Chapter 9
The black water receded with a violent gulp, draining through the floorboards and leaving the Lucky Star Saloon dripping wet under the blazing desert sun once again. Caleb coughed violently, expelling a mouthful of salt water into the dust as he collapsed onto his hands and knees on the front porch. His dark trench coat was soaked through, heavy and smelling of deep-earth mud.
He raised his head, wiping the stinging sweat and brine from his eyes. The street was dry, shimmering under the brutal midday heat, but the hoofbeats were back. They were louder this time, accompanied by the creak of heavy leather and the jingle of silver spurs.
Caleb forced himself up onto his shaky legs, his hand resting instinctively on the butt of his revolver. The branded star beneath his coat burned with a dull, steady ache, reminding him of his new station. He looked over at the two little girls. They were standing near the wooden barrel again, their yellow dresses immaculate and dry, as if the underground sea had never existed.
A lone horseman crested the rise at the end of the dusty street and reined in his mount. This traveler didn't wear a black coat; he wore a bright red cavalry jacket covered in dust, and a wide brim pulled low over a scarred face. The horseman stared down at the two barefoot sisters, then slowly shifted his gaze to Caleb standing on the porch.
“Afternoon, stranger,” the soldier called out, his voice raspy and cautious. “Is there water to be had in this godforsaken place?”
Caleb stared at the man, feeling a strange, heavy sense of deja vu wash over him. He knew the script now. He knew every beat of the tragic dance. But a sudden, fierce defiance flared in his chest. He didn't want to ask the scripted questions. He didn't want to trap another soul in this eternal purgatory.
Caleb took a step down the wooden stairs, his boots crunching on the gravel.
“Turn around,” Caleb shouted across the empty street, his voice ringing with desperate authority. “There’s nothing here for you. Ride back the way you came!”
The soldier frowned, tilting his head in confusion as he urged his horse a few steps closer to the barrel.
“I asked a civil question, mister,” the soldier replied, his hand hovering over his holster. “I’ve ridden three days without a drop, and I aim to water my horse.”
Before Caleb could shout another warning, the older sister stepped directly in front of the horse’s hooves, looking up at the soldier with her cold, unblinking eyes.
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“Where’s your captain?” the older girl asked softly, her voice carrying an unnatural, hypnotic resonance that stopped the soldier’s hand dead in its tracks.
The soldier froze, the color draining instantly from his scarred face as he stared down at the child.
