“It’s probably for the best if you lay low till we get to Lincoln.” Clint’s eyes watched me intently as he spoke. “No telling what that man may do in retribution.”

I snorted at the statement and glanced towards Emma. She’d been rather quiet since I’d relayed what all had happened to her and Clint. Interestingly, I’d not seen Mr. Grayson as I’d passed the other wagons of the caravan, so currently I had no idea where that man had run off to.

“I was intending to lay low this whole trip,” I said, my tone more tinged more than a hint with sarcasm, “but someone had to go and volunteer my services to that man.” My tone sharpened, “and not only did it leave a bad taste in my mouth, it almost got me killed.”

Emma held my gaze, not backing down, even against my accusatory look. “I knew you were more than capable of handling yourself,” she said her tone stone, before it softened, “though I do regret putting you in needless danger. People like Grayson get under my skin. He reminds me too much of the men that my uncle kept under his employ.”

Her words caused my smoldering anger to simmer, if only by a small bit. I could only imagine the sort of folk she had to grow up around, all things considered. And I was the last person to be able to judge someone for allowing their personal feelings to cloud their judgement. Even still…

“I know you’d not purposefully put me in danger,” I replied, watching Emma. “But you can’t go around volunteering my services or using me for pointless tasks or wagers, especially without asking my consent.” I glanced from her, to Clint, and then continued. “I’m not in your servitude. Our relationship is one of convenience, the story we tell others be damned. If you can’t respect that,” my anger flared, but I fought it down, biting back my next words. Instead of saying anything potentially damning, I shook my head, growled, and spit off to the side. Baron glanced at me from his bag of oats, and I could feel the horse’s judgement.

“I,” Emma started, and the pained, frustrated look on her face caused me to regret my outburst. Even if I’d stopped, the implications of what I’d been about to say were clear as day. “I understand, and I’m sorry.” She said stoically, though the sun’s bright rays reflected off the tears forming in her eyes, making it impossible for her to hide them.

Clint placed a calming hand on her shoulder, in an almost fatherly way, as he looked at me.

“I’ll accompany Miss Watts when we go to collect our dues from Mr. Grayson.” He said calmly. “I can ensure no harm comes to Miss Watts, and I’ve more than enough experience dealing with self-absorbed pups like him to know what to look for. If it’s trouble he’s seeking, I’ll sort it quick enough, hopefully without any further escalation.”

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“He’s strong,” my words were bitter, jealous. “He’s a copper core, no doubt about it. And his arrogance, is probably not entirely misplaced.” The words tasted foul as I them, but I continued. Personally, a part of me wanted to wipe the man’s arrogance, clean off his face and teach him every lesson I possibly could. But it’d be the word of his hunters and friends, versus my own, if I tried to seek justice regarding his attempt on my life. Meaning, for now, there was little I could do.

“Someone arrogant in their own power is something I’m even more familiar with,” Clint’s smile caused the greying mustache on his face to dance upwards, “feels like just a month or so ago when I met another young pup drunk on his own power.”

He winked at me. “I’ll be cautious. I didn’t survive the hells of war to let someone like Mr. Grayson be my downfall. Men have tells, and if you’ve watched as many as I have meet their ends, well, you learn pretty much all you could ever want, in those moments. I may not have a fancy copper core, but you an I both know, I’m more than capable of taking care of myself, and Miss Watts here.”

“Not to mention,” Emma piped up. “I’ve a copper core just the same.”

I opened my mouth, prepared to retort, but the way she looked at me told me it was best not to challenge that. She was right, at least, in the statement regarding her core. Out of the three of us, she was the only one who’d refined their core from iron to copper. And I’d seen the power difference between her mana, and my own, when I’d watched the dynamite go off when we’d fled her town. Even still, was Emma strong? Could she handle herself in a fight? Or did she just have the advantage of mana on her side? All the power in the world was pointless, if you didn’t know how to use it.

That was another bitter lesson I’d learned all too recently. In fact, I was getting really annoyed at just how many lessons I seemed to be receiving lately. It’d sure be nice to actually teach someone else a lesson for once.

Instead of saying anything to Emma, or Clint, I just let out a chuckle and shook my head. “You’ve got me there,” I said, tipping my hat towards Emma. “I’ll leave Mr. Grayson to ya’ll. Just make sure you get the money he owes us, as well as the meat and jerky.” I stretched my arms high and back, causing my shoulder blades to ache pleasantly and my spine to crack. “I worked up quite the hunger showing off on your behalf. So, at the very least, I expect my just rewards.”

Emma smiled at me, as did Clint.

“I’ll personally cook the meal tonight,” Clint said with a smile, and the words made my mouth water. “I figure we can have quite the feast tonight, and likely all the others till we get to town, off the amount of meat we’ll reap from today’s escapades.”

“And,” Emma added, “you should be set to make a decent earning off your efforts today. After,” her eyes shifted mischievously, “I deduct the cost of your clothes, guns, and so forth, that you’ve incurred at my expense. Since, after all,” her smile turned wolfish, “we’re equals, and you’re not under my employ.”

Before I protest, she turned away, Clint following suit, as she began walking towards the front of the caravan.

I watched the two of them leave, my thoughts racing, though all I could do was laugh at my odd predicament and shake my head.

“I swear,” I said to Baron, once Emma and Clint had gone far enough I couldn’t clearly see them, “she’s going to be the death of me one day.”

Baron paused his eating long enough to snort and stomp the ground with one of his hooves. What that meant, I had no idea, and honestly, it didn’t really matter. After all, what sane man spoke to his horse and expected a proper response?