“Can show you all three. Three stone and a candlemark with boy.”
Teer’s ears were burning now.
“Two stone,” Kard countered. “You ride with us, not just show us on the map. You and Teer is up to you and Teer.”
“Doka not mercenary,” she reminded him. “Doka no good in a fight.”
“We saw you outside,” Teer countered. “Didn’t look like you were no good in a fight to me.”
She sighed.
“Fists, not guns,” she told him. “Knives too. Guns?” She stuck her tongue out. “Doka good shot, given time. Good hunter. Poor gun hand.”
“I don’t need your gun hand,” Kard replied. “I need your eyes and your skills. Boulder might be planning to rob the exchange, but he also might be on his way. I need a tracker. You’re the best.”
“Then Doka work for three stone,” she said firmly.
“Half now, half when we find the camp,” Kard said. “I trust you, but I don’t trust anyone that much.”
“Done. Doka take coin,” she told him.
Kard pulled one of the stamped red crystals and several green-glass ten-shard coins out of his purse and passed them over.
“And the larger problem with letting you drag Teer off is that we need to be on our way right now,” he told her. “Are you ready to go?”
“Doka always ready to go. This shithole worst of both worlds. Wilderness better, but at least real town has tailor.”
“Let’s move,” Kard ordered. “I want Boulder in manacles by the end of tomorrow. Every day he’s free, someone is likely to die.”
“Doka know type,” she agreed.
Doka barely came up to Teer’s shoulder, but her horse dwarfed Star and Clack. The animal was an immense black stallion, easily five and a half feet tall at the shoulder. The stable hand who released him into Doka’s care gave the beast a wary distance, the kind that suggested an animal who didn’t like strangers.
The glare it gave Teer and Kard confirmed that suggestion—but the beast promptly knelt on the ground to allow Doka to toss a well-appointed saddle onto his back before climbing on herself.
“This Grump,” she told him. “Grump loves Doka. Grump hates everyone.”
“He looks it,” Teer agreed. “Kard? Where are we headed?”
“It’s up to Doka now,” the El-Spehari replied. “Doka?”
“Follow Doka,” she instructed. “Get out of town before night. Won’t make it to any camps Boulder might use, but Doka know a good spot along the way. Nice campfire, secluded sleeping spots.” She turned to wink at Teer. “Nice soft moss.”
He was blushing again. Teer was pretty sure he could get used to Doka, but her relentless flirting was getting to him. It wasn’t that he was uninterested—he was a male of nineteen turnings—it was mostly that he didn’t think she was serious.
Kard cleared his throat.
“How far to the camps?” he asked.
“Four candlemarks to ours,” she answered instantly. “Four from there to first possible. Will be two, maybe three days to check ’em all.”
The bounty hunter grumbled but nodded.
“Lead on, then,” he ordered. “I don’t want the bounty to get away.”
11
Getting all three horses settled down for the night took Teer and Doka about as much work as he was expecting. Grump was surprisingly easy for Doka to get calm and brushed down, but Star and Clack were far more taken aback by this new and impressive stranger than they’d ever been by each other.
By the time Teer and Doka returned to the campfire, the stew smelled almost ready.
“That smells good. You can’t cook,” Doka accused. “What is it?”
“Dried stew packages from Teer’s mother,” Kard told her. “I added a package of dried beans to the chicken stew. I think they should pick up the flavor and extend it for three of us.”
He stirred the pot and took a careful spoonful.
“Promising,” he said. “Pull up seats, both of you. This will still be a minute and it sounded like the horses were trouble.”
“Mare not sure if she looking at Grump as threat or ‘vailable dick,” Doka said bluntly.
“And this is why most folk don’t ride stallions,” Kard told her.
“Doka ain’t most folk,” she agreed genially. “Grump’s a good beast. Better at boundaries than most men.”
“And some women I could name,” the El-Spehari said cheerfully. “Tea?”
“Please,” Doka confirmed, ignoring the barb directed at her. “Doka has honey. A moment.”
She dove back into her saddlebags and returned a moment later with a cloth-wrapped ceramic jar. Without asking, she dropped a dollop of thick golden liquid into each cup as Kard poured the tea.
Teer stirred carefully as she put the honey away and Kard started serving the stew. The tea was much the same overbrewed black drink he’d have had on the ranch. The honey smelled good and he took a cautious sip.
“That helps,” he conceded. “Thank you.”
Doka nodded, but a mouthful of stew kept her silent for several more moments. She’d eaten half the bowl before she spoke again.
“His mother made mix?” she asked, pointing her spoon at Teer.
“Sent us on our way with a pile of them,” Kard confirmed. “She seems a good woman.”
“She is,” Teer confirmed. “Ranching isn’t an easy life, though I don’t think fisherman’s wife was much better.”
“It isn’t,” Kard agreed with a grimace.
Doka had finished her bowl. She tossed soap and water into the kettle before adding the dish to it, then grinned back at the two men.
“Boy’s good stock, looks pretty, and smart-ish,” she said. “Where you find him, Kard?”
“Can’t tell you that,” the El-Spehari replied. “I’ve got to keep some secrets.”
Teer busied himself finishing his soup. He suspected that Doka didn’t even begin to grasp Kard’s secrets. Teer’s master was, after all, still wrapped in the illusion that made it hard for Teer to look at him. Kard clearly knew and trusted Doka, but she didn’t know what he truly was.
To Teer’s surprise, his bowl and spoon
