The Flash Flood

The roar hits before you see it—a wall of brown water tearing down the arroyo. You barely scramble up the rocks, dragging Whisper Jim by his cuffed wrists, as the flood swallows your horses, your canteens, your rifle scabbard. Everything. Gone in seconds.

Silence settles. Jim spits grit and squints at you. "Fifty miles to Redrock, bounty hunter," he rasps. "And one canteen between us. What now?"