Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“So what else do you know about this baby?” I ask as the main trail comes into view. “About the legend of Josephine McAlister. Or does this fall under the things that would make me piss my pants and I can’t know what they are until I’m ready for them?”
Jensen slows his pace, considering me. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything. If Lainey was researching this, I need to understand what she was looking for.”
He’s quiet for a moment, weighing his words. “The official history says Josephine was an infant born during the ordeal. She survived and was adopted afterward.”
“But?”
“But local stories say she was born the night her mother transformed. That something got into Josephine’s blood. The hunger, they called it. Human but…with a twist.”
“Her mother transformed? Transformed into what?” I press, though part of me doesn’t want the answer.
“Into something that hungered for human flesh. Something that passed that hunger down through generations.”
A chill runs through me despite the warmth of the morning sun, his words stoking so many nightmares stored somewhere in my brain. “Like…zombies?” I ask warily.
Jensen’s mouth quirks, not quite a smile. “That’s the modern word for it. The natives had different names. The settlers just called them the afflicted.”
“And you believe this?” Dreams or not, I can’t keep the skepticism from my voice.
“I believe these mountains have secrets.” His eyes meet mine, serious now. “I believe your sister was looking for answers about her own history, maybe her own…familial connections to this place.”
“That’s impossible.” I scoff. “We don’t have any literal connection to the Donner Party.” But even as I say it, I think of Lainey’s obsession, how it seemed to go beyond academic interest, how she always said the mountains called to her.
And I think about our mother.
“Are you certain?” Jensen asks quietly. “How far back have you traced your family history?”
“Our mother died when we were kids. Our father never talked about extended family much. Just that…” I swallow against the sudden dryness in my throat.
“That what?”
“My mother…she had mental issues. Schizophrenia, they said. She was heavily medicated as far as I can remember,” I tell him. “She often spoke of trauma. Generational trauma that had been passed down to her. But it never made any sense, my grandparents were kind and loving and they had a good relationship. I had a good one with them too, before they passed on when I was a teen.”
“How did your mother die?” he asks gently.
“Suicide,” I say. “Overdosed on pills. She left a note. It said she was sorry but it was the only way she could be free.”
Jensen is studying me closely now, his brows knitting together in sympathy, like he thinks I’m about to cry. “I’m sorry.”
I try to shrug it off. Just like I’ve found ways to talk about Lainey without feeling too much, I’ve been able to do the same with my mother. “It’s fine.”
Silence fills the air as we walk.
“Sometimes the blood remembers what the mind forgets,” Jensen says, so quietly I almost miss it.
We’ve reached the edge of our camp now. Cole is stoking the morning fire, Eli is checking supplies. Red is lounging against a tree, cleaning his knife. Hank is nowhere to be seen, probably on perimeter check, or off to take a leak.
Before I can press Jensen further, Eli spots us and waves. “Took you a while. Was about to send a search party.”
“Yeah I can see that,” Jensen comments wryly. “You’re really raring to go.”
Eli grins. It’s the sort of look that says he didn’t want to intrude.
I groan internally. With Red making jokes about Jensen keeping me warm, I have to wonder if they knew what Jensen and I were doing by the river. God, I hope not. I’ll never live it down.
“How about we get some more coffee going and some eggs before we hit the trail,” Jensen says, smoothly shifting back into his role as leader. But his hand brushes mine, just once, as we step into the clearing. A touch so brief I might have imagined it if not for the lingering warmth on my skin.
I slip my hand into my pocket, fingers closing around the bracelet. Whatever secrets these mountains hold—whatever Jensen isn’t telling me—I feel I’m one step closer to finding my sister.
And maybe, just maybe, to understanding why she came here in the first place.
13
AUBREY
After a quick breakfast, we get ourselves and the tents packed and the horses tacked up. I’m cinching Duke’s saddle for a second time when Jensen appears at my side, checking my work with critical eyes.
“Did I pass inspection?” I ask.
“Weight’s uneven. Shift it forward.” His hands brush mine as he loosens the girth, the brief contact sending warmth up my arm.
He moves the saddle up just behind the withers and cinches it again before he turns and studies me for a moment. I try not to get lost in his eyes, the green matching the moss on the side of the ponderosa. “You ready for this?”