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gone.
    What’m I gonna do with you? he says. He hooks a arm around my neck an pulls me to him. We lean our foreheads aginst each other. I’m sorry, he says. I’m sorry, I . . . I jest want things to be the way they was. I jest want you an me to be us agin.
    Me too, I whisper.
    You smell bad, he says.
    I know, I says.
    No, he says, I mean, you smell real bad. I cain’t stand it. He shoves me away. Go cut some big muscle meat offa one of them wolfies, he says. We’ll stew some tonight an wind dry the rest.
    Hermes an Rip stand waitin, well away from the dead wolfdogs. While I stone off the vultures an git on with slicin one of the wolfies into chunks, Lugh goes an starts checkin the horses over, bridles, bits an reins, the cattail mats on their backs.
    We jest need to git outta this place, I says. It’s doin all our heads in. Is Buck’s leg healed enough fer us to move on?
    I ain’t riskin a good horse jest because you cain’t wait to see Jack, says Lugh.
    I didn’t say that, I says.
    You don’t hafta, he says. I know what you mean.
    You do not, I says. Heat starts to crawl up my neck.
    Oh really? Then how come yer turnin red? I swear, this . . . obsession you got with him . . . all of yuz. Lugh puts on a silly little voice. D’you remember the time Jack said this? Did I tell you about the time Jack did that? I’m sick of hearin his name.
    Anybody’d think you was jealous, I says.
    I jest don’t want you to git hurt, says Lugh. I keep tellin you, Saba, he ain’t gonna be there. He ain’t gonna show at the Big Water. Jack’s long gone. A guy like him . . . he gits a whiff of somethin new an he’s off. He’s only in it fer hisself, you can see it in his eyes. Once he’s got what he wants, he moves on.
    Jack ain’t like that, I says. My cheeks feel flamin hot now.
    What’s the matter? he says. Too close to the mark? What did Jack want from you? Did you give it to him?
    Shut yer mouth, I says.
    Lugh stops what he’s doin. Gives me a hard stare. Did you lie with him? he says. Is that how you paid him to help find me?
    I gasp. Jump to my feet an face him square. You take that back!
    I seen the way he looked at you, he says. The way you looked at him.
    The way I look at people’s my own business, I says. You took aginst Jack the moment you met him, when all you should be is thankful.
    An there it is! he says. The hourly reminder of my debt to Jack.
    Well, maybe that’s because you don’t seem to appreciate that you wouldn’t be alive if it warn’t fer him, I says. None of us would. I don’t unnerstand you, Lugh. Why you ain’t grateful that—
    Do NOT tell me I oughta be grateful! he yells. He storms over, grabbin my arms, shakin me hard. I am not grateful, d’you hear me? I do not! Wanna! Hafta be . . . grateful.
    He ends on a whisper. He stares down at his hands holdin my arms. At his fingers diggin into me. Hangin on to me. Then, Why did you let ’em take me? Why didn’t you an Pa stop ’em?
    His voice is so low I hafta lean close in to hear.
    We tried to, I says. You know we did. They killed Pa.
    He lifts his head. His eyes so bleak. So . . . old. My heart pinches.
    You should of found me sooner, he says.
    His voice sends a white slash of fear through me. It’s flat. Empty.
    Please, Lugh, I whisper, why won’t you tell me what happened to you at Freedom Fields?
    Nuthin happened, he says. He turns his eyes away. He lets go my arm. We better git back, he says. They’ll be wonderin where we are.

    We ride back to camp without talkin. Apart.
    My head’s tight. It throbs an pounds where the bump is. My eyes burn with uncried tears.
    If tears could wash away the bleakness in my brother’s eyes, the white fear flatness of his voice, I’d weep till the end of time. But they cain’t. An I fear there won’t ever be enough tears. Not fer him. Not fer none of us.
    All the while I was lookin fer him, all them months, I kept tellin myself the same thing. Over an over. Once I find him, once me an