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I thought about it, and came to one conclusion: If we die tomorrow, at least I’ll die knowing that hope wasn’t an illusion, after all.
“Yeah, I think we might make it somewhere,” I answered, not having the heart to tell her the truth.
33
ATTICUS
When we crawled from beneath the hood the next morning there wasn’t a cloud in the sky; the summer heat had settled across the landscape in a thick blanket of humidity.
And one horse was gone.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I stood where the horse stood last night, next to the speckled one. I’d tethered one horse so it couldn’t get away at least, but what was one horse with worn shoes when there were two riders and a small load of gear?
Thais came up beside me; her dress and the cotton pants she wore underneath were soaked all the way through; and filthy, caked with mud and pine needles. Her hair was sodden, tangled, lying ragged against her back; dirt was smeared across her face and neck, and something was crawling in her hair; she casually knocked it out.
I rubbed the back of my head, gritted my teeth in anger thinking about the horse that wandered off with some of our precious gear. I spotted something out ahead then: a heap lying in a puddle. It was my jacket.
“Didn’t make off with my coat, at least,” I said, holding it up; milky mud dripped from the sleeve. I laid it over the horse’s back. “But so much for everything else. Not to mention, we’re a horse short.”
Thais stepped up next to me.
“I’ll walk, you can ride,” I told her.
She leaned over and lifted the horse’s leg to inspect the horseshoe.
“I don’t think either of us should ride him,” she said. “And he probably shouldn’t carry our stuff for much longer, either. It would be cruel.”
I bent to check out her findings. She was right, but I wasn’t convinced the horse was useless.
“He can carry it,” I said with confidence, and set the hoof down in the mud. “How’s your ankle?”
“It’s fine.” Thais raised her foot and moved it around to demonstrate its mobility. “I can walk. You can walk. The horse can, but Atticus, I don’t want to make him carry this stuff much farther.”
I patted the horse on its muscled shoulder and thought about it. Staring westward, I considered how far from the river we were, knowing we had to be close because we’d been traveling for days.
Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I contemplated.
“Actually,” I said, “it’s probably a good idea we let the horse go now. If we let it go at the river, then whoever’s following us will know that we’ve crossed it. Let it go here, and maybe we can confuse our trail. If it can’t carry us or the gear much farther, there’s no reason to keep it.” I thought we could keep it around if we needed it for food, but I had a feeling Thais wouldn’t go for that. Admittedly, I wasn’t too big on the idea of eating horse meat, either.
“They might even think us dead,” Thais said, “if they come across the other horse with our gear still on its back.”
I nodded, agreeing.
After destroying the lean-to so it wouldn’t look like someone took shelter there, I smacked the speckled horse on the rear and sent it galloping in the opposite direction.
We gathered our things and divided the load between us; I took all the heavy items, leaving Thais with the small backpack, and we continued west where we walked another several hours until the sound of rushing water filled my ears.
Out ahead the trees thinned, replaced by blue sky. I reached behind me and pulled my handgun from my pants; I carried the rifle on my back.
“The forest ends just up there,” I said. “But we have to be careful and stay hidden. I’m sure the river is just beyond the tree line.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” she asked, nervously.
“Yes and no,” I said, grabbing her hand. “Yes, because it’s an endless water source. No, because where there are endless water sources, there are people trying to protect them.” I recalled the meeting with William Wolf and the talk of seizing control of the Great Lakes.
We waited until nightfall, hiding out in a small patch of woods near the river before going out into the open. In the darkness, I led Thais northward along the swollen riverbank. When the bridge came into view, we lay on our stomachs against the ground; a small hill rose up in front of us. Still, there were no signs of human life. I expected the river to be flanked by patrols, or at least a few dozen men guarding the bridge. I didn’t know whether to be relieved, or suspicious, that there was neither.
“What are we going to do?” Thais asked anxiously.
