Hunger on the Chisholm Trail by M Ennenbach

Author:M Ennenbach
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: QuarkXPress, ebook, epub
Publisher: Death's Head Press
Published: 2020-05-01T04:00:00+00:00

10

Somewhere along the Chisholm Trail

The sun was relentless today. All signs of storm two days ago were gone except for scorch marks on the soil. They appeared like etchings from an angry vengeful God. The occasional lost steer or two meandered from tufts of prairie grass. There was no shelter but to hunch among the prickly grass that whipped like razor blades whenever the hot wind gusted. Lizards and snakes patrolled in the welcome heat in search of sustenance from a land they were bred to live in.

One man staggered along the cracked earth, barely upright. He had not stopped moving for a day and a half now. Fear was his biggest motivation against blistered feet rubbed raw in his boots. His thighs chafed from sweating in thick denim. He lost his hat when the winds picked up overnight. Now he had no protection from sun’s rays that felt as if they would cook him as he wandered.

“Dear Jesus, please lead your sheep to sanctuary. Dear Mother Mary, keep that beast from my trail.” He repeated the litany to himself, his throat dry and voice cracking.

He needed a drink. Needed food. He hadn’t even stopped to relieve himself. He could not close his eyes without seeing that thing launch from the back of the wagon. But Chris was a survivor. A believer. A fighter with a family back in Texas. He could make it to Duncan. He just needed to keep moving.

“God will sustain me. God will protect. I fear no evil for he shelters me in His light. I just need a drink. One drink. Then I can make it.”

When night fell, he found he had been running in roughly the right direction. He set his sights on the Big Dipper, found the North Star, and kept moving. As dawn broke to his right, he knew he had not lost his way. Not badly, at least. In the initial panic, he may have gone far to the west or so he guessed. But there wasn’t much down the Trail. Duncan was about it and if he stumbled too far past, he would just have to correct his course. But he couldn’t think like that. Couldn’t afford to. He kept his head up. He had tied his bandana around his forehead. It was something his Pa had taught him. Let it soak up his sweat and cool him down. He laughed bitterly and hoarsely.

“Into your hands, I commend my spirit.” The tinge of desperation and insanity in his own voice scared him.

A rabbit leapt from one of the thickets of grass and he felt his heart race in terror. He chuckled to himself and raised a hand to block the sun. In the distance was a cairn of some sort in roughly the direction he stumbled. The adrenaline gave him a burst and his steps evened. He looked up into the azure sky. A lone speck circled high above him. He knew what it was, and he felt another fit of laughter threaten to bubble out.

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