Jase let himself slump for a few minutes, waiting as feeling and then pain returned to his legs. His butt hurt, too. The idea of another day of this torture loomed over him like grim death. Then he squared his shoulders. No. f*****g. Way. He wasn’t going to roll over and play dead.
Glancing around, he saw the neat pile of kindling and larger wood stacked a safe distance from the fire pit. Hell, he’d been a Boy Scout. Surely he could get a fire going. That might redeem him a little bit in Orr’s eyes. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but he knew now he wanted the rancher to think well of him. After wimping out as he had, some action was in order to prop his battered self-esteem, even if Orr was not impressed.
He could walk now, although his legs still didn’t feel too solid. He hobbled
