Going Gone, Book 2 of the Irish End Games (16 page)

T
he shock
at seeing the two of them was so great that, at first, Sarah could only stand her ground in the middle of the road, her hand on her gun and stare. It wasn't until Papin called out to her that Sarah realized what she was seeing was real. Papin, dressed in a long flowing gypsy skirt and a woolen jumper, was astride a bone-white Welsh pony, leading two other saddled horses behind her.

One of which carried Evvie.

“Oy! Don't shoot, ya daft bitch!” Papin called laughingly to Sarah. “I told you we'd find her!” she said over her shoulder as she trotted her pony down to meet Sarah where she stood.

“I don't believe this,” Sarah said in wonder. “This is either a miracle or I got some seriously bad mushrooms last night out in the field.”

“Oh, we're real enough, dear,” Evvie said, her cheeks brightly pink against the cold day. Sarah could see she was gripping the saddle pommel instead of the reins.

“I know it's a change of plan,” Papin said, jerking a thumb to indicate Evvie. “But the crazy old cow wouldn't stay by herself. What else could I do?”

Sarah touched the nose of Evvie's horse. He was a mixed breed but sturdy for it. “Where in the world did you get them?” It hadn't occurred to her until that second that right behind seeing John again—or Mike—would have been the unimaginably wonderful possibility of riding the rest of the way home.

“Oh, that's a trade secret, but we might not want to travel the main highways. I figured you didn't want to anyway. Besides, there was no way the old lady was going to be able to make it on foot.”

“I'd greatly appreciate it, dear, if you'd stop referring to me as the old lady and such.” Sarah could see that Evvie spoke to Papin fondly, with a twinkle in her eye.

“How did you even know I was here?” Sarah asked, moving to the riderless horse and tightening the girth on the saddle.

“Well, we didn't, did we? We got tired of waiting at the bridge and then some rough types came around and we thought we'd try waiting a little further on.”

“I just can't believe y'all are here with horses,” Sarah said as she secured her backpack onto the back of the saddle. “We'll save the hugs for later, okay?” She put her foot in the stirrup and swung easily up into the saddle.

The minute was she was astride again, after so many months of not riding, Sarah felt strong and in control again. Even a horse she'd never ridden before felt more naturally an extension of her body than walking.

“You don't ride, Evvie?” she asked, nodding at the double set of reins in Papin's hands.

“Never once,” Evvie said ruefully. “But it beats walking.”

“That it does,” Sarah said, giving Papin a grin. The girl beamed with pleasure. Sarah touched her horse's sides with her legs and felt him wake up and move forward.

When she thought of how close she came to skipping Merlins Bridge and missing Papin and Evvie—
and horses!—
she quickly shooed the thought from her head. They were mounted, well fed, together again and only twenty miles from the Welsh coast.

Things were definitely looking up.

They rode for another two hours before making camp for the night. Riding or not, the trip was strenuous for Evvie, and upon being helped to dismount by Papin she sank to her knees.

“Whoa, Granny, you are seriously out of shape,” Papin said, helping Evvie to a sitting position at the base of a broken stonewall while Sarah hobbled the horses nearby.

“I'm eighty-years-old, you impertinent brat,” Evvie said good-naturedly. “I'm actually in amazing condition for my age. Can we risk a campfire tonight, Sarah dear?”

“I think so.” Sarah handed her the flint and the knife. “I'll go get the bits for the bird nest thingy. Did you guys bring any food by any chance?”

While Papin pulled out the stolen provisions from her saddle roll and Sarah gathered kindling and leaves for the fire, Evvie laid out blankets against the saddles, one for each of them. When she got the fire going, the three sat for long moments just warming their hands and staring into the flames without speaking. Even little Papin looked all-in, Sarah couldn't help but notice. She'd held up her end of the bargain in spades. She'd taken care of Evvie and gone several steps further by procuring horses and food. Sarah was having trouble imagining what she would have done without the little gypsy's help.

Papin used Sarah's knife to slice the long tube of salami and bread that she'd brought. She also had a large chunk of cheddar cheese—unimaginably rare in these days after The Crisis—that the three shared in celebration of how far they had all come.

“I've never toasted with cheese before,” Evvie said, holding up her piece and smiling.

“It's the perfect thing to toast with,” Papin said. “It's delicious, it fills you up and it's dead expensive.”

“Maybe more than a toast, I want to give a prayer of thanksgiving,” Sarah said. “Because until the moment that I saw you two again, I'd forgotten what it felt like to be grateful for my good fortune.” She held up her cheese chunk and said, “To the three of us meeting safely again and to the journey ahead.” She popped the cheese in her mouth.

“Hear, hear!” Papin and Evvie both said, eating their cheese.

“Although, I must say, a hot bath would be good about now, too,” Evvie said with a sigh, prompting Papin and Sarah to burst out laughing.

“You old hag! You're never satisfied!” Papin said, reaching out and shaking Evvie's knee.

“You two obviously connected, I see,” Sarah said.

“Well, she's a cheeky piece, it's true,” Evvie said, smiling fondly at Papin. “But she's also a treasure and, trust me, I've cause to know.” Sarah saw Evvie's eyes fill with pain and she knew she was thinking of her daughter, Lexi.

