Devils Unto Dust(24)

“Could be,” Ben agrees. He pulls his revolver from his belt and aims almost straight up. Curtis backs up a step and motions for me to do the same. Confused, I obey, unsure what’s happening until Ben fires directly into the air. Both brothers tilt their heads expectantly. I don’t know what they’re waiting for, but when nothing happens, Ben looks even grimmer as he puts his gun away.

“Break’s over,” Curtis says, and his tone doesn’t invite questions. He packs the food back up while I examine my left hand. The cut isn’t deep; my penny knife can’t do any real damage. The bleeding has already slowed, so I lick my palm to clean it, grimacing at the salty, metallic taste. I tear a thin strip of cloth off my rag bundle and tie it around my hand tightly, cursing myself for being so jittery.

“What happened?” Benjamin asks, and I cringe. I was hoping it would go unnoticed.

“It’s just a scratch.” I can feel my face turning red and I tug my hat even lower. “Do we need to get in the hotbox?”

“Not unless it’s a pack.”

“Do you think it’s a pack?”

“Won’t know till we reach higher ground.”

Curtis motions for us to move out, and this time he takes the mule. I can tell he’s anxious or he’d be the one talking to me.

“But if you had to guess?”

“I don’t guess,” Benjamin says sharply.

“But if—”

“You always ask this many questions?” he interrupts.

“Are you always this unhelpful?” I counter.

“Listen, girl—”

“Quiet,” Curtis says, turning around to face us. His mouth is in a thin, tight line, but his voice is calm. “Let’s just get to the well. It’s on a rise and we can take it from there. Ben, let up on the kid, can’t you see she’s afeared?”

“I’m not,” I start to say, but my words lack conviction. To their credit, the brothers don’t contradict me, and I glance sidelong at Benjamin as we start moving again. If he’s afraid, he’s doing a good job of hiding it.

“You think it’s a pack.” I make it a statement, not a question.

He struggles with annoyance; I can see him fighting back a rude reply. Self-control wins out, and his answer is civil. “No, I don’t. We would hear or see a pack. It might be one shake, but I never seen one track a party for more than a mile. It could be a hunter, but he didn’t sound off. I don’t know what it is. And I don’t like not knowing.”





20.


The Garretts are tense. Curtis’s gait is rigid, like a soldier headed to an uncertain fate in battle. Benjamin keeps glancing behind us, his head jerking around every few seconds, almost unwillingly, like a spasm he can’t control. We’re walking faster now, and I’m breathing harder and shallower.

“How much farther to the well?” I call to Curtis.

He slows his pace to let me catch up to him.

“There,” he says, pointing ahead.

“That’s a well?” I ask, doubtful, squinting at a mound to the right of the road. “It looks like a pile of dirt.”

“Stone, actually. It used to be taller.”

We quicken our pace even more, spurred by the sight of our target. The ground rises under my feet, or maybe I only feel it because I know it is. I keep my eyes fixed on the well; as long as I can see it I feel safe. This is our destination, our goal, and it seems so simple to accomplish. My tired mind tells me that when we reach it, everything will be all right, and I give a huge, unearned sigh of relief when we finally come alongside it.

The well is bigger up close, but crude, little more than a ring of crumbling brown stone with a thick rope descending into darkness. I throw one arm over Nana and lean against her gratefully, giving my legs a rest.

Benjamin immediately pulls out his telescope again and he and Curtis stand shoulder to shoulder, gazing back at the way we came. They don’t speak, and the silence stretches out long and apprehensive. I brace myself for a shout of warning, my muscles tense and ready. The minutes pass, five and then ten, until I don’t think I can bear it any longer. My jaw hurts, and I make an effort to unclench it, yawning widely.

“There,” Benjamin calls, and my stomach lurches. I push myself away from Nana and go to stand next to him.

“It’s not a shake,” he says, his shoulders sagging with relief. “Two people. Maybe they’re new hunters.”

My breath comes out in a rush that leaves me almost giddy, and I suppress the inappropriate urge to laugh.

“Anyone we know?” Curtis asks.

Benjamin hands the scope to Curtis and rubs his eyes with his palms. “Never seen ’em before.”

As my body starts to relax, I realize what bad shape it’s in. Sweat is dripping into my eyes and pooling down my back, and I can feel at least two blisters on my heels. My palm stings where I cut it and I’m thirsty again. I take a step back and stumble, my legs like liquid.

“Whoa, there,” Benjamin says, grabbing my arm to steady me. I wince involuntarily as he squeezes the bruises Dollarhide already put there.

“Sorry, princess,” he says, dropping his hand immediately.

“No, it’s not—it’s just from yesterday.” If you can’t talk sense, don’t talk, I tell myself and clamp my mouth shut.