Chapter 18
The sun beat down hard on Ben’s face. It melted into his skin and heated his bones. Buzzards circled overhead, riding the updraft into an endless pale sky.
“Elliot?”
“Hm?”
“How long has it been since we’ve eaten?”
“You already asked me that today.”
“Did I?” The hollow in Ben’s stomach had expanded until it took up his chest. Even if he had a meal—any meal; it didn’t matter what it was—he felt as though he could never be full again.
“Yep. Earlier this mornin’. After breakfast.”
Ben tipped his head down so that at least his hat brim would shade his face. “Muddy water from a creek isn’t breakfast.”
“You could boil your boots if you’re that bad off,” Elliot cackled. Even starving and sunburned, he hadn’t lost his sense of humor. “Saw plenty of soldiers doin’ it, but I don’t think it helped any.”
“When we stop, I’ll look through the wagon and see what we’ve got.” Ben craned around in his seat to eye the wagon bed. It was a small rig they’d acquired back in Albuquerque because Elliot insisted it made them look more respectable.
“Naw. Don’t bother. We’ve already done that. There’s not even a crumb,” Elliot reminded him.
How could he sound so casual about it? Didn’t he, too, feel as though his body was slowly consuming itself? It wouldn’t be long before their bleached bones lay beside those of cattle and deer that dotted the landscape every so often.
“Then maybe we should hunt something.” Ben scanned the surrounding land, but he didn’t even see a jackrabbit. Oh, but jackrabbit would be so good. They wouldn’t even need to season it or let the tough meat soften in a stew. Ben wasn’t even sure he’d be patient enough to put it over a fire.
“Nope.” Elliot patted his revolver. “I told you, we’ve got to conserve our ammunition. We’ve got just enough.”
“Enough for what?” Ben snapped. “Killing ourselves when we go crazy from being under the sun too long? We never should’ve come this far south. There’s not a damn thing here that’s going to do us any good. I should be north, up in the mountains.”
Elliot laughed. He laughed. “Relax, Ben. I’m tellin’ ya. Tombstone is the place for us to be, and it’s not far out of our way. We’ll do some gamblin’ and maybe get a little work. When our pockets are lined with cash and our bellies are full, then we’ll head on. You’ll see.”
Ben was hardly even steering the rig anymore. He just let the horse plod on next to the one Elliot rode. That was how most of the trip had gone.
The war was over. They’d lost. Even if they hadn’t, Ben couldn’t have felt any sense of victory. Not after that.
He’d been through numerous states and territories, running with his messages, serving loyally. When it was over, the generals just tossed their discharge papers at them and told them to make their way home.
Some of the men had given years of their life to the cause.
It had only been a little over a year for Ben, but that was enough to leave him uncertain of what to do with his future.
The war had swept the nation and consumed every person like an ocean wave, but it’s receded so quickly and left them feeling stranded.
Ben, at least, had Elliot. They would head to their homes out west, exploring and adventuring along the way. Ben would return to St. Thomas, and Elliot would go to San Padre, California.
Ben hadn’t anticipated just how dangerous Elliot was.
He’d shown Ben a life of stealing and scavenging, of snatching what they could and then running before they got caught.
It wasn’t the honorable life of a soldier, and it wasn’t what Father Tillman and Sister Matthews had taught him, but he was surviving.
Barely.
The sun descended swiftly. The cool night air was at least some relief, even if they couldn’t fill the voids in their stomachs. No place in the desert looked better than any other, and so they made their camp near some scrubby bushes at the bottom of a rocky hill.
“Who’s waiting for you in San Padre?” Ben asked after they’d hobbled the horses and crawled under the wagon. The hard ground pressed against his bones through his thin bedroll.
“Nobody.”
Ben turned his head so he could see the night sky. He was tired of looking at the underside of the wagon night after night. “Then why are you going?”
“Well, I’m hopin’ I might be able to find some of the guys my daddy used to run around with. They were near San Padre, last I knew. But it’s not like they’re waitin’ on me or nothin’. They might not even know I’m alive.”
The war had provided men like Elliot with a place to belong when they had no home, with brothers when they had nobody else. Were other former soldiers struggling like this? Some men were making their way home, but what about those who had no home?
He hadn’t been sure about going to St. Thomas. Sister Matthews would be angry with him. Father Tillman was always so calm and patient, but even he hadn’t thought Ben should go to war. They might not even want to see him after the way he’d betrayed them. They hadn’t even replied to his letters.
