Rainbows and Rapture by Rebecca Paisley

’sides Texas and Mexico. I reckon I could if I had me a mind to, but I ain’t never had the mind. I do a sorta zigzag travelin’ so’s Wirt won’t have no idea where I’m goin’. I didn’t used to do that, but, well…it seems like a good thing to do, keepin’ him guessin’.”
    She twirled a lock of her hair through her fingers. “I make short stops in some towns to git food and stuff, but I spend most o’ my time travelin’ on account o’ sometimes I’m jist too scared to stop somewhere. I sleep under the stars a lot, y’know.”
    “’Course, I seen Indians before,” she informed him, smoothing a curl across her cheek. “One time when I was washin’ in a stream? Well, I was singin’ jist as happy as happy could be, and that song o’ mine got strangled in my throat when I looked up and seed a passel o’ Indians. But instead o’ scalpin’ me, they turned around and hightailed it away.”
    Santiago imagined it was her singing that had frightened the braves away. As superstitious as Indians were, they’d probably believed some god-awful evil spirit was locked in her body, shrieking to get out. “Do you have any idea which towns Avery might have already looked for you in?”
    She shook her head, her bright hair swishing across the firelit ground. “I try to stay as many steps ahead of him as I can, and since I’m always zigzaggin’, there really ain’t no tellin’ where he is now.”
    “Well, how do you know he’s still following you?” While waiting for her answer, he let his gaze meander down to her breasts again. His palms itched to hold them.
    And her hair… Fireshine flickered over it, highlighting the ribbons of red that streaked through the gold. Santa Maria , how he wanted to touch it!
    He remained spellbound for a moment more before he realized she hadn’t replied. “Russia, I asked you how you know Avery’s still on your trail. It could be that he’s given up trying to find you.”
    She failed to get hold of the fear that rose within her. It was so great, it almost hurt. “I know he’s still after me,” she whispered. “It’s jist a feelin’, but it ain’t wrong.”
    He nodded, understanding it was instinct that told her. His own instinct had warned him about such things many times. “It might help me if you told me why he’s following—”
    “No.” She turned and lay back down, her gaze directed at the moon. Come to Wirt, darlin’. Come to yer sweet ole Wirt. As the words came to her, revulsion welled within her. It was all she could do to keep from being sick to her stomach.
    At the look of stark terror on her face, Santiago’s curiosity rose. “Did you steal something from him?”
    She closed her eyes.
    “Russia, what—”
    “I’m goin’ to sleep now. ’Night.”
    He moved to stand directly over her. “Why won’t you tell me?”
    She opened her eyes and looked right into his black gaze. “It ain’t none o’ your business, that’s why. I been dyin’ to know how you got that scar on your face, but I ain’t asked on account o’ it ain’t none o’ my business.”
    As he turned away from her, his eyes hardened. He had to force himself not to touch the mark he hated so terribly.
    “’Cept fer them tales the fellers in the saloon tole about your fame with horses and outlaws,” Russia continued, “I didn’t believe none o’ their stories. They was all talkin’ about your scar, see, but you ain’t the kinda man who’d bash dead a mountain lion jist ’cause he stole your rabbit. You’d go out and find another rabbit.”
    “And that story about the devil was plumb nelly stupid. The devil don’t throw his pitchfork at folks. And mean as you know how to be, I don’t see you as the sorta man who’d knife his own face, either. Only a crazy feller’d do somethin’ like that jist to see some blood, and I’m figgerin’ you’re smart. ’Course, maybe that tale about you fightin’ all them Apaches to git your horse back was true.” She