In a Handful of Dust (12 page)

Lynn’s hands dropped from her, and Lucy rested her head on the other woman’s shoulder, letting the panic and fear of the night coalesce into a deep sleep that the pain could not penetrate.

When they woke, Joss was gone.

“She must’ve really been offended when you burned her blanket,” Lucy said, ignoring the cold sweat that had broken out on her face as soon as Lynn probed her shoulder wound.

“Mmm,” Lynn said, turning Lucy to get the best of the new morning light on the bullet hole. “Doesn’t look like it hit too much important, bone-wise. Here, feel this.”

She pulled Lucy’s good hand around her chest to put it on the right shoulder blade, where Lucy could feel a small, hard lump resting below the skin. “Am I breaking out again?”

Lynn actually smiled. “You’re in good humor, for being shot.”

“I don’t know that it would hurt less if I complained about it.”

“I don’t know either,” Lynn said, unsheathing her knife. “Never been shot, myself.”

Lucy looked away from the naked blade as Lynn circled behind her. “Seriously? I thought you would’ve been shot at least seven, eight times?”

“Been shot
at
plenty, just too quick to ever get hit.”

“So now I’m slow?” Lucy said, baring her teeth as she felt Lynn pinching the trapped bullet between her fingers.

“Hold still now,” Lynn said as she hovered over Lucy’s back. “No, I’d say you’re more like an easy target, what with putting on your bucket show back there.”

There was a flare of pain across her back, no worse than a bee sting. “Just trying to make you laugh,” Lucy said. “Dammit! I forgot the buckets.”

“I think you did more damage to it than it did to you,” Lynn said, holding a bloody, smashed bullet out to Lucy.

Lucy rotated her arm, wincing. “Doubt it.”

“As for making me laugh, a few more inches to the left and it wouldn’t have been worth it.”

“Oh, but right where it ended up puncturing me was a fair trade, in your estimation?”

Lynn shrugged. “It was pretty funny.”

Lucy smacked at her with her good arm, but Lynn had moved out of reach. “All right, that’s enough silliness. Joss took the water bottles we set out in the night. She didn’t get into our food, or the full bottles, because we were sleeping on our packs. Otherwise I think she would’ve gladly left us with nothing.”

“That makes up my mind about not liking her then,” Lucy said. “So what’s she going to do, you think?”

“We came across people stronger than us, with more to offer. She took off to see if they’ll have her. My guess is whoever was doing the shooting last night is the same people attached to that field of corn. They probably don’t want anyone spreading the word of their success.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause they’ll either want to join ’em, or take what they’ve got. And they can only support so many.”

“What about Joss? Think they’ll take her?”

Lynn shrugged. “She’s not my problem anymore. We’re moving on, and quick as possible. Can you keep a good pace?”

“I can try.” Lucy struggled to her feet. “You’ll have to carry my pack, though.”

“Sit back down, we’re not done with that shoulder yet.”

Lucy groaned but did as she was told. “What now?”

Lynn rummaged through her pack. “Your grandma gave me some honey before we left, said it’s good at keeping wounds clean.” She looked dubiously at the plastic bottle she produced. “Better than nothing, I guess.” Then she pulled a small plastic box from her pack that Lucy recognized as a sewing kit. Lucy shot to her feet.

“No—no way! You’re not stitching me up.” Lucy had seen grown men down hard cider and still cry quiet tears while Vera sewed them up at her kitchen table.

Lynn pulled a needle from the box and threaded it. “Trust me, little one, this is going to hurt me way more than you.”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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T
he gnats hovered around Lucy’s shoulder, drawn by the sweetness of the honey mixing with her sweat. Lucy’s right arm rested against her chest, cradled in the makeshift sling Lynn had fashioned out of braided twine. The pain from being shot hadn’t hurt nearly as bad as being stitched by Lynn’s shaky hands, and Lucy walked with her teeth clenched, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other instead of the burning pain in her flesh.

Lynn glanced back, her own face flushed and dripping with sweat. Both packs and two rifles were strapped across her back, and Lucy knew the weight was tremendous. Lynn had kept up a steady pace nevertheless, glancing back at Lucy often to make sure she was keeping up.

“How you doing?” she called back loudly, even though only twenty feet separated them.

“I’m shot, not deaf,” Lucy shouted back.

