by Gwen Cole
He nods, like he already knows. “Gangs around these parts tend to get desperate. You’re lucky we got here in time. Speaking of which, is there a reason you’re so far out of Kev today? You should know these roads aren’t safe.”
I look straight into his eyes and say, “I was out visiting my grandfather today. I bring him food once a week because he prefers to live outside of town.”
I almost don’t think he believes me, but he nods again. “Some of the older folk can be that way. But to back up your story to be true, you wouldn’t mind one of my men checking your supplies, would you? If you really are coming back from your grandfather’s, you shouldn’t have much with you, since Kev is less than a day’s ride from here.”
Luckily for me, I only grabbed what I could from Levi’s before making a run for it. Jack only has a handful of food left and I ate the last of my rations this morning.
I shake my head and say, “Not at all.”
He motions to one of his men, who dismounts and looks through my saddlebags.
Within those few moments—between the leader talking to the man beside him and the soldier still looking through my things—I catch a glimpse of someone else with them. Not a soldier or a trader, who sometimes travels under their protection, but a prisoner. A boy, not much older than me, sitting on the last horse being led by another soldier, hands cuffed and tethered to the saddle horn. Dark hair messy from the wind and eyes that see everything. He wears no jacket—only a white shirt—making the dark circles under his eyes more prominent.
He doesn’t hold himself like a prisoner—tired and mentally beaten. He sits straight in the saddle, the lines of his jaw sharp, daring someone to look at him.
So when his eyes catch sight of mine, I can do nothing but look away.
“She’s barely got anything,” the soldier says, walking back to his horse.
“We’ll be on our way then,” the leader says. “Jeremiah and the others will catch up when they’ve finished.” Then he turns to me and I have no time to process his odd choice of words. “You’re welcome to ride with us the rest of the way to Kev. We offer protection to anyone who can keep pace.”
Without waiting for a reply, he kicks his horse and they ride past, one after the other. Their prisoner is last, his eyes forward and hard until he spares me a glance—quick and almost like it never happened. Dust rises around me and I pull up my bandana, my mind already made about following them.
They’re the only ones who haven’t tried to kill me yet.
They ride at a steady pace. When the road opens into the flatlands again, the dust blows away from us, and I pull my bandana down to take a deep breath. I’m glad to be riding in the back, where nobody watches me and I can slip away at any time if I choose to.
I find my hand brushing over the rifle regularly, making sure it’s still there. I’m ready to use it if I have to. In the Wild, there are no rules. That much I’ve learned.
Ahead of me, the boy stands out among those with long black jackets. His dark hair moves in rhythm to the horse under him, and his shirt tells the wind how thin it is. But he rides undefeated despite his situation.
He makes me think of Finn, and I wonder if he’s being treated the same way. My heart aches not having him next to me and not knowing when I’ll see him again. Was this guy caught in the middle of something he wasn’t really part of, like Finn? Or does he deserve to have those handcuffs around his wrists?
From the east, I see the other Lawmen riders rejoining the group—the ones who rode after the gang a few hours earlier. The leader signals everyone to stop and he breaks away from the group to talk to those approaching. The prisoner glances over his shoulder, but not at me—something behind us. But when I look, I see nothing.
I take advantage of the moment and dismount to tighten the cinch. The saddle is old and uncomfortable—so different from mine sitting at home.
One of the soldiers rides over to me. He’s older than me but young to be a part of the Lawmen.
He dismounts and immediately holds out his hand. “I’m Marshall.”
I take it, surprised because barely anyone bothers to shake hands these days. Especially those from Kev. “Avery.”
Marshall rubs the scruff on his face and gestures to Jack. “He’s a fine animal. How long have you had him?”
“Since he was born,” I say. “Why? You think I stole him?”
“I never said that.”
“You were thinking it.”
That’s when he finally smiles. “Fair enough. But you don’t want to take too long doing that,” he says, gesturing to the saddle. “Hatch will want to be on the move again soon and he won’t wait for anyone.”
I look to their leader—the man he called Hatch—who is still talking to another Lawman soldier. “Do you think they caught up with that gang?”
Marshall laughs once, sharp. “It’s Jeremiah, so I have no doubt.” He leads his horse away by the reins, and I catch a glimpse of him over Jack’s back talking to the prisoner. Talking to, not with, because the boy says nothing. He has an air of lawlessness that sets him apart.
As I swing my leg over the saddle, Hatch signals us to move on and the other Lawmen soldiers fall into place.
I hold Jack still a moment longer and glance back the way we came, wondering what the boy was looking for and what I must’ve missed.
9.
Seph
There’s a girl riding with us now. She’s around my age with hair a little darker than the dirt, freckles splattered across her cheeks, and eyes that I have a problem looking away from. Not just because of their blue color, but because a hundred secrets hide behind them.
She has told Hatch nothing but lies. Except the part about the gang following her—that was true.
She was being chased, but she wasn’t visiting her grandfather. She isn’t an “outlaw” like me, because she isn’t supplied for it.
The horse is hers, but the saddle isn’t—I can tell by the way she rides in it.
She isn’t from Kev like she said, but for some reason she’s headed there.
