Darkthaw (30 page)

“If you'd just stuck with us in the first place, none of this would've happened.” My voice gets hard. “You near killed us all.”

He barks a laugh and shakes his head. “You're dead out here anyhow,” he says. “And not just because Julian and his kind are everywhere.”

My eyes narrow. “What are you speaking on?”

Charlie looks at me a mite smug. “There's a bad sickness out here. The Bleed, Julian called it.”

So he does know.

“It's just luck you all aren't corpses already.” He coughs and then glares at me. “That ain't my fault—it's yours.”

“How's that?”

“You brought that girl into the settlement thinking she was our salvation,” Charlie says. “And then the whole world turned to hell. And for what?”

“You would never understand,” I say.

“I'm willing to bet you don't understand, neither.”

“You know nothing!” I spit out. “You're just like everyone at the settlement—protected without even knowing it and fearful of all the wrong things!” My temper's rising bright and hot.

“If
you'd
been more fearful of Matisa—”

“She kept you alive out here!” I shout, and the scorn in my voice could split bark. “
You're
lucky you aren't a corpse;
we
were never in danger!” I've said too much now. I snap my mouth shut.

His eyes lose their mean shine. “What are you speaking on?”

I look away, my anger running hot under my skin.

There's a silence.

“You're speaking on that place,” Charlie says and coughs. “Ain't you?”

I turn back. “What place?”

“Julian said Matisa's people know a special place that cures the Bleed,” he says. “Said that's what they were offering me; its location.”

I frown. A special place that cures the Bleed?

“When Julian caught us, he was headed north to find it.”

North. My thoughts fly back to Elizabeth and Ulysses Sharapay, threatened by Leon so they'd map the way north. That's why Leon wanted the map? Because he believes in a place that cures the Bleed? All at once I want to laugh. This means Leon and his men don't understand the remedy—or the Bleed—at all. But the thought of Leon's men finding my fortification sobers me. I remember how surprised Henderson was at finding our settlement; Leon's men might think they'd found that special place. My settlement outnumbers them, but Leon's weapons are far more powerful.

“How many were going with Julian?” I ask.

“Why?”

“How many?” I demand.

“Just Emmett and him,” Charlie says, his brow creased. “Said he wanted to be the one to find it first.” He shakes his head. “Swore me to secrecy, told me he'd share it, but I know now he was just using me to get there. He wasn't planning to keep me alive.”

My thoughts fly back to Julian with that poker, asking me where I was from.

We're quite interested in the north
.

The worry in my chest eases. Julian is lying in a bloody heap on the bank of the river. And Emmett is heading into lands he'll be hard-pressed to survive. I raise my chin. “Julian knew nothing,” I say. “And you betrayed the people who could've helped you.”

“C'mon, Em,” he whines. “What was I supposed to do?”

“You were supposed to do the right thing.”

He straightens up and looks me in the eye. “And what
is
that, out here? Mayhap the ‘right thing' was clear in the
settlement, but out here it's different. And you know it. You leaving Julian there, choking on his own damn blood, proves it.”

A sickness rolls in my gut. The moon feels too warm on the back of my neck.

“I ain't judging you for that,” Charlie says, soft. “You and me both know he deserved it.”

I swallow. Slashing that man's face at the Keep. Staring at Julian's sickly form, listening to him drown in his own blood. Is this what I am now?

“Got nothing no more. Got no one. Ain't that penance enough?” His eyes are wide. Pleading.

Something in my heart twists. I press into my bad foot, focus on the wash of pain for a moment.

Him speaking up for Kane doesn't change what he did.

Doesn't change what he is.

Does it?

Grinding my teeth, I press my fingers to my brow.

Nothing's the way it's supposed to be; is that all his fault? I showed him mercy before, and look where it ended us. If Tom hadn't found us when he did . . .

I take my knife from my belt, weigh it, one hand to the next. An image swims before me: Brother Stockham's eyes before he pulled that trigger. What they held. Relief.
Relief
.

I look into Charlie's eyes now, so full of despair—and I know.

I know why I gave Charlie a chance. It wasn't about letting him wash the stain clean like I did. It was about Brother Stockham pulling that trigger. It was about all that happened after that.

Deep down, I've been wondering, if I'd somehow been able to make Brother Stockham see, if I'd shown him he could turn from his pa's teachings, mayhap those scars on his back wouldn't have found their way inside his mind like that. And then—then my pa wouldn't have died to protect me.

I gave Charlie a chance because I thought it would pay for my sins of not giving the same to Brother Stockham. Thought it might pay for the death of my pa. But . . .

This is a new world. It brings things we cannot help
. Isi's words drift over me, flood my heart with resolve.

Charlie made his choice. There was nothing I could've done to change that.

All I can do is make my own choice. Right here, right now.

“I can't give you another chance,” I say. “Can't do that to my people. Not again.”

I wrap my right hand firm around the knife handle and steel myself. Raise it slow.

Charlie drops his head to his arms, as if that might protect him.

I take a deep breath.

And hammer the knife forward.

It splits the bark, drives deep into the flesh of the tree. When I drop my hand, a small glint of the blade and the bone handle jut out from the trunk above Charlie's leather ties. Close enough to reach or just out of his grasp; I'm not sure.

“But mayhap the Almighty will.”

I turn and head for the horses.

I don't look back.

WE SKIRT THE FOREST AND RIDE THROUGH THE
sweeping hills, the moon lighting our way, stars bright above us.

