“Don’t get blood on my quilts.” Travis tried to move his leg and it was numb as a frozen dick.
“Ain’t my blood, buddy. Your blood—your quilt—your job.” She moved to the bottom of the bed and yanked off his boots. Tossed them aside to get his pants off.
Without stopping to ask permission, she undid the zipper and tugged his jeans down. Made a face when she saw the bite. “Yeah, they chewed you up good, buddy.”
“Dale.”
“Girl’s name. You need stitches, buddy. Got any supplies?”
“Nope. First aid in the truck but nothing for stitches. I could drive to a clinic if I had to.”
That made her laugh.
“Calling bullshit on that one, Dale. You don’t look like a girl. You one of them superhero guys who keeps popping up after the wolves tear their leg half fuckin off? Hate those fuckers in the movies. I wish them all dead.”
“I ain’t one of those guys.” Travis leaned back into his pillow barely able to stay conscious through the pain.
“What are you then, Dale? Tats on your legs. Probably on your arms and body too. Maybe on your dick. Don’t want to confirm that one any time soon. You one of them biker dudes?”
“Long time ago maybe.”
“No fuckin maybe, Dale. Stay there. I’m gonna boil water. Got any whiskey?”
“Tequila.”
“Just as good.”
“Is your bear gonna wander off, Sunday?”
“He’ll just go on home if I take too long. He’s a good boy.”
“My dogs are out there.”
“Ted won’t hurt them. I have a dog and Ted knows better. Butchie will show up looking for me.”
“How far up the mountain do you live?”
“Far enough nobody bothers me. That’s the way I like it.”
He could hear her putting more wood in the stove while she was in the kitchen.
She probably has a woodstove too.
Travis winced when she came back with the hot, wet towel and wrapped his leg up snug. “Don’t move your leg.”
“I won’t.”
“Where’s the first aid in the truck?”
“Glove box.”
“Keys?”
“Kitchen table.”
“Lie still while I’m gone.”
“Don’t think you have to tell me that.”