MICAH AWOKE to spy the woman on her knees, hefting a rock the size of a stag’s head, readying to bring it down on the Englishman’s skull.
It was dawn. New sunlight ribboned through the trees. Minerva was a vision straight out of hell: her face a mask of dried blood. Her eyes bulged, wide and full of hate. Her arms quivered with the weight of the huge stone she bore above her head.
Micah rolled away, believing the blow was destined for him. He reached inside his sheet and came up with the deputy’s pistol. He pointed it at Minerva, then looked at the Englishman. The sand under his head was soaked with blood, leading Micah to the false conclusion that she’d brained him already; a closer inspection made it clear that he was merely unconscious.
Neither Micah nor Minerva spoke. Her arms trembled under the weight of the rock. Micah gestured with the gun that she should drop it. She hesitated. He then leveled the barrel dead between her eyes. She set it down softly.
Micah shook his head—his skull was quite literally buzzing. He probed inside his ruined socket with his thumb; a winged insect clambered out of it and flew away before he could identify the damned thing.
Micah flicked the gun barrel toward a stand of pines and mouthed, Move. Minerva managed to stand. Her sheet crackled with blood. The bottom of it was heavy with caked crimson and dust. She walked resolutely to the trees. Micah followed.
“That marks the second time in three days you have tried to kill the Englishman,” he said.
Minerva held a hand to her side. Blood sponged through the sheet and leaked over her fingers. She frowned as though it were coming from a spigot she’d forgotten to shut off. There was something to be admired about a person who could bleed with such a total lack of concern.
“I cannot travel with anyone who wishes to crush a sleeping man’s skull with a stone,” said Micah. “Tell me why.”
“It doesn’t concern you.”
“It does now. Until you are dead, or him.”
“It could be him that’s dead,” she pleaded. “Let me make it him.”
“No.”
“Why do you care?”
“If I am given good reason, I may be inclined to take your side in this.”
Minerva scrutinized him with hooded eyes. Her stare was calculating. The odds must have toted in his favor, because, at a breathless clip, she told him everything.