Darkthaw (28 page)

I crane my neck to see, and my heart stops.

He's standing there, gun raised to his eye, hands steady as anything. Wheat-blond hair glinting in the early morning sun.

It can't be. There's just no way—

“Let them go,” Tom says.

I'M DREAMING HIM; HE'S A VISION OF MY FEAR-
addled mind.

No—he's here, standing so still, his blond head bent forward to the rifle. His name catches in my throat along with a sob of relief. Tom's face is calm, but he's watching careful, his body taut. We're still in danger. Julian is wounded, but he's upright. Emmett is standing there, gun at his feet, knife on his belt, looking to Julian for a signal.

Silence.

The air grows real still. Blood thrums in my ears.

Julian opens his mouth. “Friends,” he repeats, as if in disbelief. “So many friends out here—” He wavers on his feet, stumbles one step to the side, and falls hard, face-first into the dirt. Like a broken bird he lies; one arm spread out, the other crumpled beneath him. A pool of blood stains the back of his shirt a dark red.

Tom takes a step forward, training his rifle on Emmett.

“Easy there,” Emmett says, spreading his hands slow. “Don't want any trouble.”

“Well, you got it.” Tom's voice is a rasp. “Step away from your weapon.”

Emmett does as Tom says, taking one foolish-large step to the side, his hands up in front of him. “What do you want, son?” He licks his lips. “Perhaps we can work out a deal.”

Tom ignores him. “I'm going to give you a head start. You turn around now and get walking.” He gestures with his gun.

Emmett's eyes widen. “But—there's nothing that way for miles.” He tries to smile. Gestures at his leg. “I'm hurt. And I need food, water. My pack—”

“Those things are ours now. For our trouble.”

Emmett's face darkens. “Look here, boy. You think for a minute you can—”

Lightning quick, Tom jerks the rifle to the fire and shoots. The neck of the violin shatters.

The rifle is back on Emmett's terrified face in a heartbeat. Tom loads a new bullet and pumps the bolt forward without taking his eyes off the man.

“Get walking,” Tom says, real calm. “I ever see you again, I'll shoot you dead.”

Emmett turns his scrawny frame in an about-face. And he runs.

Tom watches through the rifle sight. I blink, trying to make sense of what my eyes are showing me. Emmett's figure gets smaller as he scrambles up the low hill. When he disappears, Tom's shoulders relax. He drops the gun and turns to face us.

“Tom!” I choke out. My eyes well up, blurring his face.

And now, there's another sound, coming through the trees behind us. “Dottie!” Daniel cries.

Tom takes three giant strides toward the trees, reaching for me. At his touch, I burst into tears.

“Hey,” he says. He smooths my hair away from my face.

“How?” I choke out through my tears.

“Came to see this crossing Henderson was speaking on. My pa healed up, and I—I needed to come. When I found that homestead, those mounds, and Nico's bow, I knew something'd gone wrong.” He takes a knife from his belt and begins sawing at my ties. “Found Dottie yesterday and knew I was on your trail.”

As the leather splits under the blade, tears stream down my dirt-streaked face. When I'm free, I realize I can't lift my arms. I step away from the tree, lose my balance, and stumble.

“Easy.” Tom catches me, pulling me close. I suck into him, pressing my head into his shoulder, taking a shaky breath to quell my tears.

“Thank the Almighty for you,” I say. I look over his shoulder to Kane, still facedown in the dirt, breathing shallow.

I start to cry again, and the blood from my cut mingles with tears in my mouth. “Free him,” I say. “Free everyone but Charlie.”

Matisa's face is ashen; her eyes are glassy. Can't climb to her feet. Can't talk. I bend toward her and press my hand to her brow. Like I figured, she's too hot. Her wrists are chafed raw where they were bound. Her hair is dull with dust and
tangled into rope-like chunks that I pull away from her ghostly face. Looking at her close-up, my throat gets tight.

