James Axler – Trader Redux

“Not exactly. But I know that there have been times that my mind is not What is the expression they use? An ace on the line! My poor befuddled brain has rarely been able to have an ace upon the line.”

“Times I been crazy, too, Doc. Times when a good day was when I sat and thought how times used to be.”

He nodded vigorously. “I know what you mean, my dear. Indeed, I do.”

“So?”

“So? I fear that I have mislaid the thread of my discourse. What was I saying?”

“How I’d made you feel a sight better.”

“Yes! The truth is, and I would probably never admit this to another living soul, but the idea of suicide was on my mind. Now, I think that it is not. Now you have helped me see there are reasons for going on.”

“Am I one of those reasons, Doc?”

“Of course you are.”

“Truth?”

“Truth and consequences, my dear. I have come to appreciate that a man who dwells in the past will only have shadows for company. And that is not enough. The soul will sicken and starve, as I believe mine was.”

“Starving?”

“Starving because it was shut off from all the things that matter in life. It had friendship. Without that, then I think I would probably have declined to carry on with living these many months since. But it was too much of a one-way street. Ryan, Krysty and the others have given me their trust and their love. I responded as best I could, some of the time. But I realize now that I didn’t respond all of the time.”

“You gave me love. Saved my life as well, Doc. That’s two big debts.”

He stood, smiling down at the woman. “Friends don’t have debts, Sukie. You owe me nothing. Nothing at all. I hope you’ll come with me. How long you decide to stay is entirely your business. You understand that?”

Sukie took his hand and pulled herself upright. She pressed herself against him and kissed him very softly on the lips, letting her right hand drift lower across his body. “You sure we don’t have time for a little loving?”

“Perhaps a little”

The little somehow became a lot.

“If we’re starting off back to the spread, then we should be going, Doc.”

He’d fallen asleep, his grizzled head pillowed on her breast, mouth slightly open, breathing steadily.

“Oh, what was Emily, did I don’t”

Sukie sat up, kissing him once on the forehead. “Small clouds on the horizon, Doc.”

“Ah. Those are the shadows of angels’ wings, you know. One of the greatest of the predark singers and writers, John Stewart, wrote that.”

“It’s lovely.”

“Indeed it is. I know more of his songs. Perhaps I might acquaint you with a few as we pick our way back toward the desert floor.”

“That’d be nice, Doc.”

THERE WAS A SHORT SHOWER of light rain during the middle of the afternoon, just enough to lay the dust and bring a scent of freshness to the high country.

By the time the sun was setting far away across the plains to the west, they had reached a camping spot perched on the edge of the plateau, a shaded stream and good grass for Judas, and a sheltering wall of smooth rock for their blankets.

“Not much food left, Doc,” Sukie said, rummaging through the packs. “If I hadn’t come along I guess you’d have gone home earlier or else done some hunting.”

Doc thought about the third option that had been closest to the front of his mind. The option that would have found him so deep into the nest of trails and passes that nobody would ever have found him. Would never have found his body.

Now all that had changed.

He stood on the lip of the tumbling drop and tried to locate the speck of light in the gloaming that would be the ranch where the others were waiting.

But he could see nothing.

Chapter Thirty-Two

The old Volvo land wag carried them along, south and east.

The engine started unhesitatingly every morning and ran steadily along, across passes and over rivers , past small frontier pestholes, where local vigilante patrols were out and cautious. They didn’t hide their hostility toward the outlanders. But the array of weapons that the four men displayed was always enough to deter any assault on them.