The Last Rider

Chapter 1

Four weeks had passed since the last traveller stopped by. For the fourth or fifth time that day, Adam stared down the long dirt road that stretched off into the distance across the great arid landscape and prayed for guidance. Should they stay put, or make the journey back to Garrett’s town, a hundred miles to the south-east.

For fifteen years he had lived here, made his home in this wide gulley carved into the side of the sandstone escarpment, since the gold rush had brought flocks of hopeful men westwards from the great plains, or eastwards from the coast.

His cabin was the only stop between Garrett’s and the goldfields, a welcome rest from the privations and torment of travelling through the desert. The travellers all came here, no one passed by Eden’s rest. They stopped for the same reason he had built his farmstead here. The spring that nestled in the heart of the gully, bringing cool, clear water into the small pond year-round. The floor of the gulley, hidden from the worst of the sun and wind by the walls of the escarpment that loomed over it, was an oasis, a small patch of paradise in the vast wastes.

He sighed and turned again from searching the empty road, walking back up to the shade and shelter of the porch, for it was high noon, and the sun was fierce. There were three steps up to the porch, enough to keep it out of the dust and dirt, on the porch the pair of tables where in better times their visitors would sit in the shade and enjoy a cool drink of spring water, and take the weight off their feet for an afternoon.

His wife was the only one sitting there now, fretting quietly. True, they were in no real danger, they had as much water as they could need, and the spring allowed them to water enough ground to keep a tiny herd of cattle in the fenced-in gully, as well as two dozen chickens that scratched in the damp earth surrounding it and spent their nights in the coop behind the barn.

They had bags of grain, cans of preserved food, firewood and all the coffee they could need. The coming winter would be mild, and Adam’s Colt revolver would keep them safe from coyotes and any other undesirables that might come their way.

But safety was not their concern. The drawn-out passage of time was their enemy. Adam smiled sadly at his wife and sat down next to her at the empty table, putting his hand on hers in silent comfort. 

‘We have to leave’. She said, for the fourth time that week.

‘We can't abandon this place’. Adam replied, as he always did. The argument was as well worn as the three stairs that led up to the porch.

When the gold rush had started, they had sometimes received as many as thirty visitors a day, filling the back rooms, camping in the pasture, packing the single barn and the fenced enclosure with their horses. The visitors paid for their rest, or where they could not, traded food or useful items until Eden’s rest became an unofficial trading post, the generous lounge filled with objects that had been traded over the years, waiting for a visitor who would buy them, or trade them for something else.

Saws and mining tools. Half a dozen axes, good solid leather shoes, a spyglass, some pistols, piles of books and magazines, even a pair of eyeglasses from a man who swore his eyesight had been cured by a revelation in the desert.

But as the goldfields dried out, each year bought fewer visitors, until sometimes there were none at all in a day. But there had never been none for four weeks. Not ever. The big mines still operated to the west, and some still travelled overland through the desert, rather than pay to go round via the new railway far to the south.

Adam had hoped to sell this place, this land, this water rights in a barren desert. He was certain it would become valuable again if they just waited. If they just waited for a new gold rush, or a new reason for people to come to this high desert. But each year the visitors were fewer and poorer, and being paid for rooms turned into trading a little food or iron for some water and shelter. Each year their advancing age and their bonds to the land tightened around them a little more. Here they had a home but no future, if they abandoned it they would have nothing but a future of poverty.

So Adam wiped his damp brow and stared again at his old boots, the same thoughts going round and round in his mind, to leave and be poor, to stay and be ever more trapped and alone.

‘Let’s see what happens tomorrow.’

‘You always say that my dear husband, but what if tomorrow is no better or no worse. One day the horse might lame or die, and then how will we pull the cart to town?’

‘Someone will come, we can get a message out, send some money for another horse from Garrett’s.’ He replied, not even looking up from his boots as they repeated the same quiet argument they always had, each knowing the pattern, like a dance. They never shouted, he never raised his voice or hand to her, but he was the one who lived in hope, and she the one who lived in resignation.

‘We should pack the wagon, my love. Our time here is done.’ she turned her hand under his and gripped it, leaning over towards him and imploring him, the skin at the corner of her eyes and mouth wrinkling as she pursed her lips and furrowed her brows. ‘I know we will find a way to live, perhaps we can go to the coast, you will find a way, you always…’ She trailed off, and Adam looked up for the first time in confusion.

