Being taken for a boy had proven useful when Janna went to the few ranches around to trade her writing and reading skills for food, or when she went to town to spend a bit of Mad Jack's gold on store-bought clothes or rare, precious books. Being a boy gave her a freedom of movement that was denied to girls. Because she loved freedom as much as any mustang ever born, she had always been relieved when strangers assumed she was a boy.
Yet it galled Janna that this particular stranger had mistaken her sex. Her first reaction was to make him look beyond the clothes to the woman beneath. Her second reaction was that that would be a really stupid thing to do.
Her third reaction was a repeat of her first.
"Your papa didn't do badly, either," Janna said finally. "Cascabel has killed more men than you have fingers and toes."
"Don't know about the toes," Ty said, smiling crookedly as he sat upright and examined his feet. The sight of the bandages made him look quickly at Janna.
"Oh, you've still got ten of them," she said. "A bit raw, but otherwise intact. It's going to hurt like the devil to walk on them, though."
Ty hissed softly through his teeth as he crossed his legs and sat Indian-style. "Don't have to wait until I walk. Hurts like hell right now."
Janna said nothing because her mouth had gone dry. When he had sat up and crossed his legs, the blanket had fallen away, revealing a broad, bloody chest and muscular torso. Crisp black hair swirled around his flat nipples, gathered in the center line of his body and curled down to his loins. There the hair became thick and lush as it fanned out, defining and emphasizing the essential difference between male and female.
Abruptly Janna looked away and forced herself to drag air into her aching lungs, wondering if she were going to faint.
Why am I being such a goose? she asked herself fiercely. I've seen naked men before.
But somehow cowboys washing off in lonely water holes and dancing Indians wearing little more than strings and flapping squares of cloth weren't the same as the powerful man sitting naked and unconcerned just a few feet away from her.
"Hey, kid," Ty said softly. "You sure you're all right? You look kind of pale."
Janna swallowed hard, twice. "I'm fine," she said huskily. "And my name is… Jan, not 'kid.'"
"Jan, huh?" Ty said, unwrapping his right foot carefully. "My mother's father was called Jan. He was a big Swede with a laugh you could hear in the next county. Mama used to say I took after him."
"Well, you're big enough," Janna said dryly, "but I'd keep a tight rein on the laughing until Cascabel gives up."
Ty hissed an obscenity under his breath when the strip of blanket refused to come off the sole of his foot. After a moment he added, "My name's Ty MacKenzie." He looked up at the long-legged, thin youth and smiled. "As for big, don't worry, ki-Jan. You'll start putting on height and muscle about the same time you think you need to shave."
"And pigs will fly," Janna muttered beneath her breath.
Ty heard anyway. He smiled widely and gave Janna a brotherly pat on the knee. "I felt the same way when I was your age. Thought I'd never catch up with my older brother, Logan, but I finally did. Well, almost. No one's as big as Logan. I've had one hell of a lot more luck with the ladies, though," Ty added with a wink.
The news didn't sweeten Janna's temper. She could well imagine that women would swoon over a cleaned-up version of Tyrell MacKenzie, because the beaten, dirty, naked version was giving her pulse a severe case of the jump and flutters. And that irritated her, because she was certain that she hadn't had the least effect on Ty's pulse.
You'll start putting on height and muscle about the same time you think you need to shave.
Grimly Janna told herself that one day she would think back on this and laugh. Someday, but definitely not today.
A small sound from Ty made Janna glance up-way up, all the way to his eyes, which were narrowed against pain. He was sweating again and his hands were pressed against his forehead as though to keep it from flying apart. Instantly she forgot her pique at not being recognized as a woman and reached to help him.
"Lie down on your back," she said, pushing against Ty's chest and supporting his head at the same time.
It was like pushing against a sun-warmed cliff.
"If you lie down, it will be easier for me to tend your cuts," Janna pointed out. "I could only get to your back last night. If I don't clean up your front, you'll get infected and feverish and be no more use in a fight than a half-starved kitten."
Ty shook his head slowly, then grimaced again.
"How's your stomach?" Janna asked, giving up for the moment on making him lie down. With deft fingers she re-wrapped the bandage on his right foot. "Do you feel sick?"
"No."
She stared into the crystalline green of his eyes. Both of his pupils were the same size.
"Look into the sun for a second," she said.
Ty gave Janna a long look, then glanced overhead, where a piece of sun was peeking between thunderheads. When he looked away, she stared at his pupils intently. Both of them had contracted in response to the sun's light.
"Well? Do I have a concussion?" he asked, his voice low and amused.
"With a skull as thick as yours, I doubt it," she retorted.
"Is that a professional opinion, doctor?"
"Pa was the doctor, but he taught me a lot before he died." Janna looked at Ty's pupils again, fascinated by the clear midnight circles surrounded by such a gemlike green. "It's a good thing Indians collect scalps, not eyes. Yours would be a real prize."
Ty blinked, laughed softly, then made a low sound of pain as his own laughter hit his skull like a hammer.
"You sure your stomach is all right?" she asked.
"Yes," he said through clenched teeth. "Why?"
"You should drink to replace the blood you lost, but if you're going to throw up there's no point in wasting water. The nearest seep is a quarter mile from CascabePs camp."
Silently Ty took the canteen Janna held out to him. He drank slowly, savoring the cool glide of water over his tongue and down his throat. After several long swallows he reluctantly lowered the canteen and handed it back. Janna shook her head, refusing the canteen. "Unless you're nauseated, drink more."
"What about you?" he asked.
"You need it more than I do."
Ty hesitated, then took a few more swallows and handed the canteen back.
"Here, chew on this while I clean the cuts on your chest," Janna said.
As she spoke, she dug a piece of beef jerky from her shirt pocket. Ty took the tough strip of dried meat, automatically reached to his waist for a knife with which to cut off a bite and realized all over again that he was naked. Before he could say anything, Janna handed him the long-bladed hunting knife she had taken from the cache. He tested the edge, nodded approvingly and sliced off a chunk of jerky with a swift, controlled motion that spoke of real expertise in using knives.
Janna cut off the cleanest corner of the blanket she could find, moistened it carefully with water from the canteen and reached toward the broad expanse of Ty's chest. At the last instant she hesitated.
"This will hurt."
Ty gave her a sidelong, amused glance. "Boy, there isn't a square inch of me that doesn't hurt."
Boy.
The corners of Janna's mouth turned down in displeasure, but her hands were careful as he cleaned the blood-encrusted cuts on Ty's chest. Two of them were ragged, puffy and already inflamed. She bit her lip against the pain she knew she must be causing Ty despite all her care.
"Sorry," she whispered helplessly when he grimaced.
Ty heard the distress in the youthful voice and felt like gathering that slender body into his arms and giving comfort. The thought both surprised him and made him uncomfortable. He definitely wasn't the type of man who liked boys. Abruptly he grabbed the narrow wrists and held them away from his body.