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Gered rested for five days. The morning of the sixth, Laramie strode through the double doors of the med center, an extra spring in her step. Her grin grew at the bundle under her arm.
She ran over her checklist. Bikes were ready and waiting outside. She’d picked up enough jobs over the last few days to get Gered new supplies and his present and not worry about depleting the cash in her wallet. They had rations, an extra tarp, bed roll, and full tanks.
All she needed was the med supplies they’d send with Gered for keeping up with the healing injuries. The doc had reluctantly released him the night before.
“Laramie!”
Her cheer faded as Sergeant Rollins jogged over to her.
“Heard you were leaving today.”
She nodded. “You heard right. Need anything else before we leave?”
She, and a reluctant Gered, had given the officer some more information on Rosche’s territory. Gered had seemed to know something else, but hadn’t shared. But she wondered if it had anything to do with the call to Moshe and the way the unit leader had argued to let them go.
“No, just wanted to wish you luck. We’ll be keeping a closer eye on the border. Any idea where you’re headed in case we need something?”
Laramie tightened her fingers around the bundle. She really didn’t want to give him any personal information about herself.
“East. Going to meet up with some travelers up by the Rift.”
He tipped a nod. “All right. Ride safe.”
She flicked a salute that made him grin and hurried away. The nurses and staff she passed greeted her by name and called well-wishes for their journey. She’d been in the hospital every spare minute.
She and Gered had shared a few more memories of their parents, and she’d shared some of her upbringing with the travelers, but he hadn’t spoken much of his own past.
Don’t push, she’d constantly reminded herself. He wouldn’t have shared back at the Barracks and there was no reason for him to start even with the discovered connection.
She knocked on his door and entered at his call. He sat on the edge of the bed, lacing up his new boots. He’d dressed in the spare set of clothes from his saddlebag. The bruising on his face had faded to yellows and streaks of black. Light gauze replaced the heavy bandages on his hands to protect the peeling skin from the gloves she handed him.
He carefully flexed his bandaged wrists. He’d insisted he was good to ride. She was eager enough to be gone that she hadn’t argued too much.
“Got you something.” She bounced on the balls of her feet and extended the bundle.
He lifted an eyebrow and cautiously took it, shaking out a jacket of dark blue leather.
“Hope blue is still your favorite color,” she said shyly. She’d wracked her memories for details about him as a kid, and that was one thing that’d come back.
Gered stared at it a long moment, rubbing a thumb over the smooth leather. “Yeah.” His voice caught a little, and he kept his chin down as he shrugged into the coat. He stood, tugging it into place.
It fit almost perfectly, long enough to cover his wrists. “Thanks.” The blue in his eyes shone a little brighter.
She quirked a grin and held out the next part—a gray dust scarf.
“You’re a drifter now. Gotta look the part.”
His smiles were coming a little faster and more genuine with every passing day. He let her step close and wrap it around his neck, showing him the folds and the knot which would keep it in place and still allow for it to be pulled up around his face if needed.
“Last thing.” She extended a new pair of sunglasses.
He slipped them into the jacket pocket. “Where’d you get all this stuff?”
“Worked, made a few deals.” She shrugged. That was life as a drifter. She smiled again. “Good thing you’re back up on your feet so you can start pulling your weight on the trip.”
He huffed a laugh, and picked up his remaining thigh holster, buckling it around his left leg. The hospital forbade weapons, so she’d stashed theirs safely in her bags or in the truck.
“Ready?” she asked.
He nodded. She picked up the bag of med supplies and led the way back into the bright sunlight. Overnight the air had cooled, hints of orange and red tingeing the trees planted throughout the town. Fall had arrived. They’d have a good ride east.
She grabbed his rifle from the truck, and tossed the keys to the hospital guard. She’d traded the truck in exchange for most of Gered’s care, using her winnings from the races to cover the rest.
Gered slid the rifle into the bike holster, but still stared at it.
Laramie swung her leg over the seat of her bike. “They got the tracker off before we left. I double-checked everything to make sure.”
He nodded, stooping slightly to brush his hand along the engine panel she’d replaced the road-torn metal with. Finally, he settled onto the seat, pulling his gloves on carefully over his hands, and tucking the sunglasses into place.
Their motorcycles roared to life. Time to go home.
Laramie glanced at where Gered rode beside her. Though, this time, it felt like she was bringing a little bit of home back with her. She grinned, and shifted gears, leaning into the wind.
She was ready to leave the dust and desert behind. She was ready to be home.
