"Deal." They kept riding east through territories that got greener and wetter as they went. Through towns that got bigger and more crowded. Through a world that felt increasingly foreign to Rhett.
He'd spent years in the empty spaces. The forgotten corners. The places where you could disappear. This was the opposite.
Too many people. Too much noise. Too many eyes. But Ayah navigated it all with a calm determination that amazed him.
She'd spent her whole life as an outsider, and somehow that made her better at blending in than Rhett ever was. She knew when to keep her head down. When to smile. When to let her Apache features show and when to hide them under a bonnet and shawl.
They reached St. Louis in late summer. The Mississippi River, vast and brown and smelling like civilization. Rhett had been there once before, years ago, running from something he couldn't quite remember. It looked the same.
Crowded docks. Tall buildings. People moving with purpose and speed that made his head spin. "How far to Washington?" Ayah asked, staring at a map they'd bought from a street vendor.
"Another week, maybe, if we can catch a train." "Can we afford it?" Rhett counted the money they had left. What he'd earned selling their spare horse.
What Ayah had made mending clothes for travelers they'd met on the road. Barely enough. "We'll make it work," he said. They bought the cheapest tickets they could find.
Third-class passage on a train that rattled like it was held together with prayers. The other passengers were immigrants, mostly families heading east for factory work. Old men with weathered faces who looked like they'd worked their whole lives and had nothing to show for it. Ayah sat by the window, watching the landscape blur past.
Fields and forests and towns that all started to look the same. Rhett sat beside her, one hand on the canvas bag that held the ledger and documents, hyper-aware of every person who walked past their compartment. "You think they'll listen?" Ayah asked quietly.
"When we get there. You think anyone will actually care?" "I don't know. But we have to try."
"And if they don't? If we traveled all this way for nothing?" Rhett didn't have a good answer for that. He'd been trying not to think about it.
About the possibility that they'd risked everything only to be ignored, dismissed, or arrested. "Then at least we'll know we tried," he finally said. "And maybe someone will care."
"Maybe not today, but someday. Someone will read these documents and know what happened and do something about it." "That's optimistic for you." "You're rubbing off on me."
She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Rhett squeezed her hand, and they rode in silence as the train carried them toward whatever waited in Washington. The capital was overwhelming. Rhett had never seen so many buildings.
So many people. So much concentrated power in one place. The streets were paved. The buildings made of stone and marble.