Chapter Thirty-FiveMartinson came running out of the merchant store with his arms spread wide, as wide as the grin on his face. Jumping down from his horse, Simms embraced him, beaming. “I thought I'd never see you again,” said Martinson, breathless.
“Never think that, my friend.”
Slapping him on the back, Martinson pointed across to where White Dove sat astride her horse. “Who's this?”
“This is White Dove,” said Simms. “She's another friend. Well …” He grew awkward, heat rising to his cheeks. “If you get my meaning.”
Nodding, Martinson went across to White Dove and held out his hand. “Good to know you, White Dove.”
She smiled and took his hand. “I have heard much about you.”
“Oh?” He turned a quizzical look towards Simms. “Nothing bad, I hope.”
“No, all good.”
“Well hell's bells,”
