’ Bowman gave another wrap to the latigo in silence. He glanced away, to where the others wolfed down breakfast, then at the younger man. ‘You ain...��t struck me as the givin’-up kind.’ Travis’s youthful face twitched behind his sketchy beard. ‘I’m not.’ In the poor light, his smile was rueful. ‘Ordinarily. Here, I don’t know what to do. I was depending on you.’ Bowman pulled a final wrap through the D-ring and finished off with a neat, flat tie, then pushed the stirrup leather forward and began. She asked him if he would pleasewipe her face for her, but he refused. She went back to the table, her knees dirty from the pantry floor and herface covered with sperm. She couldn't look at the other diners. She sat downtremblingly, breathing hard. "He wouldn't let me wipe my face," she got out. "I told him not to," he said, smiling. "All right, fucktoy. You did well.We can leave now." He stood up and put some money on the table. "My face..." she said apprehensively. "It. More

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