Epilogue
A soak in my own bathing room at Turtle Crick had never felt so good. After my own bath, I helped Matthew with his. Our four-day trek home had exposed my mate’s weakened state. He had suffered more from a bullet graze than I had from being shot through and through. Even now I trembled to think how close I came to losing him. Likely why I was able to lay aside the knowledge he had flanked Blood-Mark-Boy.
He had once watched Timo Bowers tongue my member, and I knew he’d tumbled his healer. A jealous would-be suitor of mine had denounced Matthew and sent him to the guardhouse in Fort Robinson while a covetous, one-time lover of his had sought to shoot me from the saddle.
All of this, and I was not yet twenty-and one. What adventures lay in my future? Raven. Was he dead, or was
