Chapter Eight
After almost four months at sea, the sensation of walking on solid ground was a strange one, and Colin’s legs felt oddly shaky as he and Patrick followed Ford up the beach and past a market, which was bustling with activity. The smell of fish was strong, and Colin’s stomach growled. Oh, how he longed for a proper meal.
Ford led them some distance away, and most people seemed totally unbothered by their presence in their distinctive convict uniforms. Colin supposed they were quite used to it living in the colony.
By a modest-sized covered wagon, the small blonde woman Colin had noticed on the ship waited. She still wore black and an equally grim expression, arms crossed over her chest. Her hair was yanked back into a severe knot.
Ford smiled. “Here you are, madam, as promised. These two degenerates won’t give you any trouble, and they know they’re to obey you in everything. Don’t be afraid to whip ’em if you feel the need.”
The woman’s expression didn’t change. “Thank you, Mr. Ford.”
He tipped his hat to her and addressed Colin and Patrick. “Be good, lads. Or you’ll regret it, I promise you that.”
“That’s it?” Patrick’s tone was strident. “We just go God knows where with this woman?”
“What would you like, a parade to see you off? The superintendent knows exactly where you’re going, and they’ll be checking on you regularly. So watch your step. And your filthy Irish mouth.”
Patrick’s face darkened dangerously, and Colin took hold of his arm. Ford smirked and disappeared back into the crowd. The woman spoke as Patrick shook off Colin’s hand. “I’m Emily Grant.”
Colin and Patrick introduced themselves as Emily looked them over. She led them to the back of the wagon and pulled out a burlap sack. “There’s some clothing in here for you.”
“You don’t want us to wear our uniforms?” Colin was pleased at the thought of being rid of the worn, rough clothing they’d donned for months on end.
“No. I don’t see the need in drawing attention to you. You can ride in the back and change. We need to meet up with the herd.”
Patrick eyed the two horses hitched to the wagon. “You can drive it yourself?”
Emily straightened her spine. “Yes, I can.”
Patrick shrugged, and he and Colin clambered into the back of the wagon, which was covered by thick canvas over a rectangular wooden frame. As the wagon jolted and rumbled on its way, they searched through the sack.
“Must have been her husband’s things,” Colin whispered.
“Nah. Wouldn’t sully his memory, I don’t think.” He indicated two large steamer trunks stored at the front of the wagon’s storage area. “One of those is his, I wager. Maybe they had hired men with them. More than one of the settlers died. Must be their things.”
Colin felt oddly guilty about wearing a dead man’s clothing, but he shucked the uniform gratefully. He chose a blue, buttoned shirt and brown trousers, which were both a bit too big for him, but he found a belt. The clothing was soft and comfortable and quite a treat in contrast to the uniform.
In the close quarters, he watched from the corner of his eye as Patrick peeled his shirt off. “We should burn these damn things,” Patrick grumbled.
Colin chuckled, and his eyes were drawn to Patrick’s chest. When he finally looked up, Patrick was watching him. Patrick put on his new shirt and buttoned it.
“Don’t get any ideas, Lord.”
“I wasn’t! I’m not.”
“Right. Let’s just hope the merry widow knows where she’s leading us. Could be the death of us yet.”
It was hours before the wagon stopped. When Colin poked his head out from the back flap, there was no sign of civilization but the dirt road they’d traveled on. His heart sank.
They climbed out, and Colin realized the low humming sound he could hear was a herd of hundreds of cattle grazing in a clearing. In all directions, Colin could see only fields and clumps of trees.
Emily surveyed the animals silently, and a young man strode toward them. He was a bit shorter than Colin but had a muscled, lean physique. A shock of sandy hair swept back from his forehead when he neatly doffed his wide-brimmed, brown leather hat and smiled. There was a small gap between his front teeth, but somehow it added to his good looks.
The man extended his hand to Patrick. “Mr. Grant. Pleasure to meet you. I received word that the ship had arrived.”
Before Patrick could respond, Emily did. “Mr. Grant is dead.” Her tone brooked no argument. “These are my animals now.”
The man was clearly surprised, but quickly recovered. He stepped toward Emily, his hand still extended. “I’m Robert. Robbie, everyone calls me. I’m very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Grant.”
Emily shook his hand warily. “Where is our guide?”
“You’re looking at ’im, ma’am.”
