They fell into silence. She kept her arm around the dog’s neck. His presence comforted her, especially since Kit seemed to be growing increasingly distant as they waited. He also winced a time or two, and not just because of the bruise around his eye.
When he did it the third time, Elise said, “I noticed that you seem to hold your side from time to time. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he replied without looking at her. Instead, he watched the road.
“You could have been grievously injured last night.”Protecting me, she remembered guiltily.
“We both could have.”
He might dismiss the danger of the accident, but the wreckage spoke volumes. The splintered wood, destroyed wheels, and mangled seats bore home that they could have ended up like the coachmen.
She tried to change her thinking. “Where were you traveling?”
His gaze swung to meet hers. His brows beneath his hat brim lifted. He studied her before he answered, “No place of importance.”
“You were just traveling?” The idea puzzled her.
“One direction is as any other.” He turned away.
Elise fell quiet, done attempting to be polite.
A few other travelers came their way. They asked questions about the wreck, shook theirheads over the deaths, and marveled over how lucky anyone was to be alive. Elise left the conversation to Kit.
Instead, she talked to the dog. “You will have to return home,” she told him gently. “We appreciate your help, but I can’t take you to Ireland.”
The dog acted as if her words were hurtful. “Oh, please,” she whispered. “Don’t look at me that way.”
“He’s skinny. Can’t you see?” Kit said. “He is as stranded as we are. He doesn’t have a home.”
But before more could be said, she heard the rumbling of a team of horses.
The Mail.Elise jumped up. Kit walked over beside her. The dog sat up but did not join them.
They watched the red-and-yellow Mail Coach come charging into view. Elise had never been so happy to see a vehicle in her life. She waved her arms for it to stop.
The guard blew his horn. The coachman slowed the horses and brought them to a halt. Passengers sat on the roof. A few of them Elise thought she recognized from the night before.
“What happened here?” the driver said in alarm, setting his brake.
“There was a wreck,” Kit replied, approaching him. “The coachman and guard are dead.”
“Morris, dead?” the driver echoed.
He looked back to the guard who muttered, “Sad business.”
“Well, then here, let us look at this.” The driverclimbed down while the passengers craned their necks or leaned out of the windows to see what had happened.
Kit handled the matter of the bodies. Male passengers helped lift them out of the wreckage. Elise looked away. A tarpaulin was found, and the bodies were bound in it.
The driver was obviously upset. He sobbed nosily, his nose turning red with his grief. Apparently he and Morris had been good friends. He personally transported a small strongbox and the mail over to his vehicle.
Elise petted the dog, appreciating the animal’s presence while others dealt with the sadness of the wreckage.
Kit even aided the driver and guard in tying the bodies to the top of the roof. Several passengers sitting up there made a protest, but the driver would not hear of it. “Gave his life to this road. You can just button it up,” he said.
When all was done, the driver held out a gloved hand to Kit. “Thank you, man, for your help.”
“It was the least I could do. Now, where can we pack ourselves? I must take the dog.” He said this as if it were established fact. “I’ll sit on the roof. Even by the bodies.”
