Dega had to swerve to avoid a boulder. Above him, and yet a long way off, was the pass. He craned his neck to try and see it but couldn’t. He slapped his legs. His horse was lathered with sweat, but he didn’t care. He would ride it to exhaustion if need be.
The slopes became steeper. Dega had to slow and didn’t like it. The delay gnawed at him like a beaver gnawing at a tree.
Without warning the sorrel stumbled and nearly went down. Dega was almost pitched off. He grabbed the mane to keep from falling, and when the horse righted itself, he used his reins.
A hawk was circling high in the sky, but he paid it no mind. A doe dashed from a thicket, but he hardly glanced its way. His mind was on Evelyn and only on Evelyn.
The cliffs hove into sight, and Dega smiled. Soon he would be through them and then it was downhill to King Lake and their families. He hoped Nate was home and not off hunting. If that was the case, he would go to Zach. Now that he thought about it, he would go to Zach anyway and bring him back, too. Zach was as good a tracker as his father and much deadlier.
The sorrel slipped again. Dega patted and urged it on. A jay squawked at him and took wing. A marmot whistled a shrill warning and darted into its den.
The sorrel began to limp.
Dega looked down. He did not know a lot about horses, but he knew this was not good. He kept going in the hope it would stop limping, but instead the limp grew worse. Reluctantly, he drew rein and slid down. Squatting, he examined its front leg. Even to his untrained eye it was obvious the leg was swollen. He ran his hand up and down it as he had seen Nate King do and then lifted the hoof to inspect it. The hoof appeared to be fine. He set it down and unfurled and bit his lower lip. A long time ago Nate had told him that a horse with a limp should never be ridden. But he had no choice. There was Evelyn to think of. Accordingly, he climbed back on and goaded the sorrel higher.
The horse could barely walk.
Dega was in a quandary. He had to reach Nate quickly, but on foot it would take him the rest of the day and most of the night, and in the meantime, Evelyn was alone in that terrible valley.
The horse dipped with every step. Suddenly it stopped.
“Go,” Dega said, and used the reins. The sorrel didn’t move. He jabbed his heels as hard as he could and the sorrel turned its head and looked at him. “All right,” Dega said, and climbed down. He glanced at the high cliffs and then back the way he had come.
He had a decision to make.
At a steady jog it would take him as long to reach Nate as it would to return to Evelyn.
Which should he do?
Dega frowned and took the reins and led the sorrel to a tree and tied it. Then, squaring his shoulders, he stared up the mountain at the pass.
“I wish we would go,” Bright Rainbow said.
“I have explained why we are staying,” Evelyn replied. She had hold of the girl’s hand and was leading her toward the stream. The afternoon sun was warm on their backs, the high grass stirring in the breeze. “We have nothing to be afraid of.”
A monarch butterfly flitted past and a grasshopper jumped from under their feet. In the woods a finch chirped.
“Yes,” Bright Rainbow said, “we do.”
Evelyn had been through this several times already. “I will protect you. I have my guns. And by morning my folks will be here.”
“We should not stay the night.”
Evelyn was tired of hearing that. They came to the bank and she nodded at a pool. “That will do. I’ll turn my back and keep watch while you strip and jump in.”
“I do not want to.”
“You need a bath. Your hair is a mess and your dress is dirty. Wash it and wring it out and set it on the grass to dry while you clean yourself off.”
Bright Rainbow faced her. “I will do as you ask. You are my new friend. But you make a mistake. I am young. I am not dumb. And I tell you now, Evelyn King. We should go while we can.”
“Take your bath.” Evelyn turned and walked a dozen steps. She could understand the girl’s fear, but it was broad daylight and the mountain lion wasn’t anywhere near or the other animals would be cowering in their thickets and nests. From where she stood she could see the length and breadth of the valley. True, the high grass might hide a skulking cat, but she was confident she would spot it before it rushed them. She heard splashing behind her.
“The water is cold, Blue Flower.”
“Wash good,” Evelyn said. “Especially your hair.”
“You sound like my mother.”
Evelyn smothered a laugh. “Tell me a little about yourself. How old are you?”
“I will have lived twelve winters this winter.”
“Older than I thought,” Evelyn said. The girl was small for her age. “Where are your nearest relatives? Grandparents or an aunt or an uncle?”
“My grandfather was bit by a rattlesnake when I was little. My grandmother took sick and died two winters ago. I have no aunts or uncles. There is only me.”
“There must be someone.” Evelyn reckoned that her mother would want to return the girl to her people. “A close friend of your mother’s would do.”
“Oh. I understand. You want to give me away.”
“You need to be with your own kind, your own people.”
“I like being with you.”
“You hardly know me.”
“I like being with you anyway.”
“Get washed.” Evelyn was annoyed at how stubborn the girl was. Idly gazing at the rocky crags to the north, she stiffened. For a split second she thought she saw a black form gliding down a high slope. It was there and then it wasn’t. Given how far off it was and how big it must be, it had to have been a black bear. Black bears didn’t worry her. Most fought shy of people.
“Blue Flower?” Bright Rainbow said.
“Are you washing?”
“Yes. I wanted to ask what we will do tonight.”
“Stay put so Dega knows right where to find us.”
“And if the Devil Cat comes?”
“I will shoot it.”
“You will not see it, Blue Flower. You will not hear it. It is like a ghost, the Devil Cat.”
“I’ll keep a fire going. That will keep it away,” Evelyn said. A fire kept most every animal at bay.
“We had a fire in our lodge and the Devil Cat came in after us.”
“I will make the fire extra big. Now will you please wash?” Evelyn wriggled her foot in impatience. She looked to the north again. The bear had not reappeared. She imagined that by now Dega had reached the pass. Their spat notwithstanding, she could count on him not to let her down. Once her ma and pa arrived, all would be well.
The dark one was a shadow among shadows. His paws made no sound on the carpet of pine needles. His long body slung low, he stalked to a spur that overlooked the valley floor. He had come to this same spot on many an evening to watch and wait for prey. Cautiously, he raised his head and peered down at the pair below. His tail twitched and he bared his fangs, but he didn’t growl. He must not give himself away.
One of the creatures was in the water. It was small, not much bigger than a fawn, except it stood on two legs and not four. The other was on the bank, watching. It was not much bigger. They would be easy kills, but instinct rooted him to the spur. Not in the daylight. He would wait for night. There was no hurry. He wasn’t hungry.
The dark one lay and watched. He was curious about these creatures. They were different from everything else. They made so much noise, uttered so many strange sounds. They moved in ungainly steps, as slow as turtles. Yet they were dangerous. The hard thing he had stepped in had cost him part of his paw. The long sharp thing the male creature wielded had pierced his shoulder. He must be wary.