Storm Watch Butte gunslinger I

the abandoned locomotive of colt's desert experience creaked rustily to life as he glanced after the sandstorm. it danced aside and away in abstraction, spinning to absence with a final wailing cry that howled above their stone shelter.
"well," colt begun when it had passed, "reckon we oughter find water first an' a meal second." lynx. lycen — well, he wouldn't even try it. lynx was well enough. lynx'n colt, a fittin' team for now. he wondered if the kid had folks around here, what with the odd speech and all.
he stood and stretched and searched for a hold, then another, which would feed them down to the ground and into the butte's shadow, to reconvene before they set out.
together?