“Easier maybe,” Eli said, the smile that came so effortlessly to him spreading again. “But less fun.”
“Fun,” Lynn grunted.
“Yeah, it’s what—”
“I know what fun is,” she shot back.
Eli’s hands went up in the air. “I’m only teasing.”
“Is that part of flirting?”
“A very important part,” Eli said with mock seriousness. “Looks like maybe there’s a thing or two I can teach you after all.”
Lynn rolled her eyes. “Yes, flirting. A necessary part of survival.”
“Well, technically—”
“Shut it,” Lynn said, and Eli snapped his jaw shut. “Is this what you city kids do all day? Sit around and let each other know how much fun you were having?”
“Sometimes. We go to school, some of us played sports or took music lessons. Read in our spare time. Just normal life, you know?” Eli shook his head. “No, I guess you probably don’t know. What I used to do with my day probably seems silly to you.”
“No,” Lynn said slowly, thinking over every word as she spoke. “It seems like it’d be kind of nice not spending every minute living working against dying.”
Eli watched her for a second in the quiet that fell between them. “When we found your place, when I saw you and your mom living there, I didn’t even consider taking it from you. I’d lost everything I had. I didn’t have the heart to take from someone else.”
“Plus I would’ve sniped your ass.”
“That too.”
“I guess maybe I’m glad I didn’t,” Lynn admitted.
“I’ll take that as flirting, country girl.”
Lynn kicked him under the table before standing. “We’re done for today, I need time to get back to the house in the light.”
Eli got up quickly. “Could you talk to Neva, before you go?”
Lynn’s mouth fell into the flat line that made her resemble Mother. “I’ll talk to her, but I can’t promise anything.”
The little grave was around a bend in the stream, not far from their new house, but out of sight because of the meandering path of the water. Lynn could make out the hunched form of Neva, perched on the dead trunk of a tree, keeping her vigil. Lynn purposely stepped on a twig, which snapped under boot like a gunshot. Neva did not move.
“Hey,” Lynn called out, suddenly anxious. “You all right?”
There was a small shrug underneath the pile of blankets that Eli had bunched around her, but Neva did not turn her head. Lynn pushed her way through the snow to stand by her side. The ground around the small pile of rocks had been cleared of fresh snow, swept clean of branches and debris.
“That’ll be pointless in about two days.”
“Then I’ll clear it again.”
Lynn sighed and sat down uninvited. Neva had changed too, since Lynn had met her, but for the worse. Despite the many layers of blankets and clothing, it was easy to see there was little left of her but bone and skin. A flash of pale showed between her coat cuff and mittens, and Lynn could see that her wrists were tiny, almost as small as Lucy’s. Her dark eyes were sunken, the circles underneath them lending to the thought that they might recede entirely into her skull. Even so, she was still alarmingly beautiful.
“So what now? We sit here trying to stop the snow from hitting the ground?”
“You don’t have any children, do you?” Neva didn’t turn when she spoke to Lynn but kept her eyes riveted on the grave.
“No.”
“That man that comes here, the cripple. Is he your family?”
“No, just a friend.”
“Do you have any family?”
“No. Mother was killed this past fall.” Lynn answered evenly, trusting her voice to stay strong. “She was all I had. I was injured and it was too difficult to put her in the ground by myself. I had to burn her.”
Neva was silent for a while, eyes focused on the ground at her feet. “I’m sorry for that,” she eventually said. “And I never thanked you for helping bury my son.”
Lynn had no response. They stared at the pile of stones together in silence.
“You’ve still got family left,” Lynn ventured. “Your Lucy, she loves you. Eli wants to take care of you.”
“My Lucy,” Neva repeated, her hollow voice cracking with emotion. “My poor little Lucy. We never should have tried to leave.”
“She’s all right here. Doing fine, really. She’s gaining weight, likes to play in the snow, her feet healed up real nice.”
“Her feet?”
“She was a mess when I took . . . when Eli gave her to me to take back to the house for a bit. The shoes she was wearing were way too small.”
A bitter smile cracked Neva’s dry lips apart. “See? That’s what kind of mother I am. My little girl was hobbling around the countryside starving.”
“She’s all right now, though.”
“Because she’s with you.”
“I do the best I can—but I’m no mother.”
Neva didn’t answer. Lynn wanted to reach out and shake her, but she was afraid it might cause real damage to the frail body. “She’s worried about you.”
Neva grimaced. “We’re out in the wild and she’s the one worried about me. She’s all I have left and I am completely incapable of taking care of her out here.”
It was Lynn’s turn to be silent and stare at the ground.
“She’s much better off with you,” Neva added.
“A little while longer,” Lynn said. “I’ll keep her a little while longer, but I want you to try. She’s your daughter, not mine.”
Lynn got to her feet. “C’mon, that’s enough of this. Eli’s been making himself crazy thinking about you out here freezing by yourself.”
“I’m sure he has. He’s always been chivalrous.”
“I don’t know what that means. Now, am I going to have to move you, or are you going to move yourself?”
For the first time, Neva turned her head and looked at Lynn. “I’ll move myself, thank you,” she said. Her knees nearly buckled when she stood, but she waved Lynn away and steadied herself. They walked toward the little house together, Lynn pacing herself slowly so that Neva could keep up.
“I know about what those men did to you,” she said hesitantly. “It was wrong.”
“Yes, it was.”
“I brought you something, in case anyone tries that again.”
Lynn reached into her coat and brought out a small derringer that she had taken from the gun trunk, which fit neatly into the palm of her hand.
“It’s a single shot, but it would do the trick at a short distance. I figured my shotgun would knock you on your ass, and the rifle takes some skill to fire. Even most of the handguns I have got a kick to ’em. But this one will take a man down, if he’s close, or at least scare him off.”
Neva considered the little pearl-handled gun. “Thank you,” she said, reaching for it.
“I’ll show you how to fire it.”
“Thank you,” Neva said again.
“Mother always called that one the whorehouse gun.”
“Charming.”
