Free Under a Painted Sky by Stacey Lee Page B

it have to be so soon? I’ll have to find Mr. Trask before it forks, or I won’t know which way he’s gone. He’ll be lost to me forever.
    I check to see if Andy heard. She’s clutching Princesa’s mane and trying to hold the reins at the same time. I want to ask if she’s okay, but she doesn’t look like she wants to be bothered.
    Instead, I calculate how fast we’ll need to travel to catch Mr. Trask. We’ll have to go faster than fifteen miles a day, a wagon’s maximum speed, not to mention, we want to put as much distance between us and whoever might be chasing us. Since Mr. Trask left twenty days ago, he could be at the Parting of the Ways in as few as forty-five days. If we upped our speed to at least twenty-two miles a day, we could arrive before him.
    I chew on my lip as the situation becomes more desperate. Since riding double means we can’t go faster than a walk, we’ll need to get a horse for each of us. We’d need two horses anyway once Andy moves on.
    I slump, but just as my back touches West’s front, I snap back to attention.
    Cay pulls his pinto back to walk alongside Andy and Peety. “Hey, Andy. What’d you mean last night when you said the view was wide and handsome? Never heard of a view being handsome before.” Then a grin appears and he angles his chin so we can all see his profile. “Well, besides this view.”
    West groans.
    â€œWide and handsome is more a feeling, like the world is his to take,” says Andy, finally relaxing her shoulders.
    â€œI feel like that every day,” says Peety, stretching his arms over his head. “You tell a good story.”
    She hazards half a twist in her saddle and casts me a sly glance. “That’s not all I can do. I used to be a cook, too.”
    â€œCook, huh?” says Cay. “I miss our coosie on the drive. He was a magician.”
    â€œCobbler’s my specialty.”
    â€œThat so? You hear that, West?” says Cay.
    â€œI don’t have a sweet tooth,” West mutters.
    Cay flicks a gloved hand at West. “You don’t got a sweet anything.”
    â€œWhat else can you do, Andito?” says Peety, scratching a red welt on his neck.
    â€œI know how to take the itch out of a mosquito bite.” She points to Peety’s red spot. “Rub some dry soap on it. You have soap, don’t you?”
    Peety passes the question to West, who shakes his head, then barks, “Cay! Franny wants to shade up.”
    We park under a dogwood, a stately tree with a wide canopy of white cross-shaped blossoms that resemble a flock of butterflies. Dogwoods mean that water is close.
    Cay opens his trousers and anoints a bush. Peety and West do the same.
    â€œDon’t you gotta make water?” asks Cay, looking over his shoulder at Andy and me.
    Andy elbows me.
    â€œI saw a patch of something we can eat over there,” I fumble.
    We head off to a high-grass area with dense shrubs where we can do our business in private. My thighs ache and Andy’s, too, judging by how she walks. Once we’re hidden, Andy quickly opens up her coat and flaps the side panels like wings. “I’ve got to do something about this coat,” she mutters. “I’m baking myself into a dinner roll.”
    â€œGood effort back there offering up your skills,” I say, “but West clearly does not care for our company.”
    â€œHe’s a tough nut to crack. A good-looking nut, though.” She tweaks an eyebrow at me. “Maybe we could pay them with one of the pinkie rings to take us farther.”
    â€œI think West would rather pay
us
to go away,” I grumble. “Still, those are quality horses.” If I had a horse like one of theirs, I could catch up to Mr. Trask in no time at all.
    After we finish, we’re left with the problem of what to bring back.
    Andy points to a shrub with tiny red fruit. “Chokecherries. Good