Echo Burning

through the yard, down past the barn, past the corrals, and around the corner of the bunkhouse to the foot of the stairway. He intended to go straight up and take a long shower to get rid of the terrible animal smell that was clinging to him. But when he got up to the second story, he found Carmen sitting on his bed with a set of folded sheets on her knees. She was still in her cotton dress, and the sheets glowed white against the skin of her bare legs.
    “I got you these,” she said. “From the linen closet in the bathroom. You’re going to need them. I didn’t know if you would realize where they were.”
    He stopped at the head of the stairs, one foot inside the room, the other foot still on the last tread.
    “Carmen, this is crazy,” he said. “You should get out, right now. They’re going to realize I’m a phony. I’m not going to last a day. I might not even be here on Monday.”
    “I’ve been thinking,” she said. “All the way through supper.”
    “About what?”
    “About Al Eugene. Suppose it’s about whoever Sloop is going to rat out? Suppose they woke up and took some action? Suppose they grabbed Al to stop the deal?”
    “Can’t be. Why would they wait? They’d have done it a month ago.”
    “Yes, but suppose everybody thought it was.”
    He stepped all the way into the room.
    “I don’t follow,” he said, although he did.
    “Suppose you made Sloop disappear,” she said. “The exact same way somebody made Al disappear. They’d think it was all connected somehow. They wouldn’t suspect you. You’d be totally in the clear.”
    He shook his head. “We’ve been through this. I’m not an assassin.”
    She went quiet. Looked down at the sheets in her lap and began picking at a seam. The sheets were frayed and old. Cast-offs from the big house, Reacher thought. Maybe Rusty and her dead husband had slept under those same sheets. Maybe Bobby had. Maybe Sloop had. Maybe Sloop and Carmen, together.
    “You should just get out, right now,” he said again.
    “I can’t.”
    “You should stay somewhere inside of Texas, just temporarily. Fight it, legally. You’d get custody, in the circumstances.”
    “I don’t have any money. It could cost a hundred thousand dollars.”
    “Carmen, you have to do something.”
    She nodded.
    “I know what I’m going to do,” she said. “I’m going to take a beating, Monday night. Then Tuesday morning, I’m going to come find you, wherever you are. Then you’ll see, and maybe you’ll change your mind.”
    He said nothing. She angled her face up into the fading light from the high windows. Her hair tumbled back on her shoulders.
    “Take a good look,” she said. “Come close.”
    He stepped nearer.
    “I’ll be all bruised,” she said. “Maybe my nose will be broken. Maybe my lips will be split. Maybe I’ll have teeth missing.”
    He said nothing.
    “Touch my skin,” she said. “Feel it.”
    He put the back of his forefinger on her cheek. Her skin was soft and smooth, like warm silk. He traced the wide arch of her cheekbone.
    “Remember this,” she said. “Compare it to what you feel Tuesday morning. Maybe it’ll change your mind.”
    He took his finger away. Maybe it would change his mind. That was what she was counting on, and that was what he was afraid of. The difference between cold blood and hot blood. It was a big difference. For him, a crucial difference.
    “Hold me,” she said. “I can’t remember how it feels to be held.”
    He sat down next to her and took her in his arms. She slid hers around his waist and buried her head in his chest.
    “I’m scared,” she said.

    They sat like that for twenty minutes. Maybe thirty. Reacher lost all track of time. She was warm and fragrant, breathing steadily. Then she pulled away and stood up, with a bleak expression on her face.
    “I have to go find Ellie,” she said. “It’s her bedtime.”
    “She’s in the barn. She showed me how to put all that crap on the horse.”
    She nodded. “She’s a good kid.”
    “That’s for sure,” he said. “Saved my bacon.”
    She handed the sheets to him.
    “You want to come riding tomorrow?” she asked.
    “I don’t know how.”
    “I’ll teach you.”
    “Could be a long process.”
    “It can’t be. We have to get up on the mesa.”
    “Why?”
    She looked away.
    “Something you have to teach me,” she said. “In case Tuesday doesn’t change your mind. I need to know how to work my gun properly.”
    He said