The familiar creaking of the farm’s windmill starts to fade in the distance. The air is hot with promise and nervousness. Caleb adjusts the unfamiliar weight on his back. He turns to look at the place he has called home for nineteen years. A silhouette of his former life on the horizon.
Caleb shields his eyes with his arm as a gust of wind blows red dust around him. He spits to clear his mouth of the intrusive grit. The road out of his farmstead was scarred with the marks of wagon wheels; traders have used this desolate area to move between town. The McGraw house was usually a quick stop before moving onward. Caleb knew he could follow these marks to Whispering Sands.
Broken wagon wheels and animal bones begin making a regular appearance. Caleb shivers when he sees an entire wagon off the trail, flipped on its side and full of bullet holes. He sees the cotton from the wagon cover blowing in the dusty breeze, a sign of surrender these settlers flew before their demise. Caleb notices a boot sticking out from behind the downed wagon.
“Hello.” Caleb manages to call out passed the lump in his throat. “Y’all alright over there?”
Buzzards answer back with a guttural call. Caleb grabs his pistol and begins to slowly approach the broken wagon. The flapping of wings makes him jump and raise his gun. His breathing begins to quicken as he sees the buzzards fly off, revealing the desperate scene. Multiple bodies were downed behind the wagon. Down to sinew and sun-bleached bone. Caleb begins to shake uncontrollably at the grizzly scene. His mouth becomes hot with saliva as a rush of sickness takes over. The buzzards begin to circle above as Caleb wipes his mouth of the bile leftover.
He steadies himself on the side of the wagon and pulls his flask out. “What the hell happened here?” Caleb grunts as he tries to clear his throat of vomit. He takes a swig of whiskey and allows himself to look down at the damned party. He notices that none of them have weapons on them. None have really anything of value left behind.
“Did they even bring a gun out here?” Caleb stands up and takes a slow breath.
The nausea begins to subside as he gathers himself. Caleb begins to walk around the scene to look for anything that might give him a clue as to what happened. That’s when he notices their chests. On every corpse, a cut from collarbone to bellybutton.
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Caleb gasps when he realizes the reason for their death. “They were being hunted for cards.” He subconsciously puts his hand to his own chest, where Pa pulled out his card.
Caleb immediately starts to run. The crunch of rock against boots and the call of hungry buzzards are all he can hear. His vision becomes dreamy, like he is going to pass out. Caleb squeezes his still drawn pistol, the notches on the grip begin to leave indentations in his palm. It’s the only thing he has that makes him feel any security now.
Ahead, he spots a small cluster of juniper trees. Caleb’s lungs are burning by the time he reaches the first tree. He dives further into the tiny forest, gasping for another breath. Caleb stops at a cluster of large rocks. He dives behind them and pulls his knees to his chest, calming his nerves and steadying his breathing.
“I need to get to Whispering Sands. I’m a dead man out here by myself.”
Caleb holsters his gun and pulls his flask out of the leather bag. A deep breath in and a sip of whiskey help to bring Caleb back down to normal.
“I think I’m going to have to travel the rest of the way tonight.” He sighs as he gets back onto his feet and goes looking for a vantage point. Another group of rocks appears on the backside of the tree cluster. Caleb positions himself into the rocks to stay hidden until nightfall.
Small dust tornados form off in the distance as the desert wind picks up. With the sun getting low in the sky, small mice start to look for their dinner as hawks start perching in the juniper trees for theirs. Caleb starts to gather his things when he notices movement on the road.
He ducks down further into the rocks but keeps his eyes where he can still see the road. Caleb notices the familiar sight of a horse galloping, but there seems to be more to it. He focuses more on the horse and notices a man guiding the beast. As they get closer, Caleb can see the man’s features. A battered black hat adorned with turquoise gems on the band covers most of his face. Only a blue bandana can be seen underneath. A worn duster blows over the back of the bay horse.
Then Caleb sees what is different about this horse. Why it looked different from afar. It wasn’t what was riding the bay horse, it was what was behind it. A scream let out as soon as Caleb realizes what is happening. Battered and screaming, a bloodied man is drug behind the horse. His hands grip at the lariat rope around his neck, giving him a chance to gasp for air. Caleb watches in horror as the men ride past his hiding spot.
“I don’t have it!” The ensnared man yells, to no avail. The rest of his screams are difficult to hear.
Caleb crouches as tightly as he can to the rocks, squeezing his eyes shut until the screams slowly wane into silence.