Secrets of Gravers Junction (The Chronicles of a Dustslinger #1)

Chapter 1

One

Bex

People say Graveyard Territory is where predators thrive and the weak die, left behind and forgotten where they fall. I’m troubled by guilt, fearing it’ll be my fault if we end up lost or in a situation that’s worse than death.

Hoping I’m heading in the right direction, I continue to ride east, knowing I’ll have to break soon and find Tumbleweed some fresh water.

She’s a farm horse and not used to riding long distances.

Relief washes over me when I finally lay eyes on our camp, the spot I’d left my sister at while I ventured out to explore.

It’s easy to get turned around in a place with no fencing and no landmarks.

A wide-open plain filled with tall green prairie grass that bends in waves as a south wind sweeps over it.

I don’t understand how something so beautiful is feared by every man, woman, and child in our country?

Pulling on the reins and calling for Tumbleweed to slow, I reach our campsite. My sister’s sitting by a small fire.

“Well, did you find anything?” Nina asks, then sips her coffee.

“Yeah,” I say, dismounting. The skirt of my dress gets snagged in the saddlebag buckle, and I fumble with the fabric until I’m free.

Then, before I answer, I adjust the sunrider hat on my head.

The wide brim shields my face from the midday blazing sun.

“I spotted a town out there. Though I’m not sure it’s the right town.

” I lead my horse over to the small creek next to my sister’s horse.

They greet each other with a warm nuzzle before Tumbleweed takes a drink.

“That’s not too reassuring,” she says after dumping the coffee out of her tin cup. When I don’t respond, she stands and kicks dirt over the glowing embers of the small campfire. “I’m guessing since you were gone most of the morning, this town you spotted is a half-day’s ride?”

I finish the water from my canteen before refilling it with the cooled water Nina’s boiled in the kettle. I don’t have the heart to tell her I woke before the sun rose, so it’s more than what she’d considered a half-day’s ride.

“Hey, don’t sugarcoat the distance. I can handle it,” she insists. “I may be your spinster older sister, but that doesn’t mean I’m an old woman who can’t handle some hard riding.”

This has me laughing. “Old woman, you say! You’re barely a year older than me, and I feel younger than ever at twenty-seven!”

Having never found a suitor who could measure up to her high standards, because we were raised to marry for love and not wealth, Nina’s accepted her martial outcome.

She’s lectured me on more than one occasion about how a woman can live a happy and fulfilled life in solitude.

And that’s when I remind her she’s not alone. She’s got me.

Since this isn’t the time or place to be talking about her love life, I leave the matter alone.

Instead, I fasten the metal cap onto my canteen and face the expansive prairie.

It’s beautiful. A sight I would love to wake up to every morning if I could.

And honestly, I don’t see what all the fuss is about, especially after exploring more of it this morning.

“Come on. Let’s have it,” she says, scratching her forehead while waiting on me to answer. “I know you’re thinking about ways to ease my concerns, but don’t. As long as we find shelter before dark, there’s nothing to worry about.”

It’s more out of habit to sugarcoat troubled news when it comes to telling my sister stuff.

She’s a hard worker for sure, helping me on my small farm these past four years, but her nerves get easily overwhelmed.

For as long as I can remember, after my parents took her in, Nina’s had her own personal demons to deal with.

Matters from her past life that she keeps private.

“Yeah, I’d say half-day’s ride is about right. If we leave now, we should make it before dark. The good news is it’s a straight shot from here.” I point west.

“Bex, we talked about this last night,” Nina warns, coming up next to me. “If we’re going to sleep under the stars, we can’t do it out in Graveyard Territory. You have to be absolutely sure we’ll make it to town before dark?”

“I know.”

Exhaling a deep breath, she rests her hands on her hips. “Dammit Bex, it might not even be the right town.”

“It’s got to be,” I say, worried the rumors of this territory have gotten to her head.

She stares at me with pleading eyes. “Why are we risking our lives to deliver some dead woman’s message?”

Beneath the sleeve of my blouse, along my forearm, a faint grit stirs—more sensation than pain, like sand shifting just under the skin. I still my arm at my side, and don’t look at it. Whatever’s happening there, I won’t give it the satisfaction of being noticed.

Her concern is justified. I’ve heard stories of this forsaken territory my whole life. Mothers use Graveyard Territory as an empty threat when trying to get their children to behave. And it works.

The fear drilled into the minds of everyone east of this land has kept most from venturing out into Graveyard Territory, including me.

And I’ve never been a thrill seeker. I’m terrified for my life and my sister’s.

