by Eva Pohler
Chapter Nine: Runaway
Later that afternoon, a group of them met at the same sunny clearing near the jeeps, where they had met for the sunset cruise. Daphne and Emma climbed behind Roger and Cam. Daphne was relieved to learn Cam had been telling the truth about Bridget not coming, even though she had worn her yellow backless halter top and most flattering navy shorts just in case.
She hated herself for wanting Cam’s attention, but there it was.
Another jeep—with the round-cheeked, older woman named Mary Ellen sitting beside Phillip in the front seat and with Dave and Vince in the back—followed Roger up the road and out of the canyon. They drove for five or ten minutes along the canyon ridge until they came to the Nature Conservancy headquarters. Cam told her that the oldest of the buildings, the chapel, constructed during the ranching period, had been converted into stables. Kelly, the guide, whom Daphne had briefly met at dinner her first night on the island, greeted them and gave them instructions before taking them into the pen and helping them to mount, one by one.
Daphne waited her turn next to Cam and Emma on the dirt with the sharp smell of animal and leather and hay. A gentle breeze made the smells bearable.
Kelly looked to be in her late thirties, and was a red head with green eyes. She wore jeans and a white tank with an unbuttoned denim shirt. When Kelly explained she had just returned to work on the island after ten months of maternity leave, they all congratulated her on her baby.
Daphne rode a white mare named Pearl. Kelly led them on a gray gelding called Chief from the pen and up the canyon ridge toward the deep valley.
Kelly warned everyone not to let the horses feed on the tall grass along the hills. The riders should, instead, show them who was boss by forcing them on the trail. There wasn’t a literal trail. She meant to keep the horses in line. But the horses didn’t stay in line. They kept vying for the place behind Chief. Pearl bit the butt of the horse in front of her, and it kicked back, startling Phillip, its rider. Kelly apparently hadn’t seen, and Phillip said nothing.
As they ascended the hill to the canyon ridge, Daphne felt a little nervous with the big animal moving beneath her. She hadn’t ridden since she was nine, when her parents had taken her, Kara, and Joey on a family trip to Durango. Her mother wouldn’t join them on the trail ride, saying she didn’t like horses, but Daphne could tell even then that her mother was frightened of them. This had added to Daphne’s own fear. She was frightened then, riding up and down the steep San Juan Mountains and through the national forest. And since Joey’s horse had stayed near hers, he had been the one to keep her brave and cheerful.
Today, Cam was along to support her, but her fear was made worse by the anxiety she felt over anticipating the next exercise. She feared she was being set up for another terrifying experience. She wondered why she had agreed to come, if she were so uncertain; but she knew why: she was curious to see what would happen. Plus, it was so unlike her regular, dreary, gloomy life. And, most of all, her parents had wanted her to experience this.
From the top of the ridge, the view was spectacular, reminding Daphne of how she pictured the Shire in The Hobbit. Green grass grew down in the valley and along endless hills to either side—again making her think of a fairway—all the way down to the stream, which turned and curled like fancy, cursive penmanship. Mounds of shrubs in darker shades of green contrasted with the emerald color of the grass, and then whole bushes of yellow poppies and purple mountain glory added to the serenity of the view. The hills rolled low in areas, like hobbit barrows, and then became more jagged and rocky and taller further away, toward the mountains and their purple peaks on either side.
Kelly turned her body in the saddle so she was facing the group behind her. “We’re about to head down into Central Valley. This valley runs along a fault line dividing the northern half of the island from the southern. It also divides the two mountains, Mount Diablo to the north and Sierra Blanca to the south. A stream runs all the way through Central Valley from Prisoners Harbor, where you docked, to the west end at Black Point. You’ll find a variety of wildlife throughout the valley, including the island fox, the island scrub jay, the Pacific tree frog, the bald eagle, the island deer mouse, and several plant species, such as morning glory, monkey flower, and buckwheat. Some plant species here are found nowhere else in the world.”
The ascent was nothing compared to riding downhill. The hooves slipped on rocks, causing the horses to stumble, and this did not deter them from biting one another. Pearl ran forward and pushed her way behind Chief, causing Daphne to let out a little squeal of fear. She pulled back on the reins.
“Whoa, Pearl. Slow down.”
“There you go,” Kelly said. “Show her who’s boss.”
“Show her who’s boss!” Dave was laughing. “That’s classic! Show her who’s boss!”
Daphne had no idea what Dave found funny.
Pearl kicked at Phillips’s horse with her hind legs and then came down and reared back, nearly throwing Daphne off. Daphne’s heart beat fast and she couldn’t speak.