His wife was no longer looking at him, she was looking out over the wide desert that spilled out below them. ‘What is it?’ he said, looking where she was staring, squinting into the brightly lit, orange and brown landscape.

Then he saw it, and his heart near skipped a beat in excitement. There was a lone figure on a horse, barely raising dust, slowly walking down the road towards Eden’s rest.

‘A rider! Get some water, let’s see what he has to say.’

Chapter 2

The man rode steadily and unhurriedly through that scorched landscape in the noon sun. He had travelled many miles, but the distance did not weary him. The dust of the road clung to his boots and flecked his clothes, but it did not bother him. He had travelled many miles before, and the handful left until his destination did not worry him.

He passed the sign for Eden’s rest but did not look at it, and his horse took the turn from the road to ride the path up to the rest without him commanding it, both rider and mount entirely sure of their route. He saw the man come out from the shade to stand at the top of the stairs, saw the man keenly regarding him, noted the hand that rested on the belt near the dull silver pistol, but it did not concern him

The stranger was a plain man, remarkable in his unremarkableness. He was of no significant height or build, neither was he small and weak. His hair was darkish, and of a length enough to ruffle and move in the gentle breeze, so that it always looked different at different times, even under the rim of his faded black hat. His face was mild enough to look at, neither strong-jawed nor hollowed or pointed. His nose was not pronounced in curve or bridge. He was clean-shaven and unmarked, but not what people would normally regard as handsome. He was the sort of man who would go unnoticed in a crowd, the gaze of women would not linger upon him, nor would men see him as a threat.

He was familiar yet unfamiliar, the perfect stranger. He rode up the final shallow slope leading to the small cluster of low buildings that formed the homestead. Adam, standing on the top of the three steps, could finally see the man well, and regarded him with excitement and suspicion. The man travelled alone, with no wagon, packhorse or saddlebags. Perhaps he had been robbed? What man would travel the desert without equipment, not so much as a bedroll on his saddle? He appeared to have nothing but the clothes he was wearing, and there was nothing remarkable about those.

His clothes were worn, but good quality. A light pair of trousers and matching vest jacket, darker in colour than was normal, as if he were from a city rather than the deep west, but he rode with the comfort of a man well used to the saddle, barely touching the reins and moving with the horse as if it were part of him. He had on a plain white shirt under his vest, low cut dark leather boots, and a faded black hat. 

Despite his confusion, Adam felt no threat. The man wore no gunbelt and had no rifle on his horse. As far as he could see, the man was not armed at all, which just confused him more, there could be dangerous lands. But then, who would rob a man who had nothing?

The man finally arrived, as unhurriedly as he had ridden, and his horse stopped in front of the porch. The horse was a pale dappled stallion, tall and quiet mannered. It stopped without command, just the slightest flick of the rider’s reins. A horse well used to its master. The rider raised his hand and tipped his hat to Adam in greeting. ‘I hear you give a place for travellers to make their rest.’ He said, in a soft voice that Adam could barely hear.

‘Yessir, we do, and you are welcome to it.’ Adam replied, still uneasy about the man, but unsure what to do about it. ‘I can take your horse to the barn, get it out of the sun and water it.’

The man shook his head. ‘I will attend to the horse myself and return.’

The voice was still soft and carried no menace, and Adam felt he could not argue. The traveller dismounted gracefully and started slowly walking his horse to the barn. Adam looked back at his wife, who had returned with water and glasses, and he shrugged, perplexed. ‘Perhaps he has something for us.’

She frowned at him in return. ‘It looks like he has nothing.’

Adam tutted and wave a hand at her dismissively. ‘Nonsense, no one travels this way with nothing.’

‘Perhaps he has news at least.’ She said, desperation tinging her voice.

‘Perhaps.’ Adam muttered. 

The man returned from the barn at that moment, walking along the front railing and arriving at the bottom of the three steps. He tipped his hat gently once more at the lady of the house. ‘M’am, may I be allowed in?’

‘Of course, all travellers are welcome here. Come, sit in the shade. Husband dear, get out of his way.’ She shooed Adam off the top step, where he had been standing, bemused and indecisive, and gestured the man to a seat at the first table, in the shade.

The man took off his hat and went to the indicated seat, nodding his head in thanks but neither smiling nor showing any sign of relief. He sat and once again looked at Adam, who found his gaze discomforting and invasive, despite it having no hard edge or visible intent.

