by Gwen Cole
“I’ve already fed them,” Avery voices, and I find her sitting against a pillar with her legs crossed at the ankle. She looks different and I realize it’s her hair. She must’ve brushed the dust from it before braiding it up again. Darker in this light just as Finn’s was in the prison.
I sit against the wall opposite of her, my mind not ready for sleep.
“It’s so dry here,” she says, rubbing a hand down her arm. “The next time we come to a river, we should stay long enough to wash the dust away.”
“Here it’s the dust,” I tell her, “but in the north, there’s snow. Then somewhere between the snow and dust, there’s mud.”
“Is the snow white there?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Gray. In some places it’s hard to tell where the snow stops and the sky begins.”
“The winter here is cold but we don’t get much snow. And when we do, the wind blows it away like everything else.” Avery looks at me a long time, a question forming that she seems unsure she wants to ask. “Where are you from?”
“I thought you were going to ask something new.”
She smiles. “But the answer will be new to me.”
I know she won’t like the answer, but I say, “Nowhere.”
“Everyone is from somewhere.”
“Well, I was born in Montana, but my mother died when I was two, so my father didn’t want to stay there any longer. And he was right not to. Since then, we never stayed anywhere for long, and even less as I got older and I was on my own. Those three days in Kev were the longest I’ve stayed in one place in seven years.”
Avery pulls her legs up to her chest. “You really weren’t kidding then,” she says. “There was a man that came through town a few years back, and the moment I saw him I knew he was like you … a wanderer or an outlaw, or whatever people call you. But I just saw him as someone who didn’t have a home.”
“Is that what you think of me, then?”
I know that feeling of going into a new town. Having people look at me like they already know me and I don’t belong there. Or belong anywhere.
But Avery shakes her head. “This is your home,” she tells me. “Anywhere you happen to make camp at night, and anywhere during the day as long as you’re with him.” She nods over to Cade. “I don’t think I really understood it until I was forced to leave mine. A home isn’t always a place.”
“But yours was,” I say. “I know what you’re going through, because I went through the same thing while I was in Kev. I was forced to be there and not out here where I really wanted to be. If it’s any consolation, I hope you’re able to make it back home someday.”
“A couple days ago, I would’ve loved the idea,” she agrees. “But now I’m not so sure.”
“You don’t want to go back?”
Avery shrugs and pushes her palms against the floor. “It’s not that I don’t miss it. I miss everything about it, but it feels like I can’t go back … like even if I did, nothing would be the same. The coal is gone and the town can’t survive without it.”
I don’t know what to say, because I don’t know that feeling. It would be like me deciding to stay in the same place for the rest of my life. The total opposite. Something I can’t imagine.
“If it makes you feel any different, you’re doing a lot better out here than most people.”
She laughs once. “It sure doesn’t feel like it.”
“You’re alive, aren’t you?”
“Only because of luck.”
I shake my head. “Out here, luck doesn’t exist.”
It’s almost too dark to see now, and Avery stretches out on her bedroll, using her jacket to cover herself. I find my saddlebags in the dark and dig out a blanket I haven’t used in a while. I walk over and hand it to her. “Here, I don’t need it.”
Her eyes meet mine for a split second and then she reaches for it. “Thanks.”
I settle against the wall again and listen to the wind and the sounds of the horses. Even with the building around me, the sky is still above to keep me calm. Avery shifts a couple of times before falling silent.
After a while, I check on Cade and unroll my own bed, knowing he’ll warn me if someone comes. I fall asleep with one hand on my gun.
I wake to feet shuffling near my head. My eyes snap open and find someone looking down at me. It’s not Avery.
The stranger smiles. “Good morning, cowboy.”
I scramble to my feet but someone kicks me from behind, sending me into the dirt. I reach for my gun but it’s gone. One of the men gets too close and I throw a punch. The other wraps his arms around me from behind, trying to lock my arms in place. I break away from him the same moment something hard comes down on my head.
The ground rushes toward me and I can’t break my fall. For a moment, I don’t see anything except black, and when my vision clears, everything is spinning. My cheek presses against the ground and someone ties my hands together with a piece of leather. But I still can’t move—like my brain is too slow to tell my body to act.
Someone grabs me by the shoulders and hauls me to my knees, sending my brain to pound against my skull.
It takes a minute, but everything stops moving and I can finally see my attackers. There’re only two of them. The man standing behind me has dark skin and tattoos running up one arm, and the one searching through my saddlebags is not much older than me but very pale. He’s wearing a jumpsuit with a name tag that says CRAIG. He pulls everything out and throws it on the ground, finding nothing valuable. He hasn’t figured out I keep my money at the bottom of Cade’s feedbag.
It takes me mere seconds to realize Avery isn’t here and neither are the horses.
“You took us on a little chase, didn’t you?” the man behind me says. I don’t look up at him—instead I test the knot in the leather and find it tighter than anything I can break through. They aren’t taking any chances. “Everyone’s been searching all night, but we were the only ones to come out this far.”
He nods to his partner—whose name is probably not Craig—who then smiles back like they’ve already found something valuable.
