Free The Angel and the Outlaw by Madeline Baker Page A

thought of having to be fed like a child. He wanted to insist that he could feed himself, but he lacked the energy to argue, the strength to lift his hand.
    The broth was thin and almost tasteless and after three or four spoonfuls, he pushed it away, begging for a drink of water, but she refused, insisting he had to eat first.
    Her seemingly callous indifference to his thirst made him angry, but he had no choice but to do what she said. Filled with resentment, he finished the broth. And then she offered him a cup of water, admonishing him to drink it slowly. The water was cool and sweet, better than the finest whiskey.
    Exhausted, his thirst quenched, he closed his eyes, not caring if he lived or died.
    He was better the next day, and still better the next. Brandy came morning and evening to feed him. The medicine man also came twice a day to check on his wounds and see to his more personal needs.
    On the sixth day, when J.T. was beginning to think he might like to live, after all, two warriors entered the lodge. Wordlessly, they took hold of him. Ignoring his futile struggles, they bound his hands and feet to the stakes again, then left the lodge.
    It was the most concrete evidence of all that he was, indeed, getting better.
    With a sigh of resignation, he closed his eyes. Damn, what a mess.
    He was hovering on the brink of sleep when he heard Brandy’s voice.
    “J.T.?”
    He lifted his head and glanced over his shoulder to see Brandy standing in the doorway.
    When she saw that he was awake, she stepped into the lodge and let the door flap fall into place behind her. “How are you feeling?”
    J.T. lowered his head to the ground again, cursing the ropes that bound him. It was humiliating, demoralizing, being bound hand and foot, powerless in the face of his enemies. It was a new experience for him, one he definitely didn’t like.
    His hands clenched into tight fists when Brandy came to sit beside him. He hated the pitying look in her eyes, hated having her see him like this. His helplessness ate at his pride; the knowledge that she was free to come and go as she pleased filled him with resentment. The fact that she looked prettier every time he saw her filled him with confusion.
    “Are you hungry?” Brandy asked.
    He wanted to say no, to tell her to get the hell out of the lodge, out of his life. But he couldn’t ignore the fragrant aroma rising from the contents of the bowl in her hands, couldn’t deny the loud rumbling of his stomach, or the fact that, whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was glad for her company.
    He glared up at her as she offered him a piece of venison. Feeling like a pet on a leash, he obediently opened his mouth. The meat, which had smelled so good only moments ago, tasted like ashes in his mouth.
    “Why are you doing this?” he growled.
    “Doing what?”
    “Feeding me. Taking care of me.”
    “That should be obvious. You’ve been sick. You’re weak…”
    “I’m tied up like a damn dog!”
    Brandy stifled a grin. “That’s another reason.”
    “Are they making you look after me?”
    “No. I volunteered.”
    He looked skeptical. “Why?” He glanced at his bound wrists, remembering the times he had tied her hands, remembering how she had begged him not to. “You don’t owe me anything.”
    “If you must know, I’m taking care of you because I’m afraid I won’t be able to get back to my own time without your help.”
    “My help?” J.T. glanced pointedly at the ropes that bound him. “What the hell do you expect me to do?”
    “I don’t know! All I know is that I touched you, and I ended up here. I can’t help but think that I’ll never get back home without you.”
    J.T. nodded. It made as much sense as anything else.
    “Are you hungry?” she asked again.
    “Yeah.”
    Placing the bowl on the ground, Brandy placed a robe under J.T.’s head, then offered him a spoonful of broth.
    He stared at the spoon for a moment, then, feeling like a helpless infant, he