“Em?” Isi says, behind me. “What's wrong with her?”

I look over my shoulder. Isi is standing upright with effort, his hand pressed to his blood-soaked side.

“She was out in the sun too long behind that bleedin' cart,” I say. “But she'll come around.”

Isi's face is gray. I'll need to fix those stitches.

“We need to keep her cool and give her water in small doses.” I nod in the direction of the grove. “We should move back into the trees,” I say.

I look to Kane, who, like a miracle, sat up when I ran to him. He approaches, moving slow, but his eyes have cleared. There's a dark red mark under his left eye, and he's coated in dust, and he's the most beautiful thing I've ever looked on. The little boys crowd close to him, grasping at him with their dirty hands. They missed most of the horror, thanks be, but they're sticking right to him even so.

Isi picks Matisa up to move her. I look to the back of the men's wagon, where both the horse from the Keep and Dottie are now tied. Rebecca was riding Dottie when she bolted with Charlie. Tom found Dottie a day back, in the trees west of the river. Found her rider, too: a pale man, paler still with the bloat of death and riddled with streams of blood. No visible wounds; a desiccated corpse. Black tongue lolling from his slack mouth. The Bleed.

Tom coming out here without the remedy—could've been him. A wave of dizziness sweeps me, and I reach out a hand for Kane.

Kane draws me close, and the little boys crowd in against
our legs. He tilts my chin up and curses as he examines the burn mark.

“Killed me to have to miss,” he mutters. He's talking about that moment he grazed Emmett with his knife. I can see in his eyes he wished he could've buried the knife in Julian's back instead.

“It was a good plan. It got you both out of that . . .” But I can't say it. The struggle floods back over me. Julian kneeling on Kane's back, taking out that long knife.

I grab his left hand and press a kiss into his palm, swallowing my sobs. If Tom didn't show when he did . . . If he wasn't sure with his aim . . .

“It's all right, Em,” Kane says, grasping the back of my neck in one hand and pulling me close. “It's all right.”

I press into him, let my tears soak his shirt. He's here. Right here. His chest beneath my ear, strong arms around me, chin tucked over my head.

“Shhh,” he says.

We watch Isi lay Matisa down in the shade of the trees.

Long moments pass before Kane pulls back. “Should get the boys some water, something to eat.” He takes them each by the hand and heads over to the supplies.

As I turn to join Isi and Matisa, Tom touches my arm.

“He'll bleed to death,” he says, tilting his head at Julian.

He's still lying where Tom rolled him near the riverbank, faceup.

I walk over with Tom and study Julian. His entire right side is a mat of dark blood—so dark it looks black. His eyes are closed, his breathing shallow. He coughs. Blood spurts onto his neck and chin, trickles into his ear and streaks his blond hair.

I look back at Kane and the boys, rummaging in the cart. I press my kerchief to the burn mark on my neck.

Charlie watches us from where he is tied.

“I can . . . help him go quicker,” Tom says. He hefts his rifle.

I look into his eyes. He's not telling me what to do; he's offering. And he's not the least bit scared to do it. Not the least bit afraid of what he's already done.

I think about Matisa tied to that cart. About the moment Julian's blade near came down . . .

“No,” I say, pressing against the burn mark a tad harder than is comfortable. “Just roll him over.” A pool of blood is gathering in my mouth again. I spit it into the dust at Julian's feet. “The others ask, tell them he's already gone.”

In the shadows of the trees, Matisa's dark eyelashes match the circles beneath her eyes. Her face is too pale, her breathing still shallow.

Kane stands in the trees with the little boys, who are eating some sort of flat, dry bread. Tom circles our group, checking and rechecking his weapon.

“Are we safe here?” I ask Isi. I set my bag down beside Matisa and start rifling through my herbs and tinctures. “Do you think Leon's men will come looking for Julian and the rest?”

