Page 42 of Saddles

Ford

The icy pinpricks of snow melt instantly against my fevered cheeks.

I don’t know why I let that name slip. The last thing April needs is me to weigh her down with my own problems.

“Ford?” She sounds like she’s talking underwater.

My head is spinning. Sarah loved that horse more than anything. She’d spend hours in the barn with her, brushing and crooning over her.

It’s how I knew she’d have been a good mom.

She just never got the chance.

“Ford? Are you okay?” April’s hand lands lightly on my shoulder.

Shit, I didn’t mean to ignore her.

“Yea. We should head back, the wind is picking up.” With shuffling steps to clear the path, I lead her back to the cabin before it’s blowing so hard we can’t see.

The heat of the cabin hits me like a wall when I fling the door open. It’s a welcome relief from the blustery bite of the renewed storm.

“Brr! It got shitty fast!” She wraps her arms around her chest, rubbing her sides as she huddles next to the woodstove.

I nearly forgot she’s wearing only a sweatshirt for a coat. “Get that soaked layer off, I’ll grab you a dry one.” I hang my own up, then dig a fresh change out of my dresser.

Her teeth chatter while she tugs the wet hoodie over her short blond hair, making it spike in odd angles behind her ears. “I’m using up all your clothes.” She smiles pulling on the oversized shirt. “Pretty soon you’ll be all out and we’ll both be naked.” She giggles, then stops. Her brown eyes widen and she covers her mouth. “Sorry.”

Her grin is infectious. “Only if that happens before the snow stops. I have one of those old fashioned wringers outside for laundry.” I squat down in front of the fireplace and try to resurrect the ashes.

She moves closer, holding her pale fingers towards the heat, brushing my side lightly with her hip.

When I finish and back away, she swivels to face me, but keeps her thighs pressed against the stove.

Her lips flatten to a serious expression. “So, are you going to tell me about Sarah?”

A wave of nausea barrels through me. “No.” I busy myself with filling the pot with some of the water I brought in.

“Was she important to you?”

“Yea.” I manage to croak past the growing lump in my throat.

She chews on the inside of her cheek for a moment. “Do you ever talk about her?”

I shake my head, turning away. I need a damn distraction.

Lifting the mattress, I start pulling out the tote with the MRE multi-packs. “Hungry?”

“Sure. We can talk over dinner.” Her arm snakes past me to grab one of the bottles of whiskey. “I bet this will get you to spill.”

“It’s none of your business,” I snap.

Fuck. That wasn’t necessary.

She’s done nothing wrong.

“Who am I gonna tell, Ford? I’ve had the shittiest week ever, and would really like to find any kind of distraction from thinking about it.” She twists the cap off and tilts the amber liquor up in a long draw.

With a gasp, she grimaces and blinks rapidly. “Shit, that’s potent.” She pushes the Jack towards me. “Drink.”

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