The family of three had been traveling west at a horse's pace for three weeks, and little changed. The plains lay before and ahead of them, seemingly infinite and increasingly empty. May was approaching its end, and the heat began lingering. This was a welcome change, but Lucy's bonnet could no longer keep her sweat at bay by midday. Lucy gazed adrift, Joseph squinted with a tired focus, and Patrick ran circles around the wagon until his legs gave way to deep sleep nurtured by the endless clunking of the wooden vehicle.
Joseph looked at his gloved hands and the polished sections curving around the reigns. He imagined the process of the ropes polishing the gloves was perceptible. He imagined that his consciousness could shrink at will, becoming small enough to see individual fibers in the garments. For a moment, keeping his mind’s eye on the gloves fibers and the journey in the back of his mind Joseph felt like everything was perfect and ordered according to God’s will. A familiar feeling took hold in his chest and to him it felt like home.
Suddenly, something came crashing in front of the wagon. Joseph’s thoughts thrust back to reality as a jack-rabbit launched across the pitted road ahead. He dropped the reigns and unconsciously drew his pistol, cocked it back, and fired a single shot toward the animal. The commotion died down as the rabbit ran beyond ear shot. Joseph returned the pistol to it’s holster and gripped the reigns once again. They continued in the same manner until time began to shift.
Lucy looked back at the boy, ensuring he was asleep, "My period has not come, Joseph."
"I know."
Lucy looked at the man intently, "How would you know?"
"Because you're not taking the usual precautions to deal with the blood flow," Joseph stared into the endless landscape.
"I'm getting sick in the mornings too, Joseph. And I think I'm going mad. Sometimes I feel like slapping Patrick in his face, and you too. When I get angry, all I can picture is your smug face looking down at me, puking in the dirt," she looked down at her knuckles changing color as her dress compressed within her hands. She scrunched her brow and ground her teeth; words came only with effort, "You think I'm crazy, and I don't care. You're crazy too, you know?" At this, Joseph moved almost imperceptibly in an attempt to shrug. "This is what you deserve, Lucy at her finest."
"I know," her husband said.
Lucy's attention snapped to the man, "You're so cold. What is it you think you know? That I'm sick in the mornings or you deserve my insanity?" She paused, then offered a beckoning, "Huh?" But then turned away. Her eyebrows relaxed, and she looked into the distance. Her breath slowed as insignificance flowed through her from the expanse to their slow procession. Small birds flew from one bush to another as they passed. A falcon dropped from the sky, coming down for its prey, and Patrick shifted his small body with a thud in the wagon behind her. Boundless life spread around the young mother, but the growing life within her body sent chills that cut through the thick heat of mid-day.
"I dreamt of the sunshine for months this winter while shivering under cheap blankets, fearing for our son's life. Now, with the sun beaming down like God's glory, I can't recall ever shivering so deeply before," her voice quivered and trailed off every few words. Joseph pursed his lips and nodded. "All I've ever wanted from you is some sympathy when it matters most," she looked back at the man, examining the side of his face. She looked at him briefly before repositioning his jaw to face hers. "Look at me, damn it!" She demanded.
"Lucy, please," he said, "I'm here for you. I'm not a man of many words, but what I speak is true," she let go.
After exhaling with a hmmph, Lucy switched her gaze again. And so they rode until their child woke. Patrick began to play. Pulling on his parents' hair and begging for attention, the child got swatted away. Instead, he jumped off the wagon, Settling for clicking sticks on the wheels, grasping at the horse's tail, falling on a rock, crying, snacking, becoming bored, and returning to sleep.
Patrick's parents wait in the dull noise of travel for the sun's cycle to close. Lucy hums softly, and Joseph is stoic. Joseph thinks, finding it hard to believe this landscape ever ends. He imagines that the journey concludes not with mountains and hope but an endless, Earth-swallowing cavern patrolled by demons searching for souls to imbibe. The animals they've seen enjoying the late spring instead seem like a funeral procession, all agents of Satan, guiding the family to their deaths. Lucy's pregnancy doesn't bother Joseph; he longs only for the setting sun.
The three lay in the back of their vehicle. Patrick is asleep, Lucy pretending, and Joseph staring into the canvas above. As the fire flared, patches in the canvas appeared as dim squares, scars that showed the miles their wagon had traversed as clearly as the dirt on the small families' faces.
"Mans' inability to sit in a silent room for 15 minutes has brought us into this unsavory world. Yet, this man's ability to sit quietly for days has brought him into sin with his kin. I know my sins, Lucy, and pray the Lord may have mercy on my soul. I will be saved if only half the mercy you deserve is bestowed on me.
"We reveled in our excitement for a new life, and the new life has come. Not in the form we had planned but rather in the form God intended. We must be grateful and remain with the course, but I know what rings in your mind. 'And woe unto them that are with child, and to them that give suck in those days!' It rings in mine too. But, Lucy, you know we made it through one already and in worse times. God willing, things will be okay. You know he loves us."
The fire outside dimmed with the young parents' thoughts and rose again with the sun. Life began anew and Joseph clung to the hope mornings bring before the afternoon brings visions of devils and death once again.