“You?” Her brow creased. “You’re just a boy.”
Robbie straightened. “I’m twenty-one, ma’am. And I know my way around the land and the cattle; don’t worry.”
“My husband was told—”
“That he’d get the best guide money can buy. I’ve grown up here in New South Wales. Traveled all around since I was a boy, driving cattle, ranching. I live in the saddle. You won’t find better than me.”
“I suppose I won’t find anyone but you, given the shortage of labor in the colony.”
Robbie shrugged. “True as that is, I’m the best. I promise you that.”
“Where are the men who helped you get the cattle this far from the ranch down south? You couldn’t have done it alone. There are five hundred.” Emily surveyed the herd. “There are five hundred, correct?”
“To a one. I don’t lose cattle, and I don’t run ’em into the ground. Move fifteen miles or so a day, and they stay healthy. The others have gone back to make other deliveries, ma’am. There were to be three men with you. Which is more than we’d usually have with five hundred head of cattle.”
Emily waved her hand in Colin and Patrick’s direction. “It’s just these two.”
“Ah, we’ll be fine. I can handle three hundred on my own.”
“You’re sure you know where we’re going?”
“Yes, ma’am. A thousand miles northwest. It’ll be a great spot for a station.”
“A thousand miles?” Colin blurted. At fifteen miles a day, it would take at least two months.
“Would you rather be back behind bars?” Emily asked.
Admonished, Colin shook his head. Robbie gazed at him quizzically. “Prison, eh?”
Emily nodded at Colin and Patrick. “These are my workers.” She paused. “My prisoners, I should say. They’re not to be trusted. They’re to take orders from you, and if they disobey, you can reprimand them as you see fit.”
“Whatever you say, ma’am.” Robbie flipped his hat up his arm playfully before placing it back on his head.
“Let’s get on with it, then,” Emily replied.
Robbie eyed them all. “Do you have the proper equipment? You’ll be needing hats. The sun is stronger here than you’re used to in England. Or so they tell me.”
“Yes, I have a hat.” Emily frowned at Colin and Patrick. “Is there a store nearby?”
“You’d have had a better selection in Sydney.”
Emily seemed momentarily flustered. “Well, we were in a rush. Is there a store or not?”
“You’re in luck. It’s about thirty miles up the track.”
“That’s the closest? Thirty miles?”
Robbie grinned. “After that it’s a hell of a lot farther, so we’d better stock up.” He motioned to Colin and Patrick. “Follow me, boys. Ma’am, you’ll lead in the wagon. If you’re sure you can handle it?”
“Yes.” Emily turned on her heel and climbed up onto the wagon.
Colin and Patrick fell in step with Robbie as they headed to a tree with four horses tied to it. “Whatcha’ in for?” Robbie asked.
Colin pondered briefly whether or not they should lie, but Patrick was already answering. “Buggery.” He was defiant—proud, even.
Robbie’s stride didn’t falter, although his eyebrow rose. “That so?”
Colin spoke up. “Yes.” His heart thumped.
After a long moment, Robbie shrugged. “Keep your hands to yourself and we’ll get on fine, I reckon.” He stopped by the horses, scratching one behind the ears. “Have to tie one to the wagon. I was expecting three men. What did ’em in?”
“Typhoid fever,” Patrick answered. “Almost got me too.”
“Truly? Someone must be lookin’ out for you.” He untied one of the horses and gave Patrick the reins. “Saddle up and enjoy it. I’ve seen some of the convict work crews out from time to time, and I daresay this is a better deal you two have gotten.”
As Colin took his horse and swung himself into the saddle, he couldn’t help but smile. He thought Robbie was quite right.
Several painful hours later, Colin was markedly less certain that he wouldn’t rather be digging a ditch or doing anything else than ride a horse. Although he’d always loved riding at home, he’d never spent so many hours at a time on horseback. And after months at sea in cramped conditions and without proper food, he was weaker and thinner than he’d ever been.
Patrick seemed to be faring no better as the afternoon went on, although Colin knew he’d never admit it. Yet he could tell Patrick was just as weary as he was. The bout of typhoid still hadn’t totally left him. At least the sun had mercifully disappeared behind a wall of clouds, and there was a breeze to cool them.
Added to their discomfort was the challenge of actually driving the cattle. Patrick was a skilled rider and accustomed to dealing with livestock, but Colin still heard him swear in frustration at errant cows. Robbie had conducted a rudimentary lesson that boiled down to: Keep the herd together and make them go where you want them to go.
