If I let out an answer, I won’t be able to hold anything in.

“It’s Therese,” Hampton says gravely.

Jasper rises to his feet, his face stricken. “Her family is in trouble. She ran through the desert to get help. She sacrificed . . .” His jaw trembles.

I squeeze Jefferson’s hand. Therese is a hero. Just like she wanted.

“Then we must go to them,” Becky says fiercely. “Right away.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

There’s no time to bury Therese properly, not if we want to help her family, but we wrap her tightly in the Major’s tent and weigh her down with rocks.

Her death can’t be for nothing. It can’t. So the only eulogy she gets is action. We have the oxen yoked and the wagon under way in record time. It heaves and jerks over the rocky trail, but Becky Joyner makes no complaint. She is so relieved to be alive that she cleans up and takes care of herself.

All through the night we press on, with only short breaks every hour to give the animals a few sips of water and some bites of bread. Peony’s head droops. The oxen cry piteously. Near dawn, the first one falters. Jefferson and I run to unyoke him and leave him behind.

We find the broken wagon around nine in the morning. The axle is shattered, but there were no spare parts—everything was discarded to lighten the load.

Jasper is quick to take charge. “We’ll organize our search from here,” he says. “We’ll take the horses and ride out in circles until we see their tracks or find—”

“No,” I say with certainty. The Hoffmans are not nearby. I don’t sense their secret gold stash at all.

“We shouldn’t separate,” Hampton says. “No one can survive out here alone.”

Everyone nods, except Jefferson, who stands with his head bowed, his shoulders slumped. I’ve never seen him look so defeated, not even when he was getting the worst of it from his da.

“Therese was clear,” I say. “Her father was trying to get through the desert on foot before he collapsed. We’ll keep to the trail until we catch up with them.”

“Are you sure?” Jasper says.

“I would gamble my life on it.”

Jefferson’s head snaps up. “Don’t say that.”

Jasper says, “Let’s grab the water barrel and any supplies from their wagon and go.”

In minutes, we’ve stripped it of everything useful and are pushing onward. An hour or so later, another ox drops to its front knees, then keels over to the side. We’re down to eight, with almost half of the desert yet to cross.

We pass one of the Hoffmans’ oxen, collapsed and dead. Then another. Above, huge buzzards glide in lazy circles. They’re the only creatures eating well in this godforsaken place.