Page 9 of The Maverick of the Mountain
“I’ll deal with you later. Now it’s time to go see about a girl.”
My girl.
“Easy,”I mutter, hands out in front of me. “No one’s going to hurt you.”
Found my girl no more than fifty yards from the edge of the woods, huddled up against a downed tree and brandishing a flimsy tree limb. The front of her is completely slick with mud, from her pretty head to her bare feet. The only color on her besides dark mud is her bloodshot eyes and bright white teeth. And with twigs, leaves, and other forest detritus caked to her and her wild, messy hair, she’s looking like a swamp monster who’s just climbed out of a dank hole. But lord have mercy, I’m smitten.
She jabs the limb at me. “Stay back,” she cries out, sniffling and swiping at her eyes.
My adrenaline kicks in as my protective instincts ramp into overdrive. “Are you hurt?” It comes out harsher than I mean it, but I don’t have much control right now knowing she’s in pain.
She’s all teared up, snotty too, as she gestures at her face. “Bear mace.”
That’d do it. Happened to me once and never again.
“How about you come back with me, and we sort this all out?”
Before she has a chance to respond, Hank comes strolling around the side of me, chittering as he waddles toward her, the bell on his collar jangling.
“Keep that thing away from me! He tried to kill me earlier.”
I glance at the stick and then at Hank, sitting on his haunches and looking over his shoulder at me. I know, buddy. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. Unless, of course, it landed on your food. Then there’d be hell to pay.
“Hank’s as friendly as raccoons come. I’m sure there’s just been a misunderstanding.”
She looks at me strangely, and then back at Hank before staring at me. She opens her mouth but stops. She’s a little worse for wear, and I’d like to get her back to my cabin. Fix her up. Fix us up a meal. This storm isn’t letting up anytime soon, and I'd like to get back inside and get a fire going.
“Point taken, though. I understand you might’ve been through…” I take a few steps, and she jabs the stick toward me again, shaking her head. I smile and then kneel next to Hank. “Hank, how about you give our guest a little space?”
Hank chitters, glances at her, and then climbs up onto my shoulder, and I stand up again. A few steps closer, and she can’t take a step back. Not with that log behind her.
“Who…areyou?”
It doesn’t sound like a question, but I answer anyway. “Maverick. Owner of this land you’ve found yourself on.”
“Beware of Hank…” she mutters to herself, lowering her stick and gaze briefly before raising both back to attention. “Is he your pet?”
Hank chitters indignantly as he circles my neck.
“Hank’s no one’s pet,” I say, trying to soothe him. “He’s my assistant. Well, he’d tell you he’s my supervisor, but I’m trying to curb his authoritarian instincts.”
She stares at me blankly.
“Friend also works, too.”
Hank settles on my shoulder in agreement before hacking something up into his paw. He hops down and tosses it at the girl before I get a chance to stop him.
She squeals, her feet slipping against the mud as she tries to get away from Hank.
I sigh, shaking my head. “I’m sorry about that. Hank was just trying to share some of his cake. I think he’s taken quite a liking to you.”
First person since Dora he’s tried that on. Usually, he just hisses, growls, or avoids new people. Guess he’s just as smitten as I am.
She’s speechless, but she’s not waving her stick at either of us. I consider that a win, but now I need to somehow coax her back to my cabin. You’d think it would be easy in a storm like this.
“How about you come back to my cabin? I can get you a change of clothes, a hot shower, and a warm meal. And I promise Hank won’t offer anymore… presents.”
Her frown softens, and Hank chitters in agreement, slinking back toward me. I pick him up and he climbs onto my shoulder. His favorite spot, apart from his bed in my workshop.
