Melinda Heads West Read Free

surrounded them and then burst upwards in spiteful rays of blinding light. The heat was oppressive, pushing down as they walked, so that Mindy felt she not only carried her own weight but the weight of the universe. Gnats swarmed her head and flew into her nose; they raced into her mouth if she dared to open it to speak or breathe.
    The party trudged along in silence. Mindy lost her footing, slipped and fell, cut her hands against the piercing stones, and bit her lips to keep from crying out. She wore shoes for traveling, but not this kind.
    Mindy’s mind wandered. Her thoughts were of home: soft, leafy grass, tall, cool oak trees, and glistening glasses of hand-squeezed lemonade with tiny ice chips. She would have gladly given all the money in her pouch for one sip of that sweet, refreshing liquid. If she listened closely, she could faintly hear her mother calling from the back porch of a familiar weathered house: “Min-DEE!”
    How remarkable it was she had dreaded hearing that voice at the time. It had meant putting down the pleasures of play and coming into a shadowy environment where lunch waited. A cool lunch: salad perhaps, just picked from the garden, with crisp greens and bright, fully ripened tomatoes that burst with an ambrosial splendor when you bit down into them. Cornbread with a crunchy, wholesome taste that offset the salad perfectly, and glasses of cool, well water. All she could drink, glasses and glasses, full to the brim and running over, of sweet, sweet, well water.
    Thoughts of playing in the stream that ran alongside the house flitted through her mind: wading, splashing, laughing, slopping, spattering. How she had taken that water for granted!
    Mindy’s eyes searched the road ahead, but all she saw were the backsides of the men and a horizon that stretched into a hazy distance. The twin ruts of the stagecoach went on eternally. How could she have lived in Mississippi all her life and not known about these two furrows that carved their way into an endless forever?
    “We’ll stop here,” one of the men said.
    The words didn’t filter through to Mindy’s thinking parts when they first floated through the air. They traveled around her head like gnats, before buzzing into her ears.
    “There’s shade for now,” he continued, “and the sun’ll be setting before long. This is far enough. If I remember right, there’s a creek running along the bottom of this hill. We should hit it sometime tomorrow.”
    Mindy’s eyes widened. Stepping dangerously close to the edge of the outcropping, she stared down, searching through the pine and scrub for any hint of the water (water!) mentioned. Her lips burned like they were on fire, and her tongue seemed to have grown to twice its size. Finally, far below, a brown thread could be seen winding enticingly between the trees. With a heavy sigh, Mindy was forced to admit it was much too far to jump.
    Instead, with legs of applesauce, she carefully maneuvered to the designated shade and then collapsed into a rumpled heap. There she lay, falling back against the rocks and stones without concern, but registering faintly that there would be new places of pain tomorrow. For now, she didn’t care. They had stopped. The walking had ended.
    • • •
    Boone sat and leaned against a rock wall. He placed the worn and dusty traveling bag near his side. His arm felt ready to fall off — surely the bag weighed thirty-five pounds! He was exhausted, and the shade felt good.
    It had been a hard tramp following the stagecoach path. He glanced over at the girl. She was in a green pile, with brown boots sticking out from beneath a dirty dress. Her hair was a mess, half in a wad on the side of her head, and half running down her back. Though right now, it was all splayed against the ground, and he couldn’t remember what color it had been originally.
    He had to admit a grudging respect. He’d expected to be slowed by her presence or, worse yet, encumbered by having to take turns