Desert Dreams by Deborah Cox Page B

had
turned over, as it easily could have...
    She sat still and quiet in the wagon until her heart rate
slowly returned to normal. In the distance, the horses had stopped running and
stood nuzzling the ground for something to eat, as if nothing unusual had
happened.
    "Damn!"
    The flat wilderness around her was quiet again, quiet and
desolate. She surveyed her surroundings, and a terrible hopelessness settled
over her like the dust and grime that covered her arms and matted her hair.
    Dear God, where was she? How was she going to get out of
this?
    She had lost her hat somewhere in the tumult. It seemed
foolish to fret over something so inconsequential, but without it she had no
protection from the sun. Her cheeks were already growing hot. Without the shade
of the hat's brim to shield her eyes from the sun's brightness, she could
hardly see.
    "Damn."
    On weak and unsteady legs, she managed to move toward the
side of the wagon. It shifted beneath her weight. She gasped and stopped until
she had a feel for how to proceed without upsetting her perch. Slowly she
worked her way to the edge and climbed down.
    Think . There's got to be a way out of this. How far can I be
from Ubiquitous?
    She gazed at the sky. It was well past noon. She'd been
traveling for more than four hours. It would take much longer than that to
return on foot. The blacksmith had told her it would take around four hours to
reach Hondo. She was better than halfway there.
    She glared at the grazing horses, calm and quiet now. Stupid animals.
They were useless to her now. Even if she could catch them, she had no idea how
to unharness them, and the thought of trying to ride one of them filled her
with terror. She'd never been on a horse before. They frightened her with their
snorting and bucking. It was impossible.
    Maybe she could walk the rest of the way. But she didn't know
exactly how far it was or what direction for that matter. The horses had
carried her far from the road and she wasn’t sure in what direction. She knew
which way was south, and she knew that was the general direction she needed to
go, but she hadn’t been traveling due south at all. Her path had been more
southwest. Maybe if she traveled due south now she’d reach the road.
    Maybe she should just stay put. There were bound to be more
wagons traveling south with their cotton. But of course they would be traveling
the road and it was nowhere in sight. No one would ever find her if she didn't
get back to it.
    And a part of her hoped they wouldn't find her. If the men
she’d encountered in San Antonio were any indication of the character of the
teamsters who drove the wagons, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t be better off
alone.
    Oh, it was too hot and she was too thirsty to think clearly.
    A shrill cry drew her attention. High overhead, a buzzard
soared in a leisurely pattern, watching and waiting.
    Scanning the horizon once more, she spotted the wagon wheel.
It was a good distance behind the wagon. Was it broken? Could it be reattached
if someone came along? Her legs trembled as she climbed gingerly from the
unsteady wagon. She started walking toward the wheel, shielding her eyes from
the sun's glare. If someone did stop, maybe they could put it back on for her –
if it wasn't damaged.
    She'd misjudged the distance. By the time she reached the
wheel, she was out of breath and covered with sweat. Worse yet, the spokes were
shattered. It was useless. She let out a growl of frustration, kicking the
wheel with all her might.
    The buzzard cawed loudly. Drawing her loaded pistol, she took
aim and fired at the circling bird, though it was far too high to be in any
danger.
    "Go away!" she shouted. "I'll be damned if I'm
going to die in this godforsaken hell!
    "Damned bird. Damned stupid horses!" She kicked the
wheel again but derived even less satisfaction than she had the first time.
    She marched back to the wagon. She'd fetch her carpetbag and
canteen and strike out to the south. That would take her