As Adam fidgeted under the stare, his wife brought a tray with a pitcher of water and three glasses and nudged her husband towards his own seat. ‘I’m sorry, we have not had visitors for many days, you are something of a surprise to us. Have some water, I am sure you are thirsty. It's what we are famous for, cool water from the spring.’

The man took the proffered glass and Adam sat down to drink heartily from his own, only just realising his own thirst.

‘Do you mind?’ asked Adam’s wife, gesturing at the third chair and pulling it out.

‘I do not, this is your home and I am just a guest here.’ Said the traveller.

‘Well, some visitors just wish to be left alone with some water and their thoughts after a long day on the road.’ She replied, sitting down.

‘Not I, the road does not weary me, it is my home, and I do not require solitude, in fact it is people I have been searching for on my travels.’

‘Oh? Well that is good to hear, for we have not spoken to anyone and we long for news of the outside world.’ She said with a smile.

The man turned his eyes to look at her intently. ‘I think you do not.’ he said in a flat tone.

She stammered and looked from Adam to the man in confusion. 

‘What do you mean by that, do you say she lies?’ Adam said in indignation, sitting forward in his chair, anger putting an edge on his voice. Something about this man made him uncomfortable, had done since the second he had set eyes on him, and he would not tolerate bad manners from a guest, especially not to his beloved wife.

The man showed no reaction or regret over his words. He merely shook his head and fished inside his vest pocket, bringing out a small cigar in the same calm, practised motions with which he appeared to do everything. ‘No, I believe you do not wish to know the news I bring from the world outside.’

‘What? Explain yourself.’ Adam put a hand on the table, and leant in, confused and a little frightened that the man showed no reaction to his anger.’

‘Calm dear, I’m sure he means no offence, do you sir?’ His wife put a calming hand on Adam’s arm, her gentle touch reassuring and placating, as it always was. Adam let a little of the tension go and sat back, but still regarded the traveller with brooding eyes.

‘I did not.’ Said the stranger simply. ‘Do you mind?’ he indicated the cigar and brought out a pack of matches.

‘No, feel at home.’ Said Adam’s wife with a nervous smile, feeling the hostility burning within her husband, and feeling a deep seed of unease herself. Something about this man was wrong. As was her way, she attempted to ease the tension.

‘I’m sorry, I have not introduced us. I am…’

‘Eve Patmos, and your husband Adam Patmos.’ The man said, lighting a match, and then cupping his hand around the end of his cigar, puffing in short sharp breaths to allow the flame to catch.

Eve was taken aback. ‘You know of us?’

‘Many in these lands have visited here have they not?’ He replied.

‘Well, yes I suppose so.’ She said. ‘But you seem like you are not from around here.’

‘Indeed, I have travelled a long way.’

‘Why.’ Blurted Adam, ‘what brings you here, with no possessions. Who are you sir and what are you doing here.’ Adam had wanted to sound forceful, but tailed off sounding desperate.

‘Now now, one thing at a time, let's give the man a chance to speak.’ Eve reached for his hand, placatingly, and he sat back in his chair with a mutter.

‘Now, where did you learn about us, if you would be so kind. We were beginning to think the world had forgotten about us.’

The man drew in another mouthful of the sweet cigar smoke and looked at Eve. ‘The world has forgotten a great deal in the last days, but I heard of you from a poor lost soul I came across in my travels. So here I am.’

‘Why… would you come here to us?’ Eve asked, nervously.

‘You asked for news of the world outside.’ Said the man, holding her gaze.

‘Yes?’

‘The world outside is gone, fallen to ruin, and I have been in search of those who remain, a journey that brought me finally to your door.’

Adam’s mouth opened and hung, like a broken shutter, and Eve put her hand to her chest and gasped in surprise. 

‘What do you mean, gone.’ Asked Adam finally in a shocked whisper, all hostility gone.

‘It has fallen to calamity. To war, and famine, and disease.’ The traveller intoned. ‘That is why no one has passed in four weeks, and why I am here now, searching for those that remain.’ The man took a languid puff on his cigar, the smoke idly drifting from his mouth and nostrils as if there was no exhalation to carry it. ‘You see, war cannot reach you out here, with no one to take sides. Famine cannot strike you, with a spring at your back and your animals and stocks to sustain you. Disease cannot afflict you, with no travellers to bring it, no way to cross the barren wastes. You have your own safe haven, your own personal Eden. So, when I heard about you at this place I knew I must come to it myself, that is why I am here.’

