Mindy McGinnis - In a Handful of Dust

“I prefer to walk myself,” Lynn said, eyes roaming over the mounted men as she spoke. “Like to get back to it, if you don’t mind.”

“That can wait a bit, I imagine,” he said, still friendly, though Lucy noticed he was watching Lynn’s hands instead of her face. “We hear you shoot like a man.”

“You heard wrong,” Lynn said coldly. “I shoot like a woman.”

A titter swept through the men, and Joss shifted uncomfortably in her saddle.

“One of my men got a little taste of your talent last night,” the man continued, smile fading. “He’s not feeling so well today.”

“Funny, my daughter took a hit and is feeling fine.”

“Joss here says that ain’t your daughter.”

“Joss say anything else?”

The man smiled again, a cold flexing of facial muscles that didn’t extend to his eyes. “Enough to get her a nice safe place to live for a while, assuming the young one comes along without any trouble.”

The man switched his gaze to her, and Lucy instinctively stepped back, wishing she could puddle into the ground along with the water at Lynn’s feet.

“Sorry,” Lynn said, a small smile on her own face. “I’ll be giving you trouble.”

“Why can’t we take ’em both?” one of the other riders said to the leader, but his eyes were riveted on Lynn. “I like women with more hair on them than the dowser has got.”

“You keep the blond one long enough, her hair’ll grow,” another one said, eyes crawling over Lucy’s body.

“Ain’t nobody taking anybody,” Lynn said, her voice dropping all pretense of civility.

“I told you she’s dangerous,” Joss said, nervously watching Lynn. “Take care of her and grab the little one.”

“I like ’em dangerous,” the one who was interested in Lynn said, walking his horse right up beside her. He took a handful of her hair and tugged on it. “You’re awful pretty, to be so mean.”

“I been trying to do better about killing people,” Lynn said. “Then fate puts you in my path.”

Lucy knew the tone well enough to drop before Lynn’s rifle cracked, the shot catching his horse in the neck and sending the animal rearing, the rider flying. The horse fell to its knees, lifeblood spilling into the dirt. Lynn crouched behind its flailing body. Lucy rolled to the side and felt the stitches in her shoulder rip as she flung herself into the ditch and pulled her own pistol into position.

The horses panicked at the smell of blood, and the men fired wildly as their mounts struggled against their bridles. Shots rang past Lucy in the grass, but none came close. More blood sprayed from the dying horse Lynn hid behind as she waited patiently to come up for a shot. When she did, the leader fell, a neat black hole in his forehead.

The rider of the dead horse had been bucked off, breaking a leg. He was crawling east as best he could, trying to stay out from under the hooves of the pawing horses. Lucy drew a bead on another rider but hesitated a second before pulling the trigger. Lynn’s shot rang out first. The man fell in a heap, his horse trampling his skull.

Joss was screaming, inexpertly yanking on the reins and spooking her horse more. It bucked wildly, frightened by its strange rider, and Joss went sailing over its head.

The two remaining men fired desperately. Lynn crouched behind the dead horse, squeezing herself into the smallest possible target. She came up briefly, fired quickly, and one of the men shrieked and grabbed his arm. His gun clattered to the road. He turned his horse east, disappearing in a cloud of dust, one of the riderless horses following behind.

The last man tossed his gun down and put both hands in the air. Lynn glanced over the body of the horse, saw him unarmed, and rose to her feet. Lucy emerged from the grass and walked to where Joss lay curled in a ball, moaning.

“Don’t kill me,” the man said, his voice shaking as Lynn approached his mount. “Wasn’t my idea.”

“I know whose idea it was,” she said, looking blackly at Joss, who cowered under her glare. Lynn sighed and looked back at Lucy.

“Don’t kill him,” Lucy said. “What good would it do?”

“They know you can dowse.”

“I won’t tell nobody, honest.” The rider moved to cross his heart, but Lynn trained her gun on him.

“I really think I should shoot him,” Lynn said.

Lucy glanced down at Joss, who was sitting up and cradling her foot. “Save your bullets,” Lucy said.

Lynn looked between the rider and the man with the broken leg, who was still trying to crawl east. “I’m taking your horses,” she said. “Pick your buddy up off the ground. I see any of your people following us, you’re the first person I shoot.”

“Understood,” the man said curtly, sliding down off his horse and handing the reins over to Lynn. He motioned to Joss. “What about her?”

Lynn looked at Joss with a hardness in her eyes Lucy had never seen before. “She’s staying here. Just like that.”

Joss moaned and tried to grab Lucy’s leg, but she stepped out of reach. Lynn walked away from the fallen riders without another glance, handed the reins of one horse to Lucy, and gathered the two remaining, walking past Joss as if she weren’t there.

“Please, Lynn, listen to me,” Joss pleaded, as Lynn walked by. “Don’t leave me here. I can’t walk.”

Lynn didn’t answer and motioned to Lucy to get on her horse as she mounted her own, draping the reins of the riderless horse around her pommel. Lucy bit down against the pain as she pulled herself awkwardly into the saddle. Fresh blood broke through the honey coating her wound, the bitter metallic smell mixing with the sweet tang of honey. As they rode past Joss, Lucy glanced down to see a bloody streak of bone sticking out above her foot, already attracting flies.

“Lynn? Lynn! ” Joss’ voice cracked as she pleaded. “Leave me the horse, at least. You’ve got an extra horse—just leave me the goddamn horse! ”

Lucy dug her heels into her horse, and it moved faster, Lynn’s picking up the pace beside her. A cry of rage ripped the air, and a shower of dirt and pebbles rained down on them as they rode away. Joss kept screaming Lynn’s name, but the next fistful of rocks didn’t reach them.

“Lucy! LUCY!!! ”

Lucy jammed her fingers into her ears and began humming the only song Lynn had ever taught her, but Joss’ next scream was so strong she could feel the vibrations of it. They were well past the chance of her hearing anything when Lucy finally uncovered her ears.

“Don’t look back, little one,” Lynn said. “Don’t look back, and don’t think on it.”

Riding jostled Lucy’s shoulder less than walking, and the burn of injury faded to the itch of healing before they crossed into Illinois. Lynn’s badly sewn stitches had been replaced with much apology and more awkward stitches, but they did the trick. The horses ate up the miles with ease, jauntily switching their tails to keep the flies away as they walked. They acclimated to their new riders much easier than Lucy and Lynn did to riding. Muscles they hadn’t known existed were sore after only a day in the saddle.

Heat and humidity fell on them like a blanket, wringing the sweat from their bodies and soaking their clothing through before mid morning. They rested the horses more often, taking the heavy saddles from their backs and nestling under shade trees until the horses wandered back to them, tired of grazing and ready to move once more.

The steady clip-clop of their hooves hypnotized Lucy in the heat of the afternoons, causing her thoughts to stray. Carter weighed heavily on her mind, his illness and the possibility that he wouldn’t carry it forever tucked away in a secret spot in her heart. Lulled by the road, she let herself imagine a future where she and Carter sat side by side on a beach. The feeling of hope that blossomed was always stifled by the midday heat, and the heavy air made breathing feel like work.