Bowdry shrugged. “Suit yourself, but I’ve only got one blanket.”
Macie stared at him. “I don’t suppose you’d let me have it?”
“Sorry, but I’m willing to share.”
She stared at him a moment, her thoughts racing. Sleep alone and be cold, or share a bed with a remarkably handsome, sexy man and be warm? It really wasn’t much of a choice.
Bowdry stifled a grin as she followed him into the room. She was a pretty thing, slender and not too tall, with a mess of dark brown curls, a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and eyes as blue as the Pacific.
Bowdry obligingly shook the dust from the faded sheet and the lumpy mattress while she swept the floor with an old broom she found in a hallway closet. A stub of a candle provided a bit of light.
Wincing, Bowdry sat on the foot of the bed. Rummaging in his saddlebags, he pulled out two hunks of jerky. He handed one to Macie, then reached into his saddlebags again and pulled out a sack of tobacco and a package of papers. Under Macie’s curious gaze, he proceeded to roll and light a cigarette.
“I’ve never seen anyone do that,” she remarked.
“People don’t smoke where you come from?”
“The smart ones don’t. Smoking’s bad for your health, you know.”
“Says who?”
“Doctors.”
He grunted softly. “Just where do you come from anyway?”
“California.”
He arched one brow. “You’re a long way from home.”
“Longer than you think. Where am I anyway?”
“South Dakota.”
“South Dakota! What year is this?”
“Don’t you know?”
“Would I ask if I did?”
“It’s 1880.”
She blinked at him as she tried to absorb that. South Dakota, 1880. Imagine that.
He regarded her curiously a moment, then said, “How is it that you don’t know what year it is?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“You’re bleeding.”
Frowning, he glanced down at his side. A bright red stain was spreading over the cloth wrapped around his middle. Jaw clenched, he dropped his cigarette on the floor, stubbed it out with his boot heel. Lifting his shirt tail, he removed the bloody cloth and tossed it aside.
“Here, let me.” Using water from his canteen, she pulled a clean strip of cloth from his saddlebag, wet it and washed the wound.
Bowdry held up one hand, staying her when she would have bandaged it again.
She watched in amazement as he chewed a handful of tobacco, then pressed it over the wound.
