CHAPTER 22
“Idon’t know why it has to be so blasted windy out here.”
Eric forced himself not to acknowledge Harvey’s complaining. It wouldn’t change his cousin’s outlook nor stop his endless whining. And it had been harder and harder these past three days on the trail to keep from spouting off to put Harvey in his place, which would strike at a deep hurt. Pain that probably only Eric knew, because he’d been there to witness how five-year-old Harvey had cried after his father’s insults.
Though that word—insult—was too shallow for the things Oliver Reynolds had said to his son.
And Eric couldn’t bring himself to even allude to them.
Besides, he should be grateful Harvey came all this way to tell him about his father’s condition. He’d risked his life for this.
Another gust of wind swept through, whipping the flaps of his coat and pelting his face with tiny ice fragments that felt like sand. He ducked his chin and squinted to protect his eyes. This open plain stretched as far as he could see, only a few low rises breaking the flat expanse. No wonder the wind explored freely through here.
Something flashed in front of his eyes. Snowflakes? Two white crystals fell onto his horse’s neck, a little bigger than sand and floating far lazier than solid ice would do. Silas had mentioned snow would come soon when they were saddling the horses that morning. So far, the man had not been wrong in any of his predictions and suggestions.
Eric glanced over at him, riding on his left and pulling ahead a little. Thank the Lord Jonah had recommended him.
“Of all the lousy…” Harvey’s voice carried that grating whiny tone. “It’s snowing. Get me out of this godforsaken…”
Eric did his best to block out the rest of his cousin’s complaints.
Silas, apparently, had reached the end of his patience. He swung around to glare at Harvey. “How exactly do you propose I do that? You want me to conjure up a cabin out here on the plain? Snap my fingers and make up some trees for the wood? Or maybe you’d like me to blink and send you back to whatever high-brow city house you came from where people wait on ya hand an’ foot. Believe me, Pilgrim, I’d like ta do it. Fer now though, there ain’t no way I can be shed of ya. So I’d appreciate it if ye’d keep yer complainin’ confined to yer head an’ try not to sour the trip for the rest of us.”
Eric would have smiled if his cheeks weren’t frozen stiff. He couldn’t have said it better himself.
Harvey grumbled a response, but it wasn’t loud enough to make out, so maybe he’d picked up on the lesson.
Silas turned forward again, and he stepped a little quicker, dragging the pack horse behind him. “We need to push harder. Maybe we can make it to shelter before dark. Else we’ll have to make our own.”
Silas didn’t need a response, so Eric didn’t work to offer one. The man seemed to appreciate a nice stretch of silence. Though anytime Eric asked a question—about the land around them, the animals in the area, or even his experiencesas a guide—Silas answered readily, giving plenty of detail and usually a story or two thrown in. He didn’t use flowery words to set the scene, but the few descriptors he offered made his tales spring to life in vivid detail.
Just now, it would be nice if Silas could tell a story about a warm summer day so they could at least imagine they weren’t pushing through an icy wind that pelted them with more and more icy flakes with every gust.
Within a few minutes, the small flakes turned into a flurry of white, whipping sideways, and somehow still landing to blanket the ground in an uneven layer.
Harvey’s horse stumbled.
His cousin shouted, and the animal lurched forward as it tried to regain its footing.
Eric jerked his own gelding toward his cousin. “Hold his head up!” His mouth was so numb, the words slurred out of him.
It was too late anyway. Harvey clutched his saddle with both hands, and the horse steadied itself, limping forward a few steps before slowing to a halt.
Worry tightened Eric’s chest as he stopped his mount beside his cousin. Silas had already dismounted and moved to the mare’s head. “Get down so I can check her.”
Harvey’s face wore a thick scowl as he slid to the ground, but at least he kept his words to himself.
Eric also dismounted in case there was anything he could do to help. Silas shucked his gloves and crouched beside the mare’s front left leg, running his red hands down from her shoulder to hoof. As he worked, Eric glanced back to the spot where the horse had stumbled. The ground was darker where her hooves had cleared the snow, but he couldn’t tell what had tripped her.
He left his gelding standing with the others and walked back to the area. One particular dark spot made a knot twist in his belly.
A hole. He didn’t poke his foot into the opening, but it looked at least as deep as the length of his forearm. Made by some burrowing creature, no doubt.
He strode back to Silas as he rose and patted the mare’s shoulder. “She stepped in a hole,” Eric said. “A deep one.”
“Yup.” Silas nodded. "Ankle’s already swelling and warm to the touch." He let out a sigh as he straightened and scanned the land around them. "It’d be better to let her rest now an’ see if she’ll heal. If we push her right off, we’ll likely be down a horse in less than a day.”
He turned toward his pack horse. "Best we can do is make a tent an’ settle in.”
