Wedging his boots in the stirrups to keep him steady, he thrust his arm into the water, searching, coming back with nothing but rock and silt, then again, and again,goddamnit Laurie—
Laurie’s ice-cold hand scraped at his wrist from under the surface.
Decker yanked him up by his sodden coat-cuff, straining against the pull of the river as Sitara sank again, then struck out towards the looming bank.
He hauled at the heavy layers of wool, throwing his weight against Laurie and dragging him over the saddle horn.
Sitara caught her balance, squealing and gnashing her teeth as her hooves caught. She lunged out of the river and charged up the incline and Decker clung to Laurie, hands knotted in her mane on either side of him. She lurched to a snorting, quivering halt.
Laurie lay still across her saddle.
Frigid water, north wind, human mortality. Shit.
Decker leapt down, his chest clenching as he threw Laurie to the ground, hands going to his cold face, blue lips, stiff hands.
“Laurie.”
You weren’t under long, take a breath, damnit.
Decker jostled him, held a hand above his mouth, pressed his palms flat against his chest. “Come on, preacher.”
His heart tapped weakly against Decker’s hand and something uncurled in Decker’s stomach. That feeling after catching a runaway horse or making distance between himself and a rattler. Uncomfortable, like he’d been worried.
Maybe he had been. He couldn’t bury another friend.
Laurie shuddered and Decker grabbed a handful of his coat, rolling him to his side as he hacked, retching up river water. He finally dragged in a full breath.
“You didn’t let go of me,” Laurie rasped.
“I said there were easier ways of getting rid of you.” A slight smile flitted to Decker’s lips, but the wind dragged it away. “Don’t drink the water next time.”
Helping him to his feet, Decker thumped him on the back, throwing him into another coughing fit.
Blue lips finally cracked and wavered into a smile.
Decker swung back into the soaked saddle, offering him his hand. It trembled slightly, even though he didn’t feel the cold.
This time Laurie took it.
Once they were in the saddle, Sitara charged ahead, the muscles under her slick hide coiling and lengthening, her stride eating away at brown grass snapping in the wind. Lights pricked the distance like a sheet of stars across the prairie.
Laurie shuddered behind him and pressed closer. Decker had the sense it was for comfort instead of practicality.
The preacher huffed a laugh that sounded more like an attempt to silence his chattering teeth. “I d-doubt he’ll be interested in letting us look around his church in the middle of the night.”
“I won’t be asking.”
“Surely you’re not p-planning on threatening the priest? Decker, that’s…”
“Possibly necessary to prevent more plagues?” Decker twisted in the saddle and caught a glimpse of Laurie’s pale face.
He looked worse after the river, and his blue lips pursed in disapproval.
Silver Creek sprawled ahead of them and Decker’s tone softened as Sitara slowed to a walk. “We get in, we find Whitton, we get out.”
“And if we get caught?” Laurie asked, which seemed to be the particular reason why he didn’t want to help with less than legal activities.
“Then you’ll flash your pretty brown eyes and distract him while I try to find Whitton.”
