Devils Unto Dust(5)

“I can’t help you,” I tell him. “I didn’t even know he was back in town, I swear.”

McAllister doesn’t say anything for a moment, he just studies me. Then he nods at Yancey, who kneels down in front of Catherine.

“Hey there, darlin’,” he says, smiling at her, and bile rises in the pit of my stomach.

“Leave her alone,” Micah says.

“Did you see your daddy this morning?” Yancey asks.

Micah moves to jump in, but Cath doesn’t need help; she rears back and kicks Yancey in the shin, hard.

“Son of a bitch,” he yells, rubbing at his leg. “You little—”

My mouth fills with wild, panicked laughter that I swallow down.

“Look, he weren’t here,” I say quickly, before Yancey thinks to retaliate. “He hasn’t been home in months. If Pa took your money, he wouldn’t stick around. You can bet he’s out in the desert right now. You want what’s yours, you’ll just have to go get it.”

“I got a better idea,” McAllister says with a nasty smile. “Seeing as how he’s your pa, I think you should get it.”

“What?”

“I’ll give you a week to bring me my money.”

I shake my head. “Look around you—you think I got money to spare?”

“That’s your problem, not mine. You’re gonna do it.” He stands up. “’Cause if you don’t—Yancey?”

I look over in time to see Yancey grab Micah around the throat, and my chest lurches.

“Stop it,” I yell, jumping up from the table, but McAllister yanks me back down.

“Stop it, now,” I say, trying to tug away.

“You’re going to get me what I want, because if you don’t, Yancey and I are gonna come back with some friends. And we’re gonna do for you and your brother, and then I’m gonna put a price on your gutless father’s head.”

Micah’s face is turning red; the twins are pulling at Yancey’s arms and kicking, but he holds Micah tight.

“What’s gonna happen to those little ones if you’re not around?” McAllister says with a smile. “One week.” He stands up and motions to Yancey, who releases Micah. He falls to the floor and I rush over to him.

“We’ll be at the Homestead,” McAllister says. “Waiting.”

Micah starts to cough, the veins on his neck bulging out in red strands. I grab him around the shoulders, and I’m just repeating, “It’s all right, it’s all right, everything is all right.” Two small sets of hands hug my back and nothing is all right because I can’t keep them safe, not even in our own house, not even if I have my arms around them.

“Y’all have a good day,” Yancey says, tipping his hat at us. The door slams shut behind them and I press my forehead against Micah’s shoulder and listen to him breathe while I try to remember how to do it myself. In and out, in and out, until my body takes over for me.





4.


My boots are old and worn, the leather soft and cracked in places. Before the animals started to get sick, my father used to tan all sorts of hides. Now these are the only shoes I have, and they’ve molded to my feet after years of wear. I check for scorpions by habit, but my mind is elsewhere.

“I told you I’m fine,” Micah says, sipping on some water at the table. His voice is slightly scratchy, but he keeps waving me away when I hover. “He wasn’t really trying to hurt me, he just wanted to scare us.”

“Well, it worked,” I tell him, tucking in my shirt, a faded blue blouse. “I’m good and scared.”

“I still don’t think you should go to the Judge.”

“Micah, they said they’d come back—”

“We got guns, too, Will.”

“Don’t be stupid. There’s more where they came from, and I don’t trust them not to come at night and burn the house down around our ears. No one else is getting hurt if I can help it. I’ll ask the Judge for a line of credit and we’ll pay them off.”

My slim jim holster goes on my belt, and my gun goes into my holster. My father schooled it into us that you don’t carry a weapon unless you can use it. My revolver is long and heavy, and I’m a decent shot. Micah is better than me with the rifle, but my vision isn’t as sharp as his.

“You think he’ll lend you the money? He ain’t exactly kindhearted.”

“We can’t just wait and hope Pa shows his face again. I know Milford and that widow borrowed from the Judge. It’s worth a shot.”

“How are we gonna pay it back? We barely have enough to get by as it is.”

“We’ll figure it out, Micah. We can’t have this hanging over our heads.”

I think about taking my knife, but it can be cumbersome on a long walk, so I decide against it. If I need to pull a blade on a shake, chances are I’m already dead.

Micah fists his hands on the table. “I could kill Pa.”

“Hey,” I tell him. “I’ll get us through this. I’ll find a way, I promise.”

I shouldn’t make promises I can’t keep, but the biggest lies are the ones you tell yourself.

“I’m set,” I say, standing up. “You sure you gonna be all right on your own?”