True North

Chapter 35

The light began to fade steadily. Golden turned to amber, then to a soft purple that settled over the desert in long wisps, darkening the color of the clouds on the horizon. The air cooled with it, the heat of the day slipping away in a way that almost felt like mercy.

Jesse rode a little ahead at first, letting the rhythm of his horse carry him while his mind drifted where it wanted. The canyon was to their left still. It felt almost too close. Like one hoof slip could send either of them into it. But it was safer to follow it that way, harder to be ambushed if anyone was still stupid enough to follow them.

Behind him, Truth shifted slightly in the saddle. "You plannin' on stoppin'?" he asked.

Jesse glanced back over his shoulder. Kit was slumped backwards against Truth, her head tucked under his chin, fast asleep. Truth had one arm wrapped around her, while the other held the reins.

Jesse shook his head once. "No," he said. "We'll ride through."

Truth studied him for a moment, like he was weighing the answer. "All night?"

"We need to make time," Jesse replied. His voice wasn't sharp, just firm. "Gotta get around the canyon if we're gonna make it to Utah."

Truth nodded slowly, like he already knew the answer before he asked. "Alright," he said. "I can manage."

Silence settled back in after that, heavier, but not uncomfortable.

Kit didn't stir once. Whatever had been left in her from the morning had been spent completely. Jesse could see it in the way she leaned into Truth, completely limp. Every now and then, the horse's movement would shift her just enough that Truth would adjust without thinking; tightening his hold, guiding her weight back into something safe and supported.

Jesse found himself watching them more than the horizon that was ahead.

The way Truth held her wasn't careful in the way someone handled something fragile, it was careful in the way someone protected something that mattered more than anything else. Every movement measured, every shift deliberate, like he'd already decided nothing in this world would take her from him if he could help it.

It did something to Jesse's chest.

The last of the sun dipped below the edge of the world, and with it, the desert changed. The colors drained out, replaced by deep blues and soft, fuzzy black shadows. Stars began to prick through overhead, one by one, until the sky stretched wide and endless above them.

Jesse turned forward again, and that's when the thoughts came.

They always did when it got quiet like this.

There were no distractions. No movement but the steady, endless ride. No voices but the ones in his own head.

He thought about the camp. About Duke's face, the way his voice had gone cold. About Mae's hands on Kit. About Butch's fist slamming into his jaw. The kind of violence that came quick and easy when a man decided he was in the right.

Jesse's grip tightened on the reins without him realizing it.

He could've done more.

He should've done more, really.

He could've drawn his gun. Could've made it real clear that they weren't to be touched. Could've stood his ground and forced the whole damn camp to think twice.

But then what?

He knew the answer to that too.

Gunfire. Blood. Kit seeing something she'd never unsee. Or worse, seeing something she had seen before with her own father.