All three went outside, the woman carrying the musket. When the men turned to say good-bye she said, “I’m goin’ too.”
Red said, “But, ma’am....”
It was the first time they had seen her smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t foller you to camp. I jus’ want to set your feet in the right direction.”
The ground rose slowly, dipped to a shallow valley, then climbed again to the ridge that stood against the sky like a shoulder of God.
Tim said, “Go back if you want. You can point out the way from here.”
Her tanned cheeks had a ruddy glow. She ran her hand through her hair and tossed her head. She looked up at the ridge, then down at the frozen ground. “I was goin’ huntin’, anyway. I’ll walk with you a while. I don’t know Knoxville, never been there, but I know which way it is, all right.”
They were toughened by the walking of the past few weeks and rested now and well fed, so that the climbing wasn’t bad at all. The slopes abounded in mountain laurel and ginseng. Tim thought how the place must look in spring with the shrubs and nut trees in bloom.
They traversed a half mile of loose rock, deep and uncertain on a steep slope.
They stopped at the top and rested a minute. Red grabbed at a sapling for support and the woman said, “Don’t trust yourself to little trees. If the roots give way they take you with them down the mountain.” She sniffed the air. “Snow soon.”
Red said, “That ridge must be six miles from here, or more.”