Violet Blackstone's Arc

Chapter 9 of 14

Willow was an hour gone when Nadia said the word Violet had been dodging. "The trading post. If she heard it there, others will too. Trappers drink at that counter." Violet stood. The boy stirred against his mother's side. "How fast does a rumor move from a stool to a snare line?" "A day. Less." Nadia's mouth was tight. "Willow carries your token north. But the men who set throat-height wire are south of us, and they listen at that counter every dusk." Violet did the math. Two days to the farm on foot with a boy who limped. One day for a trapper to hear a description and cut for the creek bed. If she stayed with the group, trappers would follow her boot prints to Colton's gate. If she ran ahead, she left the mother and boy exposed. She needed a third option. "The healing den. Dwyn is half a day west. She has the two horses." Nadia's eyes lifted. "The silver pair." "Borrow them. Put the mother and boy on one. You ride the other north with them by the creek bed. I go south to the trading post and I kill the rumor at its source before a trapper hears it clean." "Kill it how?" "I give them a different story. A louder one." They moved. By late afternoon the woven den appeared between the pines, vines trailing from its thatch. Dwyn met them at the door in her rough robe, hands still damp from washing a patient. She glanced at the boy and her palm hovered before she caught herself. "Two horses," Violet said. "Tonight. I'll owe you whatever you name." Dwyn didn't argue. She led them behind the den to the paddock. The pair stood shoulder to shoulder, coats pale, breath steaming faint silver in the dusk. Dwyn pressed her forehead to the nearer mare's neck. The mare's coat brightened where she touched. "They know the west trail," Dwyn said. "Bring them back or don't. Just bring the woman and boy through." Nadia mounted. The mother climbed behind her with the boy strapped at her chest. They went north at a walk that became a trot at the treeline. Violet turned south alone. She reached the trading post at full dark. Rusty was wiping the counter. Two trappers hunched at the far end over cups. Violet sat between them and set her knife flat on the wood. "I hear there's a woman taking strays to a blue farmhouse," she said, loud. "I hear it's north." One trapper looked up. "It's not north," Violet said. "It's east. Past the cabbage fields, past the burned mill. Two days' walk. I've seen the smoke." Rusty's rag stopped moving. He said nothing. The trapper grunted. "East." "East," Violet said. She paid for a drink she didn't want and walked out into the dark. The lie was loose now. It would run faster than her truth. She had bought Colton three days, maybe four. After that, the woods would come looking in the wrong direction, and she would already be home.