A Wolf in the Desert

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Authors: Bj James
in eyes that were as dark by day as by night. “What do you mean?”
    â€œYou were thinking of escape. Even a tenderfoot could see the cliffs are too steep and too rough. That leaves a path.” He swung around, gesturing in the direction he’d come. “There’s one of sorts, with sycamores and junipers enough to conceal your passage, and somewhere out there lies a ranch.” He turned back to her, his dark face unreadable. “You wouldn’t make it. They’ll sleep for hours yet, but even with a head start, you wouldn’t.
    â€œI would come after you.” There was neither anger nor threat in his words. Only fact.
    â€œI know,” she admitted.
    â€œBut you had to try, or think of trying.”
    Her chin tilted a telltale inch. “Wouldn’t you?”
    He looked down at her for what seemed a long time, then he smiled. An action that, as it had the night before, did more wonderful things to an already handsomely constructed face. “Yes.”
    Patience waited for more, but there was none. She realized she should have known. He never said more than one word, when one was enough. Somewhere in the camp someone snored, coughed and sighed, and slipped again into the heavy, rhythmic breathing of deep sleep.
    Indian turned his head, found the source of disturbance, then returned his attention to Patience. “It’s better not to disturb them, better to let them sleep off most of what will be monumental hangovers. But if you’re hungry...”
    â€œNo,” Patience assured him quickly. Then again. “Not at all.”
    As if he would erase the bruises of fatigue from her, he brushed the tender flesh beneath her eye with the pad of a thumb. “I’d hoped you would sleep longer.”
    â€œI’m an early riser.” She didn’t dodge away from his touch, didn’t flinch when his palm curved at her cheek.
    â€œEvery minute of every day is too precious to waste. Even the bad ones? Even days like today?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Taking his hand from her, he stepped back to pick up a slender stalk of mesquite lying at his feet. Pausing a moment, he squinted at the sun, judging the time. “Desert heat is tricky. Until you’re better acclimatized, I’d like you to stay in the shade as much as possible, and drink as much as you can.”
    â€œI can take care of myself,” Patience shot back. “I’ve been in the desert before.”
    â€œMaybe you can, and maybe you have. But not like this.” He stopped gathering up the rest of the brush he’d collected. When he straightened there was a sheen of sweat shimmering on his face and throat. “There isn’t an air-conditioned hotel within a hundred miles, O’Hara. No dude ranch. No swimming pool. The only cooling the canyon can offer is the shade of a sycamore or juniper. On its best day, at its fullest, the creek wouldn’t cover the top of your feet.”
    Patience stifled a retort in the sudden intuitive knowledge that it might be to her advantage if no one knew just how familiar she was with the desert. The less anyone knew of the lessons taught her by her fey, adventurous family and their madcap expeditions, the better. With parents whose concept of education was living life to the fullest, in as many places, in as many ways as possible, there was little she hadn’t tried and accomplished. For most of her twenty-seven years, she’d roamed the world with her parents, her brothers, and her sister. Before she entered the university, the one glaring lack in her education was the classroom.
    But no one need know. Especially Indian. All the better to find a way out of this, if she could lull him into a false sense of security in the certainty of her incompetence.
    â€œMaybe I will,” she mused, almost laughing out loud at the ironic simplicity of her plan. It might not work, nothing might, but this was worth a try. To Indian,

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