In a Handful of Dust

Lynn gave Lucy a hard look over the map before walking away, leaving her to look at the thick, threading finger of blue that blocked their way west.

They practiced making the horses run as they moved toward the river. Spatter didn’t do much more than flick his ears in irritation when Lucy kicked his sides, but Black Horse would glide into an easy gallop when Lynn urged him, Spatter would follow his lead, and Brown Horse, carrying their packs, brought up the rear.

“I wish he’d move a little faster,” Lynn said, rounding Black Horse back to ride beside Spatter. “Once we hit the bridge, I’d like to be running. Somebody wants to stop us, it’s the perfect place. Block either end and we’re sitting ducks.”

“You could try shooting up in the air,” Lucy suggested. “It got them moving before, back in Indiana.”

“It also made them pitch two of their riders.”

“True,” Lucy said, thinking of the bloody point of bone sticking from Joss’ leg.

Lynn looked morosely at a spot between Black Horse’s ears. “These horses attract a lot of attention. Some people might let two women with nothing but what’s on their backs walk on by, but two women with three horses is another matter.”

“I’m not giving him up,” Lucy said, running her hand along Spatter’s neck.

Lynn sighed but didn’t say anything. They were traveling along a gravel road. A hulking mass of gray clouds blocked the sun for the time being. An overgrown cemetery loomed on the left, only the tallest of the ancient headstones announcing its presence among the grass.

“How far to the river?”

“Not long now,” Lynn said. “I wish…”

Lucy glanced up as Lynn’s voice trailed off. “You wish what?”

“I was gonna say I wish I knew what the hell I was doing,” Lynn said, a slight smile on her face. “But I realized that’s kind of a stupid thing to say.”

“I’d have been dead hundreds of miles back without you.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Lynn said. “You get a light in your eyes now when we talk about California. You want it, and you’d keep going without me in order to get it. As far as me knowing what I’m doing,” she continued, “I’m not so used to being the one on the road, you know? I’m accustomed to being the kind of person we’re trying to avoid now. People with things to protect.”

“Is it weird, being on the other end of things?”

“Weird’s one word for it,” Lynn said, nodding toward the skeletal form of the bridge, looming in the distant haze. “I keep riding and hoping fate doesn’t feel like being an ironic bitch today.”

The town on the other side of the bridge was Fort Madison, Iowa.

“You like towns with the word ‘fort’ in them, or what?” Lucy asked.

“I don’t like towns, period.”

Spatter picked up speed to keep pace with Black Horse. Lynn was leading Brown Horse, their packs bouncing along with her steps as they emerged out of the field and onto the main road. Lynn jerked her horse to a halt, and Spatter fell in beside him. The bridge was a mile distant, the haze making it hard to see more than its vague shape reaching toward the sky.

“All right,” Lynn said. “I’m going to get Black Horse moving as fast as I can, and yours should follow nicely. If Splatter—”

“Spatter,” Lucy corrected her.

“If your horse stops for some reason, yell out. If I don’t hear you, shoot into the air. We’re crossing that bridge as fast as they’ll go. Assuming this horse will mind me, I’m breaking south the second we hit the town. The road follows the river a little ways before heading back west. You stay so close you can grab my tail, understand?”

“You don’t have a tail.”

“And don’t get distracted by the river,” Lynn added, ignoring the joke. “I’m guessing it’s a sight to see, but you concentrate on staying on your horse.”

“’Kay.”

Lynn gave her a grim smile and looped Brown Horse’s reins around her pommel. “Well, here we go.”

She slapped Black Horse’s rear, sending up a cloud of dust from his rump and the sharp sound echoing over the fields. He only flicked his ears at her. Lynn growled in irritation and dug her heels into his side, getting a slow walk that kicked up into trot when she did it again.

Spatter jumped to follow and Lucy dug her own heels into him, surprised when he immediately bolted past Lynn’s mount with his head in the air, flying toward the bridge at a pace she’d never guessed the little horse had in him. She tightened her thighs around his middle, wrapped the reins around her wrists, and closed her eyes against the wind whipping past her face. Behind them, she heard the other horses burst into a matching speed.

At that pace, the bridge came up quickly, and Lucy ignored the bite of the wind and opened her eyes to see the river. Spatter broke onto the bridge at a dead run, his hooves sending out an echo that rang back at them from metal struts and the endless expanse of water.