Free Summer Moon by Jill Marie Landis

minutes ago.”
    She started around the side of the barn, not knowing where to begin. Scrappy shouted a second later, and she backtracked.
    “He went this way.” He pointed at an impression in the dirt. The boy had dragged himself along, crawling, trailing his bad leg, headed northwest, away from the rising sun.
    Kate’s heart went out to him, trying to imagine the strength of will and endurance for the pain the child must surely be suffering.
    They found him far beyond the open corral area, sound asleep where the grass was thick, high, and beaten down where he had passed. He lay stretched out with his cheek cradled on his arm.
    “What now?”
    At the sound of Scrappy’s voice, the boy came awake and pushed himself up. When he turned to face them, there was sullen resignation on his face. His eyes were swollen and red from crying, his hair matted and littered with grass and straw.
    He looked like a pitiful, broken little scarecrow. “We’re going to have to splint that ankle,” Kate said half to herself.
    “Hell.” Behind her, Scrappy spat.
    “Please, refrain from cursing, Mr. Parks.”
    “Shit. There ain’t no way to get near him.”
    She turned on him, hands on hips. “Would you
please
try to be just a bit more positive, Mr. Parks?”
    “I’m pos-a-tively certain he ain’t gonna let us get near enough to touch him, let alone set that busted leg—even if I hold a gun on him.”
    “You will do nothing of the kind.” Kate frowned down at the boy, thinking as she twisted a stray lock of her hair. She watched the child’s eyes dart from her to Scrappy and back again.
    “Surely he’s exhausted. We have to get him to the house.”
    Scrappy merely laughed at the idea.
    “Go get Sofia,” she said, unwilling to be swayed. “Tell her to bring the laudanum.”
    “You thinking of puttin’ him out?”
    “Please, Mr. Parks. Just go.”
    “You keep clear of him,” he warned. “I won’t be here to hit him on the conk if he jumps you.”
    “I’ll be fine.” Just to make certain, Kate took a step back. As long as the boy could not leap in her direction, she would be safe enough.
    Once Scrappy was gone, Kate gathered her skirt and sat down in the grass. The boy seemed to relax a bit after the cowhand left and Kate retreated, but his expression remained wary. His huge eyes never left her.
    “I am Kate,” she said slowly. Then she pointed to her chest and said a bit louder,
“Kaaaate.”
    Then she pointed at him and waited. When he made no response, she went through the motions again, pointing and repeating her name over and over.
    From the look on his face, she knew that if the boy could curse, he was silently damning her to Comanche hell.
    Next she tried eating motions. “Are you hungry? We’ll take you inside and get you something to eat.”
    No response. The child merely stared back with blank, expressionless eyes and scratched his thin neck with grubby fingers.
    Within minutes, Sofia came running with Scrappy lumbering beside her. Kate breathed a sigh of relief.
    “I brought the laudanum.” While Sofia paused to catch her breath, Scrappy shoved his hands on his hips and chewed on his bottom lip, staring down at the boy.
    “He tried to escape,” Kate told Sofia. “His ankle is either broken or very badly sprained. We have to get him cleaned up, but I’m afraid he’s as wild as a barn kitten. I can’t think of any way to get near him other than to drug him. Then we can move him to the house.”
    “You sure you want to take him
inside
?” Scrappy shook his head as if Kate had lost her mind.
    “He’s only a child, Mr. Parks.”
    “You don’t understand the Comanche,” the wrangler said.
    “
Look
at him,” Kate pleaded. “He’s very young. And he’s
not
Comanche. Even so, even if he was, I’m afraid I would have to insist on giving him the best of care.”
    Sofia, who had been concentrating on Kate, whirled around to look at the child. Her breath caught on a gasp. The sun had risen