Lost Creek Hollow We can't spend our lives waiting to live

Meat, he repeated, as if she could not understand. It wasn't true of course - he merely felt at-odds with her implication. A grown man by now in many ways, Mesa had yet to be chosen by any of the females he had encountered, and was as addled as any boy might be, given the suggestive tone of the woman.

He huffed and bristled, but finally broke his eye away from her own. I track, I roam. Fight, too. A barter in the making.