Our pace is quick. We found valuable gear in Julian's cart: a rifle like the one Tom has, bullets, three knives, including Julian's long blade, food stores, and also gear for the horses, real bridles and blankets.

Isi drives the cart with Matisa and the two little boys in the back. The boys are wrapped up against the chill and fast asleep.

I double with Tom on Dottie behind the cart. Kane rides beside us on Blue, but he doesn't seem inclined to talk. Or look at me.

Charlie surfaces in my mind. I lost my tongue to anger, dealing with him, but some of it was anger at myself. Just glad I figured that out before it was too late. Before I did something I couldn't take back.

Like keeping Matisa's secret from Kane.

Bleed it!
How can I fix this?

I risk a glance at him, but his eyes are elsewhere—like he's thinking hard, considering something, but mayhap he's just playing at looking occupied so he doesn't have to look at me.

We ride an hour or more in silence. When Isi pulls the cart to a stop atop a large rolling hill, giving the pull-horses a moment to rest, I look back at the giant ribbon of river glinting silver in the moonlight. The
mâyimitos
forest is now a small patch of black to the east. To the south, shadows.

Matisa pulls herself up and stands in the back of the cart, waving off the hand Isi offers for balance. “I am fine,” she says, and peers out at the darkened land. “The quickest way is due west, but we will need to go north from here,” she says.

“Why?” I ask.

“The drylands are over this next rise,” she answers. “They are dangerous this time of year, when thundershowers can show up with little warning. With rain, they become a lake of mud.”

I recall Henderson's words about seeing these drylands in the rain. Said they could drown a man.

“Rain like that?” Tom asks from his perch behind me. He points. Over the mountain shadows in the far west, a dark bank of cloud is stirring.

Matisa lifts her face to the air. “The wind does not blow this direction,” she says. “But we should not take the chance. We will skirt them to the north.”

Like she understands, Dottie swings her neck in that direction, ears pricked forward. The harnesses on the pull-horses
jangle as they turn their heads the same. They hear something.

“What is it?” Isi asks, tilting his chin at the hills to the north.

Kane puts the spyglass to his eye. He scans the hills and curses. “Riders,” he says.

My throat gets tight.

I look to Matisa. Her face is grave. “How many?” she asks.

Kane counts. “At least ten.”

“Can you tell who—”

Kane shakes his head, lowers the glass, and pulls his horse close to the cart. He hands the spyglass to Matisa for a look.

“Sohkâtisiwak?”
I ask Matisa.

“Maybe,” she says, scanning.

“Do we take a chance that they're friendly?” Tom asks.

We look around. There is no shelter in these hills—no place to hide. We have two rifles now, but only a slingshot and knives beyond that. If they aren't friendly, taking a stand here would be courting our own death.

“Can we outrun them?” Tom asks. He points to the dark hills in the south.

“Not that way,” Matisa says. “Beyond those hills the drylands stretch south for miles. I do not think we should risk it.”

“How far do they stretch to the west?” I ask.

Matisa looks torn. “A night's ride—no longer.”

“But couldn't they skirt to the north and catch us on the other side?”

“It would take them far longer,” Matisa says. “We could be long gone before they reach it. If it doesn't rain.”

“And if it does rain?” Tom asks.

“Then it will be very dangerous,” Matisa says. “But if it looks like it will rain—”

“They are less likely to follow,” Isi finishes her thought.

We look to the clouds gathering in the west, dark and heavy, creeping slow, blotting out the stars.

Kane looks at the rise that hides the drylands, and then at the little boys. “Any other ideas?” he asks.

No one offers anything.

We look back to the north.

The clouds scud across the moon and reveal the riders streaming down a small hill. Ten dark shapes on horseback—full silent from this distance, riding hard. A ways off still, but close enough for our horses to hear. And closing fast.

“Down into the drylands,” Isi decides. “It is our best chance.”

Matisa hops down from the back of the cart. “The earth will be rough and our horses might stumble. I will ride with Tom,” she says. “Em, you ride with Kane.”

I slide from Dottie and Kane puts a hand out to help me in front of him.

Matisa settles herself in front of Tom and takes the reins. “Come on,” she says, kicking her horse forward.

We go.

I crane my neck and glance back as we crest the last rise. The riders are closer still—about half the distance they were before. They know we're here. If they see us head into the drylands, will they follow?

As if in answer, the dark sky before us flashes an angry bright light. The night is calm, but the air is getting heavy, like it does when rain is coming.

Below us, the drylands stretch out, dusty and cracked. I see now why they are dangerous: they are a series of steep coulees made from precarious, sandy soil. Our only route is down into the canyon, where we will be surrounded by high, crumbling walls.

Walls that will run like waterfalls in the rain.

We move down into the canyon as quick as we can, but the rough terrain makes it tricky for the horses to find their footing. The night is cool, but I don't press backward to steal Kane's warmth. His chest grazes my back, his arms encircling me to hold the reins, but it feels unfamiliar. Like I can't remember the feel of his body against mine.

Down in the canyon, the cliffs are like dark creatures with cracked faces, eyeing us silent as we traverse the crumbling earth. Matisa clucks her tongue, urging her horse to pick up the pace.

The leather of the riding gear creaks as we join her, moving at a fast walk. Kane handles Blue like he's done it a hundred times before.

Hours creep by as we traverse the canyon at this pace. Everyone watches the sky, reluctant to speak—as though our noise alone might call the rain. The air is thicker still, bringing a scent that usually makes my heart swell but now makes it tight.