“They’re kind of hard to come by in Ohio,” Lucy said, catching Lynn’s glare at the last second.
Fletcher’s forehead crinkled. “Ohio? You might not be horsewomen, but I’ll call you well traveled nonetheless. How do two midwestern gals come to be in Kansas?”
“Uh…” Lucy glanced at Lynn, but the stony look she found there wasn’t helpful. “Sightseeing.”
“You’ve seen some sights, coming that far. Of that I can vouch without inquiring.”
“What’s your interest in it?” Lynn said, cutting through his lackadaisical pace of speech. “You wanted to look at Brown Horse, now you’ve seen her. You go on your way now. We’ll be on ours.”
“Not for long,” he said easily. “At least, not in the company of the aptly named Brown Horse. She’ll founder.”
Lucy watched as Lynn debated. The easy answer was they would leave Brown Horse to Fletcher, and their dust would be the last thing he saw of them as they took off on their healthy mounts. But Brown Horse could be used for trade if needed, and Lynn wasn’t one to part with an asset. Spatter was easily Lucy’s favorite, but the way Brown Horse was awkwardly holding her hoof cut through her soft heart.
“Can you fix her?” Lucy asked before Lynn could open her mouth.
“I can.”
“And what would you be wanting for it?” Lynn asked.
“I’d like to know what’s going on in Ohio that sends two women west alone, and hear the stories of those you’ve met on the road.”
“What’s it to you?”
There was a slight flicker through Fletcher’s eyes before he answered. “I’m looking for my wife. We’ve been separated.”
“For how long?” Lucy asked. Images of Carter alone in the moonlight sliced through her mind.
“Doesn’t matter,” Lynn said, smoothly intercepting Fletcher’s answer. “We only met one woman on the road between here and there, and I killed her.”
The look on Fletcher’s face twisted Lucy’s gut, and she was quick to reassure him. “She wasn’t anyone you would’ve wanted to be married to anyways.”
“What was her name?” Fletcher asked in a voice laced with fear.
“She said it was Joss, though I wouldn’t trust it,” Lynn said, rifle fully relaxed now. “The woman wasn’t much for telling the truth.”
“How long you been apart?” Lucy asked again, her mind far from Joss.
Fletcher looked up at the sun and wiped the sweat from his brow again. “It’s a long story, better related in the shade.”
“That may be,” Lynn said, “but I’m not overly inclined to take a rest with you just yet. You said you could fix the horse?”
“Oh.” Fletcher ran one hand lazily down Brown Horse’s neck. “Fixing her is the easy part, collecting the necessary accoutrements is the trick.”
“What do you need?” Lucy asked.
“Best remedy that comes to mind would be some apple cider vinegar. We might be able to find some left behind in cupboards here and there. It’s not exactly palatable.”
“Uh-huh,” Lucy said, wrapping her mind around the words she knew while trying to figure out the rest. “Think we can find enough?”
Fletcher shrugged, and the simple movement told her everything she needed to know about how life had treated him. “Maybe we will, maybe we won’t,” he said.
“You don’t need to be saying ‘we,’” Lynn said. “I’m not about to go running around willy-nilly with you cracking open cupboards, and neither is Lucy.”
“Willy-nilly is not a requirement, and it’s nice to meet you, Lucy.”
Lucy could see Lynn biting the inside of her cheek in frustration at having given away Lucy’s name so easily.
“Might as well go on and identify yourself too,” Fletcher said to Lynn. “Otherwise I’ll be calling you Nice-Looking Lady Who Points Guns at Me.”
“Suits me,” Lynn said testily, but Lucy saw the whisper of a smile toying with her lips the moment before she looked down at the ground.
“She’s Lynn,” Lucy said.
“Well, Lynn and Lucy, I’m pleased to meet you,” he said, the easy smile cutting a white swath across his tanned face. “I do believe we can be mutually beneficial to one another.”
Nineteen
Finding apple cider vinegar was much less of a challenge than Lucy had anticipated. Fletcher rode off astride Mister, his insurance they would stay put while he went searching for the vinegar. Lynn had taken his water jug to be sure he would come back. Which he did, a few hours later, whistling a tune, with a nearly full gallon jug of apple cider vinegar tied to the pommel.
Although Lucy didn’t know what palatable meant, she understood the second Fletcher took the lid off the jug that nobody in their right mind would even try drinking it. The smell swept up her nostrils and felt like it slid right up inside her skull. She backed away with watery eyes, covering her nose.
“Clears out the sinuses, doesn’t it?” Fletcher asked, his ever-present smile lurking around the permanently crinkled corners of his eyes.
“I’ll watch the horses closer when we’re in the mountains,” Lucy promised.
“The mountains? Why would you be taking them through the mountains?”
“We just are,” Lucy said, her chin jutting out in anticipation of being told not to.
Fletcher laughed and put both his hands up in surrender. “All right then, little lady. I learned a long time ago not to get in the way of a woman wearing that expression.”
“A long time ago? How old are you?” Lucy blurted out.
The surprise that crossed his face caused her to immediately apologize. “Sorry,” she said. “I guess that’s not something you’re supposed to ask people, huh?”
“No, it’s all right,” he said quickly. “Too many things go unanswered these days. I’d guess I’m a little over forty.”
“You’d guess?” Lynn asked, sauntering over in the dying light. “You don’t know?”
“Certain things slip away from you when you’re on the road as long as I have been,” Fletcher said. “You harbor any doubts as to your own age?”
“I’m twenty-seven,” Lynn said without hesitation, but Lucy was pretty sure she was actually twenty-six.
“I’m sixteen,” Lucy volunteered. “At least… I think?” She looked to Lynn, whose brow creased slightly.
“I thought you were seventeen?”
“Either way, your calculations disprove my assumption that you’re mother and daughter,” Fletcher said, glancing between them.
“Not by blood,” Lynn said. “But we are family.”
“Family is made all kinds of ways, especially now,” Fletcher said.
“What about your own?” Lucy asked. “You said you’re looking for your wife?”
“That story is best told sitting down,” Fletcher said. “If Lynn here can take a leap of faith and trust me.”
Lucy held her tongue for once and looked to Lynn. The older woman was watching Fletcher intently, her eyes boring into his own as if she’d be able to discern his motives by staring him down.
“You come in here and doctor our horse when you could’ve taken a healthy mount. You hang around all day sneaking our names out of us, and where we’re from, though what good that is to you, I don’t know. Now you want to stay and tell us a bedtime story. Why?”
A flicker of a smile chased across his mouth, but Lucy saw Fletcher make an effort to squelch it. “’Cause I like you,” he said, which made Lynn flinch. “Both of you,” he added, including Lucy with a nod of his head, though he kept his eyes on Lynn. “And it’s not so much where you came from I’m interested in as your destination. No gentleman would allow two girls from Ohio to cross the mountains alone.”