Lucy knelt near the ground next to Lynn. “What’re we gonna do?”
Lynn sighed heavily. “What I always do when I find needy children in creek beds.”
The children squealed and ran to the mother as Lucy and Lynn approached, arms in the air to signal they meant no harm. The woman watched them warily, one arm wrapped around each child’s head as though her flesh and bone could protect them.
“We’re not hurting anybody,” she said nervously. “We come to this here crick every now and then for a washing and a taste of water.”
“We’re not here to fight over water,” Lynn said.
“Bullshit,” said a man’s voice from behind them, and Lucy spun on her heel to see a painfully thin man watching them. Even unarmed it was clear he’d take his chances against them with his bare hands if he thought they would hurt his family. “Everybody fights for water.”
“Not us,” Lucy said. “It’s not our way.”
“Then you ain’t lived long enough yet,” he said to her, then turned his gaze to Lynn. “You’ve fought for it though. I can see it in you.”
“Once or twice,” Lynn said steadily. “But not today.”
The storm let loose all around them, the wall of rain they had watched leave the mountains overtaking them in a torrent. One of the children whimpered behind them and the woman shushed it, still clutching them tightly to her. “I don’t think they mean no harm, Jeff,” she said, raising her voice to be heard. “They could’ve had the better of me ’n’ the kids in a heartbeat, but they didn’t take it.”
“I was watchin’,” Jeff said. “Wasn’t nothing gonna happen to you and the kids.”
“Nothing but pneumonia,” she shot back, scooting farther up the bank and against a tree trunk, vainly searching for more cover.
“We’ve got a house,” Lucy said, still facing the man but aiming her words over her shoulder at the drenched mother. “Plenty of food, real beds, a fire to dry yourselves out by.”
“Food, Mama,” the little girl said, her high voice rising above the drone of the storm. “Food.”
“We’re going to head on back home,” Lynn said slowly. “If anybody here is interested in our offer, you feel free to follow.” She nudged Lucy and they turned their backs on the family, ignoring the muted argument that sprouted behind them before they were two steps away.
“Think they’ll come?” Lucy asked under her breath as they cleared the canopy of the trees into the full brunt of the storm.
“She will, and she’ll bring the children. Him, I can’t say.”
“I bet he does,” Lucy said, thinking of the glances that had passed back and forth over her shoulder, the communication the couple had built over years in each other’s presence. “He cares about her, couldn’t you see it?”
“I saw a desperate man with no weapons trying to protect an underfed woman and two skinny kids. She better hope he cares for her, ’cause his life would be a lot easier without them.”
Lucy broke into a trot to keep up with Lynn. “Is that how you feel? That your life would be easier?”
“Maybe, but it also would’ve been less interesting.” They hit the front porch together, pulling wet clothes away from their skin and peering through the rain.
“Well, I’m glad I could entertain you all these years,” Lucy said.
Lynn’s sigh was loud enough to be heard over the pounding of the rain on the porch roof. “Yeah, kid, that’s it. I took you in because I thought you could give me something to do in all my spare time.”
“Why then?” Lucy asked.
“Why you asking me this all of a sudden?”
“Well… I…” Lucy’s voice trailed off as she looked to the east, anxious to spot the dark shadows of the small family finding their way to them. “I guess it never really occurred to me before. You’re pretty much all I remember. I grew up thinking that’s the way things were—I lived with you, Grandma lived with Stebbs, Maddy and Carter lived with their mom. I never really considered the fact you had a choice in the matter.”
Lynn focused her eyes on the horizon, away from Lucy. “My mother had a choice too. There are things women can do to be rid of babies they don’t want before they even come to be. Even once I was here, all she’d had to do was walk out to the pond and toss me in it, no one to know the better. One woman, two lives to manage, and everything falling apart all around her. But she did it, and she never said a sideways word to me on the matter. And I did it for you, and I’ll keep doing it ’til one of us is gone. In a world like this, you pay it forward, ’cause more than likely you didn’t deserve it when you got it the first time.”
As Lynn’s words faded away, the storm lessened and Lucy spotted four figures slogging toward them in the gray haze of the evening. “Pay it forward, huh?”
Lynn shrugged. “Well, that, and I do kind of like you every now and then.”
They left in the dark hours before dawn, sliding between the children’s clothing that hung from the rafters, dry but still smelling of rain. The woman was sleeping in the corner, curled protectively around her children even when unconscious. The man sat at the table, slumped forward. They’d left him crumpled there after he’d fallen asleep at his watch, determined there must be some foul trick yet to come that he would protect his family from despite his fatigue. The exhaustion had won out only an hour before, and Lynn and Lucy packed their things quietly, easing the door open only as far as necessary for them to slip outside and find the road again.
Eighteen
The road welcomed them back by laming Brown Horse south of the Kansas border. The land had become unruly, and while the flat plains of Nebraska had frightened Lucy with their unending stretch, the Kansas badlands had her clutching tightly to Spatter’s reins, willing him not to break a leg. The horses stayed near a meandering river called the Arikaree that carved its way through the hills, leaving a thin gouge through the land.
Lynn stood by a patch of yucca, inexpertly holding Brown Horse’s injured hoof in her hands. “I don’t even know what I’m looking for.”
Lucy scratched Spatter’s nose as he brushed up against her, nuzzling her clothes for the spears of yucca she had hidden in her pockets. “Do you know for sure it’s her foot that’s hurt? Could it be her leg?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Lynn said, carefully putting Brown Horse’s hoof down and giving the animal a halfhearted pat on the rump. “Even if I knew what was wrong with her, I wouldn’t know how to fix it.”
“These hills won’t do her any favors either,” Lucy said, looking out over the rolling land that undulated like sheets on the line in a breeze.
Lynn nodded her agreement. “Only thing I can think to do is let her stand in the water awhile. I know I welcome a good soak when my feet hurt.”
Lynn’s aversion to traveling alongside the waterways had been overrun by the horses’ refusal to leave the path of the Arikaree. More than once they’d fought against their riders’ commands, and neither woman was sure enough on horseback to argue with them. The horses had won the day, and Lynn had grudgingly admitted it might have been the best route anyway, as the river they were following would take them nearly halfway through Colorado and in sight of the mountains.
Lynn unburdened Brown Horse and led her down the steep gorge into the flowing river, Mister following her lead. Spatter flicked his ears at his comrades, then looked to Lucy as if in question.
“I know,” she said, “it’s not like Lynn to go on down to the water without checking for people first, is it? I think your friends might be growing on her. Next thing you know she’ll be skinny-dipping.”