Perched on a rocky outcropping, Cara held pigeon pose and gazed out at the dewy, forested hillsides. Last night, she had slept on a mattress—however thin and worn—inside the tidy, rustic yurt. This morning, she’d used a clean outhouse, washed with soap and a bucket of fresh water, eaten a full breakfast, and done a series of asanas to relieve her epically sore muscles. Thanks to Fisk, she felt almost safe. Nearly peaceful.
In the before times, Cara used to practice yoga in the hope of finding inner harmony, but really to tone her abs and arms.Namaste to that, she thought as she got up and headed back to the yurt.
Fisk was out front examining Lucretia’s front hooves.
“Had to remove a couple of pebbles, but she’s none the worse for yesterday’s wear,” he said.
“I have aches and pains in places I didn’t know I had,” Cara said.
“A few hard days in the high country will do that to a body.”
“How far did we go yesterday?”
“Probably eight miles as the crow flies but at least double that on the ground.”
Fisk slid a rope halter over Ruth’s muzzle. Lucretia and Joanie already had their leads on, and Maybelline was tied to a post, wearing saddlebags.
“What’s the plan for today?” Cara asked, expecting an answer along the lines of,Give a woman a fish and she eats. Teach her to fish in a crystal clear mountain lake, however... If they were going to be up here for a while, she needed to get outdoor savvy. ASAP.
“What’s your long-term plan?” he asked instead.
It was a good question. In fact, it wasthequestion. “I’ve been so distracted by trying to stay alive that I haven’t been able to really focus on the future until... well, now.”
“Here we are. It’s now.”
Whatdidshe want to do? Right after the verdict was read, with the courtroom spinning around her, Roy Abel had whispered, “This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”
He could have said anything—an asteroid just hit the earth, the judge is a cyborg, I have two Dodgers tickets, but I guess I’m not taking you—she knew it was just lip service. But now, maybe it wasn’t. The only thing Cara wanted more than to have Karl back was to prove she was innocent of his murder. Ironically, the best chance she had of making that happen was probably from prison, where, if she was extraordinarily lucky, she might live long enough for Abel to come up with a technicality or uncover new evidence and have the case reopened.
Going back to prison was a nonstarter.
In fact, she’d survived so many almost-endings in the last three days that she was definitely starting to believe in miraculous second chances. LaDonna was right: the Lord had truly giveth. With Fisk showing her how to live off the grid, it seemed possible to stay out of sight until she figured out her next best move.
“I guess I thought we’d stay here for a while until I can figure out how best to proceed,” she said.
“I figured you might say that.”
He headed toward the yurt, motioning for her to follow.
As Cara stepped through the squeaky aluminum front door, she saw that his sleeping bag had been stuffed in its sack. On the worn wooden stump that served as both countertop and dining table there was a PB&J, a log of sausage, some cheese, and other snacks similar to the ones they’d eaten along the trail.
“Are we leaving again?” she asked.
“I am. You’re welcome to stay here for as long as you want.”
He might as well have punched her in the stomach.
“By myself?”
“I need to make myself scarce until things blow over. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to go back to my place—assuming it hasn’t burned down by now. But they have to know we’re together, so I’m aiding and abetting a convicted murderer.”
“I really am sorry to have dragged you into all of this.”
He shrugged. “Shit happens.”
“Not this much shit.”
“War was worse,” he said. “To that end, the camo on top of the yurt is looking good, but with drones and satellites, you’re going to want to lie low during daylight. Best case scenario, they won’t find you until winter.”
