She kissed him gently on the cheek. “Be nice to have some quiet time together. And I don’t just mean for making some good, slow loving. Rest up at the spread. No need to make any fast decisions that we might regret later. I’m really looking forward to it, lover. Really.”
Her hand had been lying across his chest, but it started to feather its way a little lower.
Lower.
In the end, the noisy bed didn’t matter that much.
RYAN ROSE EARLY and walked down to find Fred Zero’s pretty wife, Penny, preparing breakfast in a huge iron skillet.
“Hash browns, eggs over easy and some home-cured ham? How’s that sound?”
He grinned at her. “Sounds like I’ve died and gone straight to heaven. Thanks.”
“Go on through. Packman’s just finishing and getting ready to hit the highway.”
The trader was sitting at a small table, smoking a noxious cigar. As Ryan came in he looked up. “Sorry about the smoke, friend. I’ll put her right out so you can enjoy the fine food that the lady of the house provides.”
“Thanks,” Ryan replied.
“Name’s Kenny Friedman, and I cover the whole of Deathlands and I offer a range of Hey, just wait a goshdarned moment there, my friend.”
He was a typical packman, effusive and eager to prove he was the nicest guy who ever drew breath. But now his jaw had dropped, and he was fumbling in the breast pocket of his tweed suit.
“Something wrong?” Ryan asked.
“I don’t Your name wouldn’t be Ryan Cawdor, would it, friend?”
“Could be.”
“Traveling with a redhead and a kid and an old man and Hallelujah, but I bit the paydirt.”
“How come you know me?”
“I got a note for you.”
“From?”
“Couple of really mean But, I guess I might be wrong, Mr. Cawdor, seeing as how they’re likely friends. One was small and skinny with a long mustache. Other was older and sort of scary.”
Ryan nodded, his mind flooded with the news. Abe had done it. He’d damned well done it.
The piece of paper was crumpled and stained, but still totally legible.
“Success. Will stay around Seattle for three months. Come quick. Abe.”
“How long ago were you given this?” Ryan asked.
Friedman wrinkled his face, counting back on his fingers. “Great Lakes was Missoula Billings Butte then I stayed a coupla days with Right, I got it. Give or take a day or so. Must have been up in the Northwest, by the sea. About six weeks ago from now.”
“Six weeks,” Ryan said. “Leaves us another six weeks. Thanks, friend. Thanks.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Two of the graves were large, the middle one much smaller. All three lay in shade, beneath a wall of red rock that rose vertically and vanished into the deep blue of the morning sky.
It was a place of great quiet.
Ryan opened his eye and looked up into the still air, watching the ghostly shadow of the large white egret floating past, high above him.
Krysty stood with her back to him, looking down at the three markers.
He sat up and she turned, and he could see tears glistening on her cheek.
“I’m sorry, lover,” he said.
“I know. We’ve done all the talking there is. I’m talked out, Ryan.”
“I have to go.”
“Sure.”
“Can’t make it with a jump. No control. Have to travel on foot. Start with the wag and see if we can get gas. If we can, then it shouldn’t take more than a few days.”
Krysty wiped angrily at her eyes. “A few days, Ryan! A few days? How far is it?”
“About fifteen hundred miles up to Seattle. If the wag holds and the creeks don’t rise, we can be there in under a week. Find Trader and Abe and get back here in the same sort of time. Call it a total of three weeks.”
“Call it forever, Ryan.”
He shook his head, joining her in front of the graves, staring at the carved names Christina Lauren, beloved wife of Jak and mother of Jenny. Murdered; Jenny Lauren, dear daughter of Jak and Christina. Murdered; Michael Brother. Good friend from another time.
The faint scent of sagebrush came drifting up from the mouth of the canyon. Ryan put a hand on Krysty’s shoulder, half expecting her to shrug it away. But she let it lie there, not moving. Not moving closer.
“J.B.’ll keep an eye on me. You know that, lover.”
She continued to look away from him. “I told you. Talked right out.”
An elegant yucca towered near them, its pearly white flowers clustered in a long spike. A Chamisa and tamarisk were a little farther away.
When they had first buried Christina, Jenny and Michael, a scant few days earlier, it had occurred to Ryan Cawdor that this must be one of the most beautiful places in all the world to pass the remainder of eternity.
Now there had been so many more deaths, all linked to the paying of the blood debt.
“You’re still leaving at dawn?”
He nodded. “Yes. We are. Food and ammo. We’ve got a last night together.”
That turned her around, her emerald eyes like blank pools, ice covered. She pushed away his hand as though it were an offensive insect. “Thanks a lot, Ryan. I can hardly wait for this ‘last night together’ you tell me we got. Can’t wait for the last time you touch me and kiss me. And enter me. Every single thing you do tonight is going to make me more and more aware about it being the last time. Can’t you Gaia! Can’t you see, Ryan, what you’re fucking well doing to me?”
“I’m sorry. I have to do this. Trader was the man who raised me and then made me the man I am. Mebbe you should think that whatever love you have for me is owed, a little, to Trader. I can’t change that. I can’t just take a big square of linen and wipe all my memories away.”
“I know that.” Krysty closed her eyes. “Oh, I feel bone-weary, lover. Part of it’s selfish. I wanted these quiet days together here. And you’ve robbed me of them.”
He leaned down and hesitated. But Krysty responded, lifting her face to him. Their lips met, in the familiar, gentle kiss of two people endlessly in love with each other.
“I am truly sorry,” he said as they broke apart.
“I know you are. It’ll pass. Everything passes in the end, lover.”
“We going to walk back to the house and join the others? Should be some supper there.”
“Thinking about your stomach, lover.” She smiled up at him. “Eat well. Could be the last good meal for awhile.”
“J.B. cooks a terrific dead snake pie.”
They stood close, holding hands, looking one final time at the trio of graves.
Krysty broke the silence. “So long, Christina. Bye, Jenny. Sleep in peace, Michael.”
“Amen,” Ryan said.
Then they walked together, out of the shadows of the canyon, into the afternoon sunshine.