“In the desert sun, every step that you take could be the final one.
In the burning heat, hanging on the edge of destruction…”
-Tina Turner, “One Of The Living”
The day had aged past noon by the time Tawakoni finally returned. Apparently his story of how he had found the soldier had created quite a sensation in Dusthaven. According to him, people had numerous conjectures as to what happened, ranging from Indians and outlaws to strange legends and waste creatures that no one had actually ever seen. But he didn’t find any of them particularly compelling.
When Tawakoni took the soldier to the town doctor, the physician examined him and told the young Indian in no uncertain terms that whoever had done this to the man was utterly insane, and he was not sure if the man would ever be whole again. Worse, the wounds showed a knowledge of anatomy beyond even that of the doctor.
After he had filled them in on what had happened in town, Tawakoni resumed the search for signs of the outlaws who had destroyed the army wagon. Shortly, he announced that he had found the trail and he didn’t like it. “It’s one of the ways to get to the burning lands.” Tawakoni didn’t look back at the other men. He kept his eyes trained on the path.
“The burning lands?” Owley asked.
“Yeah, the desert. It gets hot enough to roast you alive,” said Tawakoni. “Even the Apaches won’t go out there without a good reason. There’s no water, no firewood… the only good news is that there’s no rattlesnakes.”
Cole’s eyes widened as he glanced around at the desolate landscape. “Worse than this?” he whispered. Tawakoni nodded.
“Way worse.”
“White Feather can handle it,” Owley said to Cole. “This place looks pretty grim, but it can’t be that dangerous, right? Besides, what if Geneviève is in there somewhere?”
“What do you think, Tawakoni?” Cole asked.
“What do you think you should do?” the Indian replied.
Cole and Owley shared a look. “What if Geneviève is out there, in the middle of that,” Owley asked. Cole swallowed hard at that thought.
“I think we should follow them,” he said. Tawakoni sighed, but he seemed to agree that this was best. With a clicking sound, he urged his horse into motion and theirs followed him. The heat was beginning to build into the hottest part of the day as they set off into the brightest sun Cole had ever seen.
As they continued their journey into the blazing heat of the desert, they came across a sharp butte that had been marked with Indian pictograms. Some of these symbols seemed vaguely familiar, but not enough to be sure of their meaning. Tawakoni told them “It’s Comanche. This is the Land of Death.”
At this point, Cole was starting to think that Geneviève was not going to be found alive in this wasteland, and he was beginning to think that they should head back to Dusthaven. However, Owley was adamant that they keep going. He felt that he had to keep trying, as this was the only lead that they had.
Cole continued on. He sweated profusely, developed a throbbing headache and found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the trail. His stomach began to churn and his throat went dry. As he rode on, Cole became more and more ill, and he was close to falling off of his saddle when Tawakoni saw that he was in trouble. Tawakoni got to Cole before he fell.
“I’ve seen this before,” said the Indian. “People get like this when they get too hot. We have to get him out of the heat, quick.” He began fanning Cole with his hat, and loosened his collar.
“I’m open to any suggestions,” Owley said, looking anywhere for a shaded area.
“We need to get back to that butte,” Tawakoni wheeled his horse and brought Cole into the shade of the sharp rocks. He poured some water from his canteen on Cole’s face, and fanned him with his hat some more. At last Cole came around, and Tawakoni gave him some water to drink. Despite this, he still felt sluggish and weak.
“We have to get him out of this heat before he faints again,” Tawakoni told Owley.
Owley pointed to a thin plume of smoke rising on the horizon. “What do you think? Is that the Apache camp? Whatever it is, it’s our best chance. See if you can get him back on Nevah.” The two lifted Cole into the saddle again where he hung on weakly, and they headed toward the smoke.
As they drew near to the source of the acrid smoke that had initially made them interested, the three men were quickly disabused of the notion that they were about to encounter a typical Apache encampment. Instead, they realized that they were approaching what looked like a hastily constructed army fort, complete with a lookout standing guard on the wall and an obvious fire burning within. Perhaps the fort was the place where the wagon they had found earlier had originally come from, or maybe this was just a supply depot or a staging area for an attack. Regardless, they were going to need to take the whole scenario very seriously.
“Halt! Who goes there!” shouted the lookout, training a carbine on them.
“We’re on business from Dusthaven,” shouted Owley. “We were looking for an Apache camp somewhere around here. Have you seen them?”
“You needn’t look any further,” the lookout said. “We drove off those miserable savages days ago without too much trouble.”
“Did you happen to see anyone else out here?” Owley asked.
“Saw some people moving across the desert earlier,” the soldier did not lower his weapon. “But they didn’t approach our camp. You say you’re from Dusthaven?”
“That’s right,” said Owley.
“Did you happen to meet our supply wagon we sent to there?”
“We found it,” said Owley. “But your men were attacked and someone stole all your supplies.”
“Lucky for us, we found a rich source of food and supplies out here,” said the lookout. Tawakoni signaled to Owley, and shook his head. Owley looked terrified, but tried to hide this from the lookout. Nothing looked out of place, but after his quick thinking Cole was willing to trust the Indian’s judgement.
“Well,” said Owley. “Since our business with the Apaches seems to have been concluded by you fine fellows, we’ll just be on our way back to Dusthaven. Do have a good evening.” They turned their horses and started back toward the town, half expecting the sentry to take a shot at them, although he did not.
“There’s no chance they found any food out here,” said Tawakoni when they were out of earshot of the fort. “Unless those captives were the food.”
“Cannibals?” Owley blanched. “That’s crazy.”
“They could be crazy from the heat,” said Tawakoni. “Or starvation. I think we were lucky to get out of there.” Looking back, Cole saw no signs of pursuit, but he felt uneasy.
While the group meandered down the trail back to Dusthaven, a wild-looking figure jumped onto the trail, frantically gesturing for them to stop. The figure was a young man, with the look of a prize fighter. "You can't imagine how glad I am to see you." He seemed really nervous, and looked around at the desert too much. Tawakoni noticed some others sneaking up on them. Cole saw them as well. The group spurred their horses, and the prize fighter barely avoided getting galloped down. Clearly the men did not expect them to do this and none appeared to have horses of their own. They managed to put enough distance between themselves and the nefarious figures.
“I think it’s time we brought the Sheriff in on this, “ said Owley.