Well, that's fitting,
Sarah thought.
Take away a crap daughter and replace her with…
she looked at Papin and smiled as the girl knelt behind Evvie and started to braid the older woman's long hair.

…with whom?

Sarah turned back to the fire and stared into its depths again. The horses gave them the added benefit of serving as an early warning device in case anybody approached in the night. She could sleep soundly in front of the fire knowing, short of someone slitting the throats of the horses where they stood, that no one could surprise them.

She turned back to see that Papin had tucked Evvie into her blanket and pulled her own cover around her shoulders. She nestled close to Evvie and closed her eyes briefly, as if relishing the sheer closeness of the other woman. It drove a needle of sadness into Sarah's heart to see it.
Poor little motherless Papin.

Before Sarah took her place against her own saddle for the night, she did a slow and thorough perimeter check to make sure the horses were fine and that no sound or light was evident on the horizon. It was as quiet a night as one could experience, she thought. So still and dark, it truly felt like the end of the world.

Back at the campsite, she could see that Papin, like the child she was, had lost the fight to stay awake. She was curled up to Evvie, who had one arm around the girl.

“She's knackered,” Evvie said in a whisper.

“I thought you were, too.”

“Oh, I am. We left Carmarthen before dawn this morning.”

“You made it here in one day? Well, I guess you would, on horseback.”

“There'll be room for the girl at the place we're going?”

“Of course.”

“And she'll live with us? And your boy?”

Sarah tossed another big piece of wood on the campfire. “That's the plan.”

“It's almost like the new family unit after The Crisis is a bunch of patched-together misfits and orphans who need each other.”

“Maybe that's the best kind of family.”

“Maybe.” Evvie used her free hand to smooth the loose hair from Papin's untroubled face as she slept.

“You going to be okay, Evvie?”

Evvie looked at her with a questioning look on her face. “Why do you ask, dear?”

“Well, I know riding beats walking but it's still stressful.”

“I'll be fine, Sarah. I've got my girls with me, don't I?”

Sarah met Evvie's smile with one of her own. “You definitely do.”

M
ike sat
on his horse at the fork in the path next to the stone cairn that marked the entrance to Donovan's Lot. He had hand-stacked this cairn with Gavin the summer they'd celebrated a record harvest—their first after The Crisis. He'd meant to put a sign of some kind on it but everything he thought of sounded too poncey. They weren't a country club for crissake.

At least from this vantage, it looked like the community was still standing. When the breeze turned, he could hear the light notes of children laughing. Always a good sign.

The trip to the coast had taken him two days. He'd allowed three for the ride back. The closer he got, the sicker he felt. He tried to remind himself that he'd only stay long enough to scrape together enough to afford a ferry fare and then he'd go back.

As cold as her trail would be by then, he knew exactly how futile the exercise was.

But it was all he had.

As he sat at the crossroads, bracing for his reentry into camp, he knew John would only have to see him ride in alone to know he hadn't found her.

He sat a moment longer, straining to hear the sounds of camp from this distance, trying to feel the moment of relief he always felt at coming home again.

Instead, with deepening dread, he nudged his horse past the cairn stone stack and down the dirt road that led to Donovan's Lot and his people.

T
he next morning
, Sarah was sorry she hadn't taken the time to try to hunt a rabbit or hedgehog or something the night before. As a result, they had to start their journey with empty stomachs, and while the rain looked to be holding off, Evvie was already uncomfortable.

“It's just my arthritis,” she said. “It comes on with weather.”

“But it ain't raining, Granny,” Papin said, looking up at the grey skies.

“No, dear, it's the
threat
of rain that brings on the misery in my joints.”

When they were all three mounted, Sarah took Evvie's reins and led the way out of the pasture and across the field. She knew she wanted to stay away from any roads, but sooner or later they would come to a stonewall they would need to get across and she wasn't at all sure how they would manage that.

She and Papin could probably jump the walls but it was taking a chance. If the horses weren't jumpers, they risked broken bones, or worse. Sarah had to admit it would be pretty terrible to come all this way only to end up with a broken leg because she'd been too impatient to walk around a fence.

Tempted to trot, Sarah forced all of them to stay at a steady walk. The last thing they needed was an unexpected pothole to either lame one of the horses or unseat one of them. She sat straight in her saddle and massaged a kink out of the small of her back. The Glock had turned into the heaviest possible encumbrance to traveling, but the security it brought was worth it. She had now lost enough weight that she was able to fold down the waistband of Denny's jeans, allowing her to once more tuck the gun against the small of her back.

Just before lunch—which was the last of the now stale bread and remnant salami—Sarah made the painful but necessary decision to add extra miles to their trip when she realized that the thirty kilometers were measured by travel along the Clarbeston Road. Skirting the road by staying out in the open in the fields made her feel safer against the threat of Angie finding her, but it was at the cost of at least two more days traveling.

The three rode in silence until nearly dark. Twice Sarah had to dismount to try to reorient herself as to their location. Once, she sent Papin off to find anyone who might be able to give directions. It served the added benefit of allowing Evvie to rest. She looked to Sarah as if she were barely managing to stay upright in her saddle.