Ford mulled over the interactions between Mia and Martin. The man had readily recognized him, and not overly berated him for stealing the map and running off with it.
That was a relief, and not a small one, either. Disobeying the word of a deceased man was something Ford had decided to put behind him, but now that the man was alive and a few feet away from him, the shame began to creep in.
He hadn't felt much shame before. Self-righteousness and entitlement, but looking at Martin riding ahead was a stark reminder of who he'd been.
The woman sitting in front of him, whose back leaned ever so gently against his chest, was a reminder of who he wanted to be. The lessons he'd gotten from Grandpa on honor and responsibility.
He swallowed.
"I'm sorry, Martin," He raised his voice enough for the man to tug on the reins and look back.
"Sorry?"
"For taking your map when you told me to burn it," Ford explained.
