It took resolve to not ask Fletcher to pull out the map every night and show Lucy how far they had come during the day, gauging to see how close Lynn’s safety might be. She watched Lynn like a hawk during a downward descent that had nearly made her dizzy, but Fletcher only shook his head at her when he saw the direction of her gaze.
“Doesn’t work that way,” he said quietly to her.
“What’s that?”
“I see you watching her for signs of improvement every time we come over a steep hill. Her headaches might recede soon, but her body has been stressed for a long time. She’ll need to recuperate once we’re on level land again.”
Lucy’s heart leapt in fear at the thought. Fletcher had said he was heading north after they crossed the mountains. “How long?”
He followed her thoughts. “I won’t leave you in my wake until she’s all right.”
She let out a breath as if she hadn’t been holding it. “Thanks.”
“Surely you knew that by now, that I wouldn’t leave?”
“But you will,” Lucy argued. “When it’s time. You’ve got your own life to lead.”
Fletcher smiled to himself and looked back at the road.
“What’s so funny?”
“You and Lynn,” he said. “Always looking for people to let you down, but for different reasons. She doesn’t trust me enough to believe my motives are altruistic. You think I’m more devoted to someone else than to you two.”
Lucy snuck a glance at Lynn, whose body was swaying with each step Mister took. “Well… aren’t you?”
“Rose has been waiting on me for years. A few more days doesn’t make any difference.”
“But for us it might, is that it?”
Fletcher nodded once, slowly, not taking his eyes off the road. “It may.”
“You don’t think we’ll make it, do you?”
“I think women traveling alone face a unique set of challenges, and it’s best if Lynn is feeling well when I leave you.”
His last few words echoed through Lucy’s mind, bringing with them the faces of all those she had lost through death or separation: her mother, Uncle Eli, Maddy, Carter. Her heart faltered, missing a beat when she realized that even Vera and Stebbs could be lost to her now. With the mountains between them, it was a real possibility she would never see them again, or hear their voices. She took a ragged breath and looked at the horizon.
“When you leave us,” she repeated, giving each word the weight it deserved.
The day they came down out of the mountains was one Lucy had always pictured in her mind as warm and pleasant, with a clear blue sky and the weight of the world removed from her shoulders. Instead she was picking her way around another rock slide in the rain, and ankle-deep mud had sucked one of her boots clear off her foot.
Spatter was shaking his head against the downpour of rain, refusing to step over the guardrail even when she yanked on the reins.
“Damn it,” she shouted, dropping Spatter’s reins in frustration. “He won’t move,” she shouted over the downpour to Fletcher and Lynn, who had already coaxed their horses off the highway and around the guardrail that had stopped the rocks. They hunched over their own mounts, miserable in the rain.
“That’s helpful, thanks,” Lucy muttered to herself, and turned back to Spatter with her hands on her hips. He had never willfully disobeyed her before, and she was at a loss. She dug her boot out of the mud while balancing on one foot. Spatter pushed against her with his nose, offering support from behind. She accepted his apology and scratched behind his ears with her free hand. “What d’you say, buddy? Think you can do this for me?”
He nickered deep in his throat and she rested her head against him for a moment, ignoring the warm smell of wet animal. Vera’s kitchen had smelled like that whenever she allowed the neighborhood stray in the house during a rainstorm. The dog had never allowed anyone to touch him, a low growl warning away anyone who tried. Vera was the only person who could come within five feet of him, her kind voice pitched low and melodious as she cut mats from his coat, or treated whatever new wound he’d been visited with.
Vera’s voice rang in Lucy’s ears and she matched the tone, whispering in Spatter’s ear and running her hands up and down his neck. He muttered back to her, low and sweet, and she took the reins in her hand once again. Spatter balked at the railing, but instead of yelling, she comforted him with Vera’s voice and Vera’s words, feeling the massive muscles calming under her touch. On the third attempt he stepped over the rail, gingerly testing the gravel on the other side. It was loose and gave under his hoof, but she kept a low drone of talk going that allayed his fears.
His second foreleg cleared the rail, and his back legs followed easily now that he was moving. He followed Lucy docilely along the gravel ridge until they were past the rocks. Getting back over onto solid ground was much more attractive to him, and Spatter nimbly crossed the rail back onto the road without complaint. They joined their companions on the far side of the rocks, and Lucy swung into the saddle.
“You may be a horsewoman yet,” Fletcher said. “How’d you talk him into it?”
Lucy ignored the question, looking instead to Lynn. “I miss my grandma,” she said suddenly, and the heat from the tears rolling down her cheeks contrasted sharply with the cold rain sliding down her back. Lynn only nodded, the understanding of loss buried deep in her eyes. They traveled on together, ignoring the weather as they put the mountains behind them.
Twenty-Three
“I’m not leaving him,” Lucy said, legs spread in a fighting stance as she stood between Spatter and Lynn. Her small hands were curled into fists, and she could feel adrenaline coursing through her veins, filling the deep gouge of betrayal.
“You get to feeling better and the first thing you want to do is take my horse from me,” she yelled at Lynn, hating how childish her words sounded and the way her voice was weak and lost in the arid land.
“I’m not taking anything from you,” Lynn said calmly, her hands out to either side. “I’m talking sense.” She looked to Fletcher, who was kicking sand over the ashes of their fire from the night before. “Wanna help me out here?”
Fletcher didn’t even glance in their direction when he spoke. “A man comes across two she-bears fighting in the woods, he does best to go around them.”
Lynn’s answering scowl ended up aimed at Lucy, as Fletcher was ignoring her completely. “Lucy, it’s for his own good. This here isn’t even the real desert. Once we go out into the nothing, we’ll be hard-pressed to find enough water for ourselves, let alone the horses.”
Lucy felt her throat tightening at the thought, the image of a frothing Spatter slicing across her eyes. She uncurled her fists. “Not yet,” she said, the rod of tension gone from her voice. “There’s still streams from the mountains, enough water for us. We’ll make better time with mounts, and there’s no point giving up our one advantage until we have to.”
If emotion couldn’t carry weight with Lynn, logic did. Lynn’s mouth went into a flatter line than usual, and she gave Lucy a heavy glare before turning her back. Lucy relaxed against Spatter, relishing the velvety feel of his nose brushing against her arm. She’d won the battle but knew the war would go to Lynn.
Lucy kept her distance as they packed up their camp, rolling their blankets, refilling water bottles from the nearby stream, and checking their guns. Once astride her horse, Lucy took a deep breath and avoided the eyes of the adults as the heavy silence that hung around them lasted longer than necessary.