Brody by Emma Lang

side of the river, Olivia’s stomach tightened again. She had the urge to pinch herself to realize it wasn’t a dream, or a nightmare. They were on Mexican soil.
    A gentle breeze drifted across her cheeks. She turned to Brody, nothing more than a black blob in the thick darkness. “Now what?”
    “We head for the nearest pueblo.” His voice was barely louder than the tiny breeze. “Keep walking.”
    She knew they had to walk the horses for a bit, in case there was anyone close to the river watching or listening. Water squished from her soft-soled boots as she walked, chafing her heels, but there was no way she’d mention it to Brody. She also wouldn’t tell him about how her wet clothes raised goose bumps on her skin. Perhaps she’d get lucky and her teeth wouldn’t chatter.
    The moon rose steadily in the sky as they walked on. Sure enough, her heels grew sore from rubbing against the wet leather of her boots. She should have stopped right at the riverbank and emptied them out. It might not have helped too much but it couldn’t have hurt.
    She wouldn’t whine, though, not a smidge. Brody hadn’t wanted her to come to begin with and if she whined, then it would prove his theory she didn’t belong on the trail with him. Olivia could be as tough as he could. No matter if her heels were on fire.
    The sounds of the night were not so different from those she heard at home. What made the soil beneath her boots Mexican instead of Texan? Twenty miles? It smelled the same, felt the same and sounded the same as the very ground she lived on. However, here she was an enemy, an interloper, one liable to be killed if she was found out.
    It was a bad dream come to life, one with her brother in a starring role.
    The encroaching night turned into an inky blackness only illuminated by the meager light of the moon. Stars were like pinpoints in velvet, tiny pricks of light so far away she wondered if they were real.
    With the dark came the cool air, cutting through her damp clothes to her skin. The comfortable breeze turned into a cutting wind. Through force of will she kept her teeth clenched and didn’t let them chatter. Who knew how Brody would react if she made any noise?
    Hooves and boots moved easily in the soft sandy soil, a quiet whisper in the emptiness of the night. A coyote howled in the distance, followed by another, then another. Goose bumps raced up her skin and she pressed her palm against Mariposa’s warm neck. The horse seemed to understand that Olivia needed comfort because she nudged Olivia’s shoulder with her great head.
    It wasn’t much but it was enough.
    Olivia was able to block the pain by thinking about family and home—the good times and the fun times, even a few hard times. All of it kept her mind occupied as they trudged through the night toward nowhere.
    Hours later, Brody stopped. She almost ran into him and the horses shied away from each other, smart enough not to bang heads. Olivia was numb from the waist down and her legs wobbled so much she nearly fell face-first into the ranger’s back.
    “What the hell are you doing, Liv?”
    “I was about to ask you the same question.” She gritted her teeth. No need to remind him how annoyed she was at him. There was no point in fighting. She needed him and she wanted to think he needed her, at least a little.
    “We’re far enough away from the river that we can ride the horses.” He was speaking low, near her ear. His warm breath sent shivers down her neck. “We are about two hours from the pueblo we need to get to. We’re going to ride at a trot. Too slow or too fast and we’ll call attention to ourselves.”
    Olivia nodded, although she realized he couldn’t see her. “Then what?”
    “You ask too many questions.”
    “I want to be ready if we run into trouble.” She pressed her fist into her growling stomach. “I need to know what to do. When to pull out my pistol. When to run like hell.”
    He stared at her, six inches from her face.