Chapter Thirty Two
Her hands clutching the taut chain and her breathing coming in dry, labored rasps, Tyra didn’t think she was going to make it. Back at the workshop, she had been incapable of putting together even a dozen consecutive steps. How she had managed to remain on her feet, walking behind Everett Gamble’s pony and trap for the past mile or so, she had no idea. It could only have been a combination of her innate will to survive and her prior physical conditioning.
She had tried to make a note of where they were going but such was her current state of exhaustion, she had ended up simply focusing on Gamble’s broad back, and the repetitive clip-clop of the pony’s hooves. In her peripheral vision, she was aware that the trees had closed in on the dirt track, so she guessed that Gam
