The Devil And Lou Prophet
“He looked around, listening to the first birds, noting the fading stars, then stretched and rolled his blanket. He removed his knife from his belt sheath and walked over to the girl. She stirred as he cut the ropes tethering her wrists to her saddle horn.
“I hate you,” she said without heat. She stared at him dully, sleep-mussed hair in her eyes. “I really hate you.”
“I know that. And to tell you the truth, I don’t blame you.” He sheathed the knife. “But I have a job to do, and I’m going to do it.”
“I’m an actress, goddamnit,” she said through a sob. “I worked with some of the best actors in the East. Now ... look where I am.” She lifted her outraged eyes to his. “Being carted through the wilderness like some ... some ... fatted calf to the slaughter.”
“I know you’re an actress, and I know these are rather humbling circumstances, but—”
“Oh, I know—you’ve got a job to do.”
He squatted down beside her. She was rubbing the circulation back into her wrists.
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