Page 73 of The Ranger
“Yes, but the letters are so...different. They’re pretty.”
A deep chuckle escaped him. “No one has called my handwriting pretty. It is, in fact, sloppy compared to say, my brother’s.”
She got off her knees and sat on the floor instead. “Where do you come from?”
He set his brush on the can of paint. “From someplace far away.”
“How far?”
“Too far for you to have heard of it.”
“That far?” Her blush went beyond her cheeks this time. “Will you go back there soon?”
“I hope to.” He wiped his hands on the denims he was wearing and climbed to his feet. He offered her a hand. “Come, we should wash the brushes, then return them to the fierce warrior woman who owns this establishment.”
She laughed and fell over.
“Maida,” he said in alarm and knelt beside her.
She sat up. “I’m sorry. I was just laughing at what you said.”
He still looked her over, trying to sense if she’d injured herself. “You are all right?”
She sat up. “Of course.”
“But you fell.”
“No, silly, I laughed and let myself fall.”
He cocked his head. “Why would you do that?”
“Because it’s fun.”
“Fun?” What humans conceived as fun, he often questioned.
“Yes, don’t you do things for fun?”
He thought a moment. What did he consider fun? Hmmm, he didn’t know. He was always patrolling, scouting, or delivering justice for the king. He supposed spending time with Melvale was fun. His brother could be very entertaining. “Fun.” he said the word as if he were trying it out for the first time.
“Don’t tell me you never have fun?” she said, aghast.
“I am familiar with the concept.”
She made a funny noise he took for amusement.
“Does that surprise you?” he asked.
“You’re full of all kinds of surprises.” She looked at the paintbrushes. “You’re right, we should clean them.”
He got to his feet and offered his hand again.
She stared at it a moment, then took it. Her hand was small, delicate, and sent his heart reeling. How could this innocent young woman affect him so? Yes, part of it was the Call, but his inner heart had barely woken. They would inevitably be drawn to each other, but he sensed that hadn’t started yet. No, this was something different and he liked it. He likedher. She was...free. That was the word, and didn’t try to conform to everything around her. She was clumsy, a little self-conscious as most humans were, but also took everything in stride, and wasn’t afraid to ask questions when she was curious. He liked that.
“Come, little one. Follow me.” He grabbed a bucket he spied in a corner, then their brushes, and headed out back. He knew a pump located there that the Dunnigans used before adding plumbing to the mercantile some years ago.
He filled the bucket with water, then washed the brushes as Maida sat on the back steps and watched. When the job was done, he dumped the bucket, washed it out, then took everything back inside. Maida had been silent the whole time, and he wondered if she was okay.
“Do you need something?” he asked.