Her shadow fell over him. "Clay, please. You want to go as badly as I do."
"Eight days is nothing," he muttered, avoiding her gaze. "He might not even have found the other vampire yet."
"Or, he's lying somewhere, dying from lack of blood."
"Anything is possible, but he asked us to stay here and wait for him, Mariel. So that's what we're doing."
"Until when?"
He tilted his head to look up at her. "Until you and I agree that it's been too long."
She wanted to fight him. He could tell that in every tense inch of her. But he also respected that she had a good head on her shoulders. He waited silently, and as he'd hoped, she eventually groaned and flopped onto the ground beside him. She rested her head on his shoulder.
"I hate waiting."
"I know," he said softly.
"I'm so worried for him that it's making me ill."
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "A few more days, Mariel. Respect his wishes and trust that he knows what he's doing. If he still doesn't show up soon we'll saddle up and we won't stop until we find him. I promise you."
She nodded and sighed.
"You're quite the firecracker," he observed with a smile. "I feel safer having you as my partner than any burly Marshal."
She laughed. "It's because of the trousers. They make me tough." She stretched her legs out and admired them. "Plus, they're very comfortable. I think you men have been keeping us in skirts because you didn't want us to know how freeing these feel."
"More like it's easier to flip your skirts up then pull these down," Clay teased as he ran a finger up the front of her thigh. "We're much in favor of expediency when it comes to lovely ladies' charms."
"Any more expediency and we're going to be too sore to ride," she said with a laugh. She moved around, straddling him while facing him. Her sunny face brought a fond smile to his. "You interested in something besides goat meat?"
He arched a brow. "Now that's a question."
She grinned when she picked up his meaning. "I wasn't referring to me, you fiend. I was talking about food. A stew, to be exact. Something new, perhaps?"
"Goodness, but a stew sounds wonderful," he groaned, heartfelt. He vowed that once they left the mountains he'd never eat goat again. "But what would go into this stew of yours?"
"We'll have to be creative. I've seen squirrels and some sort of shelled animal the size of my fist peeking every once in a while from between the rocks."
"Crawlups," he told her. "Never tasted 'em, though. Could be worse than goat."
"Nothing is worse than goat." She glanced to the horizon. "We'll need to be quick about it. The sun will be setting soon."
He lifted her off him and stood. "Here." He pulled out his gun and handed it to her. "I know you're familiar with using it," he said with a smirk. "See what you can do about the crawlups. I'll gather more wood and see about finding some vegetables for your stew."
With a wide grin, she accepted the gun. "Next, I'll be doing my business standing up."
He groaned. "Please never say that again."
Her laughter trailed her as she leaped across the rocks, as agile as any goat, soon disappearing from sight.
He stared after his, his smile fading, replaced by worry. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep her satisfied and not wanting to go after Vellum. In truth, Clay didn't know when he would deem the wait "too long". Vellum hadn't indicated how far up the mountain his quarry was, or under what circumstances Vellum would find the other vampire. Did he live alone? With other vampires? Was he dug in deep or continually on the move, setting up temporary camps?
"I should have interrogated the son of a gun," he muttered to himself. "Treated him like a criminal."
Vellum would have been angry, but at least Clay wouldn't have been where he was now, full of questions and dealing with a headstrong woman who was going to trample him with her horse soon.
With a rueful shake of the head, he began to wander the area in search of edible roots and other foodstuffs. He hadn't had much luck by the time the sun set. He hoped Mariel was faring better. He'd heard her fire twice earlier on, then make another two shots, and recently, a single shot. He figured all of that was a good sign. She would likely have emptied the chamber in one go had she missed her target. At least he could claim he'd gathered plenty of wood to heat up their stew, even if said stew would be a carnivorous affair.
Back at the camp, he stoked the fire. He heard Mariel's light step a few minutes later and looked up from whittling a branch to watch her emerge from the darkness, a triumphant grin on her face.
"I'd like you to guess how many crawlups I've got behind my back," she told him as she entered the corona of firelight.
"I'm guessing three," he said as he set the knife aside and settled back on his heels.
She pouted. "How'd you guess that?"
"Heard your shots. Tell me about the last one."
"I got it with one shot!" Proudly, she whipped her arm from behind her back and held up the three small creatures. "This looks like stew tonight, if you ask me."