He shakes his head. “I do not know.” He presses his hand to Matisa's forehead, and his brow knits with worry.

“I'll bring her round,” I assure him, setting aside mint and dried rose hips for a cooling wash.

Tom stops his pacing. “How far is it to your home from here?” he asks Isi.

“A few days if our journey is untroubled.” Isi looks at Tom appreciative-like. “We would be glad to have you with us. You are skilled with that gun now.”

Tom's cheeks pink a mite, like the old Tom. “Been practicing.” He pushes his blond hair off his forehead. “Course that was mostly with a bow and arrow, and just aiming with Andre's gun, but he let me shoot it a couple of times.”

“What is that?” Kane nods at the gun. It's different from any of those we had at the settlement. The way he loaded it when he threatened Emmett—never seen anything like it.

“Don't rightly know,” Tom admits. “Took it off that man I found with Matisa's horse. But it's more accurate than Andre's old gun and wasn't too hard to figure. I didn't have a gun, so it was real lucky.”

Kane shakes his head like he can't believe how casual Tom's talking. “You left the settlement without a weapon?”

“Well, I had a bow and arrows,” Tom says. “But with Andre gone I didn't have a way to get a rifle. People are right protective about them. Would've had to steal it, and I . . .” He shrugs. “Felt like they needed it more.”

I study Tom. He's so different now. Last fall he was so scared to break his virtues he refused to help me uncover Stockham's secret until it was near too late. It took me being locked up, near put to death, for him to act. Mayhap he's making up for that now. Mayhap he's decided never to choose fear again.

“But I did have this,” he says. He reaches into his pack and pulls out a scroll of soft paper. Kane and the boys crowd close as he kneels beside me.

“That a map?” I ask.

He nods. “A copy of Henderson's. Drew it up hasty so it's not complete.” He unrolls it and spreads it before us. “Here”—he gestures to the right side—“are the plains to the east of the river.” His finger traces the line winding north and south to a horizontal line. “There is the crossing, so we must be here.” He points above it, to a cluster of circles. There is a word scrawled. I squint. “It says
cottonwood
,” he tells me. “Henderson said they'd be losing their white seeds this time of year.”

My snow-covered trees. “And this?” I point to a cluster of shapes—squares—to the right of the river.

“The closest Dominion outpost.”

“The one Henderson talked about?”

He nods. “Probably ten days from the crossing, on foot.”

I take a deep breath. It's so far.

He taps triangles on the left side of the map. “The mountains.”

Isi peers at the map.

Matisa stirs. Her eyes flutter open and find mine.

“Isi?” she asks me.

“He's fine,” I say, as he says, “I'm here.”

“He stayed with you,” she breathes. “I told him to.”

I grip her hand. “He stayed.”

“That was good.” She smiles up at Isi. “Let's go home.”

Isi gazes down at her, and the protective love in his eyes
near steals my breath. He nods and looks at me, including me in his answer. “Yes.”

Her eyes close.

I can feel Kane's eyes on me, but I can't bring myself to look up. I'm too scared of what I'll see there. I know he's lost out here, drowning under the weight of all this.

And if I'm being honest with myself, I'm lost a mite, too. Attacking Ceril at the Keep, screaming at Emmett and Julian that I'd kill them. I meant it, deep down. In that moment I meant every word. And then leaving Julian there on the riverbank.

My world is changing. I'm changing with it.

But I can't bear for Kane not to be a part of it.

“Anyone know how to drive that cart?” Tom asks. “Seems a shame to leave it behind.”

Isi nods. “Let us wait for dark to set out,” he says. “It is better for Matisa to travel out of the glare of the sun. But we can be ready to go when she is.” He looks at Kane. “Kane?”

Kane looks at the little boys beside him. At me. I won't ask him, not again. But the thought of leaving here without him . . .

Can't live, not knowing if he made it somewhere safe, if he's all right. His best chance for safety is with Matisa's people. Please,
please
let him see that.