“No!” He swayed again, nearly toppling from the horse.
I leaned over and yanked the reins from his fingers, guiding them in front of his horse’s head.
Marcellious slumped over the neck of his steed, clutching the mane.
I led both horses toward the creek.
They waded out into the middle of the creek, lowered their muzzles, and began to drink.
I slid off the side of my equine and scooped water into my cupped hands, slurping it down. Once my belly was full of liquid, I ladled some more into my hands and held it up to Marcellious.
“Marcellious.”
He roused himself from his collapse. “Huh? What?”
“You need water. Turn your head to the side, and I’ll pour some in.”
He turned his head and opened his mouth.
I let the water stream from my fingers into his waiting maw.
After two more handfuls, he recovered enough to slip from the back of his horse, stoop in the stream, and fill his belly with water.
Then, he splashed his face and hair.
I did the same. When I righted myself, I sniffed the air. “Smell that.”
“What?”
“It smells like fire.”
“Maybe it’s from the fire we set.” He wiped his palm across his face.
“That’s miles away. Look!” I pointed at smoke wisping into the air from the trees. “Maybe there’s someone there we can ask for help.”
“Only one of us is dressed like a soldier. I still look like a Sioux.” Marcellious smirked.
“You can be my prisoner,” I said, peering through the trees.
“What ifyou’remy prisoner?”
I gave him a side-eyed glare. “If it makes you feel better. But, if it’s white people, they’ll be terrified of you.”
Marcellious sighed. “I suppose you’re right, but what makes you think they’ll help either of us?”
“I think we should at least go and see. We could use some help if help is available.” I picked up the reins of both horses and led them out of the stream.
We headed toward the smoke, following the creek’s bank.
My footsteps were heavy as I tromped along the stream’s edge, with Marcellious lagging behind. I was beyond exhausted and could use a good twenty hours of sleep. But, at this point, I’d settle for even one hour.
As we rounded the bend, a female voice hissed, “Don’t move, or I’ll kill you.”
The voice sounded familiar. Iknewthat voice.
Olivia peered at me from behind a tree trunk, her gun aimed at my head. “Roman?”
“Olivia!” I dropped the reins of the horse and ran to her.
