Any direction is better than back, I tell myself firmly. Soon enough, with the sun low and me still not home, Hiram will realize I’m gone. He might be searching already. I did my best to misdirect him toward the sea route, but what if it wasn’t enough? There could be men on the road right now, pattyrollers or borrowed miners, coming to ride me down. Maybe they’ll ambush me, bursting out of one of these silent, gloomy trails.

I can’t help myself; I swing back into Peony’s saddle and urge her forward. She tosses her head in protest. “It’s just a few days of hard travel. Once we’re out of Georgia, we can slow down a little.” I reach down and pat her neck. Even in the fading light, she’s a beautiful animal, with a shimmery golden coat and a flaxen mane and tail.

“Peony,” I say, pulling her up and sliding off again. “We’ve got a problem.”

Everyone for miles knows “Lucky’s palomino.” She’s even more recognizable than I am, with a coat bright enough to shine in the twilit gloom. I whip off my gloves and stash them in my pocket. With my bare hands, I shove aside some slushy snow and scoop up the mud beneath it. When I lift it toward Peony’s neck, she twists her head away.

“Sorry, girl, but everyone knows that pretty coat of yours.”

Working fast, I smear mud down the side of her neck. She nips the space near my ear in warning. That’s the thing about Peony—she’s sweet most of the time, but if you do something she doesn’t like, she’ll let you know. Daddy used to say she and I got along so well because we had a few things in common.

“Hold still!” I rub a little mud on her flanks, wary of an impending kick. When I smooth it down her rear legs, she whips her tail around to swat my face.

I give her reins some slack and step back to see how she looks.

“Blast.”

It’s only my first day on the road, and I’ve already made a huge mistake. She’s exactly the same horse as before, with her proud bearing and corn silk mane and a glorious tail that almost brushes the ground. Now, she’s muddied up in a way that will draw even more attention, and the precious time I spent disguising her is a total waste.

I start to climb back on, but I pause, foot in the stirrup. There’s another bit of business I should take care of while we’re stopped. The delay might add up to another huge mistake, but ignoring the task could be worse.

Every decision I make right now feels like the wrong one. I’ll just have to be quick.