Flight of Fancy: Cora's Daughters by Mercedes Keyes Read Free Book Online Page B

place she watched him. Looking around the clearing he made, she saw her horse, Flower standing next to his.
    His horse snorted, tossed her head.
    He looked up and right at her.
    “Ah, there you are. I knew you were up in one'uv'em. Hungry? You eat yet?”
    Asiza knelt, one hand holding tight a branch, the other holding her dagger. Her eyes moved about the area, checking everywhere – and then finally back to him.
    “Why you followin’ me?” She asked from her high place.
    Broc shrugged, “Can’nah seem not to, can’nah help myself.”
    Her brow crinkled, perplexed, “Is you crazy o’somethin’?”
    “Not last I checked, still got good sense about me.”
    “That depen’ on who you ax.” She replied.
    He chuckled at her words - the sound of it made her search his face closer. “How come – you ain’ try and kill me yet?” She asked.
    “How come, you ain’t try and kill me yet?” He asked back.
    She sighed, still not sure why. Nor sure of what to make of him – so there she sat, staring at him, while he stood, staring up at her.
    “Well?” He prompted.
    “Ain’ wanna kill you, got no reason, not yet. But you afta’ me, ‘cause they sen’ you – what you waitin’ on?”
     

“My mind’s come to tell me, why they send me after you not for the right reasons. I'm not likin’ those men right now Asiza, not likin’ them at all.” She stared, perplexed, quiet.
    “Come down Asiza.”
    “No.”
    “Please?”
    “No.”
    “I’m not lookin’ to harm you.” He offered up softly.
    “Don’ care – I’on like ya’. White men dane’gous - don’ wanna be ‘round you. If you ain’t plannin’ to catch me, kill me – you needs t’go – leave me alone – stop followin’ me.”
    Broc stood wondering what to do now, he looked down at his fire going, at the rabbits laying and waiting for him to gut, skin and cook. Sighing, he looked back up at her.
    “I ain't the kind of white man you think Asiza. No I’m not. Dangerous, yeah, I can be – but, not to you. Me and you, we alike.”
    “Ain't nuttin' alike. Gone way from me I said.”
    Once more, Broc stood staring up, hands on his hips, thinking, trying to figure his next move. He then nodded down by the fire, gesturing with his head.
    “Got three plump rabbits here, I’ll eat two, one’s for you.”
    “I hunt my own.” She mumbled, petulantly.
    Broc's eyes began to travel over her, on her legs, hips, he could almost see parts of her not meant to be seen, but the dark shadows hid her private places. “Woman shouldn’t be about - the way you are – you close to being as bare as a newborn babe. It’ll be cold soon, you gone run about like that then?”
    “Why’on’t you go away s’I can come down?” She said, ignoring the rest.
    “You can come down now.”
    “Don’ trus' no man, don’t like no man! Gone away now, leave me alone.”
    “You gone have to trust one, sooner or later – might as well be me.”
    “Got no reason t’trus' you – I’on know you. What I do know, I’on like… now go away white man, gone!”
    “I’m nothing like the others, I swear I’m not.”
     

“Don’ care, don’ like ya’. You all the same – you all evil – you all nasty – you all mean – you all care ‘bout nothin’, jus’ yo’self, yo’gold and usin’ that pokin’twig on us. You ain’ usin’ it on me, so you jus’ gone leave me alone an’ quit followin’ me!”
    “Pokin’twig!” He repeated, of all she said, that was what stuck in his head, “Pokin’twig?” He parroted in disbelief – trying not to laugh.
    “You know what I’m meanin’.” She grumbled through tight lips, “Yo’didly-doo.”
    He shook his head, turning from her and exploded into laughter, guffawing loud and deep, that undid him.
    “Well, I see now. I got my work cut out for me with you m’darlin’ Asiza…” He knelt – grabbed a rabbit to make quick work of dressing it for the pit, “…just so you know, I ain’t giving up –