At their side there was a loud crash. Edgar Drake thought, Another pig, and turned to catch a pistol butt in his face.
And now only trajectory, falling. A crack of wood on bone and a spray of spit and then a bending, slipping, slowed by boots in metal stirrups, fingers still in reins, releasing, down, now the crash of the bushes, the body against the ground. Later he will wonder how long he is unconscious, he will try to recollect memories but cannot, for only movement seems to matter, not only his but others‘, the descent of the men from the trees, the glinting arch of cutlasses, the sweep of shotgun barrels, the bolting of ponies. So that when he stands again in the crushed branches, he sees a scene that could have composed itself in seconds or, if measured by heartbeats or breaths, much longer.
They are still on the pony. She holds the shotgun and the boy a sword, high above his head. They both face a band of four, three with knives drawn, flanking a tall man with his arm extended, a fist, a pistol. The weapons glint as the men crouch and dance, it is so dark that the glinting is the only clue that tells him they are moving. And for this moment, they are all still, they bob only slightly, perhaps this movement is just from the deep breaths of their exertion.
The blades float imperceptibly, winking like starlight, and then a snap, and with a flash of light they move again, it is dark, but somehow he can see the tall man’s finger tense, and she must see it too, for she fires the shotgun first, and the tall man shouts and grabs his hand, the pistol is thrown across the forest floor, the others spring on the pony, grab the shotgun barrel before she can discharge the other chamber, pull her, and she doesn’t scream, all he hears is a small cry of surprise as she hits the ground, one man whips the shotgun from her hands and points it toward the boy, now the other two are on top of her, one grabs her wrists, the other tears at her hta main, she cries out now, he sees a flash of her thigh pale in the thin light, he sees that the flower has fallen from her hair, he sees its petals and sepals and stamens still dusted with pollen, later he will wonder if this was but his imagination, it is too dark. But he doesn’t think now, he is moving, he springs out of the brambles, toward the flower, and the fallen pistol which lies beside it.
It is not until he raises his hand, shaking, saying let her go let her go let her go, that he thinks he has never fired a gun.
Freeze, and now it is his finger that flickers.
He awoke to the coolness of a wet cloth against his face. He opened his eyes. He was still lying on the ground, but his head was resting on Khin Myo’s lap. She gently cleaned his face with the cloth. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Nok Lek standing in the clearing, rifle at his side.
“What happened?” he asked.
“You saved us.” She said it in a whisper.
“I don’t remember, I passed out, I didn’t…did I shoot…them…” The words came out jumbled, incredulous.
“You missed.”
“I—”
“You almost hit the pony. It bolted. But it was enough.”
Edgar looked up at her. Somehow, in the midst of everything, she had thought to fasten the flower in her hair once again.
“Enough?”
She looked up at Nok Lek, who watched the forest nervously. “I told you, one of Anthony Carroll’s best men.”
“Where did they go?”
“They fled. Dacoits are fierce but can be cowards when confronted. But we must go. They may return with others, especially now they have seen an English face. It is much more lucrative than robbing poor farmers.”
Dacoits. Edgar thought of the men on the steamship from Rangoon. He felt her run the cloth over his forehead. “Have I been shot?”
“No, I think perhaps you fell after you fired because you were still hurt from your fall from the horse. How do you say, you fainted?” She tried to appear concerned, but couldn’t suppress a smile. Her fingers rested on his forehead.
Nok Lek spoke in Burmese. Khin Myo folded the cloth. “Mr. Drake, we should go. They may come back with others. Your pony came back. Can you ride?”
“I think so.” He struggled to his feet, the warmth of her thigh still on the back of his neck. He took several steps. He found himself shaking but he didn’t know if it was from fear or his fall. He climbed back on the pony. Ahead of him, Khin Myo sat with a rifle across her lap. She seemed strangely comfortable with it, the gleam of its barrel resting against the silk of her hta main. Nok Lek pulled another from his saddle, handed it to Edgar, and tucked the pistol into his belt.
Hiss. The ponies moved into the darkness.
They rode through an interminable night, moving slowly down a steep slope and then across empty rice fields. At last, when Edgar was certain it would never arrive, the sun’s light spread out over the hill in front of him. They stopped to sleep at the house of a farmer, and when Edgar awoke, it was afternoon. Beside him, Khin Myo slept peacefully. Her hair had fallen over her cheek. He watched it move with her breath.
He touched the wound on his forehead. In daylight, the ambush seemed but a bad dream, and he rose quietly, so as not to wake Khin Myo. Outside, he joined Nok Lek, who sat drinking green tea with the farmer. The tea was bitter and hot, and Edgar felt beads of sweat form on his face, cool in the light breeze. Soon there was stirring inside the hut, and Khin Myo came out and walked to the back of the house to wash. She returned with her hair wet and combed, and her face freshly painted.
They thanked the man, and returned to their ponies.
From the farmer’s lonely house, they climbed a steep hillside. Edgar understood the geography better now. The course of the rivers descending from the Himalayas cut parallel north-south gorges in the Plateau, so that any trail they followed was cursed with a long succession of ascents and descents. Over the hillside lay another range of mountains, and these too they climbed, its valleys unpeopled, and over the next range they passed a small market where villagers clustered around mounds of fruit. They ascended again and reached the ridge just as the sun was setting behind them.
Before them, the mountain slope fell once again, but not to rise in another set of hills. Instead the slope was long and steep and below it a river roared, cast in the darkness of the hills.
“Salween,” said Nok Lek, triumphantly, and hissed.
They rode down the steep path, the ponies bucking with each uncertain step. At the banks of the river, they saw a boat and a lantern and a sleeping man. Nok Lek whistled. The man jumped up, startled. He wore only a pair of loose trousers. His left arm hung limply at his side, twisted as if waiting to accept a bribe. He jumped to the shore.
They dismounted and passed the bridles to the man with the paralyzed arm. Nok Lek unloaded the packs and stowed them in the boats. “The boatman will bring the ponies by land to Mae Lwin. But we go by boat, it’s faster. Please, Ma Khin Myo.” He held out his hand and she took it and jumped into the boat. “Now you, Mr. Drake.”
Edgar stepped toward the boat, but his boot slipped and caught in the mud. With one foot in the boat, he tugged, but the mud only made fierce sucking sounds. He grunted, cursed. The boat swung outward into the water and he fell. Behind him, the two men laughed, and he looked up to see Khin Myo, her hand covering a smile. Edgar cursed again, first at them, then at the mud. He tried to push himself up, but his arm sunk deeper. He tried and failed again. The men were laughing harder, and Khin Myo couldn’t hide a soft giggle. And then Edgar too began to laugh, doubled over in that impossible position, one leg thigh-deep in the mud, the other held above the water, both arms soaked and dripping. I haven’t laughed like this in months, he thought, and tears began to stream from his eyes. He stopped struggling with the mud and lay back, looking up at a dark sky through branches illuminated by the lantern. Finally, with effort, he pulled himself up and then into the boat, dripping. He didn’t even bother to clean the mud from his body; it was too dark to see, and Nok Lek had already boarded and was trying to push them off with a pole.