Colin felt utterly out of his depth, and after a while, just staying on his horse was enough of a challenge. The road hadn’t gone far, and the terrain was surprisingly rocky. Along with open spaces, there were swaths of forest. Robbie told them the land would get much hillier before it would flatten out as they continued.
The saddle Colin sat upon was unlike any he’d ever seen. It appeared to have been modified from a traditional English hunt saddle. Hunks of leather were sewn onto the sides and seemed to act as knee pads. The seat was much deeper and gave more stability than Colin was used to. Although he was exhausted, he felt secure on his horse’s back.
His mount’s name was Mission, and Colin scratched the horse’s head and talked to him, trying to establish a rapport. Mission seemed friendly enough and was well trained. The cows, on the other hand, were a stubborn lot. Robbie had given them coiled whips, but Colin was reluctant to use his. He’d attached it to his belt and felt as if he was playing dress-up with William as they had as children.
Robbie had a real gun—a rifle that he kept with him in a scabbard by his saddlebag. Colin had never even touched a firearm. Hunting had never interested him. Still, considering the beasts that could be living out on this land, he was glad Robbie was armed.
As night fell, Robbie rode ahead to tell Emily to stop, and they drove the cattle into a clearing. Once the cattle were content to stay put and graze, Colin gratefully slid off his horse. Of course, he ended up all the way on the ground as his legs gave way beneath him. He took a deep breath and mustered up the will to stand, although he was quite content to stay on the ground for the moment. As he struggled to his knees, Patrick was suddenly there, his grip firm on Colin’s arm as he helped him to his feet.
Colin smiled faintly. “Haven’t gotten my land legs back yet.”
Patrick’s hand lingered. “You’re doing fine.”
Robbie approached, flipping his hat in his hand and catching it repeatedly. “All right, there?”
“Yes.” Colin brushed off the seat of his trousers. “Thank you.”
Robbie looked him up and down, then shouted to Emily by the wagon. “They’ll need better boots, ma’am.”
Emily approached, back ramrod straight as she attempted to smooth down her hair, which was coming loose from its knot. Her mourning dress was now covered in a fine layer of dust and dirt, and she appeared as exhausted as Colin felt. “Will there be suitable boots in the town we’re nearing?”
“Yes, although it’s more of a general store, ma’am. Not so much a town as you might imagine. It’s on a property. One of the new cattle stations. Bagaaybaraay, it’s called.”
Colin, Patrick, and Emily all stared at Robbie as if he was speaking a foreign language, which he soon explained he was. Colin had known there were indigenous people in Australia and wondered if they were anything like the Indians of the stories about America.
“What’s for supper?” Robbie asked.
Emily looked at Colin and Patrick before realizing Robbie was addressing her. “I’m not sure. I’m not much of a cook.”
“You did buy rations for the journey in Sydney, didn’t you, ma’am?”
“Yes, but my husband assured me the cooking would be taken care of.”
“Well, on a bigger drive, we’d have a food wagon, but with just us, we’ll have to cook for ourselves. I’m sure we can come up with something.” He grinned affably.
Colin was so hungry he’d eat anything, especially if it was fresh. Robbie started a fire with an effortlessness that Colin admired and envied. He then cooked up a stew, and they sat around the fire as it bubbled in a pot. Robbie seemed to be the only one with any energy left, and he carried on the conversation single-handedly, telling them about his last cattle drive and his adventures with a sudden flood.
All conversation stopped when he served up the meal, and Colin couldn’t recall anything ever tasting quite as delicious. They washed it down with some whiskey, which Colin had never liked but could imagine developing a taste for. He and Patrick devoured their portions, and Robbie chuckled. “Didn’t seem to feed you too well, eh? That’s the government for you.” He then spoke to Emily. “How are you finding it?”
She finished chewing and swallowed before answering. “It’s quite pleasant. Thank you.”
“Just wait till I catch us a kangaroo. Then we’ll feast.”
“Kangaroo?” Patrick asked.
“Yep. Kind of like…it’s hard to say, really. A little horse, but they hop on their back legs. Not really like a horse at all, actually. Not like anything you’d know, I don’t think. Strong as hell and quick bastards too.” He glanced at Emily. “Excuse my language, ma’am.”
