Lightning strikes just up the road where the gray horse bolted off to. The storm’s right on top of us, and we got to get out from under this tree. We hurry into the open, picking our way over the brush, with him tugging at the chestnut horse who’s straining to keep out of the pouring rain. I slip on the wet grass and he catches my arm and tugs me upright and further out into the clear. Up the road, the gray horse comes thundering back our way, eyes wild.

“Hold her,” he shouts over the storm, thrusting the chestnut’s reins into my hands. Then he charges on to the road toward his frightened horse.

It rears up when he gets close to it, waving his arms, blocking the road. I gasp, thinking it’s going to trample him for sure, but he dives to the side as the horse comes down. He jumps up quick and snatches the reins, pulling the animal back down when it tries to rear again. He digs his injured hand into its mane, keeping a tight hold of the reins with the other hand, and settles it down to where it can walk. A few minutes later he leads it over to me and the chestnut where we stand in the rain.

Blood drips from his injured hand that hangs at his side.

“Your hand,” I say.

He lifts it and turns it over. There’s a long gash running clear across his palm.

“It needs yarrow leaf,” I say.

His eyes soften as he watches me curiously. “Have you got some, then?”

Dropping the reins of his horse, I hurry over to a patch of scraggly plants growing in a clump, and pick a few spindly leaves, wiping them clean on my wet dress. I put them in my mouth, chew quickly and run back over to him. Taking the chewed leaves from my mouth, I lay them over his palm. He lets me do it. Then I tear a strip off the bottom of my dress and wrap it around his hand, tying it tight. If Momma could see me now, ripping up my dress to fix some strange white man’s hand, she’d have a fit.

After I’ve tied the cloth, I look up and he’s staring down at me. More than that, he’s staring into me. His blue eyes trap my brown ones and pull me right out of myself.

The noise of the rain pounding down around us fills my ears, so I don’t know how I hear his whispered “thank you” as clear as I do. A ghost of a smile plays at his mouth, climbing up his face until it lights up his eyes.

I’m still holding on to his hand. His pale skin in my dark fingers brings me back to my senses. I let him go and run through the downpour, pretending I don’t hear when he calls out for me to wait.

Chapter 10

Henry

I stay under the oak tree for the night and let the storm pass. In the morning the sun is already bright as it climbs up the east and my hand feels a good sight better. But I linger, finding myself looking up the road she disappeared down.