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separate from the saddle, over and over.
    Fine bastard.
    “You’d best be careful, Grounder. The boss is a good man. We’re watching you.”
    He looked over at one of the dozen drovers riding with Ez and rolled his eyes. “I’m terrified. You assholes couldn’t keep Emmett alive. I’m not worried.”
    Maybe he was a little worried, but he knew better than to show fear. Even Ez would attack a weak man. It was who they were. These cowboys had to be hard as nails to survive.
    Good thing Jesse knew a thing or two about keeping his head down and staying out of sight.
    “Just watch your back, man, and find a way to be useful.”
    “Oh, trust me. I am useful.” And ready for this particular conversation to be over.
    “You boys get back to work.” That was one of the older men, the one he thought he remembered as Ezrah’s trail boss. He seemed a reasonable sort.
    He didn’t thank the man; that wouldn’t be taken well. He just kept his mouth shut and rode, fingers stroking the port behind his ear. Maybe soon he’d find a spot underground, a hidden well. He needed it, really, needed his own reality.
    Needed to fly.
    Maybe after they settled for the night. He could check the perimeter of camp, see if there was a place to slip underground.
    A guy could hope, right?
    “I’m Cyrus, by the way. You probably don’t remember me.” The trail boss nudged his horse over, reaching to shake hands. “We appreciate your help, son.”
    “Jesse. I’ve been friends with Ez a long time, but I’m sorry to say I don’t really recall. I’m happy to help.” If by happy, he meant willing and not sure what the hell he could do.
    “I don’t remember much about you either, son, but I heard a good bit. From Emmett, believe it or not.” Well, that explained why Cyrus wasn’t treating him as if he were a pariah.
    “Emmett was a good man. We all grew up together. I taught him to shoot.”
    “No shit? Well, no wonder he couldn’t hit the side of a barn.”
    Jesse hooted, the horse dancing underneath him at the sudden sound. “You know it. We learned on a rifle that cocked left.”
    “That explains a lot.” Cyrus chuckled. “Well, you watch yourself around the boys. They’re a superstitious lot.”
    “I get it. I’ll watch my back.” And his front. And his sides.
    “Good deal.” They grinned at each other just as Ezrah called a halt.
    “Man, I’m afraid if I dismount, I’ll never walk again.”
    “You’d be best if you walk a good bit, actually,” Cyrus said. “Work it out.”
    “I can do that, thanks.” He could walk and search for a place to get underground. His skin itched. He needed in. Needed to be somewhere real again, somewhere he belonged. His port throbbed in the back of his head, a constant reminder of its hunger.
    “Hey.” Ez stopped next to him, smiling a little, his face etched with dust.
    “Hey, there.” He dismounted, forcing himself not to wince. He could do this. He felt as if he had jock itch, his inner thighs were so chafed.
    Why had he come again? Right. Ez. They were friends, him and Ez. Family, almost.
    Bound by their love of Emmett, if nothing else.
    “You look so serious. The boys already harassing you?”
    “Nothing I can’t handle. It happens.” It happened when they were kids, it would happen again.
    “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Ez grunted. “You’ll eat with me. We’ll have our own little fire, because we have a lot to talk on. Hour ‘til grub if you want to try and find a hot spot.”
    “I will.” There was one close, a low tickle in his ear, a buzzing whisper. His fingers clenched at the need to dig out his cables and all.
    “Be careful.” Ezrah clearly didn’t understand, but he was trying.
    “Just keep your cowboys off me, yeah?” He could find a place, port in. Soar.
    “I’ll do my best, man. Can you tell if there’s anyone else about?”
    “I’m not a seer, Ez. I’m a Grounder. Once I’m in, I’ll know who else is in the stream. It isn’t