“What about Kincaid?” Lena shouted, but Nathan didn’t slow.
As Sarah darted past, Lena snagged her arm. “This is nuts. I’m going for the doctor.”
“No.” Sarah shook free. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Why not?” She pushed her way past Ghost and Nathan’s dog.
Growling, lips curling to reveal teeth, both animals lowered their heads, then danced aside as she flung her armful of supplies onto the kitchen table.
“Does this make sense? Do you think Alex would do something like that to an old lady?”
“Maybe,” Sarah huffed, backing out of a kitchen closet with a propane heater.
“Jess is tough, and you did plenty when you ran.”
Lena’s face flamed. “That was different. It was a guard, an old guy.”
“I can see it, though. I think Alex has the guts to do whatever it takes. Remember, she’s killed Changed.”
“Those are just stories.”
Sarah gave Lena a smug little grin. “Not according to Peter.”
Oh, Sarah would bring up Peter just to rub it in. She wasn’t at all surprised that the idea of Peter with Sarah hurt just as much now as before. She had used Peter, yes. But not everything with him had been a lie, then—or since.
“Tori, give me a hand here.” Sarah jerked her head at Lena.
“You, finish the woodstove. I’ll do Jess’s after we set up the heater.”
Lena opened her mouth to argue, then said, instead, “We’ll need more wood.” Without waiting for a reply, she shrugged into her coat, grabbed up the now-filled ash pail, and hurried out of the house. But instead of heading around back, she set the pail down, ducked her head, and motored over the icy walk for the street. To hell with this. She was going for Kin—
“Hey!”
Gasping, Lena tore her gaze from her feet too late and smacked face-first into the boy’s chest so hard that she thumped back onto her tailbone.
“Whoa! Hey, Lena, you okay?” Greg dropped to one knee as his golden retriever bristled and tried muscling past. “Daisy, back up, sit!”
“Ow.” Her butt killed. Still, if she could get Greg into the house, she might have a chance. Grabbing his hand, she let him haul her up. “Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry. What are you doing here?”
“I brought the flatbed . . . Daisy, stop!” Turning, the boy grabbed his dog’s collar and wrestled the growling animal to a sit. “What’s the matter with you? Sheesh.” To Lena: “I had to hitch up down a ways, what with all the horses out front. Ah . . . is Chris inside? I saw Night.”
“Yeah, he’s—”
“Oh crap.” Greg looked unhappy. “He’s going to be pissed I left Alex at the hospice.”
“Wait, what? When?”
“Last night. I was supposed to stay until she was done and then take her home, only I was just so beat and she told me to go on. Wouldn’t you know it that the one time I go is when Chris comes back early.”
“Greg, Alex is gone.”
“What?” His eyebrows drew together beneath a froth of muddybrown curls. “She can’t be. She’s with Doc.”
“Not anymore.” Then something else registered. “Greg, how long have you been back? Why were you at the hospice?”
“Chris and us guys, we split off from Peter at the Wisconsin border a couple days ago and went north. Brought back this kid.”
So they had found a Spared. It was all Lena could do not to grab Greg by the lapels. “Where?”
“Some old barn northwest of Oren. He was pretty bad off. His heart stopped while we were still a couple miles outside Rule.”
She hoped the despair didn’t show on her face. “Is he . . . ?”
“Dunno. But he’s real sick. Doc and Alex worked, like, six, seven hours and then Doc was so wiped, she stayed. You’re sure she’s not here?”
“Positive. They’re saying she ran. Nathan said she beat up Jess, too.”
“What? Alex? No way. She’d never do something like that.”
Privately, Lena thought there was just no telling. Ask her a couple years before her stepfather entered the picture if she’d have the courage to slip a butcher knife up her sleeve, and she’d have wondered what you’d been drinking. “Greg, how can you not know any of this? Don’t they radio or send a runner when something like this happens?”
She watched Greg think about that. “Yeah.” His frown deepened. “Weird, that I haven’t heard anything. I don’t think anyone else has either. How’d Chris get hurt?”
“Nathan said Night shied and kicked him.”
“Night?” Greg was incredulous. “You’re kidding. I’ve seen Chris shot at. Even then, he never loses his saddle. Night’s real steady.”
“Well, there’s a first time for everything. Look, we need Kincaid. Do you have a radio?”
“No, but . . .”
Waving for her to follow, Greg jogged to the horses. “Chris does. Ho there, Night.” The horse was shivering and snorting, and a fine frill of ice had formed on the animal’s mane. At Greg’s touch, the horse’s muscles quivered, and then Night was stamping hard enough that Lena danced out of the way before one of those hooves could come down and break a foot.
The other three horses began to toss their heads in sympathy. “Whoa, what’s got into you?” Greg put a calming hand on Night’s neck. “You’re all lathered up, boy. Calm down. Lena, grab his bridle while I check out the saddlebags.”
“Sure.” She didn’t love animals, but there’d been plenty on Crusher Karl’s farm and she knew what she was doing. Lena hooked a hand over the horse’s bridle and murmured nonsense: “Good boy, there’s a boy, good boy.” But she was thinking: Tori was right. They found a Spared by Oren. They brought back a boy. There was a squawk, followed by a fizz and then a series of mechanical clicks. At the sudden noise, Night suddenly swung his rump and Daisy, already jumpy, started barking again.
“Daisy, shut up!” She wrestled with the big blood bay as the golden pranced around her legs, still yapping.
“What’s that sound?”
“Message on the handset,” Greg said, unbuckling a saddlebag.
“You guys don’t talk?” She swatted at the growling dog. “Quit it.”
“No, we use Morse. Saves the batteries and we still got a good eighty-, ninety-mile range. A hundred at night.” Greg staggered as Night and a small sorrel gelding backed into one another. “Grab that sorrel, would you? I’m gonna get kicked.”