Wake of Vultures by Lila Bowen

Author:Lila Bowen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy, Fiction / Action & Adventure, Fiction / Occult & Supernatural, Fiction / Fantasy / Paranormal, Fiction / Coming Of Age
Publisher: Orbit
Published: 2015-10-26T16:00:00+00:00

Nettie woke up the next morning with a dry mouth rimmed in scratchy salt. She went straight for her water skin and gulped half the tepid liquid down as the first of the men began to stir.

“Time to head out, boys!” Hennessy called, hopping to his feet and dusting off his britches, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Nettie hurried to be the first to the outhouse. So far, nobody had questioned the fact that she hadn’t joined them to piss off the back of the cookhouse after dinner. They probably figured Delgado’s food wasn’t sitting right, and she didn’t care what they thought so long as nobody tried to compare himself to a pizzle she didn’t have.

The morning went by fast, but not fast enough. After last night’s warning, Nettie was ready to be on the road. She blinked, and she was gulping down her beans. She blinked again, and Hennessy was giving her another water skin and a greasy handful of jerky for the ride—not that she entirely trusted Delgado’s jerky, but Sam swore none of the fellers had died from it. Yet.

One more blink, and she was picking out a second mount from the small herd. Rangers rode fast, often without stopping to eat or sleep, and always ponied a spare horse. She went for the smallest, hardiest, steadiest-looking pony, figuring the little paint would hold up well in the heat, eat less than the bigger horses, and not require much work if she had to remount on the run. As most of the men were too proud to ride a short horse with a bald cow face, no one seemed to mind, even when she named him Puddin’. Once they were all ponied up and mounted, the Captain whistled high and raised a hand, and they struck west, the new-risen sun at their backs and Delgado’s cook wagon trundling along in the rear.

“Are we headed the right way?” Hennessy asked, riding up behind her on a showy dappled palomino with a leggy black dancing on the end of his rope, the fool.

She could only shrug and recall the brush of cold, whiskered lips on the back of her neck. “If not, I’ll let you know.” He rode beside her for a minute, and she added, “That palomino’s hooves are gonna crack, you mark my words.”

Sam’s smile didn’t waver. “You just watch, Rhett. I’ve got the devil’s own luck.”

And, Lord, but if she didn’t believe him.

A couple of times as they rode, the Injun woman appeared in the corner of Nettie’s vision, a wavering figure pointing and then disappearing much like the mirages she’d heard about that affected men left in the desert too long. Whenever it happened, Nettie trotted up to the Captain to correct his route, then allowed her mount to drop back with Hennessy and the younger hands. Far as she could tell, the order in which the men rode corresponded to their experience and importance, or at least their number of scars and the comparative bushiness of their facial hair.

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