Chapter Forty-OneSimms put a chair against the broken door, got down next to White Dove and lifted her head. He gently trickled water from his canteen over her lips and she spluttered and coughed, senses returning.
“Oh my love,” she croaked, the sinews in her neck straining, red raw.
“Don't speak,” he said, applying his dampened bandana around her neck. “Just lie there, take your time.”
“I thought you would never come,” she managed, her voice rasping, like nails raking across stones. She winced and coughed again.
“I said don't talk. I'm here now. I had to get within range for the Halls to take that bastard out. I'm sorry I couldn't stop him from hurting you.”
Her eyes creased and she gripped his hand with her own.
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.
“You stay here, drink slow