“There’s nothing here,” Not-Craig says, tossing the saddlebags aside. “I guess we can’t be lucky twice.” He stands and looks down at me. “Where’s the girl?”
“How am I supposed to know the answer to that?” I ask. “You’re obviously the one who woke me this morning.”
The guy next to me sighs. “Just go track her down—she can’t be far. We gotta get them back before someone else comes and takes ’em from us.”
“Well, why don’t you go?” Not-Craig asks. “You’re better at it than me.”
“Because I’m not the one who got punched.”
“Gerard—”
“Go.”
Not-Craig glances at me, and I notice the cut near his eye. It gives me slight satisfaction. In the end, he rolls his eyes and disappears out the hole in the wall that serves as the doorway.
“Don’t you think about moving,” Gerard says, keeping one finger on the trigger of his pistol. I look for mine and see it on the ground not ten feet away.
Not-Craig’s footsteps return before I can think of how to get it.
Gerard says, “I thought I told you to—”
He cuts off when he sees that Not-Craig isn’t alone. His hands are up and Avery is behind him, aiming her shotgun at his back.
Gerard stares because he’s realizing the numbers are no longer in his favor.
But I’m staring because I’ve never seen this side of Avery. I get this weird feeling in my stomach, one I’ve never felt before. Her eyes are fierce and her hands are steady on her weapon, ready to do whatever it takes. I can’t take my eyes off her.
“Put your gun down,” she orders Gerard.
He hesitates and then moves too fast for her to do anything. He’s behind me with the gun pressed to my head, probably smiling because he thinks he can get out of this. But if I were him, I would look into Avery’s eyes and s
ee he’s already lost. Just like this city, there’s nothing that can stop her.
“I’m not sure,” he says, “but I’m guessing you care about this boy here a little more than I care about Craig.”
I guess his name really is Craig. If it were any other moment, I would smile.
Craig’s eyes go wide but Avery is unreadable. “I guess you’ll find out the hard way,” she says.
“About what?”
“About how wrong you are. You think I give a shit about him?” she asks, nodding in my direction. “I met him yesterday and we happen to be going in the same direction. That’s it.”
“Then why did you come back?” he asks.
I watch her face. She doesn’t give herself away. She bluffs like she’s done this before.
“I came back so you can look at that.” She looks past him, and when he turns his head—believing her bluff—she shoves Craig to the ground and takes a shot. It clips Gerard in the shoulder and he goes down next to me. Avery stands over Craig and says, “Go untie his hands, and if you try anything, I’ll be aiming for your legs.”
He scrambles over to me, and Avery kicks away their guns. After he frees my hands, I retrieve my revolver and join Avery. Gerard is unconscious but alive, and Craig just sits there, hoping not to get shot like his partner.
“So that’s what you think of me, huh?” I ask her. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”
She tries not to smile but fails. “Sorry to break the news.” Then on a more serious note, “The horses are outside. We should leave before someone starts looking for them.”
“And hope nobody heard the gunshot,” I add.
I leave Avery to watch the unconscious Gerard and Craig—after I made sure he would wake up with a lump on his head—to go saddle the horses. Cade is restless to be away from here and Jack watches the building, waiting for Avery to return. I check the saddlebags on the gang’s horses, and I’m lucky enough to find more ammunition for my lever-action. I’d been running low for the last few weeks and it’s not something easy to come by.
That’s another reason I can never miss—I can’t afford to lose the bullets.
We ride at a steady pace with our guns out in case we see anyone else. When we stop to water the horses at a creek on the outskirts of the city, I finally ask, “Where were you this morning?”
“I went out to find water for the horses but never found a place,” she says. “I didn’t want to wake you. Then when I came back, I heard voices.”
She sort of half shrugs, glancing over once.
“Well … thanks. You were really great.” I look away with my face feeling hot on this cool day.
We both shift our weight as the horses drink. No matter what I do, I can’t get that image of Avery out of my head—coming through that door with her gun held high.
“I know you think you don’t belong out here,” I blurt, turning to her again. She looks at me, waiting for me to finish. “But you do. This place isn’t for everyone, not even the people who live out here. But there’re some people who were born for it.”
“And what if I’m not?”
“Then you ride on,” I tell her. “Because sometimes you don’t have a choice.”
She fidgets with the bandana hanging from her neck and looks around, then says, “I haven’t told you this, but I’m glad you decided to come with me.” Her blue eyes meet mine. “I couldn’t have gotten this far without you.”
Avery looks like she wants to say something else, but Jack comes back to her and we move away from each other without another word, even though I still feel her eyes on me. We mount up and continue south. She rides ahead of me and I let her, understanding there are moments when one wants to face the Wild alone like she wants to right now.
For once I’m not thinking about pirates or boots.
I’m thinking about her.
20.
Avery
The evening of the third day, after passing countless abandoned towns and putting in hard miles, we finally come to a river. It’s the first real water we’ve discovered since the city we later found out used to be Houston from a sign half buried in the ground. Every riverbed since has been mostly dried up, and I can’t remember the last time it rained.
