It’s written in paint across the west-facing wall of a dilapidated church; the message is cold in the summer heat. I’m anxious as I pace the perimeter. My partner, the former sheriff of El Triunfo, Nico Ros, lies on a chipped pew. His hat sits on his face, but his beard peaks out from the upturned brim, and canteen rests on his chest. A little water drips out at the apex of each breath, soaking into his sweat-stained shirt.

There are seven wooden crosses leaning against the stone. I wipe sweat from my face, my hand running along my trailing mustache and over the stubble on my chin. We’ve been out here for three days now, and it shows. The horses rest under a Jocota tree, their rough coats twitching as they pull at the wild rye sprouting between the crags below.

Are these the ‘weak men’ beside the wall or do they not get graves at all? Death terrifies me. I have no dreams or a driving purpose; I simply don’t want to die. The message makes me feel detached from our present circumstances, and I drift through the churchyard, one eye always on the wall.

“There you are,” Nico steps over the crumbling south wall into the sun. “Get any rest?”

I move away from the wall down the slope. “For a few minutes.”

“You can’t go on without sleep.”

“Well, I can’t sleep. Not now.” I bite my cheek and glance back. Why did I say it like that? It’s not a competition. And if it was, he’s the one who should win. Nico tugs his beard and walks past me, patting the mares.

“She’s lucky to have you out here. We both are.” He’s on his horse and moving before I’ve even mounted. I feel sick. I should be comforting him; that’s what a friend would do. Words are too much trouble, and I’m too sore to find the right ones. We ride in silence as the sun dips west. The message in the church still rings in my head like an echo from God; a warning of things to come.

As our horses drink from a withered stream, Nico and I see a small ranch on the opposite ridge. Without speaking, we cross the water and approach the homestead, leaving the mares tied to a broken wagon’s naked bow.

My heart quickens as Nico knocks, and my hand rests on the stock of a Colt Rainmaker I stole from a drunk American years ago. Sky blue cloth presses against the cracks in the wood as the door scrapes open. A woman looks back at us. I relax as soon as I see her blond hair, my hand sliding across my belt, resting on the imposing buckle.

“Ma’am.” Nico tips his hat. “We don’t mean to disturb you.” He glances at me as if to double-check that we’re on the same page. I don’t care who we disturb.

“I’m Nico Ros, and this is my associate, Oscar Navarro. We are from El Triunfo. Who do we have the pleasure of speaking to?”

“Laura Cazalla.” She leans against the frame.

“Well,” he continues, clearing his throat. “Have you seen anyone pass through here in the last three days?”

She looks past us at the horses, then at our sidearms. “You both lawmen?”

Nico smiles, “used to be. Now we’re just trying to find someone.”

“Who?”

“A woman,” Nico slips his thumbs into his belt loops and takes a deep breath. “Alana Ros. She took something of mine. We’re just trying to get it back.”

Laura crosses her arms, “Sister?”

A rose tint spreads from under Nico’s beard. “Wife. She’s run off with some money.”

“Does he speak?” She nods her head at me. “Or is it just you?”

“Only when he has to.” He says.

Laura nods, “I know the type.” She turns around and walks into her house. “You want something to eat?”

“Appreciate the offer,” Nico steps into the doorway. “But we can’t stay long. If you’ve seen Alana, we’d appreciate it if you’d tell us. The littlest detail could be all we need.”

“Truth is.” Laura sat down on a low bench next to the stove. “I saw your wife yesterday.”

Nico’s jaw tightens. “When?” he walks in after her. I follow, ducking as I enter.

“Around noon.”

I step in front of Nico. “What did she tell you?” I can’t tell if Laura’s surprised or happy that I’ve spoken.

“Who are you again?”

“Did she say anything?” I press. She stairs passed us, out the door.

“Said she’s scared and running. Wanted my help, but I told her I wasn’t about getting into other people’s business.”

“Did she say from who?”

She shifts her eyes back to me, and I look away. The ranch has no floor, just dirt. Between Laura and the stove is a rifle, strands of hay crowding around the stock. Across from her on the opposite wall are a table and chair, pushed flush with the wall. There is a cot in the corner past them, and a chest below it.

“Didn’t say.” Laura turns her head to Nico. “But she didn’t have money on her. So, what are you boys really after?”

Nico pinches the bridge of his nose and tosses his hat onto the table. “I’m a little embarrassed to say.” Sitting down, he looks at Laura, weariness filling his eyes. “But I suspect you already know.” He runs his fingers through his graying hair. “You see, I learned she’d been unfaithful. But when I went home to talk to her, to ask who she’d been with, she had already left. That was three days ago.” Nico’s head drops as he presses a palm against his brow. “She’s not in danger. I wouldn’t hurt her. I don’t know what she’s said, but believe me, I couldn’t live with myself if I did.”

Laura switches to me. “Why are you here then?”

