Almost as if he could see what Jonathan was thinking, Clark cleared his throat, and said, “It could be that the imps got into the livestock, you know. Ripped up a few horses, left a few messes. No one would know either way if you decided to get off here.”
“Where I come from, we hang horse thieves,” commented Fran.
“Welcome back,” said Jonathan, turning to see her standing in the doorway. “I’d like to note that the owners of these horses are almost certainly deceased, and that we won’t have any good answers to the sort of questions we’re likely to be asked. Retreat would be the better part of valor.”
Fran still looked uncertain.
“We can find ourselves another train,” said Jonathan. “It’s simply best if we aren’t found on this one.”
“Well, city boy. Traveling with you is nothing if not exciting,” said Fran. She turned to the conductor. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Pliny.”
Clark laughed, and didn’t bother to correct her.
Morning found them on horseback, riding across the fields toward Wichita. Fran was on her beloved Rabbit; Jonathan rode a bay gelding, towing their luggage in a small cart. His nameless bay offered no complaints, likely as relieved as the rest of them to no longer be trapped on a train that stank of blood and brimstone. The mice were engaged in a raucous celebration of something Jonathan hadn’t bothered asking them to explain, and seemed quite happy to stay on the cart for the duration of their ritual.
“You know, in the circus, when we set up something like that—all death-defying adventure and last-minute escapes—there was always a bad guy behind it. Not just some trick nature likes playing on people when it gets bored,” said Fran reflectively. She was much more relaxed now that she was on horseback, and not confined to a cabin. Jonathan thought he liked her rather better this way.
“That’s the trouble with real life,” he said. “It doesn’t always play by our idea of the rules.”
“Huh. Is the rest of the trip going to be this exciting, do you think?”
Jonathan shook his head. “To be quite honest, Fran, I haven’t the slightest idea. I didn’t expect nearly this much excitement when I set out.”
Fran grinned over her shoulder at him. “See? I’m improving your life already.”
Despite the situation, Jonathan couldn’t stop himself from laughing at that, and at the simple satisfaction in her face. “You know, Fran, I do believe you’re right. My life is definitely improving.”
One Hell of a Ride Page 3