Wincing, Ritter went to pull his head away, but her fingers gripped him around the chin and forced him to face her once more. “Keep your head still, mister.”
Ritter screwed up his eyes. “It hurts like sin, ma"am. Why the hell did you hit me?”
“I thought you was a killer. Seems I misjudged you.”
She applied the damp cloth to Ritter"s head again, then dipped it back into the pail of water beside her. Wringing out the material, she took to dabbing away at the vicious looking wound across Ritter"s scalp.
“Are you feeling all right?”
He grunted. “I feel a little sick in the stomach.”
“And your vision?”
“It was all right, until you sat me down here and made me go through this purgatory.”
“It needs cleaning. My husband told me he"d seen men die in the war from the smallest of gunshot woun
