I’ve been trackin’ the ol’ roads of the territory for some time now, out under this scorchin’ sun. My intentions are towards the New Mexican Territory, and from there to I’ll make way south. I’m not welcome here no more, not with the big hats and marshals trailing my hide. No, after the last heist, I’ve dug myself too deep. So I’ll take my gold and bullion, and these fine women’s pearls and head down where my name ain’t worth it anymore. Then I’ll sell, and then I’ll steal again. I’ve no plans to settle. That shit ain’t for me, and it ain’t for Flint either.

  I pat him on the backa’ his neck, and he lets out an ol’ whinny. He’s been a long time partner, bein’ the strong legs of my getaways back in Tombstone, and Oatman. Hell, even back in Bodie during ‘69, he’s been a loyal steed. I’m hopin’ his ol’ witherin’ bones can make it down to New Mexico. This horse of mine is growin’ weary. His legs buckle beneath him.

  I look out yonder towards the setting sun, that bright ass ball of orange fire dancing down beyond the clouds. Night’ll come, and it’ll get cold. Desert nights are no fun, for neither of us. Were we on any other trail ‘bout now, we’d have to veer off and find a nice, damp spot ‘neath uh, a cavern or an overpass. Light cactus. An’ the whole time I’d have to be wary of rattlers, those damned snakes.

  They aren’t the only things one’s gotta worry for out here. Coyotes, large packs of ‘em. I know they’re lurkin’ about.

  I’ve seen at least one of ‘em, always standin’ along the horizon. He stares at me, never breakin’ contact. For many days and nights he’s been my shadow. He’s here this evening, as I approach the narrow pass. I hafta wonder to myself on whether’ not that damn coyote will trail me even through.

  At the very least, I know of an old minin’ town down there in the pass. Gulch somethin’, so I’ve heard. The name changes every coupla years. Actually, I’on even know if it had a real name. Who cares. I don’t. But I do care about gettin’ there before sundown. An ol’ abandoned hut’s better than the barren, desert plains.

  And that coyote. I’ll shoot ‘em dead if he comes any closer than that.

  I give Flint a good whistle, and he kicks up his feet. Down into a canter he goes, with his ol’ bones creakin’. I see the curve of Narrow Pass grow, that giant, earthen crack large and deep. It’s not near as grand as that canyon back west, but it certainly is a formidable piece-a-earth. And the road down is just wide enough for flint to trot down, and he does with careful steps. The light of the sun disappears behind those ruddy colored walls. It’s startin’ to get a little darker here. The coyotes start a’howlin’ out about this time.

  And shoot, yeah there it is. That piercing screams comes in as one, and then the rest follow.

  I hear his little feet just a patterin’ up there on the pass edge. His shadow crawls down. Creepy fucker.

  Barely twilight down here, where the sign of Gulch Breeze shows’s its ugly mug. I’ve to flip open my lighter just to read them words. The chill of night comes up from the depths. The empty buildings that are sunk into the soft earth whistle as the wind goes on by. And the chill of night starts arisin’.

  Flint shivers. I can’t help myself but to shiver too.

  I tie him up to post for tonight, and bring over an ol’ trough. I’ve enough water to give him a sip for t’night. ‘Course I can find a river nearby if I run out. I give him an apple too, a handful of hay.

  I’ll have to stop at a real town soon. Get some real shit to eat for Flint. For now that’ll have to wait. I’ve gotta get settled in for tonight.

  Don’t take too long to find myself a nice, less than cozy ol’ post. Between the uh, collapsed sheriff’s station and the still-standing general store is a nice lil’ place. Gunsmithy, I’d assume. Sign says “Gusity.” Missin’ a coupl’a letters. Heh.

  I head on in, it’s dark as shit. ‘Course. But ain’t no place in the west without lanterns, and it don’t take me too long to find one or two. So I light ‘em up.

  Ain’t nothin’ left here in this ol’ shack. Nothin’ but rotten wood. Anything heavy or worthwhile is gone.

  I set a lantern down by the floor. I’m sure if I looked a little harder, I might’ve found a better place to sleep. Maybe a saloon with a back parlor. An inn, but I doubt they’d have any better accommodations. Maybe some moth-eaten cotton beds. I’ll take my chances on the hard wooden floor. Ain’t the worse thing I’ve had to sleep on. Cell beds are worse.

  I cuddle up in the corner, nice n’ tight. Have a quick sip from my canteen, a lil’ munch of nuts and odd fruit. A quick rub of my eyes too.

  A little longer.

  It turns into a good scratch, but once I’ve relieved myself of that itch I settle. Let out a sigh. Then, I put my hand of my sawed-off; I always do before bed. It’s better to be prepared an’ all that. Finally, down goes my hat, o’er my eyes. It’s a bit of a habit I’ve picked up throughout these years. I don’t care how dark it gets, damn it, I just ain’t comfortable snoozin’ unless I got my hat down.

  After that, well, I just can’t help but doze.

  -

  This morning, Flint’s feelin’ a lot better. Got a jump in his step, and he’s seemin’ cheery. We made it out the Narrow Pass, beyond Gulch Breeze, and back onto the road. In a few days time, I’ll be there in New Mexico. I’m ‘bout ready for it.

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  Especially since my eyes are buggin’ me more than ever. Today, things are a bit blurry, and damn do they itch. Been scratchin’ all morning. I need to stop, but damn. Just can’t quite quench it…

  That coyote, he’s still keepin’ stride. I can still see him, despite the blur. His lil’ tail wagging behind him. “No food here, coyote.” I keep mumblin’ that under my breath. Don’t help, not at all. Ain’t gonna stop me.

