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me?"
"Repeat
you? I'm just tryin' to understand you. I reckon the ride jiggled all your
brains loose." He looked at the mess she presented, her hair flying every
which way, her cheeks flushed, her blouse off one shoulder. "Reckon that
wasn't all that got jiggled."
She
looked down and straightened her clothes, embarrassment painting her cheeks
pinker still. "Look, Mister. This is your son? Fine. Let's take him to the
authorities, and you can clear up everything with them. You can drive me back
to my car and I'll go back to looking for Benjamin, my Benjamin, if
there's still a trail to follow."
The
baby caught a lock of the woman's hair and put it in his mouth. She didn't
appear to notice, so Sloan leaned over and took it away. Up close the woman was
covered with freckles. For a moment he wondered if they covered every inch of
her. The freckles were one thing he hadn't seen from the distance.
"You
ever talk sense?" Sloan asked her. "'Cause your talk's harder to
follow than a flea on a zebra dun."
"I'm
hard to follow? Am I the one who came riding up on a horse, grabbing an
innocent woman and dragging her across the goddamn desert?"
"Innocent?"
he asked. She blushed and looked away, shifting the baby in her arms and
wetting the rag again, then returning it to the child to suck on. He wondered
what he would have done about giving the baby water without her. He'd have
thought of something. He always did. "You've an interesting way of putting
things, Sweet Mary. And I like the accent, too."
"I've
no trace... I haven't any trace of my mother's brogue. End of discussion on
that." She crossed her arms over her chest.
Damned
if she wasn't red from her toes on up to her hair. What an angry little cat
he'd found, even if all her claws were hidden by her softness. He leaned back
and let her anger burn out, only to be replaced by confusion.
"OK.
I can see how you thought going through the courts would be an exercise in
futility. But can you tell me why we had to spend the whole damn day on a
horse? I realize that the Tate place is pretty inaccessible, but..."
She
rubbed at her hip again. She'd have a beaut of a black-and-blue mark there in
the morning, he was sure. His own leg ached from the ride, and he lay nearly
prone, placing his weight on his elbow while he studied her. He still
didn't know her name. It was just as well. The last time he'd been with a Tate
woman had been enough for a lifetime.
"Ben
is mine. You can go on and head out. All you got to worry about are snakes.
Walk heavy and they'll hear you coming and get outta your way. You'll be fine,
and the boys'll find you sooner than I'd like to think."
She
looked at him in disbelief, shaking her head as if she hadn't heard him right,
and so he repeated himself.
"You're
free to go. So now, go on." She didn't move, so finally he did. He felt
her eyes on him as he rolled over like some two-year-old on all fours and eased
himself up with his arms, his body bent at the waist to accommodate his stiff
right leg.
"You
gonna tell them which way I'm headed?" he asked her.
"No."
"They
gonna do anything to you for what happened?" he worried. "No."
"Well,
you best get goin' before it gets much later. I wouldn't like to think of you
out after dark."
"I'm
not going anywhere," she informed him, placing a kiss on the baby's head.
"And neither is this baby. You can get on that stupid horse of yours and
find a car and come back for us. This baby needs to eat and have a bath and go
to bed. In fact, so does this woman. There must be a main road here somewhere
where you can flag down a car."
"Flag
down a cart?" What in hell was she talking about now?
"Not
a cart. A car," she corrected. "You know, four wheels, a motor. You
turn the key, magic! It goes. We take it to a town. We use the phone. I call my
office in L.A. I jump on a plane, fly home...."
He
guessed his mouth must have dropped open, because she stopped talking. Maybe
she had finally run out of things to say.
"Lady,"
he
"Repeat
you? I'm just tryin' to understand you. I reckon the ride jiggled all your
brains loose." He looked at the mess she presented, her hair flying every
which way, her cheeks flushed, her blouse off one shoulder. "Reckon that
wasn't all that got jiggled."
She
looked down and straightened her clothes, embarrassment painting her cheeks
pinker still. "Look, Mister. This is your son? Fine. Let's take him to the
authorities, and you can clear up everything with them. You can drive me back
to my car and I'll go back to looking for Benjamin, my Benjamin, if
there's still a trail to follow."
The
baby caught a lock of the woman's hair and put it in his mouth. She didn't
appear to notice, so Sloan leaned over and took it away. Up close the woman was
covered with freckles. For a moment he wondered if they covered every inch of
her. The freckles were one thing he hadn't seen from the distance.
"You
ever talk sense?" Sloan asked her. "'Cause your talk's harder to
follow than a flea on a zebra dun."
"I'm
hard to follow? Am I the one who came riding up on a horse, grabbing an
innocent woman and dragging her across the goddamn desert?"
"Innocent?"
he asked. She blushed and looked away, shifting the baby in her arms and
wetting the rag again, then returning it to the child to suck on. He wondered
what he would have done about giving the baby water without her. He'd have
thought of something. He always did. "You've an interesting way of putting
things, Sweet Mary. And I like the accent, too."
"I've
no trace... I haven't any trace of my mother's brogue. End of discussion on
that." She crossed her arms over her chest.
Damned
if she wasn't red from her toes on up to her hair. What an angry little cat
he'd found, even if all her claws were hidden by her softness. He leaned back
and let her anger burn out, only to be replaced by confusion.
"OK.
I can see how you thought going through the courts would be an exercise in
futility. But can you tell me why we had to spend the whole damn day on a
horse? I realize that the Tate place is pretty inaccessible, but..."
She
rubbed at her hip again. She'd have a beaut of a black-and-blue mark there in
the morning, he was sure. His own leg ached from the ride, and he lay nearly
prone, placing his weight on his elbow while he studied her. He still
didn't know her name. It was just as well. The last time he'd been with a Tate
woman had been enough for a lifetime.
"Ben
is mine. You can go on and head out. All you got to worry about are snakes.
Walk heavy and they'll hear you coming and get outta your way. You'll be fine,
and the boys'll find you sooner than I'd like to think."
She
looked at him in disbelief, shaking her head as if she hadn't heard him right,
and so he repeated himself.
"You're
free to go. So now, go on." She didn't move, so finally he did. He felt
her eyes on him as he rolled over like some two-year-old on all fours and eased
himself up with his arms, his body bent at the waist to accommodate his stiff
right leg.
"You
gonna tell them which way I'm headed?" he asked her.
"No."
"They
gonna do anything to you for what happened?" he worried. "No."
"Well,
you best get goin' before it gets much later. I wouldn't like to think of you
out after dark."
"I'm
not going anywhere," she informed him, placing a kiss on the baby's head.
"And neither is this baby. You can get on that stupid horse of yours and
find a car and come back for us. This baby needs to eat and have a bath and go
to bed. In fact, so does this woman. There must be a main road here somewhere
where you can flag down a car."
"Flag
down a cart?" What in hell was she talking about now?
"Not
a cart. A car," she corrected. "You know, four wheels, a motor. You
turn the key, magic! It goes. We take it to a town. We use the phone. I call my
office in L.A. I jump on a plane, fly home...."
He
guessed his mouth must have dropped open, because she stopped talking. Maybe
she had finally run out of things to say.
"Lady,"
he
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