Free Colorado Dawn by Kaki Warner Page B

using his arms to hold most of his weight as he swung his leg over the saddle. Gripping Lurch’s mane, he leaned against the stirrup leathers, teeth gritted, his eyes closed, and waited for the pain to dim to a dull throb.
    Earlier, he had been about to trade his saddle for a seat beside Satterwhite when his wife had decided to move up front. He could have taken her place in back, he supposed, but his pride wouldna allow it. Now he was paying the price. “Buggering, bluidy, humpin’—”
    “What’s wrong?” his wife asked, startling him so badly that when he whirled to face her he almost lost his footing.
    “Hell and damnation, woman! Are you daft, sneaking up on a man that way?” He saw her frowning at the hand he held clasped to his side, and jerked it away. “What are you doing out here? It’s not safe for you to be wandering about alone.”
    “Are you hurt?”
    “Of course I’m not—”
    “It’s your injury from the explosion, isn’t it? I saw the scars this morning when you came up from the creek.”
    “So you’ve come for a second look, have you?”
    Instead of being put off by his insulting tone, she came closer. “The wound looked relatively fresh.”
    “I was about to relieve myself, madam. If you plan on watching, I’d advise you to step back.”
    “Don’t be crass. When did it happen?”
    The woman was bluidy relentless. “In spring. Leave.”
    “Just a few months ago? No wonder it still pains you.”
    “Two years ago.” Deciding to get it done so she would leave him to get on with his business, he added impatiently, “Bits of metal and wood lodged inside and prevented healing. A surgeon in London removed the last piece just before I sailed. And I truly do need to relieve myself, lass, so I’m asking you to leave. Now.”
    She left, calling back over her shoulder as she disappeared around the boulder, “Don’t worry about hunting something for our meal tonight. We’ll make do with leftover hardtack.”
    When he led Lurch out of the woods an hour later with four grouse dangling from his hand, he was greeted by the smell of woodsmoke and the sight of his lady wife cutting the old man’s hair while she lectured him about threatening strangers. “We’ve come to take photographs, not shoot people, Mr. Satterwhite. And no more brawling. Or drunkenness. Do please remember that. There. All done.” With a final pat on his head, she stepped back and assessed her work. “You look quite lovely.”
    Lovely? Satterwhite?
    At Ash’s approach, she looked up and smiled. “Excellent. You’re just in time. Mr. Satterwhite, if you’ll tend to the animals and those fine grouse, I’ll get started on Lord Ashby.”
    Started on what? And when had he been elevated in rank from Ashby to
Lord
Ashby?
    Satterwhite rose. Scratching at the back of his now-bare neck, he walked over to take Lurch’s reins and the bird carcasses. “Watch yourself,” he whispered. “She’s in a mothering mood.” The old man nodded his shorn head toward the fire. “She’s cooking that for you.”
    Ash looked at the pot of something chunky and whitish yellowsitting over the low fire. A rancid odor rose with the curling steam. “I’m not eating that,” he muttered.
    Satterwhite grinned up at him. His crooked eyes darted back and forth, the right eye meeting Ash’s gaze for a second, then the left. It was unsettling. Ash wasn’t sure which one to look at.
    “It’s not for eating. It’s a poultice.” The old man cackled nastily. “Good luck, Your Majesty.”
    “Sit, please,” his wife called, patting the chair.
    Ash glanced at the mound of white hair that had once warmed Satterwhite’s pate, and shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
    “No?” Wearing a sweet smile that was at odds with the resolve in her brown eyes, she pulled a folded straight razor from her apron pocket. “You would rather start with a shave?”
    “No. No shave. I’ll do that myself.” And what was she doing with a straight