Mindy McGinnis - In a Handful of Dust

“What is it?” Lucy crouched at Lynn’s feet, peering over Fletcher’s shoulder as he rolled Lynn onto her side. “Why isn’t it stopping?”

“Don’t know,” Fletcher said brusquely, tilting Lynn’s head forward and pulling a clean rag from his pocket to stanch the flow from her nose.

“Will she be okay? You can’t bleed to death through your nose, can you?”

“Doubt it,” he said. “Though I wouldn’t say it’s impossible.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the red bloom spread across the rag. “Shit,” Fletcher said quietly, and handed it over to Lucy. “You got anything else we can use?”

“An extra shirt in my bag.”

“Go get it.”

Lucy glanced to Lynn’s face, where the blood was now seeping between Fletcher’s fingers as he tried to stop the flow with his hands. She ran toward the horses, startling Spatter and sending Mister into a concerned trot in the opposite direction. Lucy yanked sharply on Spatter’s reins to hold his head down and rifled through her bag with one hand. Spatter stomped his foot at her but she ignored him, all her thoughts focused on Lynn and the blood spilling onto the road.

When she got back to the adults, Lynn’s eyelids were fluttering and Fletcher was trying to get her to answer him. She pushed him away with little strength, her hand sliding off his shoulder and resting against his chest as she lost consciousness again. Lucy shoved a long-sleeved shirt, packed in anticipation of colder days, into his hands.

“She soaks through this and we’re in trouble,” Fletcher said, holding it to her face and resting Lynn’s head against his chest.

“What happened?” Lucy asked again. “Did she get hit with a rock or something?”

“Don’t think so,” Fletcher said. “There are no bumps on her head, and we didn’t hear her cry out. We didn’t even know she was hurt until she came to tell us herself. My best guess is she’s not responding well to the elevation.”

Lucy’s eyebrows crinkled. “Elevation? What d’you mean?”

“Certain areas of land are higher than others. You don’t necessarily notice it as you travel, but you’re much more elevated in relation to sea level right now than you were back in Ohio. The air is thinner, especially here in the mountains.”

“I don’t feel any different.”

Fletcher shrugged. “Some people respond to it differently than others. Most only get a headache.”

Lucy thought about the permanent line that had formed on Lynn’s face over the past couple of days. “She didn’t tell me. She wasn’t feeling well and she didn’t tell me.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Fletcher looked down at Lynn, who appeared to be scowling even though she was unconscious. “If it’s been bothering her for a while, her body is disagreeing with the thin air. She’s probably been weak and dizzy too.”

“And then the damn fool went over the rock slide to move boulders where we couldn’t see her,” Lucy mumbled, more angry with herself for not noticing Lynn’s sickness than she was with Lynn.

“Hard labor was a poor decision, I’d say. And she won’t be improved by the loss of so much blood,” Fletcher said. He pulled Lucy’s shirt away from Lynn’s face, and Lucy was relieved to see the flow had dropped to a trickle.

“So what do we do? How do we make her better?”

“The only thing that’ll help her is getting down off the mountain. That means pushing through and going on over, hoping for no more delays—”

“Or going back,” Lucy finished for him.

“Or going back,” Fletcher agreed.

Lucy looked at Lynn while Fletcher wiped the smeared blood from her face, dipping the shirt in what little was left of their fresh water. Turning around was appealing for so many reasons. Fletcher looked to Lucy, patiently awaiting her decision.

“If Lynn wakes up to find us pointing in the wrong direction, she’s apt to kill us both,” Lucy said.

Fletcher pushed his hat back on his head and looked at the woman still cradled in his arms. “Well, she does have a fondness for pointing guns at me.”

They worked into the night by the light of the fire Fletcher built near the rock slide. Lynn was rolled in their blankets, watching them work with a glare in her eye Lucy swore she could feel penetrating right through the rocks when she climbed over to work from the other side.

Lynn had not been happy when she woke to find herself resting beside the fire while the two of them labored on. She’d been even less happy when they refused to let her help, or even stand. All her arguments had landed on deaf ears, and she’d finally relented when Fletcher threatened to tie her up.

Either the rocks were responding to Lynn’s willpower, or Lucy had found a renewed strength. After a quick meal by the fire with a sullen Lynn, Lucy had returned to work determined to clear a path before morning. She knew more than rocks and dirt stood in the way of getting Lynn somewhere safe, but it was the obstacle in front of her, and she tore into it with ferocity.

By the time the morning sun was streaking the horizon with pink, they’d cleared a passage Lucy could slip through if she inhaled and held her breath. An hour later, Fletcher could slide through, and full morning found them leading an anxious Spatter through the narrow crevice, his grunts letting Lucy know he was not happy with her but willing to follow. Terra Cotta backed out when she felt the rocks brushing her sides, and it took another couple of hours of labor and strained patience to get the finicky mare through. Mister, by far the largest of the horses, flatly refused to walk through until Lynn stood and took his reins. He put his head down and followed her, meek as a kitten, and Lynn shook her head at him.

“You’re a dumb animal,” she said, but Lucy caught the older woman rubbing his nose when she thought no one was looking. They traveled until the rock slide was out of sight, lost in a bend in the canyon. A stretch of road lay ahead, reassuringly clear. The highway sliced confidently through the mountains, despite the looming peaks on both sides that seemed to Lucy to silently threaten to topple upon them at any moment.

Lynn had slid off Mister’s back the moment they stopped, even though they hadn’t even traveled a mile. Her legs seemed to buckle, and Lucy saw Fletcher watching her out of the corner of his eye, poised to help. Lynn sank to the ground, Mister’s reins still in her hands. The black horse nuzzled her, and she pushed her head against his.

“I’m exhausted,” Fletcher announced loudly, glancing at Lucy. “We should all rest up.”

Lucy nodded, ready to ignore the fact that even though Fletcher had worked throughout the night, he didn’t look any worse for wear. Her own limbs were heavy, and her knees kept threatening to give out beneath her.

“I’ll find a stream, fill our bottles,” Fletcher said. “Be right back.” He tipped his hat to Lynn as if looking for her approval and she nodded, but her eyes slid shut moments after he’d left.

Lucy plopped to the ground beside Lynn. “How you feeling?”

“Shitty.”

“Oh.”

A rare smile, though weak, played across Lynn’s face. “Sorry, kiddo, I don’t have it in me to reassure you right now.”

Lucy’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt the pulse in her neck jump. “You’re okay though, right? There’s not, like, anything really wrong?”

“I’m not going to die, if that’s what you’re asking,” Lynn said, though her voice was thready and her eyes remained closed.

“Fletcher said it’s probably the mountains, something about how we’re higher than you’re used to.”

“Guess he would know.”

“Yeah he’s… he’s a decent guy.”