He drank long and deep, then looked at her through narrowed eyes. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m the one who just bandaged you up. Who the hell are you?”
His lips twisted in a wry grin. “Ace Bowdry. Excuse me if I don’t get up, Miss . . .?”
“Jenkins.” She cocked her head to the side, studying him. Long dark hair hung past his shoulders. Dark eyes, high cheekbones and skin that was more red than brown. “You’re Native American, aren’t you?”
“What?”
“Indian. You’re Indian, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “That a problem for you?”
Macie shrugged. “No, why? Is it a problem for you?”
He groaned softly when he sat up. “Sometimes.”
“What happened to you?”
“I got into a disagreement with a fella about the way he played cards.”
“You got shot over a card game?”
“Yep. Fella was dealin’ off the bottom. When I called him on it, he called me a name I won’t repeat in your presence, and then he pulled a gun on me.”
“Oh!”
Bowdry nodded. “He nicked me. I killed him, and then I hightailed it out of town.”
“What happened to your horse?”
“He took a stray bullet meant for me. He was a game little stud. I didn’t know he’d been hit until he dropped out from under me.” Bowdry glanced over his shoulder and there was a note of admiration in his voice when he said, “I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did. So,” he added, his tone brisk, “what the hell are you doing way out here? And why are you dressed like that?”
Macie glanced down. What was wrong with the way she was dressed? True, her jeans had faded from red to a washed-out pink, her boots were a little run down at the heel and her sweatshirt was a trifle large . . . she sighed again. So, she wasn’t at her best.
Shrugging, she said, “I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone.”
“Who’s the white-haired guy on the front of your shirt?”
“It’s Grumpy. You know, fromSnow White and the Seven Dwarfs.”
Bowdry frowned at her. “Grumpy?”
“Haven’t you ever heard of Snow White?” she asked, then realized that, even if he had, Disney’s version hadn’t been written yet. “Do you live around here?” she asked, changing the subject.
“No, I was just passin’ through.”
“Is there a town closer than the one I just left?” She glanced up at the sky, which had grown considerably darker in the last few minutes. Dark grey clouds scudded overhead, blanketing the sun and bringing the promise of rain.
“There’s a ghost town a few miles from here.” He swore softly as he gained his feet, one hand pressed against his side. “I’d be obliged if you’d give me a ride,” he said, then whistled softly when he noticed the stallion for the first time. “Is that Relámpago?”
“Who?”
Bowdry shook his head. “It’s gotta be. Where’d you get him?”
“I didn’t ‘get him’. He just showed up at my house yesterday. Is he yours?”
“Nah. That stallion doesn’t belong to anyone.”
