Page 129 of True North

Ned nods. “Got it, boss.”

Mick grunts, looking at the mountain like she’s gonna eat him. He’s probably not too far off with that assessment. There is no doubt it’s going to be hard going. He flicks his gaze back to me and says, “You think you’ll need that?”

He nods to the rifle at my back.

“Maybe. I ain’t takin’ any chances. Every beast counts,” Harry answers before I can.

“Yeah, you said that already,” the ex-sailor drawls, looking about as interested in being here as a nun at a brothel’s grand opening.

I slide the rifle from my back and hand it to Ned. “You two should have one.”

I look to Harry, but he dips his hat and trots down the laneway heading for the fields flanking the mountains’ base.

Here goes nothin’.

I take off after him on Mara.

When I glance back, Ned and Mick are riding for the southern fields. With Harry giving them the rundown a few days ago, going over the property lines on the map, they have a solid idea of where to ride and what to look for. The head count, after the wolves, is lighter than we hoped. If we can get them all down and sell off the calves, weaners, and any older cows who are calved out, we might make our first payment.

Might.

Harry’s kept the finances close to his chest since our visit to the bank. It’s eating at him. I have a feeling the next five days are going to be the hardest of my life. I glance back at the willows surrounding the house. The wind plays with their long green tendrils.

“A little help here, Ma,” I whisper to the trees and push Mara faster to catch up to Harry.

I know she can hear me.

* * *

The bad weather rolls in on our second night. Harry and I have set up camp with a small herd in a narrow pocket nestled on the side of the mountain. As if the thunder rumbling in the distance isn’t concern enough, the howls of a pack of wolves nearby have both the cattle and me spooked.

Harry sits on a fallen log, chewing on the stalk of grass he plucked from the ground earlier. He hasn’t said a word since we stopped to set up camp. But the storm has found its way into his eyes.

Digging through our provisions for the trip, my fingers brush cold metal. Flat.

Round and modular.

I pull it from the satchel.

A flask, a larger one.

I didn’t put that in there...

I unscrew the lid.

Whiskey fumes hit my senses, and I stifle a cough. I clear my throat and take a sip. It burns, almost producing another round of coughing.

It’s a stark contrast to the snow-covered ground and crisp air that’s smothered everything. Lightning flashes overhead. I move back to Harry’s side and hand him the flask.

“That’s for our last night on the mountain, darlin’.”

“It is? You makin’ plans for me?”

I narrow my eyes at him playfully.

A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth.

“Louisa May, I’ve always had plans for you.”

---