keep the leg raised for a day to keep the pressure off the healing part.”
    â€œWill she wake up soon?” I asked, pressing my ear to the scrawny chest and receiving the slow dulled sound of her heart.
    â€œNot for some hours. And for a few days I will ease her pain as much as possible with my brews.”
    The body pain would go. But never to walk free and light again, to be maimed, reminded of it every time she tried to take a step—what a thing to happen to a girl named Flower.
    â€œShe can use a crutch,” Trace said roughly.
    I cried out at that, a wail that made the drugged child flinch. “You must all sleep,” Cruz said. “Señorita, you and the girl rest here. Trace and I can spread mats in the ramada.”
    â€œWe have bedrolls,” Trace said.
    We put Sewa on hers, injured leg propped on a folded poncho, the flute beside her. Trace put my pallet touching hers. I didn’t expect to sleep, but either weariness or Cruz’s tea sent me into quick heavy slumber with only a passing thought of what Reina would say about the necessity of staying here for several days. Compared with Sewa’s ordeal, Reina’s opinions seemed of very little consequence.
    I woke with my sister’s voice in my ears, blinked, sat up, glanced around the dim room, knowing that for some reason I didn’t want to wake up. Then my gaze fell on Sewa huddled next to me and I remembered it all and broke out in shuddering cold sweat.
    Reina shrilled on. She’d wake Sewa at this rate, a thing I hoped to postpone as long as possible. I had slept in my chemise and petticoat. Slipping into my thoroughly draggled riding habit, I fumbled shut the most strategic buttons, shoved my hair back, and hurried out to the ramada.
    Cruz was nowhere to be seen, but Trace had apparently been repairing a saddle when Reina appeared. Lázaro, a good hundred yards from the ramada, stood between Reina’s handsome black and a jugheaded sorrel. Even in daylight he wasn’t getting closer than necessary to the witch’s house.
    Reina’s green eyes swept over me. “You!” she exploded. “Dirty, crumpled, in company with outcasts, men even Texans and savage Indians reject—”
    â€œDon’t shout,” I told her, too astonished at the grounds for her attack to be immediately angry, though I could feel blood heating my temples. “That child is sleeping. You can thank heaven you don’t have to wake and get used to having only one foot!”
    â€œIf it weren’t impossible, I’d think she was yours, got in a bush someplace. What a fuss, all for a Yaqui whelp!”
    â€œBe quiet,” I said. The words broke in my throat. I heard the saw again, hacking bone, glimpsed the poker, smelled seared flesh. “Go away, damn you.”
    â€œAnd leave you with him? ” she demanded, pointing at Trace.
    I walked some distance from the house. She hesitated, then with a toss of her fiery head, she came after me. “You must