Free The Indiscretion by Judith Ivory

faint sideways smile.
"You are a priss, but not because of the cigars. I don't have to smoke
'em."
    "Thank you."
    "Yes, ma'am." He nodded. "You're welcome."
    He got the fire going to a nice, crackling blaze, and their little
campsite opened up with warm light that cast their shadows onto the rock wall.
They sat against it, him whittling on more sticks. Once sharp, he'd set them
down.
    "What are they for?" she asked.
    "Rabbit traps."
    "I haven't seen any rabbits." She knew there were some.
She just hated the idea of his leaving her, wandering off into the dark to set
up sticks that probably wouldn't catch rabbits anyway – in Yorkshire, they shot
them with guns.
    "Oh, no, there're rabbits here. Or foxes or gophers." He
let out a single syllable of humor. "Maybe a prairie dog. It doesn't
matter. Whatever we catch is our breakfast tomorrow." Gathering up his
pile of sharp sticks, he sprang to his feet.
    "It's a waste of time—"
    "You got some other way to spend the evening?"
    She frowned, but took his point. "Wilderness man," she
muttered.
    "Pardon?"
    "Nothing."
    Something in him actually liked being out here on his own,
she realized, and she couldn't help but resent his liking what terrorized her.
She tried to be more generous, more rational. So he enjoyed being part of the
rugged outdoors, enjoyed being without any convenience but what he could
invent. It was probably nothing for a man like him to live outside. If she had
to be stranded out in the middle of nowhere, wasn't Wild West Wilderness Man
the perfect partner for it?
    His shadow loped away from her, toward the far scraggly scrubs
again, disappearing into the dark all but for faint movement. Lydia stood,
watching diligently, worried suddenly that he would vanish entirely. What if
something happened? What if he never came back?
    She hobbled after the flickering, firelit glimpses she got of his
silhouette – her ankle was swelling a little. Swelling or not, though, she
caught up and tagged along through the low bushes where he dug small holes,
then planted the sticks, points up. The digging proved arduous in the rocky
earth. In the end he gave it up for snares, using lace ripped from her
petticoats as the nooses.
    He set half a dozen traps that took forever. She wished he'd give
up. It seemed pointless, but he wouldn't listen. Eventually, she shut up and
just let him do it.
    As he stood up from what she hoped was the final one, he said,
"You go back to the fire. I'll be right there."
    Lydia grabbed his
coat sleeve as he turned. "Where are you going?"
    "I'll be back."
    "No! Where are you going?"
    "I have to, um, you know—"
    "What?"
    His shadow shrugged noncommittally. "You know—"
    "Oh."
    He moved away, leaving her standing at the edge of dark brambles,
hesitant to go back without him, hesitant to follow. As he disappeared
completely, Lydia felt panic
rise, as tangible as if a seed of it had stuck in her throat. Before it could
grow, blossom, she crashed her way through the bushes toward a sound – that of
a strong stream hitting the ground.
    She'd do something about that herself. Yes, that was it. Her
bladder felt as if it would burst. She came up on his silhouette. His back was
to her, the sound of his relief hitting the ground strongly.
    He jumped. "What the—"
    "I'm sorry. I can't be alone. Don't watch. I'm not looking.
Not that I could see anything in this blackness." About three feet away,
to the side and back of him, she lifted her skirt, scooted her drawers down,
then, holding them out of the way, squatted.
    Oh, once she started, goodness, she was sure she would be here for
half an hour.
    "Well, this is cozy," Mr. Cody said, his silhouette
glancing over his shoulder. "I sort of thought I'd do this alone."
    "Well, you can't. I'm too scared."
    He laughed. The faint bit of moon came out behind him, making his
broad back, his spread-leg posture loom like a giant as he stood doing his very
ungodlike task. There they were, him standing, his back to her, her