“Oscar is my friend.” Nico raises his head. “I hadn’t finished telling him she’d left, and he’d already gotten the saddlebags. I wouldn’t have made it through these three days without him.” He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes. “Each night I picture her huddling in a hollow or alone in the desert; it breaks my heart.”

Laura hasn’t looked away from me. “Are you married, Mr. Navarro?”

I nod.

“Does she know yer out here?”

“Yes.”

“Is she worried about you?”

My eyes retreat to the floor and land on the rifle, “Immeasurably.”

Laura stands and approaches Nico, her thumb rubbing against two gold bands stacked on her right ring finger. “Is the baby yours, Nico?”

I blink twice and clear my throat. Drawing my fingers across my mustache, I stare at the floor. Alana is pregnant?

Nico shakes his head, “no.”

“Would you care for them both?”

Nico twists his neck to look at her. “Of course.”

She squeezes his shoulder. “Alana left this morning.”

Hope flashes across his face as Nico jumps up, grabbing his hat. “Where did she go?”

“I told her about an old grain house over the hill,” she points out the door towards the setting sun. “Said she could stay there during the heat and, it got cool to walk west into the next town.”

“Thank you,” Nico whispers. “Thank you for helping Alana.”

“It’s nothing. I’ve been scared and alone too.”

Nico thanks her again before bounding out the door.

“We appreciate the help.” I say, nodding to Laura as I pass.

“Go home.” Her tone is bitter, and I feel her grab my arm. “Why did you come?”

“Do you love her?”

“What?”

“Do you love her?

I shake my arm free, but she moves and blocks the exit. I take a deep breath.

“Of course I do. Why else am I here?”

“Go home,” she repeats.

“No, Alana needs me.”

“How do you expect this to end?”

I hadn’t given it much thought, and now, can only think of one ending.

“Let it go.” Her voice is sympathetic but still cold. “Return to your wife.”

I bite my lip and look at Nico as he tightens the saddlebags.

“Let them be.”

“He’s not strong enough,” I shake my head. “She doesn’t love him.”

“She doesn’t love you either.”

“You know nothing. She’s confused n’ scared—”

“She didn’t tell you about the baby, did she?” Laura smirks, and my skin turns pink.

“Of course I knew. I’m not a fool. I don’t know what she told you—”

“She said she’s scared of you.”

I taste blood as I bite my lip again. “She didn’t say that.”

“She’s scared you’ll do something stupid. That you’d hurt her, Nico, or the baby—your baby. You wouldn’t hurt your own child, right?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this mess.”

She shakes her head. “No, you can’t. You can’t handle anything. You’re a weak man who thinks fixing problems you’ve created makes you a good man. But you’re not, and you’re afraid of everything, even yourself. I’m not scared of pathetic men like you. Go home now, or I’ll tell Nico everything Alana said. ”

I grab her elbow and shove her against the wall. She’s much smaller than me, and it feels good to show her.

“I may not be a good friend, but I don’t make mistakes.” The confidence she’s been projecting is gone, replaced by trembling eyes. “I know who you are too. Those rings you keep on your finger? The gun close at hand, this desolate ranch? You either killed your husband or ran from him. Either way, you can tell yourself you don’t love him, but you can’t let the ring go.” I feel her breath as I lean closer. “Sometimes, fear and love go hand in hand.”

“Ay?” Nico calls from the yard. “We have to go!”

“I don’t want to hurt them,” I whisper. “But I won’t hesitate to kill anyone if I have to. I’m stronger than you think.” I push her to the ground and turn. “Ready.” I call out, walking into the heat.

“What were you doing?” Nico brings the horses up, passing my reins to me.

I glance at the house. My shadow stretches out over the orange dirt into the dark doorway. I don’t see Laura; she must still be on the floor. “She told me to watch your back.”

Nico raises his brow. “What? How come?”

“She said Alana had a gun…”

“Impossible. She wouldn’t hurt me.”

“I know, I know.” I squeeze his shoulder. “But Laura said she’s scared. She might do something unexpected.”

Nico shakes his head, pulling himself onto his horse.

I’m silent as I mount my own, unsure how this will end, but I know how it can’t. I must be strong.

“No.” Nico turns his horse away from the ranch. “I’ll talk to her. There isn’t any need for violence.”

I steer mine in line behind him. “I agree. But maybe I should talk to her first. Let her know you’re not angry.”

A gunshot splits the air. My horse, kicking and screaming, knocks me to the ground and tears towards the creek. I flinch; my vision is shaky, and blood is spilling out from my chest. Nico shouts, failing to rein in his mare as he fumbles with his holster. Laura is standing in the doorway. The rifle lies at her feet, and her hands are in the air. I think she’s kneeling, but I can’t see right anymore. Blood spurts out of my chest in cascading fountains as I roll onto my back. I hear Nico’s spurs rattle as he jumps off. Laura and he are shouting, but their words mean nothing to me. I try to move, but I can’t; I’m too weak. The desert sun doesn’t feel hot anymore. It doesn’t feel like anything.

Everything is cold.

Editor: Michelle Naragon