Emily’s expression was unchanging. “It’s all right.” She wiped her mouth daintily with a handkerchief. “There are blankets for you men. I trust I don’t have to warn you to stay away from the wagon.”
All three shook their heads, and Robbie smiled mischievously. “I reckon that’s why you ended up with these two for your prisoners, ain’t it?”
Emily nodded stiffly. “Yes. I suppose it is.”
“Well, you’ve nothin’ to worry about from me, ma’am. I’d sooner cut off my own…you know, than disrespect a good woman.”
“That’s very comforting, Robert.”
Robbie jerked a thumb at Colin and Patrick. “Are you wanting to tie them up?”
Emily seemed very uncomfortable with the notion. “I hadn’t considered the matter. Do you think we should?”
Robbie pondered it for a moment. “Nah. If I keep the horses with me, I reckon it’ll be fine. They’d be fools to run for it.” He addressed Colin and Patrick. “Trust me, you won’t get far, and the colony doesn’t look fondly on fugitives. Not one bit.”
“We won’t run,” Patrick replied.
“It really isn’t necessary to bind us,” Colin added. He had no idea where they’d run to in this unfamiliar land.
“Very well. Good night.” Emily retreated to the wagon some yards away.
Robbie untied the horses from where they’d been left by a tree and took their reins. “You seem like decent enough fellas. But I warn you, I sleep with one eye open, and like I said, you wouldn’t get far. I’d really rather you didn’t give me any reason to dislike you.”
“You’ve got nothing to worry about from us,” Patrick answered.
“Right, then. I’ll take watch tonight, over yonder on the other side of the herd. We’ll take turns as we go along and you two get more familiar with the cattle. You just have to keep an ear out in case they get spooked by something. Don’t want a stampede.”
“No, I imagine we don’t,” Colin said.
“One of you do the washing up in the stream. Watch your step, though. Snakes come out at night.”
“Snakes?” Colin and Patrick exclaimed in unison.
Robbie grinned. “Just pullin’ your legs.” Over his shoulder as he walked away, the horses in tow, he called back, “There are snakes, though. Day and night. So be careful.”
Colin and Patrick looked at each other and couldn’t help but laugh. “Can you believe we’re here?” Colin waved his arm to encompass their surroundings. The stars shone impossibly bright, and the sky seemed massive. “Just this morning we were still on that damn ship.”
“Indeed. It’s an odd feeling. Like a dream.”
Colin bent to collect the metal dishes. “Lucky thing, as it turns out. Being debauched. We might have ended up breaking rocks, wearing leg irons.”
“Lucky indeed. If you can call being a prisoner for the crime of being ourselves lucky.” Patrick’s tone was resentful.
“True. But you know what I mean.”
Patrick softened. “Aye. I know what you mean, Colin.”
Colin’s stomach flip-flopped at the sound of his name on Patrick’s tongue. He took a step closer. “I’m so glad to be here with you. I don’t know what I would have done—”
Patrick suddenly took the dishes from Colin’s hands. “I’ll do the washing. You’d best get to bed, Lord.” He strode away into the darkness.
With a sigh, Colin collected their blankets from where Emily had left them outside the wagon. He spread them by the dying fire, making a bed for Patrick a respectable distance away. He lay down and listened for Patrick’s return, but was fast asleep in no time at all.
When Colin woke, he experienced a few moments of dissonance. There was an unfamiliar low din he couldn’t identify, and his bunk felt strange and unmoving beneath him. He wondered if the ship was so still because they’d stopped in port, which meant they’d have to stay on the prison deck.
However, as he opened his eyes, the dim barracks weren’t there, and he breathed in clean, fresh air. Instead of rows of narrow bunks and snoring convicts, Colin took in a herd of lowing cattle. The events of the day before clicked into place in his mind, and he sat up to peer around, still disbelieving that he was really out in the Australian bush. Better yet, that he was with Patrick.
He’d slept like a rock all night. The sun had appeared just over the horizon, and he stretched his arms overhead as Patrick approached from the creek. Patrick took a swig from a canteen and stopped a yard away. “What’re you so happy about this morning?”
“Happy to be off that ship. Happy to not be in a cell or on a road gang.” Colin paused before finishing his thought. “Happy to be with you, whether you like it or not. Happy that Mrs. Grant seems a good woman, and Robbie is friendly and kind from what I can tell so far.”
