Gray Vengeance

Gray reined in the big claybank horse, unlatching his canteen from the saddle horn and uncorking it; he took a drink of the unbearably hot water. The water was hotter than the boiled coffee he drank. Looking in every direction, studying the landscape, he made sure that he had not veered off course during the dust storm. He took another look, surveying the desolate desert, while taking another drink from the scorching canteen...