Gaps

The New Mexico sun had sucked the moisture from my throat. I opened my eyes and sat up coughing.

The last thing I remembered was being at a saloon in Silver City. That had been last night. It had to be at least ten in the morning now. What had happened between now and then?

The gun next to me was mine I knew that. Thankfully there was no water in the ditch with me. It hadn't rained in months. A flash of insight went off in my head.

At the saloon last night there'd been a Navajo medicine man. He was saying this drought was the work of skin walkers.

Suddenly I remembered what I'd said to him. "I don't believe all that superstitious nonsense!" I'd declared. "It's just we're in the middle of a desert. Nothing mumbo-jumbo going on there."

The medicine man had fixed me with a stoic stare. "Your people may not," he said. "But since my mother's mother's day, Skin Walkers have been using their dark powers on this land. You'll regret not taking heed."

Was that what had put me in the ditch? I wasn't sure; I climbed out and up the embankment. My house was mere feet from where I'd apparently spent the night.

Something wasn't right, usually my wife and kids were up doing chores to keep our farm going. With a large amount of trepidation, I approached my house.

I'm ashamed to admit I almost vomited. Inside, my wife, our two sons and baby girl lay on the floor with their throats ripped out and their entrails strewn about.

Furniture, glass and ashes from our stove were scattered everywhere. "By the Blue of the Sky what happened?!" I managed to choke out.

I was filled with grief and rage at the same instant. I went and found the ammunition I had kept hidden in the kitchen cupboard. I loaded some fresh bullets in my gun then walked back out.

Skin Walker or no, what ever fiend had done this to my family was going to pay!

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