Kelly turned Chief around. “Whoa, Pearl! Whoa, girl!”
Daphne didn’t think it did any good as she caught her breath and tried to slow down her heart. If the horses had at one time considered Kelly their leader, they no longer remembered it. She was like any other rider to them now.
Emma called out, “You okay, Daphne?”
“Yeah. I’m okay.” Her heart still raced and she couldn’t breathe as she clutched the reins.
She glanced at Cam, who looked at her, white-faced.
“Sure?” he asked.
Daphne nodded, still breathless.
She followed Kelly and the Chief further into the valley.
After several yards, Kelly gave them more information about the area. “There are some other interesting plants, such as the native Jimsen Weed the Chumash used as a ceremonial hallucinogen, and the non-native African iceplants and European milk thistle. There’s milk thistle over there,” Kelly said, probably aware but not willing to acknowledge her lost authority over the horses.
The milk thistle resembled a medieval flail with its thick green stem topped with a green spiked head. A few purple blooms on its tip might have been blood.
“We’ll take the horses down to the stream for a drink. They’ll go right to it. You don’t have to do a thing.”
The horses scattered in a trot despite the commands of their riders, but when they reached the stream, they stopped and drank and seemed ready to submit again.
“Okay, everybody,” Kelly said. “If you’ll notice the leather pouches near your knees, you’ll find plastic water bottles. Each rider has two: one for the ride out, and one for the ride in. If you’d like to dismount and taste the spring water, go right ahead. It’s delicious.”
Phillip and Emma climbed down and bent over the stream as Kelly continued to talk.
“From here, we’ll follow the stream down further into the valley. Although there aren’t many trees, keep your eye out for occasional low branches and use your reins to steer clear of them. I’ll lead you to the top of Mount Diablo, which is on the northern side of the island and also the higher of the two mountains at 2,450 feet above sea level. On clear days, you can see the California coast from there, and at this time of year, there’s a good chance we’ll spot whales.”
This solicited excitement among the riders. “Oh.”
“Yay!” Emma said.
“I hope so!” Dave shouted in his rowdy voice. “We didn’t see any the last time we came, did we Vince.”
Vince shook his head in his usual mute way.
“How long is this trip, roundtrip?” Phillip asked.
“Two hours. It’s roughly three miles to the base of the mountain and another mile to the top,” Kelly replied.
“That water is delicious,” Emma said as she climbed up in her saddle.
“Good,” Kelly said. “Let’s get started.”
Kelly led them to a narrow part of the stream whe
re the horses could easily jump across, but as soon as Pearl landed, she took off at a canter in front of Chief. Daphne pulled back on the reins, “Whoa! Whoa, Pearl!” Pearl reared back, again nearly throwing Daphne.
Kelly caught up to her. “Don’t pull back so hard and so fast. You’re going to get yourself bucked right off!”
“Sorry.”
Kelly chastised Pearl, but again, Daphne doubted Pearl cared.
Daphne decided she did not like horseback riding. The lack of control over an almost wild beast beneath her was terrifying.
When the others caught up, Pearl maintained her place behind Chief and behaved herself. Cam was a few horses back, but Daphne wasn’t about to make Pearl wait for him.
Up ahead to their left, toward Sierra Blanca to the south, smoke swirled up in great dark curls.
“What’s that?” Daphne asked.
Kelly spoke loudly so the others further back could hear. “A contained fire. Don’t worry. It’s a standard procedure used by the Nature Conservancy. It restores nutrients to the ground and controls vigorous, non-native plant life, such as fennel.”
“Non-native?” Phillip asked. “How did it get here?”
Kelly pulled up beside him. “From the ranchers who came after the missionaries shipped the Chumash off to the mainland. It took years to get all the pigs and sheep out of here. We’re still working on the plant life.”
Two wooden signs on a single wooden post jutted from the ground, and sitting upon it was a blue bird. “The scrub jay,” Kelly pointed out. The bird looked at them and flew away.
The top sign read “Centinela.”
“What does that mean?” Daphne asked.
“The Sentry,” Kelly explained. “This is a crossroads leading three different ways.”
“Ooohh!” Dave crooned. “Love it. Sounds like a character in a video game. Watch out for dragons.” He laughed at his own joke, but no one else did.
The bottom sign pointed forward to Christy/West End, to the left to Ridge Road, and to the right to Diablo. Kelly led the group to the right.
