By midmorning Ruth had begun to resent the sight of Wade. He rode on the higher ground where the walking was easier, never close enough to argue with, never far enough to forget. Asa and a third ranch hand, Ellis, took turns coming into view. Harlan stayed where Ruth couldn't see him, which was worse.
She knew what he was doing. He had used the same patience on a horse that wouldn't load. Make the place it stood uncomfortable. Leave the place you wanted it open.
They could turn back. He had made that clear. Every other direction held men.
Carmela came alongside Ruth, Eva nodding against her chest. Neither woman had slept enough. Ruth's mouth tasted of coffee reheated in an unwashed pot.
“Take her a while,” Carmela said.
Ruth reached for the child. Eva woke with a cry, offended by the interruption, and clutched her mother's sleeve.
“Not you.”
Ruth lowered her hands.
“She's been up since before you were,” Carmela said, without apology for either of them. She settled Eva again. “Do you remember the red wagon?”
“Which red wagon?”
“The axle broke. Luis was little. You put it down as damage.”
Ruth remembered a wheel in the dust, Mateo furious, Harlan dictating from the doorway of his office.
“I copied what he gave me.”
“Mateo told him the iron was cracked before he took it out. He'd asked for another.”
“I didn't know that.”
“You were standing there.”
Ruth looked away. In her memory she had been standing there with a basket of washing, wondering whether the blue blouse could be mended. Mateo had said something. Harlan had answered. She had not thought the exchange belonged to her.
“How much?” she asked.
“Twenty-eight dollars.”
She remembered the figure before Carmela finished saying it. A fine large amount for her tidy column. And she had signed the account at the bottom because Harlan said figures without a name invited disputes.
“Luis was sick that winter,” Carmela said. “We needed to buy things away from the store. Mateo asked for wages in money. Harlan said there was the axle to pay for first.”
Eva's head rolled. Carmela cupped it back against her.
Ruth had been twenty-two. She had saved enough that year to buy a new saddle. Harlan had congratulated her on keeping a business head.
“I'm sorry,” she said.
Carmela stared ahead at the horses. “Don't tell me you didn't know the iron. You knew he could write down whatever he liked.”
Ruth couldn't get air far into her chest.
“I knew.”
Carmela nodded once, as if Ruth had at last given the right answer to a practical question, and rode toward Teresa.
For the next mile Ruth could hardly see the trail. She kept Lark at the front because movement was something she knew how to do. When a pack slipped behind her, she heard Mateo call and turned too sharply, disturbing the mares at the edge.
“Slow,” Benito shouted. “You want them all coming?”
She checked herself. The brown pack gelding stood with one load swinging against his foreleg. Teresa had dismounted. A strap had pulled through a rotten hole and the weight on the other side was taking the pack under him.
Ruth slid down and caught the load. The gelding jumped against her. She braced with her shoulder while Teresa cut the failing strap.
“Don't cut the other,” Ruth said.
“I can see it.”
They lowered the pack together. Carmela took the lead. The horse stood trembling while Inés fetched the spare leather and Mateo came stiffly out of his saddle.
On the slope Wade had stopped.
Asa began riding down.
Ruth reached for her rifle. Teresa slapped her wrist.
“Hold this first.”
The loose pack was sliding again. Ruth caught it. Mateo put himself where Asa could see the shotgun without putting its muzzle toward the children.
Asa stopped beyond speaking distance. He looked at the gun, then at the horses milling ahead. Ruth waited for him to dismount. Instead he turned his horse along the flank, forcing three mares back toward the broken pack.
“Give us room,” she called.
He brought them a step closer. Benito rode down to turn the mares before they crowded Teresa against the gelding.
Mateo lifted the shotgun clear of his saddle.
Asa stopped.
Asa turned uphill.
Teresa worked a new strap through the ring, her fingers moving quickly. Ruth held the weight until her shoulder began to burn, then shifted her feet and held on.
When the pack was secure, Mateo checked the pad beneath it and nodded.
“That'll carry.”
They reached Cottonwood Seep late in the afternoon, fourteen miles beyond the first spring. The name promised a trickle, but below the clustered trees a stock pond held enough water for the herd. Mateo tested the bank before letting the horses down. Benito took the far side, Carmela the near. Ruth counted them as they drank.
Harlan sat his horse on a rise with the sun behind him.
She couldn't see his face. She knew, nevertheless, that he was waiting for her to look back.
She turned to the next ten horses and kept counting.