Patrick shook his head. “What did I tell you? Don’t trust anyone. Look out for yourself, because no one else will.”
Colin wanted to ask if they couldn’t look out for each other, but held his tongue. Emily emerged from the wagon a few minutes later, clad again in the black dress. It was high necked and made of fairly thick material. Colin thought she would be quite uncomfortable wearing it in the heat, but supposed she felt duty bound.
Whistling a jaunty tune, Robbie returned with the horses. He started a fire and brewed a pot of strong coffee. They ate yesterday’s stew, which tasted just as good to Colin as it had the night before. The coffee was bitter, but he forced it down.
The notion of spending the entire day in the saddle was daunting. Yet Colin had no choice, so he mounted Mission, squared his shoulders, and spurred his horse, trying to ignore the ache in his muscles. As they moved onward over stretches of fields and past trees, Robbie would ride ahead every so often to give Emily directions.
Late morning, they stopped to rest the cattle and horses, and Colin was quite grateful for the respite. Robbie pointed out some small trees that were growing clusters of round, pale green fruit.
“Desert limes, these are. If you’re ever scarce of water, find some of these. Taste a bit strong, but they’re food for ya.”
They picked a few each, and Colin peeled the skin tentatively. His first bite was sharp but didn’t taste too bad. They snacked on nuts as well, of which there seemed to be plenty growing on the land.
After eating, Robbie handed Colin and Patrick each a coil of rope. Patrick was already handy with a rope thanks to his work with horses, so Robbie showed Colin the best way to knot a loop in the end and then demonstrated spinning the rope above his head and tossing it neatly over a rock quite some distance away.
“Once you’ve got a feel for it, you can work on your aim. Of course, misbehavin’ cows aren’t likely to be standing as still as that rock is.” Robbie grinned.
Colin’s first attempt landed only a few feet away in a tangled heap, much to his embarrassment. Yet Robbie didn’t mock him. “That was a good try. Don’t worry, it takes some practice.” He clapped Colin on the shoulder encouragingly.
Patrick’s toss went much farther than Colin’s but didn’t quite make the target. Patrick’s jaw set, and he yanked the rope back to try again. They each had a few more throws—with much more success on Patrick’s part—and Robbie told them to keep the ropes so they could practice whenever they had a moment.
Back on their horses, Robbie effortlessly tossed his rope over the head of a nearby cow. Colin was determined to master the technique and asked Robbie to demonstrate again. He did, and then they were back on the trail.
The clouds of the day before were gone, and the sun was powerful. Colin knew his exposed skin was burning but, without a hat, couldn’t do much about it. At least his arms and legs were covered. He hoped they’d reach the store sooner rather than later.
Midday, Colin got his first look at several kangaroos as they bounced across the land, jumping remarkably high and moving quickly. Patrick and Colin exchanged amazed grins as they watched the strange animals springing along on powerful back legs. Colin could hardly believe he was still on the same planet as England. Australia was an utterly foreign world.
That night, they set up camp over a rise from a still pond that had formed off a river. After the cows were settled, Robbie jerked his thumb in the pond’s direction. “Ma’am, you get first crack at the billabong.”
Emily brushed some dust from her forehead. “Pardon?”
“The billabong. That pond over yonder. That’s what we call it. Don’t know why, exactly.” Although Robbie spoke with an accent that was largely plebian British, at times there was quite a twang to his dialect, and some of the words he used were fascinating to Colin.
“Oh, I see. Billabong.” Emily seemed to enjoy rolling the word over her tongue.
“Like I said, ladies first. Don’t worry; we can’t see from here. We’ll make tucker in the meantime.”
While Emily bathed and Patrick rubbed down the horses, Colin and Robbie assembled a simple meal of dried meat and a soupy vegetable mixture. After being at sea, Colin was well and truly tired of dried meat and hoped Robbie would be able to hunt something fresh the next day.
Emily returned with her wet hair slicked back in a knot and her black dress on once more. Colin wondered if she was sleeping in it too. By the time Robbie had his turn and they ate, the sun was down. Patrick told Colin to take his bath first, and he and Robbie discussed who would take watch as Emily retired to her wagon, closing the canvas flaps tightly.
At the billabong’s edge, Colin stripped off his clothes, which would need to be laundered very soon. Although he was quite conscious of the fact that there could be snakes or any other number of unknown creatures about, the lure of the cool water was far too enticing. He stepped in and pushed off, submerging.
