Alex stroked her hair. “Freddy doesn’t hate you. I don’t know what she has in mind, but trust her.”
They both looked toward the soft thud of hooves as Freddy rode toward them, leading Cactus. Wiping at her eyes, Les tried and failed to make sense of what she was seeing. Freddy wanted her to ride somewhere?
“Come on, Les,” Freddy said firmly. “We have enough light left to try an experiment.” She glanced at Alex. “I know what I’m doing.”
Alex nodded and leaned forward, pushing Les to her feet. “Do as Freddy says.”
Too wrung out to resist, Les swung up in her saddle. Riding with her head down, she didn’t look up until she heard the roar of tossing violent water. “What is this?” she asked sharply, reining in. The river was the last place she wanted to be. “I’m going back.”
“No, you aren’t.” Riding up beside her, Freddy grabbed the reins out of her hands and lead her to a low spot much like the place where she had stood motionless and let Ward die.
“Oh God.” She didn’t want to relive this. When Freddy tied up their horses, she refused to get out of the saddle. “Why are you doing this to me?”
Freddy looked up at her. “I’m going to walk upstream a ways, and I’m going to toss branches into the river. You stand at the edge of the water and try to hit the branches with your rope.” Green eyes narrowed and flashed at her. “Get off that horse.”
They stared at each other, both suddenly angry. “You always have the answers, don’t you? You always have to make a drama out of every damned thing!”
“Do you want to spend the next twenty-five years like you’ve spent the first twenty-five? Feeling afraid and sorry for yourself? Poor Les, who everyone picks on. Poor Les, the monster who let her son-of-a-bitch fiancé drown without lifting a finger! Is that what you want? Do you get some kind of pleasure out of seeing yourself as a victim?”
“Shut up! Shut up!”
“Get down here. Show me you have the courage to discover the truth.”
“I hate you! I don’t have to show you anything!”
“Then show yourself! If you don’t find out the truth, you’ll lose everything you’ve gained. You’ll go back to being the kind of woman who lets a man hit her. If you can’t find a man to punish you, you’ll punish yourself! Maybe you could have saved him, Les, and maybe you’ll have to live with that. But I’m betting that you couldn’t have done it, and you have nothing to blame yourself for.” Turning on her bootheel, Freddy stalked away, pushing through the willows.
Crying, Les watched her go. When Freddy disappeared into the foliage, she climbed off her saddle with the intention of untying her horse and leaving. Then she saw the first branch go bobbing past in the river waters.
Frozen, she stood beside her horse and waited for the next branch. When she saw it rush by her, she dropped her head and felt the weight of the rope coiled on her hip. Did she have the courage to seek the truth? Did she want to know?
Freddy was out of sight and would never know the results. Only Les would know. Suddenly, urgently, she needed to learn if she could have saved him.
Taking the rope from her hip, her breath hot and fast, she made herself approach the water’s edge. The next branch that came tossing and swirling in the foamy water, was closer than Ward had been and she believed it would be easy to lay the rope right on top of the wet leaves.
She was wrong. Her rope hit the water behind the branch, which had already swirled past her. Clutching the rope in sweaty hands, she waited for the next one. This time her throw landed short. By her seventh attempt, she understood she could not have saved him.
She gave it one more try, straining to anticipate the speed and power of the current. This time she came close. If she’d had the time to make a calculated judgment, if she could have practiced, if Ward had caught the rope at the precise moment, maybe… But there were too many ifs. In the end, Freddy was right. Ward had been doomed the instant his horse went under.
Her hands went limp and the rope played out through her fingers, dragged into the flood by the currents. She watched until it disappeared, then she ran crashing through the underbrush, shouting Freddy’s name. When she found her, she threw herself into Freddy’s arms. “Thank you! Oh, Freddy, thank you!”
Freddy held her and let her cry it out, then she eased back and smoothed a strand of hair off of Les’s cheek. Finally she smiled. “If you’re ready, let’s ride back and watch them plant the son of a bitch. It’s over, Les. You’re free.”
The trail wound north through the Indian Territory, over high, rolling prairies. Water was plentiful along heavily wooded streams, the grass thick and lush. Dal camped near Stinking Creek the first night after crossing the Red River.