“If we went straight, we would come to the western side of the island, where you would see the old Christy Ranch. It’s also where most of the Chumash ruins and archaeological sites are located. No one is allowed on that side without a permit from the Nature Conservancy, not only because the sites are under its protection, but also because the western side of the island is more difficult to navigate.”
“Some say it’s haunted,” Dave said.
“Yes, that’s what they say,” Kelly said. “Haunted Bridge divides the old Christy Ranch from the Chumash ruins, and people say they’ve seen and heard weird things.”
“Have you?” Mary Ellen asked.
“I don’t go to that side of the island.”
“You don’t actually believe the stories, though, do you?” Daphne asked.
“I don’t know what to think of them, to tell you the truth.”
After a while, Kelly resumed her guided tour speech. “If I would have led you to the left from the Centinela sign, toward Ridge Road, we would have crossed to the south to a place called Laguna Point, which is not far from the resort and just east of Sierra Blanca.”
Gradually the terrain became steeper and rockier, and the sun blasted down on them without relief. Fingers of sweat ran down Daphne’s neck and back and tickled her forehead. She reached into one of the two leather pouches and took several gulps from the water bottle, grateful when they climbed out of the valley and up into the wind.
Pearl jumped forward. Daphne turned. Phillip’s horse bit and nudged Pearl’s rump. Pearl kicked back but lost her footing and slid backward several feet. Daphne’s breath caught as she held tightly to the reins.
Shoot, shoot, shoot. What the heck am I doing?
“Steady, girl.” Her voice sounded soft and weak. “Steady,” she said more loudly.
Phillip’s horse took the position behind Chief, and before Pearl could maneuver herself behind it, a red mare moved in line, snorting at Pearl. Pearl fell in behind the red mare, biting and pushing. Daphne took the reins and steered Pearl out of line, hoping to get in behind Chief. They neared the top of the mountain, forming more of a clump than a line, so Daphne allowed Pearl to choose her spot as they gazed out at the great blue sea ahead of them.
“Wow,” Phillip said.
“Hey, Daph.” Cam moved beside her on his brown gelding. “What do you think?”
The magnificent view had an immediate calming effect. “It’s beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous.” She gave Cam a smile.
The wind cooled them beneath the sun’s rays. Although clouds were gathering to the west, the northern skies remained starkly blue, as blue as the sea. To the east Daphne could make out along the gray horizon the shape of the California coastline—its lights, smoke, and highest buildings.
“Over there!” Kelly pointed. “I see a pair of humpbacks. Wait for it. You’ll see them in a minute.”
“Where?” Emma asked.
Everyone followed Kelly’s finger.
“Just there. See them?”
Two giant whales rolled over the surface of the water, side by side. Then one leapt up into the air, spinning like a football before falling beneath the surface.
“Oh!”
“Wow!”
“Brilliant!”
The second whale also leapt behind the first, and then turned and lifted its tail to make a big splash toward the onlookers, as though putting on a show for them. The whale hit the water with its tail two more times.
Daphne couldn’t believe how majestic they appeared and how close and visible they were. “Amazing!” she cried, forgetting everything else but the vision of the magnificent creatures in the sea. She wished she had brought her cell phone along so she could take a picture.
Phillip and Mary Ellen promised to get her email address later and send their photos to her.
After the whales were gone, the group made its descent with Kelly in the lead. Daphne failed to get Pearl behind Chief, and so she was anxious. Pearl bit and kicked and slipped on rocks. Daphne pulled her out of the line a few times. Now, Pearl ambled over to the right of the group and chomped on tall grass.
“Come on, Pearl,” Daphne commanded, kicking the horse’s side and gently tugging at the reins. “Come on. Let’s go.” The rest of the group continued down the mountain, apparently unaware they were leaving Daphne behind. “Go, Pearl!” Daphne kicked hard with desperation along the horse’s sides, but instead of turning to follow the others, Pearl reared up and ran to the west, at full canter, down the steep slope of the mountain.
Crap. Where were the others? “Help! Help! This way!” Daphne screamed and hollered, but now, more importantly, she focused on staying on the horse. Pearl continued to run, slipping and sliding, and leaping over larger rocks. “Whoa! Oh my God!” She pulled back, to no avail.
Daphne could no longer hear herself screaming, but her throat burned and her mouth was open. Tree branches scraped her arm and thigh as Pearl ran past, leaping over fallen logs and shrubs of poppies, and slowing only to evade large boulders. There weren’t many trees on this island, but Pearl managed to assault her rider with them.
