Free Donners of the Dead by Karina Halle Page A

unending trees. As much as I wanted to find out what happened, why the pale man had attacked Meeks (and why he hadn’t done the same thing to me), my curiosity needed to be reined in before I did something idiotic.
    “You shouldn’t be out here alone,” Jake said from behind me, his feet crunching on the fallen twigs, the air around me becoming more earthy and pleasant as he came closer. “It’s dangerous.”
    I turned around to see him a few paces back, still in his long johns, and with a cigar in his hand. I quickly turned my head away—he was not leaving anything to the imagination. His body was massive, broad lines and hard muscle that seemed like it was going to burst out of the red wool.
    “Aren’t you cold?” I asked, wishing I felt less embarrassed.
    “Naw. You ain’t ever seen a man in his drawers, have ya?”
    “A proper lady shouldn’t see that until she’s good and married,” I replied, wondering what wanton, caveman town he was from where folks were seeing each other in their undergarments. Texans were something else.
    “You’ve said many times you aren’t a lady.”
    He started walking toward me until I shot him a warning look to stay right where he was.
    “I only said that once,” I retorted indignantly.
    He puffed on his cigar, a few sprinkles of snow coming through the boughs of the trees and settling in his dark, lush hair. “True, but you’ve demonstrated your word many times before. No proper lady comes running out into the forest after she’s been nearly attacked by a savage.”
    I glared at him, keeping my focus on his craggy face that looked strangely handsome in the burning glow of his cigar. “The man wasn’t a savage.”
    “If that’s the case, then who was he?”
    “I don’t know,” I admitted stupidly. “I only saw him for a second and there was barely any light. He was pale though, white as a sheet, with eyes bluer than a robin’s egg. But the same smell that I’ve been picking up the last few days,” I gestured ahead into the forest, “it’s coming from him.”
    He frowned, eyes glittering with thought. “Interesting.”
    “I thought so.”
    “You know what the smell is?”
    I shook my head. “Something rotten. But familiar.” I don’t know why I kept on talking, divulging information to him. “The other day, I smelled it on our neighbor’s horse that went rabid and tried to kill us.”
    He coughed, his eyes bugging out. “I beg your pardon, Pine Nut?”
    I sighed and quickly told him what happened with Nero, knowing it would be met with disbelief.
    I turned to face him and was surprised by his silence. In fact, his mouth was set in a rather grim line. “Rabies is Latin for madness.”
    I raised my brow. “I didn’t know that. Is it possible that whatever infected the horse had infected this man? He did look rather mad.”
    He snorted. “You have to be more than ‘rather mad’ to bite someone’s finger clean off.”
    I cringed and looked back at the cabins. “How is Meeks?”
    He took in a large drag of his cigar and let the smoke slowly trail out from his full lips. “He’s alive. Unconscious. I don’t know what else we can do for him.”
    “Surely one of us will be going back to River Bend tomorrow with him.”
    “Won’t be you. Won’t be me.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “Mayhaps it’ll be Avery. I’d hate to see you cry though.”
    “Oh, you’d love to see me cry,” I countered. “And I wouldn’t cry over Avery.”
    “You two seem awful close for being just a couple of pals.”
    “I don’t see how this is any of your business, nor how it could possibly interest you,” I told him. I lowered my voice. “Besides, he is my only friend in this world.”
    “I see. That explains it then,” he said, another puff of smoke rising up to the trees.
    “Explains what?” I asked defensively. “And why are we always out here sparring in the middle of the night?”
    He shrugged casually. “Last night you came out to spar with me,