Western Promise

The sun beat down on the tired bodies of the men and woman traveling west, a relentless, punishing weight in the middle of the high prairie. The grass rose higher than a man's head in places, thick with the fragrant white plumes of milkweed rows, the only sign of familiar life in this utterly untouched and wild expanse. The air shimmered with heat, and the oppressive humidity made their handmade clothes cling tight and damp against their skin, chafing with every dragging step.

Big John, his shoulders stooped less from age than from the grief of the past year, led the way. Behind him walked Beth Ann, her gaze fixed on the horizon, and little Michael, whose small frame already knew the exhaustion of the trail. Flies buzzed in thick clouds, landing on any exposed skin, while mosquitoes drew blood and ticks were thick in the dry fibers of their trousers. This land was brutal, yet undeniably beautiful, particularly when the wind parted the grasses to reveal the fleeting, tawny freedom of wild horses seen in the distance.

Moving on to the new frontier was exciting, terrifying, and necessary all at once. The unknown was not miles away, but possibly just feet away-a sudden drop, a hidden snake, or a raiding party. What might attack them at night was a constant, rattling terror.