The water was like a balm on his tired muscles and burned scalp, and he closed his eyes for a minute and floated peacefully. Although he would have been happy to stay there all night, Colin knew he couldn’t. He realized he’d left the bar of soap on the shore and stood up and opened his eyes.
Patrick stood by the pile of Colin’s discarded clothes, the soap in one of his large hands. In the moonlight, they watched each other silently. Colin’s throat was dry, and his body hummed with desire.
Without a word, Patrick slowly peeled off his clothing, folding each piece carefully as Colin’s excitement grew. When he was naked, his cock already springing to life, Patrick steadily waded in until they were face-to-face in the waist-high water. Colin leaned in to kiss him, but Patrick turned him about with deft hands, pulling him tightly against his chest.
Patrick dipped the bar of soap in the water in front of Colin and lathered his hands slowly. Just as Colin was about to beg him to hurry, Patrick caressed Colin’s chest and arms, sucking on the juncture of Colin’s shoulder and neck. Taking time to lather every so often, Patrick washed him, although maddeningly, he didn’t touch Colin’s groin.
Colin’s cock was rock hard, but when he moved to touch it, Patrick tightened an arm around his chest. He sucked on Colin’s earlobe, and his tongue teased the tender skin behind Colin’s ear. One hand snaked down, and Patrick eased the tip of his finger into Colin’s asshole.
Gasping at the sensation, Colin pushed back, wanting more. He felt as if his body was alight as Patrick slipped in farther, stroking lightly. Colin’s breath came in short pants, and he moaned loudly when Patrick reached down with his other hand and fisted Colin’s cock, rubbing and twisting.
Patrick slid in another finger and stretched Colin, who leaned against him, slack with pleasure as Patrick played him like a virtuoso would a violin. Colin moaned as the delicious tension built. He could imagine even better than before what it would be like to have Patrick inside him, and he pushed back, wanting more, feeling Patrick’s hardness jutting into his lower back.
Crooking his fingers, Patrick rubbed against a spot that made Colin practically vibrate out of the water, gasping. He repeated the motion, and Colin came, shuddering against Patrick as the sensations overtook him. Patrick squeezed and milked Colin’s cock until it was too sensitive to touch and Colin turned in his arms.
There was an affectionate twinkle in Patrick’s eye. Colin wanted to kiss him so much, but instead reached down and stroked him. Patrick’s eyes drifted shut, and he leaned into Colin’s touch. Suddenly a shriek erupted in the night, and they both jumped.
They stared at each other for a moment, and then Patrick groaned in frustration and moved toward shore. They both tugged on their trousers quickly and ran over the rise to camp to find Emily by the wagon in a white, long-sleeved nightdress that grazed her ankles. Her thick hair hung loose down her back.
A lantern wobbled inside the wagon, and Robbie’s voice rang out. “Don’t see anything, ma’am.”
Emily’s arms were folded tightly around herself. “I swear I felt something crawling on my leg.”
Robbie emerged. “I believe you. But I can’t find it now, and there’s a good chance you scared it to death by screaming like that.” He smiled, obviously trying to lighten her mood, but she remained coiled and tense.
“Thank you for looking.” She brushed by him and back into the wagon, pulling the canvas shut after her.
Robbie leaned close to Colin and Patrick and whispered, “Could’ve been a redback, but we won’t tell her that.”
“What’s that?” Colin whispered back, even though he was sure he didn’t want to know the answer.
They moved away from the wagon, and Robbie answered. “Just a wee little spider, but it’ll kill a grown man. It’s black with a red stripe. If you see one, don’t try to pick it up.”
Colin couldn’t imagine a circumstance when he’d willingly pick up any spiders, let alone a poisonous one. “I’ll remember that, thank you.”
Patrick had disappeared back to the pond, and Colin supposed he couldn’t very well go after him, although most of his clothes were still there. “Who’s on watch tonight, then?” he asked.
Robbie rolled out his blanket near the remains of the fire, the horses tethered nearby. “Patrick said he’ll take it. You can go tomorrow night. So get a good night’s sleep tonight.”
As Colin prepared his sleeping area, Patrick returned and silently deposited Colin’s remaining clothing beside him. He brushed Colin’s shoulder with his fingertips, and went to take his post.