The man took another draw on his cigar and looked out across the plains that he had ridden over to arrive at Eden’s rest.

‘You lie.’ Said Adam with a shaking voice.

‘I never lie.’ Said the man, without turning. ‘The world you know is gone.’ Something in his tone was utterly persuasive. It left no room for doubt, it held the finality of judgement.

‘Oh blessed god.’ Said Eve, closing her eyes and putting her hands to her chest. She sat there for a time, mumbling a prayer to herself and trying to compose her scattered thoughts. Finally, she opened her eyes and tears flowed free. She cuffed them away and nodded to the traveller trying to compose herself. ‘Well, we thank you for bringing us this news, and you are welcome to stay here. We are safe, as you say, and you can share this shelter as long as you need. Normally we trade our shelter for something, but given the situation, it doesn't seem to matter. You may have anything you need from us, we have plenty to share.’ She gripped her husband’s hand tightly and looked at him with glistening eyes and a quivering lip. He was still shocked into stillness, trying to digest what he had heard, the unnatural certainty that it was true.

‘That is a kind offer ma’am, but I will be on my way.’ Said the traveller, putting out the half smoked cigar on his bootsole and picking his hat off the table. Adam noticed with confusion that the stranger had not touched his glass of water. The man reached over with his free hand to where Eve’s was resting on the table and put it down next to hers, his forefinger resting on the back of her wrist. ‘You wanted to know the truth, and now I have shown you. I require nothing from you in exchange that you have not already given. It is a fair trade.’ He stood and turned, stepping down onto the second step. Eve looked at her hand in confusion and then furrowed her brows, her hand resting limply on the table.

‘Wait!’ said Adam, finally snapping out of his fuge. ‘Where will you go? You said the world is gone, that you travelled a long way to get here. Why are you leaving?’

The man carefully put his hat on and half turned. ‘Truly I do not know where my path will take me now. My journey is almost at an end. It was fitting for this to be my last task.’

Adam shook his head. ‘It is nearly night, you must stay, at least one day. This is madness’. He was in total confusion. ‘You said the world is gone, everyone is gone, surely death will come for you if you go out there alone.’ He was pleading now.

The man nodded. ‘Death comes for all, and it always wears the face of a stranger.’ he proffered his hand, and Adam shook it numbly. The man’s hand was smooth, warm, but the touch left a cold feeling in his stomach that jolted him and he half snatched his hand back. The man stepped down the last step and walked towards the barn. Despite the heat of the day, Adam felt a chill, a chill that only worsened when he heard his wife call out to him with a shaking voice. 

‘Adam… Adam!’ He turned, and saw with a cry of alarm that she was slumped, on her knees, on the wooden boards of the floor next to the table.

‘Oh god, what!? What is wrong.’ he dropped down beside her and lifted her face to his, looking desperately into her eyes. Her hand found his and held it, that old familiar touch, the touch that always calmed him but now helped not at all.

‘Oh my Darling.’ She said, tears flowing. ‘I have seen it, seen who he is, what he has done. Oh my poor darling husband.’ Her eyes unfocused and she stared over his shoulder. The grip from her hand never fading as she slumped against his chest.

‘Eve!!’ Cried Adam, holding her head against his and shaking her gently before clasping her close to him and sobbing into her hair as her ragged breath whispered in his ear.

The traveller reached his horse. The other horse lay on its side next to his pale stallion, limp and lifeless. But he did not spare it a glance. He mounted and rode out, as unhurried as he had arrived. As he passed the porch Adam looked up with blurry eyes, clutching the still form of his wife, his own breath short, his thoughts confused. ‘You!..’ he gasped. ‘What have you…’ He suddenly lost his train of thought and a single question blazed in his mind. With his last strength, he shouted at the departing rider. ‘You never told us who you are!’

The stranger didn't turn his head or slow his horse’s stride. ‘Yes I did.’ he replied, too quietly for Adam to hear him. if Adam had still been capable of hearing.

The stranger set his sight once more on the horizon, leaving Eden’s rest behind him. Eve still clutching her husband’s hand in eternal embrace on the worn boards of the porch, receding into the distance behind the stranger, the horseman on his pale horse.