after they’d finished.
T HE T HERMOS rolled from atop the pile of gear in Lola’s arms and clanged against the frozen ground. Lola retrieved it and shook it, relieved not to hear the rattle of a shattered liner.
“Lucky.” The whisper floated toward her through the darkness.
Lola spun around, almost dropping the Thermos again. “Joshua! What are you doing here?”
Joshua stepped from the truck’s shadow. “Waiting for you. About an hour now. Mind if I have some of that coffee? I’m near froze.”
Lola handed him the Thermos. He unscrewed the top and poured. The coffee gurgled and steamed. “God, that’s good. I didn’t think you’d ever come out.”
A whicker sounded from the direction of the barn. A spotted horse, curious about the hushed commotion, ambled through the open door and stretched his neck over the fence, seeking the packets of sugar Lola usually filched from the café for him. Lola waved him away. “Go back inside, Spot.” The Appaloosa, like Bub, had been Mary Alice’s. Lola had given him to Charlie after Mary Alice’s death, then had ended up with him, anyway. She’d come to learn that his curiosity was insatiable. She glanced toward the house, where Charlie was cleaning up after the breakfast he’d insisted upon making. The last thing she needed was for Spot to neigh and draw Charlie to a window, where he could see her talking with Joshua.
“How’d you get here? I didn’t hear anything,” she said to Joshua.
“OIT.”
“What?”
“Old Indian Trick. We’re always creeping up on you white people in our moccasins.”
“Hah.” Indian people were unrelenting jokesters, but Lola never knew when it was appropriate for a white person to laugh. She usually settled for the same forced smile she now turned upon Joshua, hoping he hadn’t noticed that she’d actually glanced toward his feet to ensure he was wearing boots. “Seriously, how? And why?”
“Heard you were leaving this morning for Dakota.”
Of course he had. Lola had mixed feelings about the gossip in Magpie, which was nearly as accurate as it was widespread. As a reporter, it was a great help. But she didn’t like being the subject.
“When did Dakota lose the North?”
Joshua ignored the question. “I parked down around the bend and walked up here. I wanted to talk to you before you headed out.” In the harsh black and white of moonlight, his injuries looked even worse, the swollen jaw leaping to prominence, the space gaping darkly where his tooth had been, eyes cavernous and haunted.
“About your sister,” Lola said, “Charlie already told me not to go asking about her. Or those other girls, either.”
Joshua’s mouth stretched into a grotesque semblance of a smile. “But you will, anyway.”
“Maybe.”
He reached for the Thermos, took another swig. “Look. I thought about what you said. About the other girls. I don’t care if it ends up in a story or not. I just want to know what happened to my sister. And if knowing what happened to her helps find out about them, too, maybe that’s a good thing, closure or no closure.”
Lola thought of the man in the café, his ugly words about Judith. It was entirely possible, she thought, that Judith had endured worse abuse than the simple beating the man had delivered to Joshua, something so cruel as to make fleeing into a blizzard in street clothes seem the only way out. There were the track marks, the brand. The autopsy report still hadn’t been released. She confessed her reluctant second thoughts to Joshua. “Are you sure you want to know the details?”
The front door opened. Lola turned to see Charlie silhouetted in the doorway. A whisper barely reached her ears.
“Disappearing now. Another OIT. And, yes. I’m sure.”
“ C OULDN ’ T WAIT to hit the coffee?” Charlie shook the half-empty Thermos. “I can’t believe I’m letting you take it. I’ve had that Thermos since I was a boy.” He handed Lola her duffel bag. She tossed it
T HE T HERMOS rolled from atop the pile of gear in Lola’s arms and clanged against the frozen ground. Lola retrieved it and shook it, relieved not to hear the rattle of a shattered liner.
“Lucky.” The whisper floated toward her through the darkness.
Lola spun around, almost dropping the Thermos again. “Joshua! What are you doing here?”
Joshua stepped from the truck’s shadow. “Waiting for you. About an hour now. Mind if I have some of that coffee? I’m near froze.”
Lola handed him the Thermos. He unscrewed the top and poured. The coffee gurgled and steamed. “God, that’s good. I didn’t think you’d ever come out.”
A whicker sounded from the direction of the barn. A spotted horse, curious about the hushed commotion, ambled through the open door and stretched his neck over the fence, seeking the packets of sugar Lola usually filched from the café for him. Lola waved him away. “Go back inside, Spot.” The Appaloosa, like Bub, had been Mary Alice’s. Lola had given him to Charlie after Mary Alice’s death, then had ended up with him, anyway. She’d come to learn that his curiosity was insatiable. She glanced toward the house, where Charlie was cleaning up after the breakfast he’d insisted upon making. The last thing she needed was for Spot to neigh and draw Charlie to a window, where he could see her talking with Joshua.
“How’d you get here? I didn’t hear anything,” she said to Joshua.
“OIT.”
“What?”
“Old Indian Trick. We’re always creeping up on you white people in our moccasins.”
“Hah.” Indian people were unrelenting jokesters, but Lola never knew when it was appropriate for a white person to laugh. She usually settled for the same forced smile she now turned upon Joshua, hoping he hadn’t noticed that she’d actually glanced toward his feet to ensure he was wearing boots. “Seriously, how? And why?”
“Heard you were leaving this morning for Dakota.”
Of course he had. Lola had mixed feelings about the gossip in Magpie, which was nearly as accurate as it was widespread. As a reporter, it was a great help. But she didn’t like being the subject.
“When did Dakota lose the North?”
Joshua ignored the question. “I parked down around the bend and walked up here. I wanted to talk to you before you headed out.” In the harsh black and white of moonlight, his injuries looked even worse, the swollen jaw leaping to prominence, the space gaping darkly where his tooth had been, eyes cavernous and haunted.
“About your sister,” Lola said, “Charlie already told me not to go asking about her. Or those other girls, either.”
Joshua’s mouth stretched into a grotesque semblance of a smile. “But you will, anyway.”
“Maybe.”
He reached for the Thermos, took another swig. “Look. I thought about what you said. About the other girls. I don’t care if it ends up in a story or not. I just want to know what happened to my sister. And if knowing what happened to her helps find out about them, too, maybe that’s a good thing, closure or no closure.”
Lola thought of the man in the café, his ugly words about Judith. It was entirely possible, she thought, that Judith had endured worse abuse than the simple beating the man had delivered to Joshua, something so cruel as to make fleeing into a blizzard in street clothes seem the only way out. There were the track marks, the brand. The autopsy report still hadn’t been released. She confessed her reluctant second thoughts to Joshua. “Are you sure you want to know the details?”
The front door opened. Lola turned to see Charlie silhouetted in the doorway. A whisper barely reached her ears.
“Disappearing now. Another OIT. And, yes. I’m sure.”
“ C OULDN ’ T WAIT to hit the coffee?” Charlie shook the half-empty Thermos. “I can’t believe I’m letting you take it. I’ve had that Thermos since I was a boy.” He handed Lola her duffel bag. She tossed it
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