The terrain was rocky here, and hilly, unlike the smooth grass of Central Valley. Pearl slipped on a cluster of rocks, reared back, and though Daphne hugged the body of the horse with her legs and clung to the reins, she was thrown off onto the hard ground below.
“Pearl!”
The mare trotted off, past more boulders, and out of sight.
Daphne’s bare back had taken the brunt of the fall, and as she tried to stand, she gasped with pain. Her left leg was also sore and cut. Against the painful protest of her body, she climbed onto the tallest rock and shouted, “I’m over here! Anybody? Can you hear me? I’m over here!”
Feeling dizzy, she sat on the boulder and tried to get her bearings. Which way was north? If only she had a compass. She sat for a few minutes, putting pressure on her wounded leg
and hoping the others were already on their way. Surely, this was not a game. She could have died when she was thrown off that horse. Unlike the elevator and the cave, where she had company and was safe, being thrown and lost wasn’t some new therapy doctors could control. This was an accident, plain and simple, and soon she would be found.
As she sat waiting for civilization to find her, Daphne thought of every terrible thing in her miserable life: Grandpa’s death, Joey’s sickness, Kara’s death, Brock’s sadness. Tears filled her eyes as she recalled the anguish that had crossed Brock’s face when she told him she could never be happy. She should have gotten out of bed. Even now, it felt wrong to call it anything but her fault. She had killed Kara.
“Let’s take a break,” Brock had said when she could no longer look at him.
The black smoke curled into the sky in front of her and, remembering the contained fire was to the south, she hiked up onto a high rock and scanned her surroundings, now glad to have her bearings. She hollered out a few more times, hoping to be heard. Although she saw no sign of her party, she headed in the direction she thought they were most likely to be, in the direction of the smoke.
The hot sun beat down on her and reflected off the rocks. Wishing she had her water bottle, she licked her dry lips and limped on. The Central Valley should be up ahead, and there would be the stream.
It was slow moving over the rocky hills, and more than once Daphne lost her balance and slid on the loose gravel underfoot, as the horses had done. Each time she reached a hill, she expected to see the valley below, but every time, another hill emerged. She feared the black smoke must have blown west, leading her to the haunted side of the island.
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” she said aloud.
A flash of light cut through the sky, like the jagged blade of a sword. Up ahead, the dark clouds clustered, mixing with the smoke from the fire floating away in curled ribbons. Daphne wondered if she were making a mistake by moving from her spot. She should have stayed put. She glanced over her shoulder, thinking she should turn back.
Startled by a movement on the ground behind her, she froze. A moment later, it came again, but this time she saw the little animal. He must be an island fox. He was no bigger than a house cat with the snout of a terrier and the tail of a squirrel. Daphne’s tensed muscles relaxed. She was glad to have his company.
“Hello there,” she said.
She expected the fox to run off, but he didn’t. Then she noticed the white tag on his tail and realized the Nature Conservancy was tracking him. Maybe he was used to humans. Daphne bent down, her back hurting, and said, “Hi, little fellow. How are you?” She put her hand low to the ground, but he wouldn’t come to her; nor did he run away. He stood there, staring.
She turned and limped on, heading a little more to her left, which she thought must be south because of the clouds and the lightning. Every so often, she glanced over her shoulder and was pleased to see the fox was following her. She was on the verge of tears and frightened, but now not so lonely with her new friend.
Up ahead, a row of pines and a grassy valley stretched in the distance. She was disappointed she hadn’t found Central Valley, but it was better than the endless rocks. The row of pines was thin and not high, and on the other side was a yellow patch of hay. Her back had loosened up since her fall and though her leg was bleeding, she could walk without limping. She hiked down to the grass and across the yellow field just as the rain began to fall. Two short oak trees in the distance seemed like her best bet for shelter. As she hunkered down beneath the limbs, she noticed the fox had followed, though he kept his distance.
“Come on,” she said. “I won’t bite. Will you?”
He didn’t move. He stood in the rain.
“Suit yourself.”
Daphne scoured the area from beneath the trees and tried not to be afraid. She still had several hours before nightfall, but what if she wasn’t found by then? She sat in the grass against one of the thin trunks, crying a little and trying to think of what to do when she noticed, just past the yellow field of hay, an orange and gray dome tent.
She ran to it, and then hesitated in the rain, like the fox had. She weighed her options and when another thick blade of lightning cut through the sky, followed by the sharp whip of thunder, she ran for the tent.
The rain pummeled down, drenching her.
“Help!” she cried from the outside. “Please help me! I’m lost!”
The zipper was undone and out popped a head of dark curly hair. “Daphne?”
“Stan!”