I don’t need to be told twice.
We fly east, pushing the horses hard. Silver’s moving faster than I’s ever made her run, and I ain’t sure how long she can hold the pace. Still, I urge her harder, faster, more, more, more. Mutt’s lucky he were already exploring far ahead, ’cus we’re catching up to him quick.
Every time I look over my shoulder, the dust’s getting closer, easily moving twice the speed we are. I can hear it, a roar of a monster. Feel it on my neck, too, the heat and the wind.
The land’s getting rougher. Cactuses I gotta weave between. Uneven dips in the dirt as shrubs sprout up again. But I don’t let Silver slow. Not even when the wind starts screaming in my ears.
We ain’t gonna make it.
We’re at the base of the mountains but ain’t got time to climb ’em. We’re gonna be swallowed whole.
Ahead of me, Jesse passes Mutt and makes a sharp turn to the right, drilling into a narrow canyon you wouldn’t spot ’less you knew it were there. Will follows, the dog right on his heels.
I tug Silver’s reins, urging her to follow, but she’s midleap, clearing a small batch of boulders, and my twitchy hands startle her. She whinnies and lands uneven. I nearly fall from the saddle.
We dart into the canyon just as the dust goes roaring by, but my balance is so off, I tip sideways. My shoulder slams into the rough rock wall, and pain rockets through me.
Silver pulls up, panting, and I press my hand to her neck. “That a girl, Silv,” I tell her. “That a girl.”
Jesse and Will are waiting just ahead, looking flushed atop their horses.
“What the devil was that?” I says, looking back at the mouth of the narrow canyon. The dust is still raging by, spreading only a small amount of dirt into our little haven.
“Dust storm,” Jesse says. “Somewhere behind all that dirt there’s rain and wind, and it kicked up the earth as it traveled.”
“We ain’t got those in Prescott.”
“Nor in Wickenburg, but I seen one or two in the stretch between Phoenix and Tucson. Never one quite so big up this way, though. We got lucky. If we weren’t nearing these mountains, it wouldn’t’ve been pretty.”
“Good thing yer so vigilant with those binoculars,” Will says to Jesse. “Woulda been a shame if Nate’s naked eyes were the only thing we could count on to save us.”
“Shut it, Will.”
I manage to crack a smile. In the wake of all that’s happened it feels like a small miracle.
“So now what?” I ask.
“Now we hang fire, wait for the storm to pass,” Jesse says. “Might as well go for a dip while we’re here too.”
“I thought only Will dipped.”
“I mean a bath, dunce. Come on. I’m gonna show you the prettiest tub you’ll ever clean in.”
Chapter Seven
Jesse turns Rebel round and leads. The canyon path widens and slopes up the side of one of the peaks, where we’re still sheltered from the dust raging on the other side.
We gain elevation, and even get a quick rainstorm bearing down on us—likely the rain that stirred up all that blasted dust. It ain’t more than a few minutes long, not even enough to thoroughly clean the dirt from my limbs or wet my hair through.
After a bit of a trek, we come upon a sight I can’t hardly believe. Right smack in the middle of this rugged, mountainy land is a pool of water. It’s being filled by rainwater from the storm, which streams down the steep, bone-white rock surrounding us to fill a shallow basin. In its deepest parts—right ’long the back wall—I’d say the water might be up to my knees.
Mutt prances in and laps some up, then comes out with his undercarriage dripping. He shakes, sprinkling us.
“Welcome to White Tank, Nate,” Jesse says, waving an arm at the scene.
“How’d you two ever find a place like this?”
“Prospector by the name of Dee. Before he arrived in Wickenburg, he’d tried these mountains for gold and said he found nothing but a trickling waterfall and a series of ‘white tanks’ holding water. Then some Indians ran him out.”
I immediately look over my shoulder.
“We’ve spent the night here a few times and ain’t seen nobody,” Will says, reading my unease. “Might be the tribe’s moved elsewhere.”
“Might be,” I says, uncertain.
“Well I ain’t getting any cleaner talking.” Jesse hops from Rebel and kicks off his boots. “Last one in does dinner.”
He starts unbuttoning his shirt before I truly realize what’s happening. I blink, and Jesse and Will are down to their drawers. I turn away and a moment later hear ’em splashing into the water.
Dear Lord, I gotta find something else to do. I gotta bolt.
“Nate’s cooking,” Will says with a laugh.
I risk a glance. They’re reclining with their backs ’gainst the far rock wall, water up past their navels. The waterfall splashes between ’em, rippling the surface so I can’t see nothing else, thank God.
“I’m what?” I says, pretending I don’t follow, and trying not to stare.
“Making dinner, you loaf. Didn’t you hear us naming terms?”
“No, guess not.”
“I think he really might be deaf,” Will says to Jesse.
Jesse just smiles. They both got broad shoulders, and muscles I ain’t seen when they were wearing them shirts. God, I’m staring.
Stop staring.
Jesse sinks into the water like he’s trying to lie on the bottom of the pool. He’s swallowed up, and when he reemerges, he shakes his hair out like Mutt. Something coils in my stomach that’s got nothing to do with dinner or wanting food.
“Well,” Jesse says, squinting my way, “are you gonna stand there sweating, or are you coming in?”
“I, uh . . . I ain’t feeling well,” I says, backing away. “I think I’m gonna walk.”
“Walk?”
“Yeah,” I says, tripping over a rock and barely managing to stay on my feet. “And maybe start that dinner I owe yous.”
“Suit yerself,” he says.
I don’t go far, ’cus I ain’t fond of being in these mountains alone, but I drift enough that I can relieve myself in private. Once light starts slipping from the sky and I spot tribal markings on a couple rock faces, I turn round and head for camp. I’ll take an awkward exchange with the Colton brothers over Apache arrowheads.
When I get back, the boys are outta the pool and mostly clothed. Jesse’s using his shirt to dry his hair, and the motion is making muscles twitch in his arms and torso. I don’t mean to stare, but it were just me and Pa at the farm, and the only man round my age I ever spoke with often was Morris. I wonder if he looks like this under his shirt too.
I turn away and focus on starting a fire ’cus I don’t care what Jesse looks like. Or Will or Morris or any boy for that matter. I ain’t here to splash round in stupid mountain pools and waste time staring at something I don’t want to begin with. I got a job to do, and the sooner we get back on the move, the sooner I can split ways and carry on alone. Track down Rose. Pull my trigger like I mean to.
Just me and Silver, no distractions.