I’m sitting by the fire when she gets back, and I don’t quite think I’ve ever gotten up so fast. After the boat heist, and that godawful snow storm, and loosing her and Marston in it… I’ve been worried. She dismounts and sweeps me into her arms, lavishing a kiss on me in front of everybody. I gasp a little, and look away with a flush when we separate. She hitches her horse and grabs her saddle bag, which is bulging with something. I take it and sit down as she untacks, opening it and gasping when I see what she’s brought back- fruit! We’ve been living off nothing but what we could hunt, and how long I had wished for something not so rich!

I squeal, and passed it around, everybody each took a piece. I got myself an orange. She takes the last apple from the sack, the apple that nobody wanted, biting into it as she sits down next to me. I don’t care much where she got them, seeing as I don’t believe it matters. She likely got them dishonestly, but we’re all conmen and thieves here. I peel the orange and pop a piece of it into my mouth. I tuck myself contentedly into her side, and she takes off her gloves and brings one hand up to stroke my cheek. Her skin is not nearly as fair as mine, and she says it’s just as well because I burn ever so dreadfully in the sun.

It’s dinner time, and I know days in the wilderness must’ve had her hungry and longing for me, but she doesn’t complain. Miss Grimshaw hands her a bowl of stew, and she eats it gratefully. It’s cool now, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She doesn’t even bother to use the spoon, tipping the brown into her mouth. “Huntin’ is scarce, ’cause of the town and the railroads.” She murmurs by way of explanation. After we made it out of those mountains, the rest of us came down to Horseshoe Overlook, by Valentine. She went ahead with Micha and Lenny, took look for our dinner. Pearson found us a couple deee when she didn’t come back, and we’ve been living off that for the past few days. She shares a look with Arthur and Charles, and that’s how I know it’s bad. They’re our best hunters. We can make a living here and buy from the butcher, but it’s certainly inconvenient.

We retire to the tent for the both of us I set up, and she’s on me as soon as she can. I haven’t had many lovers, not nearly as many as she’s had. She’s gentle with me, and our sex exists solely for my pleasure. I know the whole camp can hear us, and I don’t care. She allows me on top of her, and I clumsily use my fingers to pleasure her. It doesn’t take much, and she’s biting her arm to keep quiet. We lie together after, her shirtless because of the heat and me in my nightgown. “What a fuss you kicked up, my lovely. What prompted that bout of passion?” She asks, kissing my forehead. I don’t reply with anything but a smile, too absorbed in my own comfort to care that she’s making fun of me. Maybe if I were less sated and less comfortable, or a more concerned woman, I would be worrying. I have decided not to worry, just to bask in the glory of our afterglow.