In a Handful of Dust

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.”

Lynn’s eyes flickered open, and she watched Lucy for a moment before letting them close again. “He seems to be,” she said.

“But…,” Lucy began, anticipating the word before Lynn could waste any of her hard-won breath on it.

“He’s still a stranger. Don’t you get too comfortable, with me feeling this way.” Her eyes struggled open again, and Lucy saw what she’d never believed possible; fear in Lynn’s eyes. “I don’t think I could even raise my rifle, if I needed to,” Lynn admitted, and her eyes slid shut again.

Lucy pulled her knees into her chest and let Lynn rest, her mind reeling. Lynn without a rifle was like the sky without stars. And if she couldn’t trust Fletcher, it was almost like being alone.

Twenty-Two

The first rainstorm came three days later, drenching the hot horses and creating a wet animal smell so thick Lucy sometimes felt she was choking. They plodded on, determined to reach lower ground where Lynn could recover, until hailstones the size of Lucy’s small fists were pounding them. Terra Cotta, always the most nervous of their mounts, reared onto her back legs and nearly threw Fletcher.

Unable to shout over the storm, he signaled the women, and they coaxed their mounts into the shelter of an outcrop after dismounting. The horses huddled together, as did the humans, and Lucy tried to ignore the fact that she seemed to be holding up most of Lynn’s weight.

Fletcher peered out at the storm and then back at Lynn, who was nearly dozing on her feet. “Might as well rest here. It doesn’t seem inclined to desist.”

Lynn leaned against the rock wall and slid to the ground without argument, and Lucy joined her there. The hail fell around them, coating the road and creating the illusion of snow, something Lucy wondered if she would ever see again.

When the storm passed they saddled up again, and the crunch of the hailstones underneath the horses’ hooves made it impossible to make conversation. Lucy stayed near Lynn, idly brushing Spatter up against Mister as they walked companionably alongside each other. Lynn was quiet, her eyes focused on the road ahead, which was not unlike her. What set Lucy’s nerves on edge was the blank look, the permanent daze that had settled over her ever since the nosebleed.