The gun in the saddle holster isn’t hers either, but from the way she brushes her hand across it, I’m confident she knows how to use it.
And from the fear she tries to hide in her eyes, I know this is her first time in the Wild. But wherever she is from, they have good boots.
The first thing I saw this morning was a pair of boots. The sky was a pale gray and the metal frame I was cuffed to had frost on it. My hands ached from making fists all night to keep the blood flowing through my fingers, and my toes were curled into my boots—possessions I’m always thankful for.
But the first pair of boots I saw that morning other than my own belonged to Hatch. He stood over me until I looked up. I know he had thought I wasn’t going to last the night.
Marshall was the one who allowed me to stretch my shoulders for a few minutes. They walked me back to camp and Hatch disappeared without saying a word. Can’t say I wasn’t happy about that.
When Marshall sat me down next to the fire again, it took a good ten minutes before I could feel my hands. Someone gave me another bowl of food and Marshall checked my back. He said the healing paste worked as well as he’d hoped, but I wasn’t sure if I didn’t feel anything because I was cold or because it was healed. I had to take Marshall’s word for it.
The morning went by like a blur. They let me take a piss and then I was on a horse again, where I continued to fight to stay awake.
The earth is drier here than it is in the north. Dust billows up from the horses’ hooves, and I can’t look up often without getting it in my eyes.
It was midday when the girl started riding with us, and now she rides a little ways behind, like she’ll take off at the first sign of danger. I don’t blame her. I don’t trust these people either.
If I had a choice, I would have Cade underneath me and we’d be riding south. Nothing but the wind and squeak of the saddle in my ears. I ache for it.
I kee
p replaying my actions in my head, trying to figure out what I did wrong and how I could’ve avoided this. But if I hadn’t gone into Durk’s town, I’m not sure how much farther we could have gone without food. It was either go into town or risk our lives.
“You do that a lot, don’t you?”
The voice wakes me from my thoughts. The group has stopped next to a river and everyone dismounts to give the horses one last break.
I look down to see Marshall standing there, waiting for an answer to his question.
“Do what?”
He unties me from the saddle horn and says, “Let your mind wander. Half the time it seems like you aren’t even here.”
“I’m here enough.”
I swing my leg over the horse and slide off. Marshall walks me over to a boulder and sits me down. “Got to be careful about that,” he tells me. “You don’t want to end up like those crazy old men who think they’re living in a different world.”
If I am going to become one of those men, it’s too late for me to do anything about it. My mind has been wandering for a good ten years.
I tell him, “There’s not much else to do when you have nobody but your horse to talk to.”
I smile, something I haven’t done in my time with them.
In the end, Marshall nods once and says, “Don’t go anywhere, all right? I don’t think Jeremiah will hesitate to shoot you.”
He walks off and I spot Jeremiah near the river, staring at me over the back of his horse. With nothing but plains around us, I’m sure he would take his time to line up the perfect shot.
I stay planted on the boulder, not ready to have a bullet in my back. But it doesn’t stop my heel from tapping.
Down the river, I see the girl—Avery—with her horse. It’s without a saddle now, the coat darker from where it sat.
Looking at the pair, I itch to glance over my shoulder—to catch a glimpse of Cade waiting for me to come back to him. I caught sight of him the first time this morning when we were on top of a rise. I happened to look back, and the moment I saw a dark shape far behind, I knew it was him. I know every inch of him—right down to way he runs and throws his head when he wants to go faster. His gait is built into my bones.
I pull out of my thoughts and notice the girl walking toward me and glance over to see her saddle left discarded on the ground. Definitely not hers.
As she gets nearer, I see her horse favoring his left hind leg, but she doesn’t notice. I make sure nobody is watching and stand, catching her attention. I face my palms out, letting her know I don’t mean any harm. “May I?”
She barely nods, unsure, and I step closer to her horse.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“He’s favoring one of his hind legs. He probably picked up a pebble down by the river and it’s good to catch it early before it bruises his hoof.”
She stares and says, “I know that.”
“Then may I?”
Before she responds, I approach her horse, moving slow to let it memorize my scent before laying a hand on its nose. It’s a fine animal. Dark color and strong legs—a horse that would give Cade a run for his money, as Dad used to say. I trail his back with my hands to let him know where I’m going, all the way down to his leg. I pull it up and find the small rock in a matter of seconds, and as I walk back to my boulder, I drop it in her hands.
“Thanks,” she says behind me.
I settle back down, catching Marshall’s eye, but he doesn’t say anything. Like they all know there’s nowhere for me to run.
“What were you really doing out here?” I ask, turning to her.
She stops saddling her horse and looks up, her eyes searching for anyone nearby. “What?” she asks.
“Don’t pretend you were telling the truth. I’m not blind.”
She comes a little closer, making sure nobody is near enough to hear. When her eyes meet mine, I know I’ll never forget them, because even though I’ve never seen the sky, I imagine it being that color.
“And what’s it to you?”
“My own curiosity.”
She tries to hide it, but her mask breaks for a moment. Long enough for me to see what she’s feeling right now. I’ve shielded my emotions enough to know when someone else is doing it. All I have to do is watch them closely.