No, I do this because I have to. Looking at Nina, I silently curse, wishing she’d stayed on our farm.

Backing out of the tall grass, I move to our campsite and start packing up. “Listen, I didn’t ride two days to turn back because our destination is out there. This message—it’s, well, important.”

Nina snorts softly and then moves to the campfire. “If it were so important, you’d tell me what that woman said. Why we’re risking our lives to find her husband.”

I’m not getting into an argument again about why I need to do this, mainly because the guilt of lying feels like a rock in my gut. “There’s no reason for you to come with me,” I tell her. “This is my errand.”

She purses her mouth while shaking out the blanket she’d been sitting on next to the fire.

After she’s done strapping the rolled-up blanket to the back of Frostbite, she looks at me and says, “You knew the second you decided you were making this journey I’d be coming.

” She scoffs, brushing aside strands of blonde hair that have escaped her braids and fallen across her eyes.

“You get scared and holler for me at the sight of a snake or a spider! And you expect me to believe you can handle riding out into Graveyard Territory on your own? Ha!”

“That’s not true!” I snap, even though I hate snakes and spiders.

“I’m a grown woman, and I can handle myself.

And I’m being serious here, Nina. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.

You really ought to take Frostbite and head back home, or just wait here instead.

I saw the town. I’ll ride in, find that woman’s husband, and deliver her message. ”

“If that’s the right town,” she mutters under her breath as she mounts her horse.

With my skirt held between my legs, I climb onto Tumbleweed’s back. It takes a minute to get comfortable with all this bunched-up fabric, but eventually I settle into the saddle.

We walk our horses over to the edge of the dirt patch where we made camp last night and look to the prairie.

Nina lifts her chin to the cloudless sky and closes her eyes.

A few seconds later, the south breeze sharpens, shifting until it blows straight at us, bending the tall grass so the tops bend in our direction.

My sunrider hat nearly flies off, caught only by the leather strap at my neck.

Returning it to my head, I hold it in place with a gloved hand while Nina sits firmly on her horse, unfazed, as the wind picks up, blowing her pale braids off her shoulders.

Nina’s life before joining our family is a mystery to me.

Yet one thing she’s open about is her strange connection to the winds.

Well, open about it with me. Never anyone else.

She says it speaks to her. I’ve never questioned this connection’s authenticity.

Just as everyone has their own spiritual practices, perhaps those from the Northern Glacic Territory, where Nina was born, worship the winds, or they believe spirits live in or manifest as winds.

After the powerful gusts fade and the grass stills, Nina opens her eyes and stares out over the vast plains. Instead of confessing what the winds conveyed, she says with a stony expression, “Last chance, Bex.”

My sister is the most genuinely kind and empathetic person I know, always seeing the best in others regardless of their appearance, never judging without legitimate grounds.

I envy her ability to see the world through gentle eyes.

Most don’t see the other side of her, the protective, battle-ready one, since we’ve rarely encountered threats on the farm.

Her unwavering loyalty and sense of responsibility as the older sibling are things she embraces, as if they give her purpose.

“Say the word, and we turn around.”

I assume whatever passed between her and the winds wasn’t in our favor. “That bad, huh?”

“It’s not good, that’s for sure.” She pulls out an old pair of leather riding gloves and adds, “It may look peaceful, but the winds tell me there’s evil out there.”

Tumbleweed shifts beneath me, ears flicking forward.

She can sense what I’m feeling through my body and knows the difference between a pause and a retreat.

I inhale a slow breath, filling my lungs.

The air carries the taste of dust and sunbaked grass.

Behind us lies the path home, to the farm and the house my late husband built board by board.

And ahead lies a place no sensible widow would choose.

“Whatever that woman said right before she died in your arms, it can’t be that important to risk our lives and ride into Graveyard Territory. There are things out there, Bex. Dangerous things, which is why no one travels it.”

I don’t argue. And I can’t resist rubbing at my arm when the grit-like phenomenon stirs again, a persistent feeling like grains of sand moving up and down my arm.

The longer I prolonged this journey after the stranger’s death, the worse it got.

As if whatever took root in me was alive and done waiting.

I tighten my legs and click my tongue.

Leaving the small dirt patch where we made camp last night, Tumbleweed’s hooves disappear into the tall prairie grass. As if satisfied, the phenomenon stirring beneath my sleeve settles.

Nina curses under her breath and urges Frostbite to follow.

If the rumors of Graveyard Territory are true, this trip will cost me everything I have left.

I ride anyway.