Page 91 of Saddles

“Can I go?” I’m struggling to keep the panic out of my voice.

There’s a part of me that wants to run and hide, pretend that the horrors of the world will just pass me over.

But I know better.

“April—” Mason stops mid stride to turn to me. “—I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“I can ride. I did it in a blizzard. In the dark.” If I can get to Ford in time, maybe…

“What if it’s too late?” he whispers. The muscles in his jaw tighten before he squeezes his eyes shut and turns away.

“Then let me be there to say goodbye.” I don’t fight the tears.

Ford gave me the beginning of a new life, here, with his family.

He gave me a taste of peace, and the knowledge that I can overcome anything.

Mason’s tiny nod is all I need.

“Fine. Sophia has a snowsuit that should fit you.” He points to a closet just off the entry. “There’s some extra helmets in a bin in the back.”

With a flood of raw relief, I practically run into the dark room.

I don’t know why, but I believe with my entire being that Ford is still alive.

Maybe it’s the way that Mason worries, or my own fears coming to the surface that Dave and Doug are after me and heading here now that gives me such a sense of urgency hurrying my movements.

Because all I can focus on is that Ford is the only one who can save me.

It feels like it’s taking forever.

Sawyer and Scott can only go as fast as their loaded cargo can handle.

Twice I’ve raced ahead only to find out I was veering off to the wrong direction.

But when the familiar gap in the hills appear, I leave them far behind, racing towards the tiny cabin and barn in the distance.

It looks like a postcard, nestled against the snow-laden trees.

Except there’s no smoke coming from the chimney.

What if Ford is still out where the cows are? Would I ever find him?

I have to start somewhere.

“Ford?” I call out before I’m even at a full stop.

Killing the engine, I rip off my helmet and jump off the snow machine.

My hand sits on the handle, fear paralyzing me.

What if he’s inside and I’m too late?

Am I ready for that?

Taking a steadying breath, I push the door open.

Roscoe raises his head and tilts it, sniffing the air before his nub of a tail begins to wag.

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