“What are we supposed to do—”

“Who’s leaving—”

Bram threw up his hands to stem the flurry of words. “Please, please calm down, all of you. We’re working on the details, but we can’t leave before first light.”

“I’m going with you.” Peter’s face was flushed. “My wife, Stacy, and I are going with you.”

“I am too.” Grace’s hands were squeezed into fists.

Bram looked at Roy, Wyatt, and finally me. “We won’t force anyone to go, or to stay, but someone has to stay here with Angie and Cookie. And for those who go, this will be extremely difficult, not a casual trail ride. Think about it, and try to get a little sleep.”

“Be sure you’re not near a window,” Wyatt said.

People moved around, looking for comfortable chairs, throws, pillows, or cushions. Roy turned the lamps down so the room had a soft golden glow. Liam aimed for the kitchen, undoubtedly for another beer.

Bram came to Wyatt and me. “We need to take turns standing guard.”

“I’ll take the first watch,” Bram said. “Roy, I’ll need my Glock.”

Roy handed Bram the pistol.

Holly started barking. Outside, Maverick let out a howl.

I drew in a sharp breath.

The earthquake was short. Just a slight roll of the earth that left the hanging lamps swaying.

Holly flew to my side and I bent down to comfort her, then stood and looked for a place to sleep, though I felt restless and jumpy. My missing limb ached with phantom pain, and my PTSD made me irritable and on edge. I’d worn my prosthesis for more time than usual, and my residual limb was sore.

After pacing around the dining room, I pulled up a chair and sat at one of the tables. I tried rubbing my leg and tried not to scratch my neck. I could feel Bram’s gaze on me. I need a distraction, something to focus on.

I stood to pace when Bram walked over. “What’s wrong, Darby?”

Resisting the urge to bite his head off, I said, “Nothing. I’m peachy. Life is grand. What could possibly be wrong—”

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to bite my head off.”

So much for resisting urges. “Sorry.”

His shoulders drooped.

A weight dropped into my stomach. “Look, I really am sorry.” I waved my hand as if to wipe away my nasty comments, then turned and strolled to the map. Vast tracks of wilderness surrounded Mule Shoe. Nobody knew we needed help. And one person or maybe two were bent on killing us.

And Bram . . . well, I knew my life would be like this. Single, simple, sane.

I spun and searched for something, anything, to break this chain of thinking. I finally slapped my hand. Hard. That hurt.

Bram’s head jerked up. “Darby?”