Lynn halted and drew a bottle from her pack, waiting for Lucy to catch up before handing it to her. “Let’s take a rest.”

Lucy gratefully collapsed under the shade of a maple and took a deep pull of water. It was warm, but welcome.

Lynn stayed on the road, wiping the sweat from her brow. Lucy watched her as she shaded her eyes against the noon sun. Lynn’s water bottle fell from her hand, turning the dirt to mud at her feet.

“What? What is it?” Lucy struggled to her feet and into the road, where a rapidly approaching ball of dirt barreled toward them from the east.

Lynn tore off both guns, tossing the packs into the high grass and handing Lucy one of the rifles. “Take this,” she said. “Go out into the grass and lie down.”

“No,” Lucy said, voice shaking. “I’m not leaving you.”

“You’re not going to stand next to me useless either,” Lynn said. “You try to shoot that rifle with your left and you’re as likely to hit me as them.”

The ground beneath their feet vibrated, and the foreign sound of hoofbeats rang through the air. Lucy shaded her eyes and could just discern the riders from the horses amid the dust ball. “We’ve got time. I say we run.”

“They’ll follow,” Lynn said, cocking her gun and resting it lightly in the crook of her elbow. “I heard horses last night too. Rare as those animals are, I’m betting this is the same bunch. They either think we’re a threat or are under the impression we’ve got something they want.”

Lucy clamped her hand down on Lynn’s, squeezing hard. “Joss knows I can dowse.”

Lynn’s eyebrows flew up. “And you were going to tell me this when?”

“I’m sorry,” Lucy said, eyeing the riders as they grew closer. “I never thought she’d use it against me.”

“That’s ’cause you’re a decent person,” Lynn said. “I would’ve figured it right off.”

The horses were close enough that Lucy heard the front man shout to the others. They slackened their pace, fanning out to face her and Lynn.

“All right then,” Lynn said, eyeing their formation. “You talked long enough to earn a spot here on the road. Things go south, you head for the grass and use the pistol. You’re better at short range, anyway.”

Lucy only nodded, words stolen from her as the men came within thirty feet, then close enough to see one of them wasn’t a man at all. “Damn her,” Lucy said at the sight of Joss.

“Don’t worry about that now,” Lynn said quietly. “You keep still.”

The horses slowed to a walk, then a halt, as the five men and Joss formed a line. Lucy glared at their one-time companion, the unfamiliar burn of hatred pulsing through her. Joss only stared back.

“Afternoon, ladies,” the man in the lead said, nodding toward Lynn, who nonchalantly nodded back.

“Afternoon.”

“It’s a nice day for a ride,” the man continued, crossing one leg over his pommel.

“I prefer to walk myself,” Lynn said, eyes roaming over the mounted men as she spoke. “Like to get back to it, if you don’t mind.”

“That can wait a bit, I imagine,” he said, still friendly, though Lucy noticed he was watching Lynn’s hands instead of her face. “We hear you shoot like a man.”

“You heard wrong,” Lynn said coldly. “I shoot like a woman.”

A titter swept through the men, and Joss shifted uncomfortably in her saddle.

“One of my men got a little taste of your talent last night,” the man continued, smile fading. “He’s not feeling so well today.”

“Funny, my daughter took a hit and is feeling fine.”

“Joss here says that ain’t your daughter.”

“Joss say anything else?”

The man smiled again, a cold flexing of facial muscles that didn’t extend to his eyes. “Enough to get her a nice safe place to live for a while, assuming the young one comes along without any trouble.”

The man switched his gaze to her, and Lucy instinctively stepped back, wishing she could puddle into the ground along with the water at Lynn’s feet.

“Sorry,” Lynn said, a small smile on her own face. “I’ll be giving you trouble.”

“Why can’t we take ’em both?” one of the other riders said to the leader, but his eyes were riveted on Lynn. “I like women with more hair on them than the dowser has got.”

“You keep the blond one long enough, her hair’ll grow,” another one said, eyes crawling over Lucy’s body.

“Ain’t nobody taking anybody,” Lynn said, her voice dropping all pretense of civility.

“I told you she’s dangerous,” Joss said, nervously watching Lynn. “Take care of her and grab the little one.”

“I like ’em dangerous,” the one who was interested in Lynn said, walking his horse right up beside her. He took a handful of her hair and tugged on it. “You’re awful pretty, to be so mean.”

