When Bree returned, she did that little “knock, knock” bit again and waited for Court to tell her to enter. “Why bother?” he asked. “We aren’t in the middle of doing anything private.”
“You never know.” Bree sank to her knees beside him in the same spot she’d just left. “The first time I don’t knock, I might walk in on something I don’t want to see.”
Court rolled his eyes as Dizzy filled the tent’s opening. The man nodded at him in greeting. “How’s the leg?”
“Hurts,” Court admitted.
Dizzy leaned on his walking stick and nodded. “At least it was a clean shot,” he said. “I have a bullet fragment in my right hip that starts up something fierce every time it’s about to rain. Doctors at the VA hospital told me to make an appointment to come in and they’d dig it out for me, but I never got a
