She squeezed it.

Nothing came.

Again she tried.

Nothing.

Her mother pulled her close.

The child did not cry.

She had no tears left.

Cole looked back toward Dust.

Two full canteens hung from his saddle.

A small water barrel remained tied behind his bedroll.

Enough for one man and one horse to survive several days if he rationed carefully.

Nowhere near enough for forty people.

And the nearest reliable well was almost thirty miles away.

Cole knew exactly what giving away that water could mean.

He could save a few strangers.

Then die himself.

“Damn it.”

He hurried down the ridge.

Minutes later, Cole approached the exhausted group carrying every drop of water he possessed.

Several warriors immediately reached for knives.

Some barely had the strength to lift their arms.

A tall older man stepped forward. Silver streaked his dark hair. Exhaustion hollowed his face, but there was unmistakable authority in the way everyone watched him.

Cole stopped ten paces away.

Slowly, he laid down his rifle.

Then he raised both hands.

“I ain’t here to fight.”

Nobody moved.

Cole removed one canteen.

Set it on the ground.

Then the other.

Finally, he dragged the small barrel forward.

“Water.”

Still no movement.

Cole pointed toward it.

“Drink.”

The little girl suddenly slipped from her mother’s grasp.

A warrior caught her arm.

The older leader raised one hand.

The warrior released her.

The child stumbled forward.

Cole unscrewed the first canteen and pushed it across the sand.

The child drank first.

She swallowed too quickly.

Coughed.

Drank again.

Her mother dropped beside her.

Something changed in the faces around Cole.

Not trust.

Not yet.

But desperation defeated suspicion.

Children came next.

Then women.

Then elders.

The strongest men waited.

Cole watched them pass the water carefully from hand to hand, taking only small amounts despite their terrible thirst.

One warrior lifted a cup toward the older leader.

The man shook his head and pointed toward an old woman lying beneath a scrap of cloth.

She drank before he did.

Cole noticed that.

By the time the sun descended toward the western mountains, every drop Cole possessed was gone.

But several people who had been unable to stand were now sitting upright.

The collapsed boy had opened his eyes.

The little girl watched Cole from beside her mother.

Cole smiled faintly.

She hid behind the woman’s shoulder.

“Well,” Cole muttered, turning toward Dust, “that went about as badly for us as expected.”

Dust snorted.

Cole tightened the saddle.

He planned to ride east during the night.

Maybe he could reach an abandoned mining camp where an old cistern sometimes held rainwater.

Maybe not.

He was placing his rifle into the saddle scabbard when he heard a shout behind him.

Cole turned.

The older leader stood several yards away.

He spoke sharply.

Movement came from behind the rocks.