Lena closed her eyes and let it all wash over her, wondering distantly if this was how she would die, alone, unwanted, forgotten. And then she heard voices. Told you we should have taken the ridge path. The ridge path is twice as long, and we'd still be walking in this mess. Pa, I'm tired.
I know, sweetheart. We're almost home. Lena's eyes snapped open. Through the rain and the gathering twilight, she saw movement on the trail, figures approaching, several of them. She pressed herself against the tree trunk, suddenly aware of how she must look, muddy, bedraggled, a wild woman in the woods.
She should call out, should ask for help, but her voice was frozen in her throat. The figures came closer. A man led the group, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a wide-brimmed hat that channeled the rain off to the sides. Behind him came children. Lena's confused mind tried to count them and gave up.
So many children, ranging from teenagers to toddlers, all trudging through the mud with the weary determination of those who knew the journey wasn't over yet. The man stopped suddenly. His head turned, and even in the dim light, Lena saw him spot her. Hold up, he said to the children. His voice was deep, calm, with a mountain drawl that softened the edges of his words.
He approached slowly, cautiously, like someone trying not to spook a wounded animal. Lena couldn't move, couldn't speak, could only stare as he crouched down a few feet away, his face coming into view. He was younger than she'd expected from his voice, maybe 35 with dark hair curling under his hat, and eyes that caught the fading light. His face was weathered, lined by sun and wind and hard work, but there was a gentleness in his expression that made something in Lena's chest crack open. Ma'am, he said quietly.
You hurt? Lena shook her head, then nodded, then shook her head again, because how could she explain that yes, she was hurt, but not in any way he could see or help. You lost? Another head shake. The man studied her for a long moment, taking in her sodden dress, her muddy shoes, the tear tracks on her face.
Understanding dawned in his eyes. Not pity, but recognition, like he knew exactly what he was seeing. You came for Reddick, didn't you? Lena's breath hitched. How did you Saw the wagon pass earlier.
Reddick's been talking in town about his mail-order bride coming. The man's jaw tightened. I'm guessing it didn't go well. Shame burned through Lena's chest. Even this stranger knew.
Everyone would know. The woman who wasn't wanted, wasn't enough, wasn't Hey. The man's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. Whatever he told you, whatever reason he gave, it's not your fault. You hear me?
Thomas Reddick is a mean-spirited bastard who gets his kicks making people feel small. This is on him, not you. The kindness in his words was too much. Lena felt fresh tears spill over, hot against her cold cheeks. I have nowhere to go, she whispered.
The man was quiet for a moment, then he stood, offered his hand. do now? Lena stared at his hand like it was a snake. What? I'm Jonas Hale. I've got a place about 3 miles north.