HT02 - Sing: A Novel of Colorado Read Online Free PDF Page A

time, rarely settling for long. But I consider Philadelphia home.”
    “My own home was once in Charlotte. And I’m sorry to hear that you joined us by force rather than by choice. It’s a difficult way to begin any journey.”
    Nic chewed on the stringy meat and washed it down with a swig from his tin cup. By William’s accent and language, he guessed him highly educated. “How long have you been a sailor?”
    “Not much longer than you. I joined the crew in the West Indies. By tradition the greenest crewmen draw duty aloft.”
    “So I might expect to relieve you up there some eve?”
    William cocked a brow again. “It’s better than splicing rope,” he said as he shoved off, just a moment before the bell rang six times, signaling the crew that it was time to attend to their various tasks. “I’m off to catch my own winks now,” William said to Nic, walking backward. “Tear a bit from the bottom of your shirt, and wrap your palms and fingers. It’ll leave you some digits to work with.”
    “Thank you,” Nic said, lifting his chin.
    William smiled again and turned away, disappearing down the steps that led to the crew’s quarters.

    Jesse turned to Moira in the carriage to better see her face. The years had been kind to him and a few lines of maturity had only served to make him more devilishly handsome. “Moira, I just arrived. You are asking me to return to London? I need them to beg me to return, not go knocking on their door asking favors. You know how it goes.”
    “Come now, Jesse,” she said, pretending to fuss with the fit of her right ivory glove. “Were you not intending to ask the same favor of me? Did you not intend to use my connections here in Paris to secure a role?” She leaned forward and tapped the handle of her umbrella on the roof of the carriage. “Here, stop here!” she shouted to the coachman.
    Jesse looked at her in confusion. “Why? Why are we stopping?”
    She ignored his question. “What is Clarence Havender up to?”
    “When I left, he was trying to secure a stage and a producer for a new opera, but—”
    “There. You see? Clarence always adored me. And together, we could be a very comely duo as his leads. Remember how we sounded together in the Springs? No doubt you’ve learned as much as I in our years apart.” The driver opened the small door and offered his hand to her. “I’ll be back in but a moment. Think about what I’ve said while I’m gone, would you?”
    She stifled a smile at his mystified expression. Four years ago, he had been the worldly, knowledgeable man of the stage. Now things were slightly different. She emerged onto the wooden walk of one of the finest Parisian neighborhoods, sparkling after the spring rains, and today under a crisp, brilliant blue sky. She stood in front of her favorite dress shop, considering the words she’d use to convince the proprietress to purchase back some of her gowns to remake into children’s gowns. “Please,” she said to the driver, “fetch my trunks. I’ll be inside.”

And so it has at last ceased. I hold my breath each time I gaze out a window, holding my baby, wondering if the snow will return and steal a bit more of our future. But the sun now shines, warm enough to shrug off my heavy bearskin coat. The men have uncovered the bodies of the horses that perished. Only forty-eight were entombed there, which gives us hope that another fifty-two have managed to survive across the fields. Bryce tells me that horses have managed to survive all sorts of adverse conditions; they will eat bark from trees, if need be, just as the deer do in lean months. But that assumes they made it to the far side of our land.
    Odessa couldn’t think any longer about the horses—lost, wandering, waiting for rescue. So she set down her pen and then went to pick Samuel up from his cradle. She laughed at his round cheeks, bright red with sleeping heat. From beneath a furrowed brow, he stared back at her with beautiful sea-green