She smiled. “Grazie.”
His mouth quirked up, almost roguish. “What’s the response?”
“Prego.”
“Prego, Carina.” He cupped her knee, then turned, untied the tarp, and left the poles lying in the snow. He rolled the tarp tightly and stuffed it into his pack, then took hold of Jock and started on. Father Antoine gathered the blankets, sent Carina a quick grin, and came up beside her. Carina felt strong and capable, no longer prisoner to her injuries or anyone else’s opinion. Now surely they could go home.
TEN
As a dove from a cage spreads its wings to the draft, so my hands on the reins in the freighter man’s craft.
As the dove winging higher up into the sky, so the plodding of hooves, crack of whip say good-bye.
—Quillan
QUILLAN WAITED WHILE CARINA made yet another tearful farewell. She had an amazing reservoir of both tears and words. As for him, the sooner they were on the road, the better. Well, he’d had one difficult parting. Alan Tavish. Which was why he’d picked up the team and wagon without Carina, had those few moments alone with a friend he would likely never see again. And that was why he had given Sam to Alan, so the old man would not be alone.
Beyond that, Quillan could leave Crystal without regret. Carina, it seemed, could not. He leaned back against the wagon, crossed his arms and his ankles. Already they’d added half again as much as he had planned to haul, parting gifts from all who couldn’t let her go without some token. Finally she disentangled from èmie. No, one more hug for Mae. He leaned back again. Ah, for real this time?
Down the first stair, down the second. He straightened as she kept coming. He waved a hand to Mae, farewell to a woman he respected, to èmie whom he hardly knew. And there was Carina, her waist between his hands. He swung her up onto the spring-loaded carriage seat he’d fashioned in place of the ordinary box he’d ridden for two years. It was even cushioned and covered in leather. Impractical, but he had her comfort to think of.
“All set?” He half expected her to say no, there were dozens more people she must bid adieu, or rather arrivederci. “How many ways are there to say good-bye, Carina?” He climbed up beside her.
“Too many.” She sniffed.
He took up the lines and released the brake. She turned and waved furiously as he slapped the traces on the team’s rumps. He felt a pang seeing Jock pulling beside a chestnut gelding. His Clydesdales, Socrates and Homer, in the wheeler positions, didn’t seem to care, but Quillan could swear Jock missed Jack. Still, it was good to be off.
“It’s breaking my heart.” Carina clutched her throat with a limp handkerchief as they passed Father Antoine Charboneau.
Quillan raised a hand. He had the priest’s word and Alex Makepeace’s that they would block off Wolf ’s chamber once weather allowed. As to the rest of the cave, Makepeace had plans to lead guided tours for adventurers. Bully for him. He’d have his hands full between that and the New Boundless. Too full to miss Carina, Quillan hoped, though his wife had said a private and prolonged good-bye there, too.
Her breath sucked into a sob, and he cupped her knee. “It’ll be all right.”
“Why can’t we take them all?”
He pulled with his left hand to bring the team around the corner. “They have their lives.”
“And they’ll go on without me, and I won’t see èmie’s restaurant, and Mae . . . she started out so prickly and—”
“You made her into mush.”
She slapped her gloves across his thigh. “Stop it.”
“Sorry.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a lump of silver the size of a caterpillar. “And this from Joe Turner, the first silver nugget he got from the Carina DiGratia mine shaft. He’s afraid all his mines will stop producing now.”
“Unhealthy superstition.”
“He made me a legend.” She dabbed her nose with the handkerchief.
“You made yourself one.” And that was the truth. Crystal would not forget Carina. She didn’t know it, but her mystique would only grow in her absence. Carina 3DiGratia belonged in the stories of Crystal, the same as Wolf and Rose, but Carina Shepard belonged to him. He reached an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to his side.
They passed the end of Main Street and left the buildings of Crystal behind. Quillan didn’t look back, though Carina turned and watched until the town disappeared behind a curve. He didn’t remind her it was she who wanted to go home, nor that she’d despised the town for most of her time there. He just let her grieve.
The road was hard-packed snow. If the weather held, they would cross Mosquito Pass into Fairplay and stay there tonight. If they got a very early start, the next day should bring them into Morrison, possibly even Denver. How long they spent there depended. Carina was excited, thrilled at the prospect of meeting Rose’s family. He was uncertain what to feel.
“How long do you suppose a letter would take between Sonoma and Crystal?” Carina stuffed the handkerchief into her pocket.
“How long’s it been taking?”
She shrugged under his arm. “I sent two letters at the start. Then everything turned upside down and . . .” She waved her hand and sniffed. Back out came the handkerchief. She dabbed one eye, then the other. “Mamma sent one reply. ‘So glad you’re safe and happy.’ When, of course, I was neither. I couldn’t keep deceiving them. So I stopped writing.”
He felt a dim foreboding. “You haven’t written your family since?”
She shook her head. “But I must write Mae and èmie and Father Antoine.” She threw up her hands. “Oh, so many others!”
He glanced sidelong. If she hadn’t written since the start, her family knew nothing about him. His knowledge of women might be vague, but wasn’t that unusual?
“I miss them already.”
“Why don’t we just stay?” He threw it out flippantly.
She spun under his arm. “You know it’s impossible. You’ve sold the mine; I’ve given everything to èmie. What would we do?”
He shrugged. “Still have my wagon and my tent.”
She pushed him in the ribs. “Don’t be ugly.”
“That was ugly?”
“You’re mocking me.”
Well, maybe a little, he conceded. “There’s only two choices, Carina. Stay or go.”
“Of course we’ll go! But it’s so hard. You’d see, if you had a heart at all.” Again she smacked his thigh. This time he kept quiet. Somehow he doubted Mae was flailing anyone, or èmie either. They’d miss Carina, he was sure. He just doubted it would be so animated. They began a short climb, and he removed his arm from her shoulders to use both hands on the reins.
“How can I want two opposite things so much?” She started to cry again.
Quillan shook his head. “Enough, Carina. How many tears can you cry?”
“As many as I need to.” Her pout proved it.
He knew better than to say more, but her crying gave him a helpless feeling he didn’t like. Would she keep it up all the way to Sonoma?
“Besides, tears are natural, necessary.”