“Never.  They can shoot me, hang me.  My father can threaten anything he wants, Tobias too.  I refuse.  Nobody can make me do it, and if they try, I swear I’ll find a gun somewhere and do something with it and then they can put me in jail.”  She stopped.  “This is a vow I’m making to myself, but also I’m making it to you.  Remember that I’ll go just as crazy not knowing where you are or even if you’re still alive.”

Chace turned away.  When he came back to her, his eyes stayed on her healed face touched now by the sun, her butchered hair that still shone in the light.

“There are many kinds of pain.  I’ll be beyond the desert, in the high canyons, the last untouched land, the last emptiness.  I won’t die, I’m already dead.  And I am about to die again.”

She tried, but could find no words.  She could only choke back tears.  She watched him will his calm, unfazed expression to return.

“Do you have a plan for what happens after the fort?”

“Bread and geese.”

“That’s all of it?”

“Criticize your own plan,” she said.  “Leave mine alone.”

“Do you have thoughts on where you’d go?”

“None.  But I’ll send you a letter when I figure it out.  Not that you’ll ever get it.”

“You know you can’t hurt me,” he said.  “It’s not possible.”

“You can’t hurt me either.  Well, yes you can.”  She gathered what strength she had.  “But I said I understand and I do.  I wouldn’t ever try to take that from you, what you have to do and who you need to be.”  She fought hard to keep her emotions from showing, and succeeded, at least for the moment.

24

24

Charlotte tried to prepare breakfast with care, committing every motion, every ingredient to memory, but her mind still belonged to Chace in the night, as he had belonged to her.

She concentrated on slicing up the cornbread she’d made the day before.  She set the iron skillet on the fire.  When the bacon was fried, she added the slices and dried apples to the fat.  Her thoughts lost among the sizzling and popping sounds, she suddenly looked up.

She was alone and there was a man on a horse in front of her.  She stood up so fast she almost knocked over the pan.  Quickly she took it off the fire.  Where was the rifle?  For once, when she needed it most, she didn’t know.  The man was solidly built with a sun-creased face.  He wore an old plaid shirt, a vest, dusty boots, a long jacket and a gun.  His rifle was holstered, she saw that.

“Who are you?” she said.  “What do you want?”