EIGHTEEN
The water from the tap ran amber from iron and it reminded me of blood. I pushed the thoughts from my mind. Lathering up my hands, I quickly rubbed the soap onto my face, working at the layers of sweat and grime. The discussion had left me feeling like I needed to cleanse myself.
Lathering done, I brought up handfuls of the tepid water and splashed it against my face rinsing off the suds.
I looked up at the mirror. Water dripped off my eyebrows and chin. I hardly recognized myself.
My mother would be displeased. It was normal for me to come off the trail thin. Eating tack, the occasional small mammal and drinking stream water can only sustain a man for a time. Bell Caravans did all right but we didn't have the money to pay for a decent chuckwain. Downtime between caravan runs
