Page 83 of Dark Sky

For the thousandth time in the last year, he asked himself why Sophia had been taken away from him, leaving these two in her place.

The guilt he felt about Sophia was paralyzing to him at times. It wasn’t her fault, it washis. He recalled her firmness, her smell, her blond hair, her innocence. The fact that she was the only female in the house after his wife left him. Her realization that what he asked of her was wrong, and his pledge to her to stop, now that she was older.

But before he could follow through on that pledge, Steve-2 Price had intruded, and he’d taken her away from him. Before he could make things right.

—

After he’d walked it off and wiped tears from his eyes no one would ever see, Earl returned to his sons and the horses. No one said a word.

This was how a Thomas male dealt with things, Earl thought: by not addressing them once the storm had passed. It had served them well over the years.

Earl mounted up and said, “We better get going if we’re going to find that asshole.”

“What about Joe?” Kirby asked.

“Fuck him,” Earl said. “He didn’t have to protect that prick or shoot either one of you. What happens, happens. He brought this on himself.”

“Fuggin’ ride,” Brad replied.

Brad was back in the fold, Earl thought. Kirby, he wasn’t as sure about.

TWENTY-TWO

The Vibram sole of Joe’s boot slipped off the icy surface of a perfectly round river rock in the dark and he lost his balance and performed a clumsy dance from rock to rock, his arms windmilling, until he hurtled away from the creek as if launched and hit face-first into the trunk of a spruce tree, where he collapsed in a jumble of arms, legs, and the J. C. Higgins Sears and Roebuck Model 41.

He found himself sitting down with his back to the trunk and his legs spread as bright yellow spangles passed across his vision like so many electric clouds.

“Wow,” Price said from where he’d been stepping from rock to rock on the creek bed. “That was quite a spectacular crash.”

Then, after a beat: “Are you okay?”

Joe closed his eyes, but the spangles didn’t quit. He did a mental assessment of his limbs and torso. Nothing broken, he didn’t think. He reached up and touched the growing gooseegg above his right eyebrow with the tips of his fingers. He didn’t feel any blood.

“I’m okay, sort of,” he said. “But I need a minute.”

“You’re not the only one,” Price said. The man carefully negotiated the river rocks and joined Joe beneath the tree. Price sat down heavily and sighed. Both men simply breathed in and out, in and out, resting while their lungs stopped burning from exhaustion.

To avoid leaving tracks in the snow, Joe had led them down the middle of the small unnamed creek. It was treacherous footing made worse by the darkness. Joe’s left sock was soaked through from an earlier mishap when his foot had glanced off a slick rock and plunged into a small pool up to his knee. Icy water had poured in over the top of his waterproof boot and it now squished with the sound of a wet kiss when he walked. Under any other circumstance, Joe would have stopped to dry out his sock before proceeding. But he couldn’t afford to do that now.

“I can’t believe you didn’t fall down until you hit that tree,” Price said. “I wish I’d had my phone to get a video of it.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“How long can we rest before we have to get going again?”

“I’m not resting. I’m waiting for my vision to clear.”

“You know what I mean.”

“The answer is, not long.”

“How far do you think they’re behind us?”

“No idea. But I’d guess thirty minutes at most.”

Price let his head rock back out of frustration, but he hit it on the trunk and it made a hollow sound.

“Ouch.”

---