His shoulder screamed.
The horse disappeared into the dust.
Elias tried to stand.
His legs refused.
He crawled several feet before collapsing again.
The storm roared above him.
Then everything went black.
When Elias opened his eyes, the storm was gone.
The sun was setting.
His mouth was dry enough to bleed.
He reached for his canteen.
Empty.
He tried to move.
Pain tore through his ribs.
He closed his eyes.
This, he thought, was how the desert finished a man.
Not dramatically.
Not with a bullet.
Quietly.
Slowly.
It simply waited until there was nothing left.
Then he heard footsteps.
At first he thought they were imaginary.
Then he heard another.
And another.
Elias opened his eyes.
A woman stood several yards away.
She wore a faded blue dress beneath a long brown coat. Her dark hair was tied behind her neck, and a rifle rested loosely against her shoulder.
She was not afraid of him.
That was the first thing he noticed.
The second was that she was not alone.
Three horses stood behind her.
Two men waited farther back.
One held a rifle.
The woman approached.
Elias instinctively reached toward his revolver.
The rifleman raised his weapon.
“Don't,” the woman said.
Her voice was calm.
Elias stopped.
She crouched beside him.
“You're bleeding.”
“I noticed.”
“You're lucky.”
“Doesn't feel like it.”
She examined his shoulder.
“Can you walk?”
“No.”
“Can you ride?”
“No.”
She sighed.
“Then I suppose you're coming with us.”
Elias stared at her.
“Where?”
“My home.”
He almost laughed.
“You invite every stranger you find in the desert home?”
“Only the dying ones.”
“I’m not dying.”
The woman looked at him.
“You've been unconscious in the heat with no water.”
She paused.
“You are.”
Elias swallowed.
“What’s your name?”
She hesitated.
“Maribel.”
“Maribel what?”
“You haven't earned the rest.”
Despite the pain, Elias almost smiled.
It was the first time he had smiled in months.
Maribel noticed.
“You can laugh later.”
“I wasn't laughing.”
“You were.”
She stood.
“Help me.”
The two men came forward.
Elias watched them lift him.
He hated needing their help.
He hated the weakness.
But he hated dying more.
They placed him across a horse.
As the group began moving, Elias looked back at the place where he had fallen.
The desert was already erasing his tracks.
He did not know it yet, but that was the last time he would see the place where he had intended to disappear.
Maribel's home was not a ranch.
It was an abandoned trading station surrounded by low stone walls and several small buildings.
A windmill stood beside a well.