This one is wide enough to still be here and deep enough to swim in. I dismount and pull my bandana down, breathing in the scent of river. It runs as flat as the land here, which makes it easier to see anyone coming from at least a half mile away until little hills dot the horizon.
Seph rides up next to me and jumps off, pulling his own bandana off his face. He isn’t looking at me but at the river, and I watch as a smile breaks out and his eyes brighten in their own way.
I’ve never seen this smile before. It’s pure joy and something a bad day couldn’t even take away. And today has been a bad day. It started out fine until we came to a couple bridges crisscrossing each other, an obvious spot for a gang to hang out. We had to go around, adding another mile to our trip, and could only hope our dust trail wouldn’t be seen. Then we encountered a pack of wolves. They were brave until Seph shot a few rounds in the dirt between us and them. They followed us for a while, making the horses skittish, but finally gave up.
The only thing going for us is how warm the day is. And now this.
Seph catches me staring, and for some reason, I don’t look away like I usually do. Maybe because he’s still smiling or maybe because I feel I’ve witnessed something rare. Maybe both.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
I nod, wondering if my face gives me away.
“Then why are we standing here?” Seph loosens Cade’s saddle and slides it off, followed by his bridle. Cade takes off toward the water and Seph follows him with a yelling run, leaving his gear on the ground. Just before the water, he skids to a stop, only to pull off his boots.
The water must be freezing but he’s already up to his neck, clothes clinging to his body.
I sigh and unsaddle Jack, who seems just as eager to get into the water. After I pull his bridle off, he runs downstream toward Cade. Unlike Seph, I walk to the river. I stand on the bank and watch him float, facing the sky.
“Are you going to come in?” Seph asks, his eyes closed.
I want to. I’ve been wanting to for days. But now that I’m here, with Seph in the water and the sky watching us, I hesitate.
I settle with, “Maybe.”
Seph opens his eyes and stands, the water coming up to his chest. “Just the other day you said you wanted to find a river to wash away all the dust, but now you don’t want to? It’s not so cold once you get in.” When I don’t say anything, he adds, “At least get your feet wet.”
I take off my boots and set them next to his. Before I walk into the river, I glance at Jack downstream. He and Cade are playful with the water and warm day, chasing the other away when they aren’t looking.
The water is cold so I only let it come up to my ankles.
“You really aren’t going to come in?” Seph asks.
“I want to—”
“But?”
I glance around. “I don’t know.”
The real answer whispers in my head, Because I’ve never been swimming with a boy before. And where will I change when my clothes are wet and there’s nothing but flatlands around us and suddenly everything feels awkward.
“Come on,” he says, dragging out his o’s, taunting me.
Then he swims over to me, walking when it comes up to his waist. The cloth of his shirt clings to his chest and arms, and his hair drips with water. When I catch the look in his eyes, I ask, “What are you doing?”
He smiles in return—the kind of smile I’ve only seen from Finn when he’s about to do something he shouldn’t. It’s a boy’s smile.
“Seph—” I take a step back and then he’s running toward me. “Seph, don’t!”
I run up the bank, water soaking the hems of my jeans, but he’s had a head start. He catches my wrist and swings me around, throwing me over his
shoulder in one quick motion. “I’m going to kill you!” I shout, and yet I smile and don’t know why. He runs deeper into the water until he can’t run anymore and then we’re both under.
The cold wants to suck away my breath, but he’s right: I let myself sink down to the bottom and it’s not so cold anymore. The river threatens to drag me away and I grab onto a rock, deciding to let Seph sweat a little before I let myself up. Not many parents bothered to teach their kids how to swim back in Stonewall because it’s not like we ever went swimming for fun. The water is always too cold and the rivers usually too fast or not deep enough. Mom, though, she wanted us to learn, always claiming you never know when you might need to.
I let go of the rock and let myself float to the top.
Seph spins around in the water when I resurface. Relief fills his face and he doesn’t try to hide it. It surprises me in a weird way, but still, I allow myself to smile and he narrows his eyes.
“That isn’t funny.”
“Neither is throwing me into the river.”
Seph grins anyway, like he knows it. His wet shirt clings to every inch of him, and knowing mine probably does, too, I don’t look down in case my cheeks turn a different color. Too many times I catch myself staring into his eyes and wonder if I’ll ever see that color again once we go our own ways. I don’t know if there’s anyone in Stonewall with the color green, and not many have blue.
“What is it?” he asks. His voice is serious now, probably wondering why I’m staring.
The water feels warmer than before, and I know it’s not the temperature changing it.
“I thought you’d be used to people staring at your eyes by now.”
Seph thinks about it and shakes his head. “I’m usually not around people long enough for them to notice anything about me.”
I smile at that. “Fair enough, but they are amazing.”
Something crosses his face, between confusion and questioning—the same look Finn gives when he doesn’t want to admit he doesn’t know something.
“What?”
Seph’s gaze shifts to me and I count to five before he moves closer. Close enough to see drops of water on his eyelashes. I curl my lips in to wet them, barely able to think with him being this close.