  But, there’s also something new in my vision. A little black speck, of something followin’ me out in the corner of my eye. It looks to be a small creature. But, with the way my vision’s all fucked up right now, I can’t quite tell.

  It follows, never leaves. Just like that damn coyote.

  I give Flint a good spur, quicken our pace. We’ve a coupl’a hours before noon, I want to make haste and travel as far as we can before the heat peaks.

  And, I know it won’t do nothin’ but I wanna get away from these two tailers. I’ve ‘bout had it with the coyote. I don’t need no other creature out here, slobberin’ at the mouth to feed.

  I shift in the saddle, just a bit. Damn, and as if I didn’t have enough discomfort with these fuckin’ animals. Got these burnin’ pains in my thighs and stomach. Maybe I’ve ridden too much. Can’t stop though. Gotta keep going.

  While Flint’s trottin’ along, I pull out my trusty ol’ map n’ compass. Next town is some ways off, won’t see it ‘til I cross the territory line. No sense in not orientin’ my self.

  “Just keep on headin’ eastern,” I say. I give a quick glance my compass. Seems we’re on the right track.

  Then, come the hours of horseback. My shit’s gonna be raw by nightfall.

  -

  It’s been ‘bout three days since the shadow in my eye first appeared. It’s about the only clear thing I can see now, with that sharp outline. Looks…vaguely person-like. I’ll admit, I’ve grown familiar with this stranger in my vision, along with the followin’ dog on my heels. They’ve become common-place. That don’t mean I’m any less spooked.

  Flint don’t seem to mind our fellow travelers. He just keeps on goin’ on. That much I can appreciate. With all the crap crustin’ up under my eyes these days, it’s gettin’ harder to keep my hands on the reins. Must be all this god damn sand flyin’ everywhere. Desert trekkin’ ain’t known for sandless trails. If I could, I’d have strapped up my eyes ‘long time ago, but I’ve gotta see where I’m goin’. Though, Flint seems to be doin’ mighty fine with my lack of intervention.

  Sun’s settin’ again, and I’m none too keen to set up shop out here in the wilderness. Wouldn’t be the first time, last coupl’a nights it’s been that way. Still, it’s always a heart-racin’ event, makin’ sure those damn rattlers and scorpions don’t come climbin’ up into my trousers.

  Speakin’ of my pantaloons, I’m gonna need to get a new pair once I reach New Mexico. I’m thinkin’ some rich pants from an ol’ mayor. Maybe snag the sheriff’s trousers while he’s dozin’ off, not doin’ his job. Perhaps I steal some poor native’s pants, those might be comfy for horseback. I think mine have been done in, just about. God, the way it makes everything just fuckin’ burn. Saddleback ain’t helpin’.

  I’ll be there soon, though, I know. Though, I’ll be travelin’ again shortly thereafter. Shit don’t stop for me. Might as well be glued to the back of this here horse.

  I give him a good pat on the neck. It’s ‘bout time to hook up for the night. Only thing round these parts is cactus and coyotes. Not a whole lot to tie good ol’ Flint to. But, he’s a good boy, maybe I’ll leave him be.

  After I dismount, give him his nightly snack, I try to face to south, where that thing lurks just in my sight. But it always alludes me.

  I can see it come closer when I try an’ play ignorant. Look away.

  I swallow.

  It’ll be closer tomorrow. It always comes closer the next day.

  I set aside my neck scarf, spread it and make a good place for my head to lay in the sand. Stars are out again n’ full swing. They’ll keep me and Flint good company tonight. Along with that shadow.

  The coyote off yonder lets out a screechin’ howl. Guess he’ll be here too.

  I rest my hand upon my hip, as I do. And I watch them stars from ‘neath the rim of my hat, ‘til I can’t watch them no more.

  -

  It don’t seem to matter how fast Flint can gallop, that god damn thing’s comin’ for me! That shadow, that creature, it’s the fuckin’ Devil I tell ya’!

  And that damn vermin, runnin’ in my vision. I ain’t ever heard Hell before, but that thing is it. These two beasts, they’re gonna drag my damn soul! Like Hell they will!

  My ears ring from the shots I fire. The kick from my sawed-off threatens to throw me off my damn horse. Don’t matter how many slugs I send that Devil’s way, he still comes. His little rotten fingers creepin’ over my eyes! And that coyote. His maw, it opens for me.

  I can hardly see, everything’s so blurry. My eyes sting an’ burn. But I take a shot at the Old Man anyways, aim for the teeth. Neither him nor the Devil, I can stave!

  I think this might be it for me and ol’ Flint. This is our comeuppance. There ain’t no escapin’ again, not like I did before.

  Those wild dogs, they do cackle.

  I ready for another shot, a final one, before they grab me. It won’t do know good, I know. But, I can’t help it. These fingers were made for shootin’, and I ain’t goin’ out without a firefight.

  And then Flint turns, hard right. My saddle slips. I fly. The gun fires into the air. Pellets rain down.

  And the sand takes me, and the rocks and shedded rattler skin.

  There is no time for no prayers, no time to beg. No, I sit and watch the Old Man come to my left, and the Devil to my right. And there’s that final vision of Flint, buckin’ his ol’ heart out. ‘Til he too is swallowed by the dark.

  Next, I taste sand.