The Edge of Misery: The Mitchel Brothers Series Book Two

1

"Ready to cross one last river?" Wolstan asked as he slapped the reins against the oxen's rumps and carefully drove across the bridge.

"Better be the last one, 'cause if it isn't, I may throw a fit."

"I appreciate the warning," Wolstan quietly teased, sitting up straight and casting a worried glance at the raging waters to his left.

Declan frowned, "Why're you acting nervous? The bridge looks sturdier than you did when you returned from Andersonville."

Wolstan scowled, then resumed watching the river as they slowly crossed the river. "Do you see those rapids?"

"Yes—"

"If this wagon ends up down there—"

"That isn't gonna happen if you keep your eyes focused on the road—"

"Don't tell me how to drive," Wolstan grumbled, his annoyed gaze snapping to Declan's. "I've been driving wagon teams since—"

"Then act like it, Wooly," Declan hissed, folding his arms across his chest and facing forward, his eyes clenched firmly shut. "'Cause your nervousness is making me anxious."

Luella softly whined as she poked her head between them, then licked Declan's neck before resting her head on his right shoulder, bringing a reluctant smile to his face just as the wagon crossed the final few feet of the bridge.

They drove on in silence for several minutes, soothed by the dull rumble of wheels against the firm dirt road and the creak and groan of the wagon, interrupted occasionally by birdsong in nearby pine trees.

Dust was, thankfully, nonexistent due to the lingering effects of the previous day's rainstorm. Meadows bursting with wildflowers stretched as far as the eye could see, broken by creeks, a random homestead, herds of livestock, and the beginnings of plots of farmland.

Mountains rose along the east, running north to south, some low, almost modest rolling hills dotted with pine trees, while others, appearing a faint steely blue from a distance, climbed higher with soaring jagged peaks.

Declan had never seen such a majestic, breathtaking sight.

"It sure is pretty here," Wolstan murmured, leaning forward to glance toward the river behind them and then straightening to scan the area to the east and west.

Declan nodded.

"The sky feels so big—"

"And blue—"

Wolstan laughed.

"What?"

"It's always been blue."

Declan scowled at his brother from the corner of his eye, "Not this shade. There's something different about it out here."

Wolstan squinted and looked to the sky, studying it a moment before grunting, "You're right."

"I know I'm right," Declan muttered, his mood somewhat lightened, wincing when they drove over a deep rut in the road that rattled his teeth.

Then after adjusting his position on the hard bench, he sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and dangling his hands between his knees. "What's the first thing that goes through your mind when you look at those mountains?"

Wolstan glanced at him, and his lips quirked in a lopsided grin, "Which ones?"

Declan snickered and shook his head, "My point exactly. The soul-stirring ones in the distance."

Wolstan stared at him, his left eyebrow arched.

"What?"

"I'm pretty sure you've never described anything, ever, as 'soul-stirring' before—"