“I been trying to do better about killing people,” Lynn said. “Then fate puts you in my path.”

Lucy knew the tone well enough to drop before Lynn’s rifle cracked, the shot catching his horse in the neck and sending the animal rearing, the rider flying. The horse fell to its knees, lifeblood spilling into the dirt. Lynn crouched behind its flailing body. Lucy rolled to the side and felt the stitches in her shoulder rip as she flung herself into the ditch and pulled her own rifle into position.

The horses panicked at the smell of blood, and the men fired wildly as their mounts struggled against their bridles. Shots rang past Lucy in the grass, but none came close. More blood sprayed from the dying horse Lynn hid behind as she waited patiently to come up for a shot. When she did, the leader fell, a neat black hole in his forehead.

The rider of the dead horse had been bucked off, breaking a leg. He was crawling east as best he could, trying to stay out from under the hooves of the pawing horses. Lucy drew a bead on another rider but hesitated a second before pulling the trigger. Lynn’s shot rang out first. The man fell in a heap, his horse trampling his skull.

Joss was screaming, inexpertly yanking on the reins and spooking her horse more. It bucked wildly, frightened by its strange rider, and Joss went sailing over its head.

The two remaining men fired desperately. Lynn crouched behind the dead horse, squeezing herself into the smallest possible target. She came up briefly, fired quickly, and one of the men shrieked and grabbed his arm. His gun clattered to the road. He turned his horse east, disappearing in a cloud of dust, one of the riderless horses following behind.

The last man tossed his gun down and put both hands in the air. Lynn glanced over the body of the horse, saw him unarmed, and rose to her feet. Lucy emerged from the grass and walked to where Joss lay curled in a ball, moaning.

“Don’t kill me,” the man said, his voice shaking as Lynn approached his mount. “Wasn’t my idea.”

“I know whose idea it was,” she said, looking blackly at Joss, who cowered under her glare. Lynn sighed and looked back at Lucy.

“Don’t kill him,” Lucy said. “What good would it do?”

“They know you can dowse.”

“I won’t tell nobody, honest.” The rider moved to cross his heart, but Lynn trained her gun on him.

“I really think I should shoot him,” Lynn said.

Lucy glanced down at Joss, who was sitting up and cradling an obviously broken ankle. “Save your bullets,” Lucy said.

Lynn looked between the rider and the man with the broken leg, who was still trying to crawl east. “I’m taking your horses,” she said. “Pick your buddy up off the ground. I see any of your people following us, you’re the first person I shoot.”

“Understood,” the man said curtly, sliding down off his horse and handing the reins over to Lynn. He motioned to Joss. “What about her?”

Lynn looked at Joss with a hardness in her eyes Lucy had never seen before. “She’s staying here. Just like that.”

Joss moaned and tried to grab Lucy’s leg, but she stepped out of reach. Lynn walked away from the fallen riders without another glance, handed the reins of one horse to Lucy, and gathered the two remaining, walking past Joss as if she wasn’t there.

“Please, Lynn, listen to me,” Joss pleaded, as Lynn walked by. “Don’t leave me here. I can’t walk.”

Lynn didn’t answer and motioned to Lucy to get on her horse as she mounted her own, draping the reins of the riderless horse around her pommel. Lucy bit down against the pain as she pulled herself awkwardly into the saddle. Fresh blood broke through the honey coating her wound, the bitter metallic smell mixing with the sweet tang of honey. As they rode past Joss, Lucy glanced down to see a bloody streak of bone sticking out above her foot, already attracting flies.

“Lynn?
Lynn!”
Joss’ voice cracked as she pleaded. “Leave me the horse, at least. You’ve got an extra horse—just
leave me the goddamn horse!”

Lucy dug her heels into her horse, and it moved faster, Lynn’s picking up the pace beside her. A cry of rage ripped the air, and a shower of dirt and pebbles rained down on them as they rode away. Joss kept screaming Lynn’s name, but the next fistful of rocks didn’t reach them.

“Lucy!
LUCY!!!”

Lucy jammed her fingers into her ears and began humming the only song Lynn had ever taught her, but Joss’s next scream was so strong she could feel the vibrations of it. They were well past the chance of her hearing anything when Lucy finally uncovered her ears.

“Don’t look back, little one,” Lynn said. “Don’t look back, and don’t think on it.”

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE