1871- The Badlands of New Mexico
“Beans again?” Carl tilted the brim of his hat down over his eyes and laid back on his bedroll. “Ain’t we got anything else at all?” They were still days away from Santa Fe, days of nothing but dirt, rocks, cactus, and precious little water or game between them and their destination, and all they had left to eat were dried beans. Nearby, their horses cropped on a pitiful patch of weeds, and Carl found himself wondering what horseflesh tasted like.
“Not just beans. We got that jackrabbit you shot. Oh, wait. You missed, didn’t you?” Little Mike let out a cackle and bared his rotten teeth. “Just joshing you. I reckon that critter was a long way away. Else you’d have hit it.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Carl complained. “I done told you what happened.”
“You told me, but it still don’t make no sense. You was about to shoot the rabbit, and a big-headed injun stuck his head up over a rock and scared you.”
“I weren’t scared,” Carl lied. “It just surprised me is all. And it weren’t no injun.”
“A white man, then?” Little Mike kept his eye on the pot of beans as it boiled, stirring occasionally with his knife.
“It was gray. And it had a big head and big eyes.” He turned over on his side and looked out over the open range. He knew how foolish his words sounded, but it was the God’s honest truth.
Little Mike’s voice suddenly grew serious. “Truth told, I’ve seen the same thing before.”
Carl sat bolt upright. “You never told me that.”
Little Mike nodded. “Last summer. I had about a dozen whiskeys, and when I went out to take a leak I seen somebody who looked just like that. Course, everybody looked that way for a while.” He let out another cackle.
Carl felt his face go crimson. “You can go to hell.” He fixed his hat, tugged on his boots, and stood.
“Aw, don’t be like that. Sit yourself down. The beans is almost ready.”
“I’m going hunting.”
“What do you think you’re gonna find out there, ceptin coyotes?”
“I don’t know, but I’m gonna look. Anything’s better than listening to you.” He strapped on his gun belt, turned, and stalked off into the darkness.
In the distance, a tall, rock formation stood dark on the horizon, and he headed toward it. Little Mike was right; he didn’t expect to encounter any game. He just needed to clear his head.
Admitting what he’d seen had been stupid. It wasn’t a lie, but nobody was going to believe him. Hell, if Little Mike opened his mouth once they got to Santa Fe, Carl would be a laughingstock. And when had Little Mike ever failed to open his mouth?
Somewhere in the distance, a coyote yipped. Several of its brothers answered its call, and a chorus of unearthly howls filled the air. Carl wasn’t bothered. Coyotes weren’t much of a threat. They tended to shy away from humans. Still, he touched his Colt, seeking comfort there.
“I wonder if you can eat coyote?”
The thought dissolved as soon as it had come. Something moved in his peripheral vision. Something much bigger than a rabbit.
Carl whirled and drew his pistol. His eyes searched the horizon. Cactus, yucca, and a single juniper. As he stared, something moved behind the large bush. He couldn’t see much, but he could tell it moved on two feet.
“Who’s there?” He couldn’t keep the tremor from his voice. Thoughts of the strange thing he’d seen earlier flooded his mind. “Mikey, that you? You best come out afore you get yourself shot.”
Nothing. Whatever hid behind the juniper remained still.
Carl dared a step in its direction, then another. Close by now, the rock formation seemed foreboding, sinister even.
“Come on out. I won’t hurt you.” Carl hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. Beneath the base of the juniper, he caught a glimpse of a bare foot—a foot with four toes. What in creation was it? Cold sweat slicked his lanky frame, and the night air seemed impossibly cold. The barrel of his Colt wavered.
“I won’t tell you again. Come on out.”
The thing didn’t move. Instead, movement came from all around. He whirled, his finger twitching spasmodically on the trigger. The Colt boomed and jerked in his hand. He kept turning and firing, sending a bullet in the direction of every compass point, with a couple extras thrown in.
When it was empty, he stood in a thin, acrid cloud of his own making, and waited.
Finally, the thing stepped out from behind the juniper. Carl caught a glimpse of large, dark eyes, and he cried out in fear and alarm.
His mind told him to run, but his feet seemed locked in place. A dizzying feeling of disbelief swept over him, and his body went numb. Only the warm trickle down his leg kept him tethered to reality.
“What are you?” he croaked.
The last thing he saw was a flash of green light.