Bone Deep by M. M. Crumley

Author:M. M. Crumley [Crumley, M. M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lone Ghost Publishing
Published: 2019-12-13T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

They stopped several times throughout the day for Doyle to switch horses. They didn't usually ride so fast for so long and through snow at that, so Doyle's horses were lagging. Widow Maker didn't seem to ever tire. Doyle still wasn't talking, but he seemed slightly less angry than he had before.

I guess it's not hard to see why Mom's been so worried about me, Andrew thought. How's that? Doyle was only weird for a day or so, and I was worried about him. I've been acting different for months now. I'm actually kinda surprised Mom waited so long to do anything.

It ain't fair to expect people to always be the same. I dunno, Andrew replied, thinking about his dad. He'd gone from a dad to a stranger in the space of months. That wasn't fair. Not to him or his mom. Not what I meant, boy. What do you mean then? Character of a man shouldn't change. Doyle's a good man; always gonna be a good man. Just a bit more grumpy is all. You know? I think so, Andrew thought with a nod.

The raven continued to swoop from tree to tree, leading the way deeper into the forest. The sun broke through the clouds and glowed cheerfully across the endless snow drifts, and the trees twinkled merrily.

Every now and then a clump of snow would drop from a tree showering the air with crystal sparkles. The only other sound was the silent clopping of the horses' hooves and the muffled tinkle of their harnesses. Not creepy at all now, Andrew thought. Not like when we took them down. Kinda like a winter wonderland. Winter wonderland? It's a thing, back home. You wouldn't get it. Huh.

But even in the sunlight, it was still cold; and after a while, Andrew's nose started to run. He tried ignoring it, but it froze to his lip, and it was frankly disgusting. It wasn't like it was actually his snot; it was Pecos's.

"Oh, I hate this," he mumbled.

"Hate what?" Doyle asked.

"I've got a runny nose."

"So?"

"Pecos insists I use his hanky."

"So?"

"That's disgusting!" Andrew exclaimed. "I wish Kleenex had already been invented."

"Clean-what?"

"It's like a paper tissue you blow your nose in."

Doyle's brow wrinkled. "Then what?"

"You throw it away."

"Seems wasteful."

"Well, maybe; but the point is it's not gross." It's my nose and my hanky. Ain't nothin' gross about it. Andrew sniffed hard and wiped his nose on the back of his hand.

"Just use the damn hanky, boy!" Doyle snapped.

"Fine," Andrew grumbled, feeling through Pecos's pockets until he found the hanky. He cringed as he pulled it out and shook it carefully. It was wrinkled and crusty in spots. I can't do this, he thought. It's just too gross. Stop bein' a sissy, and blow my DAMN NOSE! Alright already! Andrew aimed for a clean spot, closed his eyes, and blew. Then he shoved the hanky back in his pocket. "Not hard to see how Kleenex caught on," he muttered.

Towards afternoon the raven flew around a small town, leading them to the far northern edge.

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