Free Rainbows and Rapture by Rebecca Paisley

her eyes. For one short moment he wondered what had caused it.
    “Can I have some o’ that meat?” she asked, her back to him while she unhitched Little Jack Horner. “I done ate ever’thing I brung. I figgered it was all right to do that since you’re s’posed to be catchin’ all our meals.”
    “Your caterwauling has scared every animal around into the next county. We’ll probably starve before this is over.”
    She felt like smacking him. “Can I have some meat, or not? I’m feelin’ plumb nelly malflourished.”
    He threw a few red chili peppers into the pan. Upon further thought, he tossed in several more. Grinning, he said, “The word is malnourished , and yes, you can have as much meat as you can eat.”
    She finished unhitching the ox. Facing Santiago, she saw his grin. “Well, tinklin’ bracelets and slimy snail trails, look at you smilin’! You oughta show that smile more often, y’know? Them white teeth o’ yours look real good next to your dark skin.”
    There she went again, he thought, complimenting him. Like before, he didn’t know how to respond to such unfamiliar flattery, nor could he come up with a reason for it.
    He knew only that he’d put a lot of chili in the meat.
    Well, who the hell cared if the blackmailing little twit couldn’t eat it? It wasn’t his fault that she’d devoured several days’ worth of food all in one day, and he was entitled to enjoy his dinner the way he liked it. His jaw clenched, he removed the pan of meat from the fire and laid a thin sheet of metal across the blaze. When it was hot, he heated tortillas on it.
    Russia watched him tear off a piece of tortilla. Holding it in his fingers, he dipped it into the meat pan, pinching up a section of the softened beef with it. He then ate the entire biteful all together.
    “Ain’t you never heared of a fork?” she asked.
    He tore off another piece of warm tortilla. “This works better.” Again he demonstrated the Mexican use of a tortilla.
    She had to admit it was practical. Wanting to try it herself, she sat down beside him and reached for a tortilla. She pulled a piece of it off and pinched up some meat just as she’d seen Santiago do. “Real nice o’ you to share with me, Zamora.” She popped the bite into her mouth and began to chew.
    He saw her eyes water and widen. Her cheeks reddened. An expression of pain flitted across her face. He couldn’t believe it when she managed to swallow.
    “You damn varmint!” she sputtered and pursed her lips to quickly inhale a cool breath of air into her burning mouth. “You mean-thoughted, stone-hearted, wickederer’n the devil varmint!”
    He listened to her rant and rave, glad the spitfire in her had returned. This Russia he could handle. It was the sweet one who baffled him. “What’s the matter? Too much chili?”
    She snatched his canteen from the ground and drank deeply of the pure water. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she glared at him. “Y’know, Zamora, if you was to ever dream you was dead, the heat would wake you up. Where do you git off lettin’ me eat that—”
    “This is what I like to eat. I didn’t cram it down your throat. You begged for it.”
    “Well, you shoulda tole me you dumped fire into it!” She looked at the meat longingly. Her shoulders slumped when she saw Santiago reach for the very last tortilla. “Reckon I’ll jist have to go hungry tonight.”
    He didn’t comment.
    “I hope I don’t die o’ starvation before mornin’.”
    He tore off a piece of the tortilla.
    “Would you gimme a decent buryment if I die tonight?”
    “Burial.”
    “Whatever. Will y’give me one?”
    Chewing, he studied the stars.
    “I want a cross on my grave. Flowers, too.”
    Without looking at her, he handed her the last scrap of tortilla.
    She gulped it down, then rubbed her stomach. “God,” she muttered. “I ate so much I feel like I’m gonna explode.”
    He kept his gaze centered on the star-sprinkled sky, but heard