It did not take the horses long to find a comfortable rhythm. Even the supply ponies and the heavy breather that Charlie was riding offered no restraint or stubbornness as they eased up a slight ridge on the trail. Josiah stared at the back of Charlie Langdon’s head for the longest time, trying to force himself not to remember all of the times he had ridden with the man in the past. Obviously, the bees were still buzzing in his stomach, and the last thing he wanted to do was show Charlie, or the captain, any fear . . . so he began whistling. Lily played the piano, and the only songs Josiah knew were a few waltzes and some church songs. He avoided the church songs, and as he whistled a waltz, a song of happier days, he could almost smell Lily’s skin, her neck resting on his shoulder at a social dance when they were courting. He would rather ride away the hours wrapped in the memory of the music Lily loved than the memories of the war as he rode behind a killer like Charlie Langdon. He was desperate to rid himself of all the wartime memories that had come surging back to him since seeing Charlie.
