Evelyn straightened and sat perfectly still. No wonder the sorrel didn’t want to move. The horse somehow knew. She looked down, wondering what she should do. The sorrel was only a little way into the water. If she could reach the clear strip that fringed the lake, they would be all right. But which way should she go? Forward or back?
Evelyn’s mouth was dry. So many rattlesnakes, so many fangs, so much venom. Should the sorrel and she go down, they would be bitten to death within moments.
“Oh God.”
Shifting, Evelyn stared at her brother’s cabin. Maybe if she yelled he would hear and come to her aid. She opened her mouth but closed it again. Knowing Zach, he would come charging across the shore, through a dozen pools left by the rain, pools teeming with eddies and the serpents that made them.
“God,” Evelyn said again. “What do I do?” She gazed longingly to the east where the Nansusequa lodge was partly visible in the shadow of the big trees. “Dega,” she said.
The sorrel gave a hard shake.
Evelyn looked down and her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth. A large rattler was coiled around the sorrel’s front leg and was slowly winding up it. She gripped the reins with both hands. She had forgotten her rifle and was glad she had. She could predict what would happen next, and it did.
The sorrel whinnied and exploded into motion. It reared, kicking out with its front legs, seeking to kick off the rattler. The snake slid partway down. Uttering another whinny, the sorrel burst into motion. It was clear of the water in a few bounds and on the clear strip, but it didn’t stay there. It veered away from the lake toward the woods—and toward another, larger, pool.
Evelyn clung on for dear life. She tried to turn but the horse was in a panic. The rattler had fallen off its leg. She wondered if the sorrel had been bitten and prayed not. In front of them loomed the pool. She hauled on the reins with all her might but it had no effect. The sorrel galloped headlong into the pool. Water—and snakes—went flying. The water rose fully a foot, hardly enough to deter a full-grown horse. Beyond the pool was a short stretch of open ground. Evelyn had hopes the sorrel would make it if it kept moving fast enough.
Without any warning, the sorrel stopped in the middle of the pool.
“What are you doing?” Evelyn slapped her legs. The water around them was alive.
The sorrel snorted and wouldn’t budge.
“Please,” Evelyn said, and slapped again. She might as well be trying to get a log to move.
All the sorrel did was shake.
Evelyn didn’t blame it. Her skin was crawling. She saw a triangular head break the surface and swim toward them and dip from sight. She couldn’t begin to imagine how many snakes there must be.
A pebble’s toss away the biggest head yet broke the surface. It rose a good foot and the forked tongue flicked at them and went on flicking as the rattlesnake approached.
The sorrel saw the snake. Its eyes were mirrors of fear. It shook so violently that Evelyn gripped its mane.
The rattlesnake glided closer. It made no sound other than the soft, wet swish of its body cleaving the water.
Evelyn drew one of her pistols. She pointed the heavy flintlock with both hands and thumbed back the hammer. She was nowhere near as good a shot as her brother or her pa or even her ma, but the snake was near enough that she was confident she could hit it. She took a deep breath and held the air in as her father had taught her and aimed at the blunt head and held the pistol as steady as she could. The snake wasn’t more than an arm’s length from the sorrel. “Please let me hit it,” Evelyn said, and fired.
The flintlock belched smoke and lead. To her delight her aim was true. The ball struck the rattler in the head and the head blew apart like a small melon, spattering skin and flesh. The body went into a paroxysm of convulsions.
And the sorrel bolted.
Evelyn had no inkling of what it was about to do. One instant it was motionless, the next it was hurtling pell-mell toward the trees. Instinctively, she grabbed at the reins and the mane. To grip them she had to let go of the flintlock and it fell with a splash.
The sorrel broke out of the pool onto the wet ground.
Holding fast, Evelyn looked down—and almost swooned. Rattlesnakes were wrapped around both front legs and one of the back legs. She saw heads whip and fangs sink in. A terrible certainty gripped her.
The horse veered and another pool barred their way. Without slowing, the sorrel barreled into it. It proved to be the deepest pool yet; the water rose as high as the sorrel’s belly. It roiled, and not from the sorrel. Rattlesnakes were everywhere, writhing and twisting. Many attacked the intruder.
Evelyn couldn’t help herself. She screamed.
The sorrel slowed. It staggered. Head low, it lurched toward solid ground.
“You can do it,” Evelyn coaxed. “Just a little farther.” She glanced at the Nansusequa lodge, so distant it might as well be on the moon. “Oh, Dega,” she said.
The sorrel stumbled.
A rattlesnake arced at Evelyn’s left leg, and she jerked her leg clear. The snake missed and fell back. All she could do was hold on and pray as the sorrel grew weaker and weaker.
The last few feet, the horse could barely stand. Evelyn exhaled in relief when it was clear of the water and kicked to get it to trot. Instead, the sorrel gave a last whinny and pitched onto its side.
Evelyn tried to push clear, but she wasn’t fast enough. She uttered a cry of her own as the sorrel crashed down. For a few seconds she lay paralyzed with pain and fright. Then she turned her head toward the pool.
A rattler was slithering toward her.
Chapter Fifteen
Emala Worth felt as snug as a bedbug in a blanket. Although she abhorred bed bugs, just like she did most every other bug. To her way of thinking bugs made no sense. They bit people and crawled on people and got into food. She couldn’t for the life of her understand how they fit into the Almighty’s scheme of things, but since he had made them, they must have a purpose.
Surprised at her near-blasphemous thought, Emala rolled onto her side to stare at the window.
The rain had finally stopped, the storm finally ended. For a while there, when the elements were fiercely battering their cabin, Emala had been half afraid it would buckle from the ferocity of the storm. But the walls and ceiling held, and with the door shut and a blanket over the window, not much rain got in. It had puddled some under the window, but that was all.
Everyone was resting. Samuel was on the blanket beside her. Randa was on another over by the wall and Chickory was stretched out near the door. Emala looked at each of her children and her heart was filled to overflowing with her love for them. They were everything to her.
Her new home counted for a lot, too. Emala loved the cabin. It was much more spacious than their shack on the plantation. A lot sturdier, too. She couldn’t wait for Samuel to build some furniture; a table and chairs for the family to sit and eat, and a rocking chair for her, and a bed. Three beds, actually, since Randa and Chickory were too old to sleep together.
A good wide bed for Samuel and her. She tingled at the prospect. Next to singing and eating, one of the things she liked most was nighttime. Nothing beat that wonderful feeling of being snuggled, warm and cozy.
Emala closed her eyes. She wanted to rest a bit more. But everyone would be there soon to eat and have fun and she had to get up and see that the dirt floor was smooth and tidy.