“How are you feeling?” He asked to be polite, but already knew. Tempest had drooped in her saddle a little more with each passing mile. They’d stopped only twice. Yet, she’d never complained, no matter how rough the ride. “Don’t ask.” “We’re near camp. I’ve stayed there before. It’s some distance from the road and provides good concealment. There’s also fresh water, shade trees, and plenty of grass for the horses.” “Sounds like paradise.” “I’ll be glad to get out of the saddle, too.” When they came to the creek, he led them under the spreading branches of pecan, oak, and ash trees. The scent of wildflowers filled the air. Red-winged blackbirds rose into the air and swept away on a whoosh of wings. He rounded a thick clump of blackberry vines and came to water trickling over rocks to collect in a deep pool below. Tempest stopped beside him. Their shadows cast long, dark shapes across the creek. “Beautiful,” she said. “Thank you for bringing us here.”
