Crazy Horse by David J. West

Author:David J. West [West, David J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lost Realms Press
Published: 2017-05-08T22:00:00+00:00

16. Land of the Dead

They were lucky, no, blessed that there had been a few recent rains this season, otherwise they would have been bust. Scanty pools, little more than mudholes, dotted the desert and gave sustenance enough for them to keep going. Several times they were forced to dig and gain what moisture they could for themselves and their animals. It was not a healthy pursuit but they were undeterred.

Porter knew they were slowly, but surely, falling farther and farther behind. They simply could not ride as hard as the bandits, but as long as they persisted, they still had the path ahead of them.

The trail here was testament to the harshness of the desert; every day they saw its victims by the wayside. Some forms that used to be men were now dried out husks, resembling mummies with their teeth jutting out in hollow cries that caught the wind and silently screamed. The bleached bones of horses and oxen were here too, picked clean by scavengers.

The nights were cold up on the high desert and they typically had no fire to light because there was no fuel to be had. This was a dead land peopled only with ghosts and haunted memories. The grey moonbeams lit the rolling landscape, making it seem as if everything was bathed in dark ice. Morning was always welcomed despite their sore bones and dire need to press on.

After four days, it got worse.

A storm rolled in, but it was full of wind, wrath, and thunder without the rain. The gusts blasted them and stole anything that wasn’t securely tied down. Emily’s light blue shawl was scooped up, brandished twenty feet in the air before them, and then whisked far away to the east.

“We need shelter!” cried Quincy, his voice hardly heard above the roaring gale.

Porter held his hat securely to his head and glanced about in what should have been a bright afternoon day. Dust blinded them and they could see only a dozen paces in any direction.

“My gut says let’s see what the horses feel guided too!” He hollered back.

It was agreed upon and the five of them struggled together, holding tight to their reins and hats, and trudged blindly alongside their animals.

They soon found a thicket with a few boulders nearby that seemed to give a mocking semblance of shelter, at least from one side or another. It was a miserable, restless afternoon with a weak sun and biting sand in the face. By evening, the winds vanished as suddenly as they had come, but the billowing dust had erased any sign of the trail they had followed. There was no trail anymore.

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