“I’m so sorry,” I say quickly, and Cypress immediately looks concerned.
“Why?”
“I slept in the wagon.”
He stares at me. “Yes.”
“I took your beds.”
Cypress chuckles. “You did no such thing, although you are welcome to.” He must see the need for clarity still on my face because he quickly explains, “I don’t sleep in the wagon unless it’s a necessity. Neither does Aiden.”
“You don’t?” In all the months we’d spent on the wagon train, my family and I had always slept inside, no matter how tight the quarters. “Why not?”
He stands, brushing the dirt off his pants before straightening. “Can’t see the sky.”
“But you’re sleeping. You wouldn’t see it anyway.”
“I’ve told myself the same, but I cannot be convinced,” he says then shrugs. “How about some breakfast?”
I laugh, remembering last night’s conversation about how he’s always trying to feed me. In truth, I’d eaten so much deer meat and so many potatoes before falling asleep that I’m not nearly as hungry as I normally am. A good thing, because when I see myself in a small mirror hung on the side of the wagon, I determine there is only one need that can take priority.
“Is there a place I could wash up?” I ask Cypress, taking a stepback as if that will keep him from seeing the sheen of sweat near my collar or the decidedly wild tilt of my curls. “Before we eat?”
He nods, gesturing off to his left in the opposite direction of wherever Aiden had taken off to. “There’s a stream not too far that way. Wasn’t too cold when I was there earlier this morning, and it’s fairly deep.”
“Thank you,” I say, feeling almost excited by the prospect as I look around for my things. “Do you know where…”
“Aiden put your bag in the wagon,” Cypress says, making a point to add, “He’s the one who made sure to collect everything for you.”
I’m touched by the gesture, even if he now seems completely uninterested in being near either me or my belongings. “That was kind of him.”
“Indeed it was,” Cypress agrees, his expression amused, and I’m about to ask him what is so funny before I catch sight of myself again and decide that bathing is not something that can wait.
A few minutes later, I’m heading in the direction of the stream with Tess ambling along happily enough by my side, even if it had taken a bit of convincing to get her to leave Cypress’s horse behind. I can’t really blame her, since she’s been sorely lacking in consistent company as much as I have been.
“Doesn’t hurt that he’s very handsome, too, I suppose,” I say to her, not entirely sure I’m still talking about the horses when I add, “They both are.”
Up ahead, a small grove of trees comes into view before the sound of the stream greets my ears, growing loud enough by the time I reach the bank that it almost drowns out my happy sigh. I can hardly wait until I’m able to get off this dress, but I still am nervous stripping out in the open air. I look around more than once before finally ducking behind a tree, leaving my clothes in a rumpled heap, and making a dash for the water. I gasp as I wadein, the chill seeping into my bones, but I don’t care enough to stop until I sink up to my neck in the center of the stream.
It feels heavenly to drift here for a while, weightless as the lazy current washes away days of dirt and as the cool water soothes lingering bruises. I carefully touch each one before I finally feel up to the task of lathering myself with the bar of soap from my bag, taking extra care to work through the tangles in my hair where the strike to my head still stings.
I’m glad they’re dead,I think as I wince at how tender it is.They were bad people. I’m glad they’re dead.I close my eyes and put my head beneath the water, everything going quiet but my thoughts.Does that make me bad, too?
Surely a godly person would pray for their souls. Would mourn the loss of life. Would try to find a way to forgive. Although, my mother was the most pious person I knew, and she had done none of those things for my father.
I doubt she had done them for me either.
The sound of rapid hoofbeats when I resurface pulls me back into my surroundings, and at first, I worry Tess has run off until I look over to see her napping in the shade a ways off from the bank. Which can only mean… I quickly slink behind a rocky outcrop, dipping down into the water until only my eyes and nose are above the surface right as a highly recognizable rider comes into view.
Aiden.
He dismounts before his horse even comes to a full stop, but he’s steady on his feet when he hits the ground, no more than twenty paces from where I’m hiding.
He heads for the edge of the water, crouching once he reaches it and dipping a hand into the stream before bringing it to the back of his neck. As he does, he seems to be breathing heavy, winded like he’s been running, too.
“Fuck,” I hear him say, then a more decisive, “Fuck.”
He stands again along the water’s edge, facing away from me with one of his hands dragging at his hair beneath his hat, and I use the opportunity to move just enough to try to warm up my limbs now that I’m stuck stationary. The water feels like it’s growing colder with every passing moment.