And this one belonged without question to the second kind. So he went back inside, sat with Autumn Sky through the rest of that long, tense afternoon, changing the cloth on her forehead, watching her fever climb and fall and climb again like something fighting its own hard way back up to the surface of the world. It was near sundown when her eyes finally opened all the way. Clear this time, sharp, looking straight at him with no fog left behind them at all. "You," she said.
"Me," Wade agreed. "You're the one who dragged me out from under that rock." Wasn't about to leave you under there to bake. A long pause. She winced, shifting her weight, testing the splint on her leg with a grimace that told Wade the pain was very real now and very much awake alongside her.
Why? She said, "You're white. I'm Apache." Most men who look like you would have ridden right on past and told themselves later it was mercy, not cowardice. Wade considered that. considered her, considered the strange, sharp way she asked her questions like she already half expected the wrong answer and was daring him, almost hoping to prove her right.
"Most men aren't me," he said. She snorted. Actually snorted despite the pain, despite the fever sweat still clinging to her skin. "That supposed to impress me?" "Wasn't trying to impress you."
Was answering your question poorly. Well, Wade almost smiled the first time in longer than he cared to admit out loud to anyone. "You're welcome, by the way, for the not-dying part." "I hadn't decided yet if I was going to thank you for that." "Take your time."
Seems I've got three days took anyhow. One way or another. That got her attention properly. A flicker of something sharper cutting straight through the exhaustion. three days. What did my father say to you? told me to prove my heart's true or something along those lines wasn't.
That's my father's way of saying he doesn't trust you yet, but he's willing to be wrong about it. She studied him again, longer this time, recalculating something behind her eyes. He doesn't give terms like that to men he's already decided to kill. He gives them to men he's still deciding about. "Comforting."
"Wasn't meant to be comforting. Was meant to be accurate." "Sounds like a family trait." That earned him something close to a real laugh. Cut short by a wince as the movement pulled at her leg.
"Watch it," she said. I can still have you thrown out of your own cabin, hurt leg and all. "Bold talk from a woman who can't stand up." I said I could have you thrown out. Didn't say I'd be the one doing the throwing.
"Fair enough." Wade leaned back in the one chair he owned, studying her a moment. "Can I ask you something?" You've been asking me things since I woke up. "One more, then."