Part Two, Chapter Nineteen

On their first day of travel, the sky was a brilliant blue and the sun was warm on their backs. Carina remained quiet, but it was a resigned silence, not the intense gloom of before. Donovan watched the way her gaze followed the eagles soaring in the mountain passes and wondered if she was finally feeling better.

That evening she spent a long time brushing the jennies and checking their hooves for stones. She fussed over them in much the same way she used to, and even sang them a little ditty of her own invention, but Donovan sensed a lack of conviction and suspected she was only going through the motions.

When he woke up in the middle of the night and found her gone, he wasn't sure what to make of it. He found her sitting in the wagon next to Miles' coffin, speaking to the pine box in a low, uncertain voice. Sometimes she seemed to ask a question and other times she rambled, as if explaining some important point. After watching from the shadows for a few minutes, Donovan began to feel embarrassed, as if he were intruding on something so intimate even the moon had no business being out where it could see. He stole back to bed and went to sleep.

He awoke a few hours later. It was still dark, but he sensed it was nearly dawn, and Carina had still not returned. He went back to the wagon and found her asleep, her head pillowed on an arm flung over the top of the coffin. Donovan shook her awake and she sat up with a start. "It's time to get up," Donovan said, pretending that for her to sleep in this fashion was the most ordinary thing in the world.

She wandered over with the coffeepot while he was stirring the coals from the previous night's campfire. "I can do that."

Donovan had just gotten some fresh kindling to light. "Why don't you see if you can pick out something you'll like for breakfast? I'll get the coffee started."

Carina looked like she wanted to say something, but went to rummage among the food baskets instead. She fried Donovan a mixture of potatoes, goat cheese and re-hydrated jerky, but when they sat down to eat, she had only a brownie and a cup of coffee in front of her. She met his eyes as if expecting comment. Not getting it, she sighed in gratitude and ate. She had set her napkin aside and was sipping the last of her coffee when she finally spoke the thought that had been troubling her. "There's no smell."

Donovan scraped the last bit of food onto his fork. "What are you talking about?"

"The coffin. There's no smell of rot or anything; just the box itself. You don't think...?"

"They embalm them before they ship them back.”

"I suppose they have to, don't they? I guess I'd just kind of hoped..."

"Hoped what?"

"That maybe there was a mistake." Carina ducked her head.

"It's a matter of record. They gave you his effects. Didn't that convince you?"

"I didn't look."

"Then how did all that stuff get into the fancy new box Alvi gifted you with?"

"He did it for me.”

"Maybe you should look now. I'll sit right here with you. It'll be okay."

Carina drew her knees up to her chest. "No. But do you think maybe we should open—"

“Absolutely not." Donovan set his plate and cup aside and put an arm around her shoulders. "You're talking crazy. He's gone and there's only this, what you see around you." He saw the genuine distress in her eyes and drew her into his arms. "When we get home, we'll have Amalia look at everything. She'll tell you the truth. Will that be okay?"

Carina sniffled and nodded.

Donovan cupped her chin and raised her head so he could look into her eyes. "We have a plan then, right? There'll be no more crazy talk on this trip." He brushed his lips over hers, then picked up his plate and coffee cup.

Carina took the dishes out of his hands and turned away. "It won't take long to pack all of this. If we hurry, we should be able to make the Sanchez place by evening."

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