Tuesday, June 14, 2022

excerpt – The Queen of Paradise Valley

 https://www.amzn.com/B075X58S8R    

 


 

She woke, her hand on her mouth, her stomach quivering. Peculiar smells filled the forest glade: woodsmoke and food. Real food.

Heartbeat quickening, she grabbed the shotgun and crept through the brush, emerging in a small clearing. A circle of flat stones surrounding a campfire supported a steaming black pot and a pan of biscuits. Biscuits! She wanted to run to this feast and fall on her knees before it. But the food hadn't appeared there by magic. Someone was near. Someone human.

An animal yelped behind her. She whirled. A black beast vaulted at her, knocking her down. The shotgun skidded across the grass. Gasping, she lifted her arms to fend off the monster and stared in consternation at the hound trying to lick her face.

"Ebony." Her alarmed cry sent the dog to his belly. Panting, squirming with excitement, he gazed at her with eager, inquisitive eyes.   

Del came from the direction of the stream, a battered coffee pot in his hand. Happiness washed through her, then vanished. He was looking at her with much less excitement and pleasure than Ebony had. His eyes, half-closed, glimmered; his mouth formed a firm line.

She swiped a hand across her mouth. "Dammit, how did you find me?"

"Ebony tracked you. Remember him? Maybe you don't remember me?"

"Go away, Del. Back the way you came."

"Not without you." He squatted by the fire and set the pot on a flat rock.

She sat and crossed her arms. "You can't force me to go back."

"I can. Roped like a maverick if necessary." He picked up the shotgun and gave her a hard stare. "Be ready to leave in one hour. You can sit here till then. I'm having my dinner."

No. This wasn’t happening. She remained seated. Soon the aroma of coffee mingled with all the other tantalizing cooking smells. Her mouth filled with saliva; her stomach cramped and groaned. She didn’t need Del. But when he loaded a tin bowl with heaping spoonfuls of stew, broke a biscuit out of the pan, poured himself a mug of coffee and sat back in cross-legged comfort, tears stung her eyes.

With bated breath she followed the movement of his hand as he dipped a spoon into the bowl and delivered it laden to his mouth. His teeth flashed tearing into the biscuit, his jaw worked as he chewed, his throat contracted as he swallowed.

She wiped the corners of her mouth on her sleeve and rose to her feet. Her gaze on the black pot, she crossed the clearing and sank down beside Del. He handed her a bowl and she filled it, finding to her delight the stew contained chunks of meat and tuberous vegetables in tomato broth. She sat back on her heels, rejected a spoon, lifted the bowl to drink the broth, and picked up the meat and vegetables with her fingers, stuffing her mouth full.

He stopped eating. "You been living with wolves?"

She flicked her hair over her shoulder. Unmannerly, unladylike--she didn't care. Like in her dream, she wanted to eat everything and take pleasure in doing it the most basic way. But when she leaned forward to refill her bowl, her stomach did a somersault. She dropped the bowl, jumped up and bolted across the clearing. Everything she'd devoured rose to mock her; basic pleasure was replaced by the taste of sour bile.

 

--Cat

 



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