But speaking with Elliot made him all the more determined to go. The people at the orphanage were the only people he had in the world, and at least that was someone. No matter how they felt about Ben joining the army, he was certain they still cared for him.
Night passed slowly and fitfully. A coyote yipped far in the distance.
Another echoed its cry. The stars wheeled overhead in the same pattern Ben had seen for months, the same bright stars looking down on him and shaking their heads, wondering what had happened to the nice young man who’d been raised at St. Thomas.
He wanted to go home. Ben touched the slight bulge of his shirt, pushed up by his crucifix. He closed his eyes and envisioned every tiny part of St. Thomas that he could remember, walking through it in his mind as though he were truly there. He should never have left.
Dawn arrived as a line of pale orange on the horizon. A few birds called to each other, sounding far happier to be in the middle of the desert than Ben was.
Elliot squirmed out from under the wagon. “Gotta take a leak.”
Ben rolled out from the other side of the wagon while Elliot headed around the bushes. He beat the dust from his clothing, but it didn’t do much good. His clothes and bedroll were so dusty that they might as well have been a part of the desert itself.
With no food to eat, there was no need to make a fire. Ben found the horses nibbling at dry grass nearby and brought them back over to the wagon. They jerked their heads sharply in the air at the sound of pounding footsteps.
Elliot came racing back into camp, holding his hat down against his head so it wouldn’t blow off. “Ben!” he said, his voice a harsh whisper. His mouth was stretched wide. “Ben, you won’t believe it! Our luck is changin’!”
“What is it?” They could hardly have stumbled upon a general store out there in the middle of nowhere. Even if they had, they didn’t have a cent to their names.
Elliot grabbed Ben’s arm and pulled him close. “I went up just over the edge of the hill. I wanted to see what the road ahead of us looked like. And boy, oh boy, does it look good!”
“I don’t understand.” Most of the land was flat where they were traveling. Any obstacles they encountered were easy to avoid.
“Settlers!” Elliot clarified, poking Ben in the chest. “A nice little covered wagon with oxen pulling it, laden down with all their worldly goods. Judgin’ by the way they’re dressed, they’ve got plenty.”
Ben’s stomach gurgled, and his mouth watered. “So you think we can ask them for some food?”
Elliot gave him a cross look. “I think the sun has gone to your head. Where have you been for the last couple of months? We’re not just gonna ask them politely for some cornbread. We’re gonna take everything they’ve got. Just like my daddy!”
“Oh.” Ben’s feet felt rooted in the ground.
It was one thing to sneak into someone’s house when they weren’t there.
People left a surprising amount of equipment and supplies in their hunting cabins.
Breaking into stores was a little bit more of a risk, since there were usually more people around, but Ben could justify what they stole by convincing himself they weren’t really hurting anybody.
But walking straight up to a family and demanding food and supplies? That felt entirely different.
“I don’t know,” he hedged. “I don’t want to just rob them.”
“They’re probably headin’ to Tombstone, same as we are,” Elliot reasoned. “Who do you think the citizens there are gonna be more charitable to? A nice young family who’s been robbed on the trail, or a couple of able-bodied young men like us?”
Ben rubbed his hand through his dusty hair as he considered this. He hated to think Elliot was right, but he probably was. Those folks could get help from the local church, at least. If they were planning to stay in Tombstone, they’d make friends and neighbors who would help them.
The hunger in his belly turned into sickness. “I just don’t like it.”
Elliot’s dark eyes were dangerous. They were full of desperation, and they told Ben that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Ben, we’re gonna die if we don’t do somethin’. We’re not gonna hurt ‘em, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”
“We’re not?”
“Naw. We’ll have the guns out, but once they give us what we want, we’ll just leave. Easy. Right?”
His stomach growled again, agreeing with Elliot. “Yeah,” Ben finally said. “I guess so.”
“Good. We’ll head over there with the wagon and the horse, like we’re just comin’ through the trail like they are. It’s pretty much true, anyway.”
Ben backed his horse up to the wagon. Elliot’s mount had already proven that it hated the rig. He hitched it up and climbed onto the box. “What do we say?”
“You just leave that to me,” Elliot insisted. “I’m the one with experience, anyway.”
“Right.” Ben clucked to the horse, and they headed around the hill. “Maybe we shouldn’t—”
“Just keep your hand off your gun,” Elliot advised. “When you see me adjust my hat, that’s your signal to draw.”