Challenge by Montgomery Mahaffey Read Free Book Online Page A

Wanderer
hesitated. “I never thought of that.”
    The Lawman nodded, satisfied to make his
point and went to his horse. While he climbed into the saddle, the
taller one looked between the two tents.
    “By the way,” he said. “Your campmate’s been
gone for some time.”
    “ I guess so,” the Wanderer
said and shrugged. “That’s not unusual.”
    “Really? Where do you think she could
be?”
    From the edge of his vision, the Wanderer
saw the Lawman from his village glare at his partner. But his gaze
never wavered from those watery green eyes.
    “She?”
    “Yes,” the taller Lawman persisted. “She.
You are camped with a young woman, aren’t you? So where is
she?”
    “No sir,” the Wanderer replied. “I’ve been
traveling with a friend I met on the ship and I suppose he’s still
out hunting.”
    “Can you be certain of that?”
    “Of course I can. He hunts every day.”
    “Very well then,” he said and touched his
hat. “Welcome home, Citizen.”
    With a final nod, they took their leave. The
Wanderer couldn’t move, staring into the woods long after the
Lawmen were gone. Citizen. In his mind, the word lilted before
echoing through him, soothing a desperation he didn’t know he had,
the first time he’d been addressed as such since he came home.
    He became aware of her gradually. He turned
his head slightly, and saw her deep in the woods beyond her tent.
He wondered how long she’d been there. Her gaze locked with his
when their eyes met and they didn’t waver, not even when she
cantered her stallion through the trees to stop before him. He
glanced at the pheasant dangling from the saddle.
    “ So I was wondering,” he
said. “Do you think we could share our supper tonight?”
    The girl didn’t answer right away, swinging
her leg over to dismount. She glanced at the fallen sack, the
harvest strewn on the ground and back to him. She fingered her
star-shaped crystal, the muscle twitching in her jaw, and looked
beyond him. The Wanderer went numb when the girl walked to her
tent, shocked that she would continue to slight him. Then she
pulled the necklace over her head and dropped the pendant
inside.
    “ All right,” she said,
turning to face him. “I suppose we can.”
    He blinked when she spoke and didn’t move
when she came back and untied the pheasant from her horse. She
glanced at him and raised her brows.
    “ I’ll need an hour to get
the bird ready.”
    The Wanderer was too stunned to do anything
other than go to the pit. To his surprise, they worked well
together, falling into each other’s rhythm with ease. The girl had
the pheasant dressed and lined along the spit by the time the fire
was ready. She laid it between the prongs and placed one of her
pans underneath to catch the droppings while the Wanderer made up
his hash. His mouth watered when he poured the fat over his dish,
stirring it in with his spoon and inhaling the savory wafting from
the skillet. Tonight, his hash would be perfect.
    “ I think the pheasant is
done.”
    The sound of her voice startled him. He
looked up, surprised the evening dusk was growing darker and that
the girl already pulled the spit from the fire. Without a word, he
gestured for her to hand the pheasant over. He tore the meat to
shreds, mixing it all into the hash until it was moist, then loaded
a mound on each plate. The aroma made his head swim, but the
Wanderer knew it was only a hint of the tastes and textures to
come. Rubbing his palms briskly and hovering them over his plate,
he closed his eyes to give thanks, a blessing ritual he hadn’t done
in months. He opened his eyes to the girl staring at him, her fork
dangling from her fingers.
    “ Did your grandfather
teach you that?”
    “ Yes, he did.”
    “ So tell me about him,”
she murmured. “He was a bard, right?”
    “ Why should you
care?”
    “ Why wouldn’t I?” she
shrugged. “Just a mention of him got the Lawmen out of
here.”
    “ Are you going to tell me
what brought them