In a Handful of Dust

“I’m not taking anything from you,” Lynn said calmly, her hands out to either side. “I’m talking sense.” She looked over to Fletcher, who was kicking sand over the ashes of their fire from the night before. “Wanna help me out here?”

Fletcher didn’t even glance in their direction when he spoke. “A man comes across two she-bears fighting in the woods, he does best to go around them.”

Lynn’s answering scowl ended up aimed at Lucy, as Fletcher was ignoring her completely. “Lucy, it’s for his own good. This here isn’t even the real desert. Once we go out into the nothing, we’ll be hard-pressed to find enough water for ourselves, let alone the horses.”

Lucy felt her throat tightening at the thought, the image of a frothing Spatter slicing across her eyes. She uncurled her fists. “Not yet,” she said, the rod of tension gone from her voice. “There’s still streams from the mountains, enough water for us. We’ll make better time with mounts, and there’s no point giving up our one advantage until we have to.”

If emotion couldn’t carry weight with Lynn, logic did. Lynn’s mouth went into a flatter line than usual, and she gave Lucy a heavy glare before turning her back. Lucy relaxed against Spatter, relishing the velvety feel of his nose brushing against her arm. She’d won the battle but knew the war would go to Lynn.

Lucy kept her distance as they packed up their camp; rolling their blankets, refilling water bottles from the nearby stream, and checking their guns. Once astride her horse, Lucy took a deep breath and avoided the eyes of the adults as the heavy silence that hung around them lasted longer than necessary.

Fletcher cleared his throat. “Well, ladies,” he began.

“No,” she cried instantly. “You can’t leave yet.”

“You knew this was coming, little one,” Fletcher said, eyeing her carefully. “Sooner or later I’m going to have to go.”

“Make it later then,” she shot back.

“Lucy,” Lynn said quietly, “it’s time. He’s got his own cares.”

The way the two watched her, gauging her reaction, caused a resurgence of temper. “You talked about this beforehand, didn’t you? The horses too, I bet.”

“We thought it best if I took all three horses with me at this juncture, yes,” Fletcher said, using the same tone he did with Terra Cotta when she was finicky.

“But we agreed if you couldn’t handle losing him and Spatter on the same day, we’d settle for one over the other,” Lynn finished.

“You plan anything else for me while you were at it?”

“If I had a son, we would’ve arranged a marriage,” Fletcher said.

“He made that bit up,” Lynn added, and Lucy felt her face flush at the fact that they were sharing a joke at a time when she felt like crying.

“Lucy.” Fletcher edged Terra Cotta closer to Spatter, and the two horses nickered to each other. “You started this without me; no reason to think you can’t finish it in the same manner.”

Her anger melted into tears and she gave in to the lump in her throat, allowing it to find release through a choked sob. “It’s not that I’m scared of going on without you. I’m losing you, don’t you get that? You’re gone, just like everyone else.”

Fletcher put a hand on her shoulder, one of the few times he’d touched her. “Losing people, that’s something I understand right down to my soul.” He leaned forward in the saddle and she slumped against him, crying so hard Spatter turned his head to glance at her quizzically, which only made it worse.

Lynn nudged Mister over to them, holding a water bottle out to Lucy. “You’re wasting your water,” she said.

“You would be practical right now,” Lucy said, pulling back from Fletcher and taking the bottle.

“Somebody has to be,” Lynn said, doing an exaggerated eye roll toward both Fletcher and Lucy.

Fletcher smiled back and tipped his hat. “So,” he said. “Sand City?”

Lynn patted the map tucked inside her pocket. “Seems that way.”

“Maybe I’ll…” He trailed off, an uncharacteristic blush spreading across his features. “Maybe I’ll find my way back there someday.”

“Maybe that’d be all right,” Lynn said, and Lucy could see the muscles in her jaw twitching in an effort to stop a full-fledged smile.

Fletcher had no such compunction, and his ear-to-ear flashed once again before he spurred Terra Cotta and they headed north.

Lucy’s sorrow was lost in a sudden rush of curiosity. “Shit, Lynn, how much talking did you two do?”

But Lynn had already urged Mister into a trot, and Spatter hurried to catch up.

• • •

Lynn had called it “the nothing” long before they reached it, a land where even the brush tapered off and the red rocks reached for the sky. The mountains had frightened Lucy with their vastness; their towering heights had persevered for thousands of years, reminding her she was a breath on the wind. The desert made her feel like even that breath was stolen, and the dust filling her lungs taunted her with the reality that one day she’d be reduced to the same.