"Fair enough." Across the fire, Kaya and Lyra were arguing about something Cole couldn't quite hear. It sounded like directions or maybe a bet they'd made days ago and were just now settling. He watched them, these three women who'd upended his life and refused to leave, and tried to imagine what the next year would look like. He couldn't see it clearly.
The future was still murky, uncertain, full of variables he couldn't predict. But sitting there, watching the fire burn and listening to their voices, Cole realized something important. He didn't need to see it clearly. He just needed to take the next step and then the one after that. "Hey, Cole," Lyra called out.
"Settle an argument. Which direction's faster to Gravel Springs, northeast or due north?" "Northeast," Cole said without hesitation. "Ha!" Lyra pointed at Kaya.
"Told you." "You didn't tell me anything. You guessed." "A correct guess is still correct." Kaya rolled her eyes but smiled.
Then she looked at Cole. "You sure about northeast?" "No," Cole admitted, "but it sounded good." All three women laughed, and the sound carried across the empty desert, warm and alive. Cole leaned back, staring up at the stars.
And for the first time in ten years, he let himself relax. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new fights, new struggles, new reasons to question whether he'd made the right choice. But tonight, surrounded by firelight and laughter, Cole felt something he hadn't felt in a long time. Hope. The road to Gravel Springs turned out to be longer than Kaya had estimated, and by the time they arrived, dust storms had delayed them by three days and left them all looking like they'd been dragged behind the horses instead of riding them.
The town itself sat in a shallow valley, surrounded by hills scarred with mining operations that tore into the earth like open wounds. Smoke rose from smelters, and the air tasted of metal and coal. It wasn't pretty, but it was work. They found lodging at a boardinghouse run by a widow named Mrs. Halstead, a severe woman with iron-gray hair and eyes that missed nothing. She looked at the four of them standing in her doorway and raised an eyebrow.
"Two rooms," Cole said. "How many beds?" Cole hesitated. He hadn't thought that far ahead. "Four beds," Kaya said smoothly.
"Two rooms. We'll manage." Mrs. Halstead's expression didn't change, but something in her posture suggested she'd already figured out the arrangement and didn't approve. Still, money was money, and she took Cole's coins without further comment. The rooms were small and plain, but they were clean, which was more than could be said for most places on the frontier.
Cole dropped his gear in the corner of one room and sat heavily on the narrow bed, feeling every mile they'd ridden settle into his bones. Lyra appeared in the doorway. "You look half dead." "Feel worse than that." "Want to get a drink?"
"Want to sleep for a week." "Suit yourself." Lyra disappeared, her footsteps echoing down the hall. Cole lay back, staring at the water-stained ceiling. The reality of what he'd agreed to was starting to sink in, and it felt heavier than he'd expected.