Devils Unto Dust(80)

“There’s a hunter here, just came from Glory last night. Curtis got to talking to him over breakfast.”

My heart thuds in my chest. “And?”

“I guess McAllister got tired of waiting. He put a bounty on you and your pa.”

The words ring in my ears and I wait until it sinks in.

“How much?” I ask, getting out of bed and feeling for my belt and gun. My legs are unsteady and I lean against the cot for balance.

“Two fifty.”

I give a rough laugh. “Good. I’d hate to think I was worth a small amount.” Inside I’m starting to panic, and my hand trembles as I put my gun on, the weight more noticeable after days without it.

“He musta thought you skipped off with the money. We just need to get you back to Glory and he’ll call it off.”

“I don’t see why he didn’t make it an even three hundred. I mean, for that price—”

“Stop it,” Sam snaps at me. “This isn’t funny.”

“I know it’s not, Sam.” I take a deep breath, already winded, and sit down weakly. “You said I needed more time,” I say, looking up helplessly. “I can barely walk. How the hell am I supposed to get to Glory?”

“Curtis has an idea, he’s working on it. But right now we need to get you out of here and away from the other hunters.”

“What about Pa?” I ask, thinking aloud. “You think someone will find him? If McAllister finds out I let him go—”

“We almost didn’t find him,” Sam says. “If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay hid.”

I nod absently. Maybe it was stupid of me, to let Pa go. It didn’t seem right, to kill someone that broken down. Not like that, not after Micah. But this is what being soft gets you: hunters on your tail. I put my slicker on—it hangs much looser now—grab my hat, and realize I have nothing else to take.

“Ready?”

“I reckon so,” I say. I’ve been wanting out for days, but leaving the tent causes my back to knot with anxiety. Sam walks next to me, one hand on my elbow to help keep me standing.

Outside, the morning is coming along begrudgingly, pale and musty. Everything washes together, the sun and the sky the same diluted color as the ground, a milky gray that turns my stomach.

A whistle grabs my attention and I turn my head to see the Garretts walking toward us wearing guns, rucksacks, and severe faces.

“Sam explained?” Curtis asks when they reach us.

“I hear I’m worth a lot of money,” I say. “You looking for some extra cash?”

“Not if it’s blood money,” Ben says, looking tired and worried.

Sam squeezes my arm reassuringly. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I know you ain’t up to this yet, but we’ll make it.”

“I wanted to leave,” I tell him with a bony smile. “Couldn’t have planned it better myself.”

“Let’s just get out of here before anyone sobers up,” Ben says. He offers me a handful of cold leftover corn dodgers from supper. It’s the first bit of solid food I’ve had, and I fit three into my mouth before I start to choke. “Put your hair up and keep your head down,” he tells me.

I raise one eyebrow.

“Folks are looking for you. Ain’t that many girls to choose from out here.”

Ben waits while I make sure all my hair is tucked under my hat.

“You really ain’t gonna hand me over?” I ask him quietly.

Ben frowns. “You think we’d do that? After everything?”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” I tell him. “That’s twice now you should’ve left me.”

“You get dragged back to McAllister on a bounty, he’ll kill you,” Ben says. “And I already had to make my peace with you dying. I ain’t interested in doing it again.”

I tug the brim of my hat down low so it hides my eyes. “You’re a good man, Benjamin Garrett. You and your brother. For all that you’re hunters.”

I can’t see Ben’s face, but I can feel his sleeve brushing against my arm.

“Yeah, well, go on and keep that to yourself.”

We head to the gate, Ben and Curtis keeping me and Sam slightly hidden behind them.

“Morning, Lopez,” Curtis calls to the guard. “We’re heading out.”

Lopez gives an impressive yawn, either bored or tired. I’ve never seen him before, or maybe I have; his features are outstandingly forgettable.

“All right then, on you go.”

We file out past him, Sam still supporting my arm. As I walk by, Lopez gives me a sharp look. He opens his mouth to say something, but Sam coughs and quickly pushes me past him.

“Good hunting,” Lopez calls after us, and just like that we’re outside.

The road sweeps out in front of us, cutting through the expanse of the desert. It’s a familiar sight, too familiar, and the memories flood into my head and suddenly I have no air in my lungs. I feel exposed, and the tremble in my hands has nothing to do with being weak. My heart sounds loud in my ears and my breath rattles in my chest. Ben and Curtis walk out ahead, but my feet refuse to move forward.

“Willie?” Sam is at my elbow, his brow knit with concern.

The desert smells like the sun hitting metal and old rotting paper, the smell of heat and dust. Nothing’s changed out here, but I have; something in me is broken and bent. I thought the desert was immobile, a fixed place that I moved through, but that’s not the case. The desert is a shifting thing; the cracks widen and the shadows shrink, burrs scatter and plant and grow. The sand moves itself from one spot to another, bones and bullets are covered and uncovered. Nothing is ever lost here, only buried; only waiting for the sand to shift, waiting to be found.