Chapter 71: He Wanted His Good Boy

The cart blocked the only clear side of the bridge. Snowplows had once pushed a ridge against the other curb, and a wrecked SUV sat frozen into it. Below the concrete rail, runoff hurried through a deep ditch that Dove had no intention of testing with her feet.

They had followed a two-lane road past a garden center, with a gas station visible beyond the bridge. There were still yellow lines beneath the slush, and the cart had become everybody’s problem by sinking a wheel between them.

Thorne stopped beside the garden center’s low brick entrance sign. Edrik stayed in bear form on Dove’s other side while the nearest man explained that they couldn’t get the cart across until somebody freed it.

"Help us lift it, and we’ll clear your way," he offered. His gaze kept returning to her. "The female could sit with us while you work."

"Or you could stop inviting yourself into my day and explain what’s wrong with your wheel."

Thorne’s growl rumbled under her thighs. Dove scratched his neck, partly to reassure him and partly because the noise made the offer sound even less sensible.

The cart was a four-wheeled warehouse trolley, its platform piled with food tubs and blankets. Someone had added tall metal sides to stop the load falling off. It was large enough to carry supplies, but it was not a wagon full of hidden people.

A man with a crossbow sat beside its front wheel. Thorne told him to put the weapon down before anyone approached. After a long look at Edrik, he set it on the far side of the cart.

They could return to the highway, Edrik said, but the nearest usable crossing would take most of the day. Dove studied the cart, the road behind them, and the clouds gathering over the trees.

"We move the stupid thing and leave," she decided. "I’m not marrying into the wheel problem."

Edrik shifted behind the brick sign first. Dove looked away until he had pulled on the clothes from his bag, then accepted his hand as Thorne lowered her to the sheltered pavement.

Her mate changed behind the same cover while Edrik stayed with her. Fur became bare human skin, and trousers became necessary again. She understood the process now. She also understood why Thorne had grinned when she’d offered to hold his shirt.

"I’m helping," she told him as he dressed. "Being distracted by your shoulders is a separate activity."

His black tail brushed her calf when he came around the sign. The look he gave her suggested he intended to discuss that distinction later.

They checked the damage without moving the cart. Its wheel was caught against a bent steel bracket. Thorne could reshape the bracket while Edrik strengthened the lifting bar so the crew could raise the load without snapping it.

Dove stayed beside the brick sign, which stood back from the road and gave her cover. She kept her bag beside her feet rather than handing it to a helpful stranger. Edrik checked both ends of the bridge before putting his hands on the cart. Thorne kept looking back at her between small movements of metal.

She hated needing the checks, but she liked that neither man acted as though her only useful choice was to be silent.

"Tell me before you get tired," she told Thorne. "I refuse to explain that my boyfriend collapsed trying to impress four damp strangers."

"I was trying to impress the pretty one behind the sign."

"He’s talking about me," she informed the crew. "Don’t let it go to your heads."

Thorne laughed and pressed his fingers against the bracket. The curled steel slowly straightened enough to free the wheel. His jaw tightened with effort, but his hand stayed steady longer than it had during their repairs at Milepost.

Edrik watched him finish, then laid his palm on the lifting bar. Under his reinforcing power, the bowed metal held firm while the four men hauled the trolley up. Once its wheels reached dry pavement, he released it and stepped away from the crew.

No spell had made the cart weightless. Both men had used their own powers to solve different parts of the problem, and both stopped when the work was done.

Water dripped from the crew’s coats. Dove offered her three ponchos without opening the rest of her bag. One man bought two for a sealed bag of dried meat; another traded a sewing kit for the third.

Sprout paid the twelve normal coins once, bringing her to twenty-four. Her nine hundred one Favor stayed unchanged. Behind the sign, she stored the two traded items and an abandoned metal scoop the crew let her take, finishing the day’s three-item practice task.

Thorne came back while she was checking the slingshot in her pocket. She hadn’t practiced enough to trust a difficult shot under real pressure, but she liked knowing her hands could do something besides shake.

He bent toward her when she touched the hair around his notched ear. For a moment, his whole expression changed from watching strangers to waiting for her fingers.

"You’re forgetting my good boy," he murmured. "I stopped before I fell over."

"You did very well, and you look disgustingly pleased about it."

"I could be more pleased," he said, his voice low enough that the crew had to watch without being included.

She scratched behind his ear and called him a good boy properly. His eyes softened, and his tail swept against her legs with absolutely no interest in preserving his frightening reputation.

One crew member stared. Dove smiled at him. "He still bites. Don’t get ambitious."

Edrik wasn’t watching the little display anymore. His attention had settled on the man walking behind their cover, carrying a length of rope instead of helping move the trolley away.

The cart had cleared the bridge. There was no reason for anyone to stand between them and the road now.

Thorne lifted his head beneath her hand just as the crossbowman reached around the trolley and picked his weapon up again. Edrik’s voice went quiet enough to carry without sounding raised.

"Dove, get behind the brickwork before he gets around it," Edrik told her, already moving to block the man with the rope.