The homesteader’s comin up fast behind us. The girl too. She draws level with him. Now she pulls ahead. I gotta wait till they’re in range.
Nero swoops overhead, screamin. Git away, I shout.
They gallop closer. Closer still. Now I got a clear view of their faces.
Her smooth cheeks. Her round chin. Her hair flyin behind her, long an fair. She ain’t seen more’n fourteen summers. An him. Despite his man’s body, he ain’t much older’n Tommo. A couple of youngsters.
I’ll take her out first. I aim at the quartered circle brand in the middle of her forehead. Cold sweat beads my forehead. My upper lip. Wets my palms.
She grips hard with her knees. She’s raisin her firestick.
Now. Now! Shoot her now!
Epona. On the roof. She smiles at me. She nods.
She starts to run towards me.
I cain’t do it. I cain’t shoot her.
Suddenly, the girl flies backwards. Arrow to her heart. She lands in a heap on the road. The boy opens his mouth. No chance to yell. A arrow zings into his throat. He tumbles offa his horse. They lie in the dirt. Neether of ’em moves. Their horses turn an race off together.
I peer over the edge of the Cosmic. At the far end, Maev swings into view. She hangs onto the doorframe with one hand, her bow held in th’other. She throws me a look. A what’s-the-matter-with-you? look. She gives a little shake of her head. Then she swings back outta sight. No, Maev sure ain’t lost her edge.
I free myself from the ropes. I slide offa the roof an back onto the seat beside Slim.
You do it? he says.
Yeah, I says.
We cain’t leave the bodies there, he says. We gotta go back.
I shake my head. Drive on, I says.
But you don’t—
I said, drive on! I yell it at him.
Tracker lays his head on my lap, whinin. I stroke his ears. A couple of kids, I says. I don’t think he’d even started shavin.
I look at Slim, but he don’t look at me. He keeps his face forwards. I cain’t tell what he’s thinkin.
I couldn’t shoot the girl. My hands didn’t shake, but still . . . I couldn’t kill her. I lost my nerve. Without Maev, I might be dead right now. She saved my skin once more.
We find Lugh an Emmi at the long stone wall. They don’t ask no questions. They don’t hafta. They can see on our faces how it played out.
Slim’s bloody detour. It takes us through such rough terrain, everybody’s gotta pile out an walk while he leads Moses. Nero hitches a ride on Moses’ hump. Tracker sticks with me.
Pushin an pullin, shovin an heavin, we coax Moses an the Cosmic along. Over hummocky prairie. Up an down an around hills thick with shad-bush an honeysuckle. We’re caught out by a sudden patch of suck-mud. Somehow Slim manages to keep Moses goin, but the Cosmic’s another thing. She sinks down a good foot an it takes us ferever to haul her free. In all of the shabibble, Emmi parts company with both her boots.
Where’s this damn road? I says.
Not far, says Slim. Mind you, this ain’t my usual detour. Guess you’d call it the detour of the detour. If I’m readin the runes right, we oughta run into another trail in a bit. That’ll take us back to the road, then it’s straight over the causeway into the storm belt an hey presto, welcome to the Lost Cause.
Less chat, more pace, I says. C’mon! Let’s move it!
I urge us on. The sun beats down on our heads. I keep lookin up, checkin its path. By middle day, I’m wound up tighter’n a spinnin top. I march back to Slim. He’s wet through with sweat. Red in the face. I grab a handful of pink dress an yank him to me.
What kind of a gawdamn detour is this? I says. Where’s the gawdamn road? If we ain’t at the Lost Cause by nightfall, I swear, yer gonna be one dead fat man in a frock.
His one good eye stares at me. I never seen nobody so anxious to git to a hooch joint, he says. There must be a party I don’t know about.
My bolt shooter’s up. Pressed to his forehead. Don’t be smart with me, I says.
It ain’t a party, says Emmi, we’re meetin—
Nobody, I says.
We need to push on, says Maev, that’s all. Once we git there, we still got a long ways to travel.
Let the man go, Lugh tells me. We’re all doin our best.
I let Slim go. You better not be leadin us wrong, I says.
Slim wafts his dress to cool down. My word’s my bond, sister, he says. We’ll be at the Lost Cause by dark.
C’mon, then, I says.
We keep on keepin on. An Lugh keeps on glancin at Maev. He makes sure he’s beside her when we’re haulin the Cosmic. At one point, she loses her footin an he dives to stop her from fallin. But the next moment, when she goes to thank him, he drops her arm like he’s bin scalded an then completely ignores her. I see her frownin to herself. Givin him puzzled looks. An no wonder.
The Cosmic bumps an jolts. Her lanterns swing wildly. Slim winces at the rattle of glass from inside. If she don’t fall apart before we git there, it’ll be a miracle, he says.
Hey, Slim, says Emmi, what’s the Lost Cause like?
It’s what you’d call a lively establishment, he says. Hard hooch, rough grub an wicked wimmin.
You mean whores, says Emmi.
No, he don’t, says Tommo.
Yes, he does, she says. Anyways, I know plenty of ’em.
Fer shame! says Lugh.
Ain’t she the one! cackles Slim. Yes indeed, I’m talkin saucy mamzelles that know how to stir a man’s stewpot. A word to the wise, gents, don’t try nuthin with Molly. You’ll be tempted to – by gum, she’s a rare beauty – but you mess with her at yer peril. There was this one lairy cove – ha ha! – he snuck a look at Molly through the keyhole, in her bath all pink an rosy – oh boys, I pray fer that to be my last sight on earth, a curvy gal in a tub – anyways, there he is, this rapscallion, peekin at Molly’s paticklers, an before you know it, he’s tied backwards to his horse, trousers on his head, next stop Tillibunk Junction! Ha ha!
Tommo’s frownin, positively glarin at Slim. Serves him right, he says. He shouldn’t of looked.
Oh, he couldn’t help hisself, says Slim. You’ll see, when you meet Molly.
Don’t talk about her like that! says Tommo.
You put me to shame, young man, yer absolutely right, says Slim. Molly’s a respectable, clean-livin woman. Luckily, her girls ain’t! Ha ha!
As we push an pull the Cosmic an Moses up another bumpy slope, I ponder on things. Slim knowin Molly. Lilith an Meg bein at the Snake River camp. I wonder if Slim’s ever met Jack. When I stand back an look at the strangeness of everythin – how one thing’s led to another an brought me here, almost like night followin day – it’s as if this whole thing was meant to be. An that brings to mind what Auriel said. How we all got our parts to play. How all my roads, every decision leads me to the same place in the end.
Destiny. I hardly dare think the word in case Lugh hears me think it. I dunno, how could that be possible? Anyways, what does it matter? As long as I find my way to Jack, that’s all I care about. That’s where the road ends fer me. It’s why I’m here, why I’m doin this. Fer Jack. To be with Jack.
Emmi barges into my thoughts by sayin, Y’know, Slim, yer too old to be carousin with whores. Yer time of life, you oughta be settled down with a good woman.