In the cold before dawn, Ruth couldn't get the horses to gather.
They had spread across the hollow during the last watch, grazing where grass grew between stones. One mare kept moving away when Benito approached. Another had found a patch she refused to abandon. The animals weren't wild or frightened. They were hungry, and a hungry horse had no interest in the importance people assigned to a particular morning.
Ruth bit her tongue and rode farther out, giving Lark time to walk. Moth lifted her head, considered the choice, and went back to eating.
“You said she'd follow a bucket,” Ruth called to Benito.
“Then get the oats,” Benito called. “They're still in the pack.”
A shake of the pan got Moth moving. They had to ride out for the others.
It took them the best part of an hour. By the time the horses were moving east, the sky had lightened and Ruth could see every face. Mateo had not slept much. Carmela had slept less. Teresa wore the expression she used when a sewing needle broke inside a seam and there was no spare nearby.
Eva refused to mount.
“My legs hurt.”
“They'll hurt on the ground,” Carmela said.
“I want the house.”
Everyone went still for a second. The child meant the kitchen, the warm corner by the stove, her own place on the floor. Ruth could see it as clearly as Eva could.
Carmela crouched in front of her.
“We're going to another house.”
“I don't like it.”
“You haven't seen it.”
“I don't like that either.”
Ruth turned away before her face could do something foolish. Luis dismounted and came over, blanket dragging from his saddle. He had tied it badly and now pretended that had been deliberate.
“You can ride with me.”
“Mother said—”
“For a little. Ask her.”
Carmela looked at his horse, a broad gelding with a patient eye, then at the boy's tired face.
“Until the rise. Walk him. No showing off.”
“Who would I show?”
Inés made a sound. Luis ignored her. He mounted, then bent to take his sister. Eva settled against him, pleased with the new arrangement for precisely as long as it took to discover his belt buckle pressed her back.
Ruth led on. They had eight miles to the last water, then eleven to the stock lane, then two more to the settlement. Twenty-one on the final day, the longest they had asked of the horses and the people. If they missed the wagons, there was nowhere good to end it.
After the rise Carmela took Eva back. Luis surrendered her without complaint. He stayed close for the next mile, one hand held behind him so his sister could catch it when she wanted.
Benito came alongside Ruth.
“Leave the loose ones.”
She looked back at the fifty-two animals spread behind them. Every turn needed riders. Every halt let them scatter. Once she had seen money in those backs. Now she saw hours.
“He'll come for the eight we're using.”
“He'll come anyway.”
“Loose them here and half go back along the road. His men pick them up and ride straight at us with nothing in their way.”
Benito understood. His mouth tightened. “So we herd for him all the way.”
Ruth didn't answer. There wasn't a better description.
They passed an old side trail that would have cut a mile. Ellis sat at its mouth. He didn't draw a gun or call out. He merely sat there, making clear what that mile would cost. Benito moved his hand toward his belt, then took it away.
Ruth stayed on the stock road.
At a stony bend Mateo's horse stumbled. He made no sound, but Carmela turned so quickly Ruth knew she had been watching him. He waved her on. She didn't go until he did.
Farther down, the land opened. The mountains lay behind them, their ridges blue and hard in the early light. Ahead were low hills and the broader pale country toward the river. Ruth could see smoke far off, signs of homes that had nothing to do with Harlan. It seemed impossible that a place could exist where he had no chair at the table.
Then Lark stepped on a loose stone and Ruth was back in her body, her hands sore, her mouth dry, the rifle tapping her leg.
She dismounted for a short stretch to give the mare's back a rest. Moth came close enough to nose at Lark's tail. Ruth shooed her away. The mare returned, unoffended.
“You're too fond of us,” Ruth told her.
At the last rise before the water, Wade appeared on the ridge ahead. He didn't come down. He looked at the people, then rode out of sight toward the east.
They were no longer being followed.
They were being met.