“Well?” I ask again.
I really want to know now. I can’t come up with a good enough explanation as to why she’s out here, with a saddle that isn’t hers and being chased by a gang.
Avery glances around one last time and says, almost too low to hear, “I’m trying to find my brother.” She swallows hard, holding more back.
“What happened to him?”
“He was taken.”
“By a gang? Is that why you were running from them? And even better,” I gestured with my hands toward the group of Lawmen near the water, “why would you have to lie about it?”
She shakes her head, hesitant.
“Look,” I lean forward, talking just low enough for her to hear. “You can trust me. I’m not going to tell anyone.”
“And how do I know that?” Her eyes shift to my cuffed hands and back, not having to use words to tell me what she’s thinking.
“It’s not what it looks like.”
“Yeah? Then what did you do?”
When I open my mouth, Jeremiah’s voice fills the silence, too close for comfort.
“He’s a man killer,” he says.
I look away the moment he says it, down at my shoes because I don’t care to see her reaction. Even if I do tell her the truth, there’s no way she would believe me now. An outlaw’s word against one of these soldiers? I’m nothing. So I keep my mouth shut, leaving her to believe what she will.
Jeremiah continues, “He still had blood on his hands when we got to ’em.”
“You saw it happen?” she asks.
“Didn’t need to.”
“So you don’t know then.” He begins to object but Avery cuts him off. “You know what? If I need your opinion, I’ll let you know.”
Jeremiah chews on something in his mouth, probably contemplating doing something stupid. But he’s looking at Avery and not me. From what I’ve seen, I wouldn’t wish his wrath on anyone.
The gang chasing Avery are all dead miles behind us, their bodies left for the wolves and vultures—the only animals still living are ones accustomed to human flesh.
I stand, drawing his attention away from her.
“Sit back down before you regret it,” he says. “Because if some unfortunate event were ever to happen, I don’t think one person would remember your name.”
Avery speaks up behind me. “I would.”
Jeremiah moves like he’s about to hit me, but Marshall’s hand on his arm stops him. Marshall gives him a look that sends Jeremiah walking.
The Lawmen are remounting their horses, ready to finish the ride to Kev. When I glance over my shoulder, Avery is gone, too, not wanting to be left behind. Marshall brings my horse and reties my hands to the horn once I’m settled in the saddle.
“You shouldn’t provoke him,” he says.
“He already hates me.”
Marshall huffs a laugh and walks away. While we’re waiting for a few stragglers, Avery comes up beside me and reins in her horse. “You didn’t have to do that.”
I think about it a moment and tell her, “Yes, I did.”
Hatch yells to get the group moving, but before we continue, Avery asks, “What is your name, anyway?” I smile and she says, “Just in case Jeremiah brings it up again. It’s good to be prepared.”
“I fully agree.”
The Lawman soldier pulls my horse forward and Avery yells, “Well?”
I call over my shoulder, “Seph.”
10.
Avery
It feels like I haven’t been to Kev in months, but in reality, it’s been about a week. It looks the same but now I’m wanted by the very people who run this place. The group of Lawmen I’m with will
know soon enough, so the moment we’re inside the gates, I have to leave them.
Then, somehow, I have to find Finn.
Throughout the day, the gates into Kev are open, guarded by two Lawmen soldiers who only stop people if they look suspicious or their faces are similar to any on the wanted posters. But since the walls around the city are only the houses and shacks pressed close together, it’s impossible for them to see everyone passing through.
This is the first time I’ve been through the gates while being with a group of Lawmen soldiers, though. People stand aside and let us pass, most of them eyeing Seph in the rear. I stay back a ways, and the moment we’re through the gates, I slow down and let them continue on without me.
As though he can sense me, Seph glances over his shoulder before I’m lost within the crowd and gives me an unrecognizable look. Then they’re gone. I know he’s their prisoner and very well may have killed a man, but I still wonder what will become of him.
I turn Jack toward the western part of the city to see someone who will know of news, if there is any. For the most part, I know this city well. I know the traders and shop owners, including the ones who should be avoided.
The streets are quiet today. The weather isn’t perfect, but it also isn’t storming yet. Dark clouds roll by above, holding their rain for another day or time. Most of the trading booths are closed, too, hinting at the coming night.
When the tavern comes into view, I pull Jack to a stop, looking close at the horses tethered out front. They’re too nice to be anything but Lawmen horses. I dismount and lead Jack down the alleyway. It’s tight between the houses and the trash people throw out their back doors, but we move unseen behind them. Some parts of town are still paved, crudely patched and resurfaced, but on the outskirts, there’s dirt most days and mud when it rains. So here, Jack’s hooves are silent.
The alleyway opens up behind the tavern, enough room for people to make deliveries with their horses and carts. I tie Jack’s reins to the hitching post and slip through the back door. Most of the buildings in Kev are made from stone, but this one is a mix of stone and wood. At one point, it was probably all wood, but since then, parts of the walls have needed to be replaced, and nothing but stone is left for building supplies. But the floors are still a rich-colored oak, now ingrained with sand and dirt but still beautiful.
