THE LAST WATER
The People on the Horizon
Cactus flowers had withered before they could fully open.
Dry grass cracked beneath the hooves of horses, and the few remaining pools along the seasonal riverbeds had become muddy holes surrounded by the tracks of desperate animals. Even the wind seemed tired.
It moved across the desert carrying dust instead of moisture, scraping against the rocks and filling every breath with the taste of salt.
Jonah Reed knew what that meant.
The water was almost gone.
He sat alone on a gray gelding beneath the shadow of a sandstone ridge, watching the horizon through the heat.
Jonah was forty-two years old. He had spent most of his life in the territory between the mountains and the open desert. He owned no large ranch, no respectable house, no wife, and no children.
Everything he owned could fit inside two saddlebags.
A rifle.
A revolver.
A worn blanket.
A tin cup.
A small Bible that had belonged to his mother.
And an old leather map covered with marks that only Jonah understood.
People in the nearest settlement called him a drifter.
Others called him a scout.
One man had called him a fool.
Jonah didn't care.
He had learned long ago that the desert didn't care what people called you.
It only cared whether you knew how to survive.
That morning, however, Jonah saw something that made him sit straighter.
Movement.
Far across the pale valley.
At first he thought it was a herd of deer.
Then he realized it was people.
A large group.
Men.
Women.
Children.
Walking slowly.
Too slowly.
Jonah reached for the telescope hanging from his saddle.
He raised it.
His expression changed.
Apache.
There were dozens of them.
Perhaps more than fifty.
Some rode horses.
Many did not.
Several women carried children.
An elderly man walked with the help of a stick.
Two young men supported another man between them.
Jonah lowered the telescope.
He had heard rumors.
An Apache band had been moving south for days.
They were looking for water.
Most ranchers had refused to help.
Some had fired warning shots.
Others had simply closed their wells.
Jonah had no idea which group this was.
He only knew what he saw.
They were exhausted.
The horses were worse.
One animal collapsed.
Jonah watched the animal struggle to rise.
It couldn't.
A woman stopped beside it.
She knelt and placed one hand against its neck.
The horse's legs trembled.
Then it went still.
The woman remained beside it for several seconds before someone pulled her away.
Jonah felt something tighten inside his chest.
He knew that look.
He had seen it before.
Not in people.
In cattle during drought years.
The look of an animal that had reached the end of its strength.
He turned his horse toward the valley.
He knew he should keep riding.
The nearest settlement was twenty miles east.
His own water supply was barely enough for three days.
Helping fifty people would mean giving away what he needed to survive.
That was simple mathematics.
But Jonah had never trusted mathematics when human lives were involved.
He rode toward them.
By noon, three Apache warriors had spotted him.
They raised rifles.
Jonah stopped.
He slowly lifted both hands away from his weapons.
A young warrior shouted something.
Jonah didn't understand the words.
Then a woman stepped forward.
She was perhaps thirty years old, with dark hair tied behind her neck and a faded blue cloth wrapped around her shoulders.
She carried a bow.
Her eyes never left Jonah.
"You speak English?" Jonah asked.
She studied him.
"A little."
Jonah nodded toward the group.
"You're looking for water."
Her expression hardened.
"Everyone is looking for water."
Jonah looked at the dead horse behind them.
"There's no water here."
"We know."
"I know where there is some."
The warriors immediately raised their rifles.
The woman did not.
Instead, she asked, "Where?"
Jonah pointed north.
"About twenty miles."
"Twenty?"
"Maybe less if your people can ride."
She looked back at the exhausted group.
"Some cannot."
Jonah glanced toward the horizon.
The sun was already climbing.
"We need to leave now."
The woman studied him for a long moment.
Then she asked, "Why would you help us?"
Jonah looked at the dry earth beneath his horse.