laughed. “But thank you.”
“Suppose you’ll come around the house for dinner?” he asked as they walked out of the heat of the shop into the cool afternoon light.
“No, Mr. Gregor,” Rose said. “I’ll be traveling too.”
“Ah,” he said, his hands behind his back. “Send me a postcard when you’ve piloted your first airship.”
At those words, Cedar watched Rose Small light up. “I promise you I will. Might even drop it out of the hatch as I float over the top of your house on my way to China.”
Mr. Gregor chuckled and glanced over his shoulder at his house, restless.
“Well, then,” Cedar said. “We should be on our way, and I’m sure your son wants to see you. Good day, Mr. Gregor.”
“You’re a fine and decent man, Mr. Hunt. And always welcome in the Gregors’ home for generations to come.”
Cedar shook Mr. Gregor’s hand, surprised at how that offer brought a smile to his lips. It had been a long time since he had thought he had a place he belonged in this world. A place he was welcome.
“Thank you, Mr. Gregor.”
Cedar swung up onto his horse, holding his breath against the shot of pain in his side. He pressed his elbow against the bandage bound there beneath his coat, hoping to stem the weeping of the wound.
Rose Small gave Mr. Gregor a huge hug. He patted her fondly on the back and looked up at Cedar. “See that you take care of her for me, Mr. Hunt.”
Cedar nodded. “I’ll do what I can. Though she’s done a fair job minding her own self.”
Rose Small hitched up into her saddle and gathered the reins. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll be enough trouble to keep us both busy, Mr. Hunt.”
“No doubt,” he drawled.
They turned and rode down the main street a bit.
“Did you want to say good-bye to your parents?” Cedar finally asked.
He watched as Rose Small’s smile went from a sparking hot flame down to a lantern’s dim glow. “No, thank you. We’ve had our say. A whole lifetime of it.”
As they passed in front of the mercantile, Rose’s mother came out of the shop with a broom and started sweeping. When she noticed Rose riding past, she stopped and held one hand up, as if to wave. But Rose Small kept her gaze on the horizon, curiosity bright in her eyes, and a small smile curving her lips.
Cedar Hunt was glad it didn’t take long to gather supplies, including Mae’s mule, Prudence, whom they had found contentedly foraging in the forest. He wanted to start on the road today and get a ways from town before the people there decided they were to blame for the rail disaster.
His only concern was Wil.
Cedar finished checking on the mule, his horse, and the horse Rose had taken from the rail. They were on long leads beneath the trees, near enough they could make acquaintance, and far enough they wouldn’t foul each other’s lines.
That done, he stepped into his cabin, pulling his hat from his head as if he were entering a church instead of his humble shack.
There had never been so many people in his house. He paused just inside the door, not wanting to get in the women’s way. Rose was packing the last of the foodstuff from his cupboard and Mae was sitting on the chest she’d dragged over to his cot, checking on one of Wil’s many wounds.
Wil was still in wolf form and sleeping on the cot.
“I think this is about all that’ll take to the road,” Rose was saying.
“Not much for herbs and medicine, though we can probably gather some as we go. Perhaps we can stop in a town or city for supplies. A city,” she said, as if dreaming, “wouldn’t that be grand?” She turned, saw Cedar standing with his hat in his hands looking at Mae, and gave him a curious frown. “Have you seen to the horses, Mr. Hunt?”
Mae looked away from Wil, and over at Cedar.
“I have,” Cedar said. “They’re about set to go.”
Rose hefted up the two satchels of food. “I’ll just take this out, then. Unless you need me for anything?” she asked Mae.
Mae was still staring at Cedar, though he pretended not to notice.
“Mrs. Lindson?” Rose said.
Mae seemed to come to. “No. I’ll be fine. I’m fine. Go on ahead.” Rose nodded and walked up to Cedar, who stepped aside so she could use the door. She gave him a look as she walked past, maybe a warning, maybe an encouragement. Since she also rolled her eyes toward Mae, all he figured was she was telling him to not bother the widow too much.
Mae had gone back to lifting and replacing the compresses on Wil’s side. The cloths were not as bloody as last he’d seen them.
“How is he?” Cedar walked a short bit across the room and stopped halfway. The memory of her hands soothing his own wounds washed through his mind.
“Recovering more quickly than I’d thought,” Mae said. “The curse at least gives him that.”
She stood and Cedar could see the red line of scratches along the back of her neck, and the stiffness in her shoulders that hinted at more injuries beneath her long-sleeved dress. She’d spent the day working herbs to see to all their wounds, her own included, but it was clear she was near exhausted.
“Do you think he’ll be up for travel today?” Cedar didn’t know why he asked that. They’d already talked it over and decided they’d head out, even if it meant wrapping Wil up and putting him on a sled behind one of the horses.
“I think he’ll be up in the next hour or so. To eat. Then we’ll see how much more he can endure.” Mae finally turned.
Her eyes were red, glossy with unshed tears, even though her voice was flat and steady. “I don’t . . . I don’t know how much more . . .” She shook her head.
“He’ll be fine,” Cedar said gently. He walked the distance between them and, after a moment’s hesitation, rested his hand on her arm. “We’re all going to be fine.”
Mae stared at his shoulder, stiff, unbreathing. Then she stepped that much closer to him and placed her head on his chest, and her right hand on his arm, just as his was on hers.
Cedar inhaled the sweet scent of her, and swallowed hard. He held very still, not daring to comfort her, to pull her in against his body, to wrap his arms around her tightly and hold her as he desired, safe against the pain. There was no safety against this kind of pain, and the only comfort was time.
Mae cried, very, very quietly, while Cedar stared at the wall, holding his emotions under lock and key. Time was the only, and the kindest, thing he could give to her.
Finally, she took a deeper breath, held it, and let it out. Her hand clenched his shirtsleeve for the briefest moment, as she steeled herself to face the world again.
When she pulled back, her eyes were dry.
“Mr. Hunt,” she began awkwardly, glancing from his tearstained shoulder to his mouth to the wall behind him, seeming uncertain of how to explain herself, “I didn’t—”
“Do you need a hand waking Wil?” Cedar smoothly interrupted. He stepped around her, careful not to let his fingers linger against her arm, careful not to touch her again, for fear of what he might do. He walked over to the cot, placing his hand on his brother’s side.
Mae didn’t answer for a moment, then, “Yes,” she said on a grateful exhalation. “He responds to you much better than to me.”
Cedar called Wil’s name and smiled when he opened his eyes. It was a marvel to him that his brother was alive, even though he was still under the curse’s hold.
Mae brought out a slab of venison and put it on the floor. With the meat as encouragement, Wil stepped down off the cot and ate and drank. Then he walked a slow circle around Cedar, and a wider circle around the room, his limp easing some the more he moved. Finally, he glanced up at Cedar, copper brown eyes filled with a man’s intelligence and curiosity.
