Finding apple cider vinegar was much less of a challenge than Lucy had anticipated. Fletcher rode off astride Mister, his insurance they would stay put while he went searching for the vinegar. Lynn had taken his water jug to be sure he would come back. Which he did, a few hours later, whistling a tune, with a nearly full gallon jug of apple cider vinegar tied to the pommel.
Although Lucy didn’t know what palatable meant, she understood the second Fletcher took the lid off the jug that nobody in their right mind would even try drinking it. The smell swept up her nostrils and felt like it slid right up inside her skull. She backed away with watery eyes, covering her nose.
“Clears out the sinuses, doesn’t it?” Fletcher asked, his ever-present smile lurking around the permanently crinkled corners of his eyes.
“I’ll watch the horses closer when we’re in the mountains,” Lucy promised.
“The mountains? Why would you be taking them through the mountains?”
“We just are,” Lucy said, her chin jutting out in anticipation of being told not to.
Fletcher laughed and put both his hands up in surrender. “All right then, little lady. I learned a long time ago not to get in the way of a woman wearing that expression.”
“A long time ago? How old are you?” Lucy blurted out.
The surprise that crossed his face caused her to immediately apologize. “Sorry,” she said. “I guess that’s not something you’re supposed to ask people, huh?”
“No, it’s all right,” he said quickly. “Too many things go unanswered these days. I’d guess I’m a little over forty.”
“You’d guess?” Lynn asked, sauntering over in the dying light. “You don’t know?”
“Certain things slip away from you, when you’re on the road as long as I have been,” Fletcher said. “You harbor any doubts as to your own age?”
“I’m twenty-seven,” Lynn said without hesitation, but Lucy was pretty sure she was actually twenty-six.
“I’m sixteen,” Lucy volunteered. “At least . . . I think?” She looked to Lynn, whose brow creased slightly.
“I thought you were seventeen?”
“Either way, your calculations disprove my assumption that you’re mother and daughter,” Fletcher said, glancing between them.
“Not by blood,” Lynn said. “But we are family.”
“Family is made all kinds of ways, especially now,” Fletcher said.
“What about your own?” Lucy asked. “You said you’re looking for your wife?”
“That story is best told setting down,” Fletcher said. “If Lynn here can take a leap of faith and trust me.”
Lucy held her tongue for once and looked to Lynn. The older woman was watching Fletcher intently, her eyes boring into his own as if she’d be able to discern his motives by staring him down.
“You come in here and doctor our horse when you could’ve taken a healthy mount. You hang around all day sneaking our names out of us, and where we’re from, though what good that is to you, I don’t know. Now you want to stay and tell us a bedtime story. Why?”
A flicker of a smile chased across his mouth, but Lucy saw Fletcher make an effort to squelch it. “’Cause I like you,” he said, which made Lynn flinch. “Both of you,” he added, including Lucy with a nod of his head, though he kept his eyes on Lynn. “And it’s not so much where you came from I’m interested in as your destination. No gentleman would allow two girls from Ohio to cross the mountains alone.”
Lynn folded her arms in front of her. “Who says we’re going over the mountains?”
“Uh . . .” Lucy almost felt intrusive breaking into the adults’ conversation; the tie between their eyes was so strong it was nearly palpable. “I think I might’ve let that one slip.” Lynn shot her a glare, and Lucy shrugged. “Sorry.”
“The little one could use some lessons on obfuscation,” Fletcher said.
“Be that as it may,” Lynn said so slowly Lucy realized she didn’t know what obfuscation meant either, “you expect me to believe you’re not looking for anything in return?”
All traces of humor slipped away when Fletcher answered. “I understand you’ve been on a hard road, and I don’t doubt my wife has seen the same trials. I’ll help you—one stranger to another—in the hopes that somewhere, someone is doing the same for her. If I can’t find her, the best I can do is believe in karma.”
Lucy and Lynn exchanged a glance, Lynn’s cold blue eyes flashing off Lucy’s brown ones and reading her answer in a moment. “All right,” she relented. “You can stay, but know that we’ll both be sleeping with our guns.”
“Wouldn’t expect any different,” Fletcher said smoothly.