In a Handful of Dust

“What? What is it?” Lucy struggled to her feet and into the road, where a rapidly approaching ball of dirt barreled toward them from the east.

Lynn tore off both guns, tossing the packs into the high grass and handing Lucy one of the rifles. “Take this,” she said. “Go out into the grass and lie down.”

“No,” Lucy said, voice shaking. “I’m not leaving you.”

“You’re not going to stand next to me useless either,” Lynn said. “You try to shoot that rifle with your left and you’re as likely to hit me as them.”

The ground beneath their feet vibrated, and the foreign sound of hoofbeats rang through the air. Lucy shaded her eyes and could just discern the riders from the horses amid the dust ball. “We’ve got time. I say we run.”

“They’ll follow,” Lynn said, cocking her gun and resting it lightly in the crook of her elbow. “I heard horses last night too. Rare as those animals are, I’m betting this is the same bunch. They either think we’re a threat or are under the impression we’ve got something they want.”

Lucy clamped her hand down on Lynn’s, squeezing hard. “Joss knows I can dowse.”

Lynn’s eyebrows flew up. “And you were going to tell me this when?”

“I’m sorry,” Lucy said, eyeing the riders as they grew closer. “I never thought she’d use it against me.”

“That’s ’cause you’re a decent person,” Lynn said. “I would’ve figured it right off.”

The horses were close enough that Lucy heard the front man shout to the others. They slackened their pace, fanning out to face her and Lynn.

“All right then,” Lynn said, eyeing their formation. “You talked long enough to earn a spot here on the road. Things go south, you head for the grass and use the pistol. You’re better at short range, anyway.”

Lucy only nodded, words stolen from her as the men came within thirty feet, then close enough to see one of them wasn’t a man at all. “Damn her,” Lucy said at the sight of Joss.

“Don’t worry about that now,” Lynn said quietly. “You keep still.”

The horses slowed to a walk, then a halt, as the five men and Joss formed a line. Lucy glared at their one-time companion, the unfamiliar burn of hatred pulsing through her. Joss only stared back.

“Afternoon, ladies,” the man in the lead said, nodding toward Lynn, who nonchalantly nodded back.

“Afternoon.”

“It’s a nice day for a ride,” the man continued, crossing one leg over his pommel.

“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 rifle 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.