Christmas Homecoming by Lacy Williams

Author:Lacy Williams [Williams, Lacy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lacy Williams Books LLC

Libby had gone quiet again, and Walt’s curiosity pricked.

He still didn't know what happened with her brother. Was that the reason she hadn’t been home in such a long time?

He couldn’t imagine what his home would be like if one of his brothers were dead and gone.

Across the fire, Hector was finally nodding off. The man’s arms were crossed over his chest, his flask tucked into the crook of his elbow.

Tom had fallen asleep right after Walt had been forced to search for kindling and build a fire.

“Remember when Ma tried to make toffee that one Christmas?” He nudged Ida and nodded minutely at the two brothers.

Hector gave a loud snore and roused himself, shaking his head.

Ida exchanged a glance with Walt. She was smart. She’d know that if both men slept, the three of them could make an escape. It was a worry that Tristan wasn’t in sight. Was he watching them from somewhere outside the circle of firelight?

Walt had recognized their surroundings as they’d ridden out earlier. They were closing in on where he’d tracked Greg Reeves and his gang. Their old hideout was a little over a mile up in the hills.

If he and Ida and Libby could make it there, they could hole up. He might even get lucky and find a weapon that’d been left behind.

It was a risk to leave without knowing where Tristan was. But it was a risk to stay, too. Tristan could decide against keeping them alive at any time. Hector, too.

They had to try.

“Of course I remember,” Ida said. “The smell of burnt sugar was singed into my nostrils for weeks.”

Ida nudged Libby and unobtrusively pointed to where Hector was nodding off again. “Ma likes to make candy and give it out to our neighbors.”

Libby seemed to understand that they needed to keep talking. Any change in their quiet conversation could wake Hector or Tom.

Her words came slowly at first. "My mama used to cook extra portions of our Christmas dinner and deliver them to whatever families were in need."

Walt scanned the darkness, looking for any sign of Tristan or the horses.

Libby went on. "She used to knit my brother and me a new scarf every year. I probably had ten in my drawer by the time I was fifteen. She finally made me give some of them away, but I loved getting them every Christmas."

He bumped Ida’s shoulder. "Sounds just like you."

His sister gave a haughty sniff.

Hector’s head had gone limp, tucked against his shoulder.

Tom hadn’t moved a muscle.

Walt asked, "Do you knit, too, Libby?"

He felt the small shake of her head. "My mother tried to show me when I was about ten. And Ida tried to teach me last year. It didn’t take. I'm hopeless at it."

He nudged Ida once again and nodded at the sleeping men. It was time.

Keep talking, he mouthed to Ida, who was on high alert. Their voices would cover the sound of their movements. He hoped.

"How did the two of you end up as roommates?" He stood, inch by inch.

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