CHAPTER 3
Barrett woke to a strange sound. He started to rise but the motion made his head throb. He carefully leaned forward and sat up, supporting his head with a hand on his forehead.
Once again he heard the sound; a whinny that ended in a strangled sound. He’d never heard a horse make that kind of sound, but then, he hadn’t spent much time around horses. He lifted his head to find the girl standing in front of him, her perplexed gaze riveted on the leg he had taken off last night so he could sleep more comfortably.
She blushed when she realized he was watching her. “I was just looking at yer…” She paused, obviously uncertain what to call it.
“Prosthesis,” he said, reaching for the leg.
The movement caused his head to throb. He groaned. “I feel like I’ve been kicked in the head.”
She smiled. “I reckon. You got a shiner.”
He felt the eye. “And I’m darned lucky at that. It’s a good thing you came along.”
She looked uncomfortable. “Yeah.”
She wasn’t a bad looking girl, but she was too thin. Her jeans were faded and worn and her shirt looked like it was two sizes too big for her. Her boots were scuffed and the heels were worn on the sides. With some decent clothes and a little makeup, she might actually be pretty.
She blushed again. “Where you from?”
He frowned. “Where am I from?”
She nodded. “Where was you raised up? You talk like a furriner.”
He shrugged and winced at the pain the movement caused. “I was born and raised right here in the US. I never realized I had an accent. No one has ever said anything about it.”
She rolled her eyes. “I meant; what state was you borned in?”
He’d met hill people before, but she could win a prize for hillbilly talk. Had she even gone to school? He sighed.
“I was born in Missouri, but I spent most of my life in California.”
“California?” She said it as though it was a swear word.
He scowled at her. “Yes, that must make me a furriner.”
She shrugged. “It don’t matter.”
He assumed it didn’t matter because she was going to get him out of there as soon as possible. It couldn’t be soon enough for him. Even as the thought crossed his mind, another crowded it out. These people would be a good connection if he could get them to trust him. That might not be so hard with the mother, but the girl.… It would be difficult, if not impossible, to win her trust. In any case, he wasn’t a trained investigator. He had done the job he had been hired to do. Now he needed to focus on getting back to make his report.