Rawhide and Roses

by Maddie James

  It was pretty much a futile effort. The wind had picked up speed by then, blowing horizontal gusts of rain into her face and lifting the slicker away from her legs. But she’d kept the horse moving and before long, she peered through the sides of the hood and saw the edge of the forest in front of her.

  Now, still on the horse’s back, but under the protection of several large boughs of pine, she was certainly drier, but feared the lightning would start again, and she’d have to move from beneath the trees to find some other means of shelter.

  She wasn’t certain how long she’d sat there. The horse seemed in no particular hurry to leave, and if the truth be known, she didn’t want to leave the protection of the trees either. So she sat as the slicing wind forced random rain drops through the pine needles, whipping them against her back and face and hands, and she cried.

  She knew she could cry out in sobs and screams and no one would hear her. She knew, that if she wanted to, she could wail to her heart’s content but she also knew that none of that would do her any good. She’d gotten herself into this predicament, she was going to get herself out. And she really didn’t want to cry, but the emotional upheaval her last few hours had provided seemed to warrant it.

  So she’d just let the tears silently fall down her face, mingling with the rain, as her whimpering sobs were swallowed into the rumble of distant thunder. And after a while, she felt much better. She still had no earthly idea where she was going, but she felt better.

  When the storm finally passed, and rays of sunshine penetrated even the density of the forest, she decided it was time to trek on.

  She figured that if anyone did decide to follow her, she at least had somewhat of a jump on them, but she feared it wasn’t enough. It was imperative that she see this thing to the end. By herself. If there was one thing she’d learned the past few days, it was that she could do a whole lot more than she thought she could. That she could set her mind to something, and accomplish the task—and she didn’t need Jillie to back her up. She could do it by herself.

  And that was exactly what she was about to do. She was going to prove to Thad, Jillie, and anyone else out there who thought that Kim Martin was made of fluff, how wrong they really were.

  Kim Martin was made up of a whole lot stronger stuff than that. And she’d prove it to them in spades.

  But there was only one problem. First she had to cross the damned river.

  She’d followed it for nearly an hour, not straying from its banks until she’d needed to seek shelter, so it wasn’t long before she approached its edge again. Now, there was nothing to do but plunge in, trust her horse and her instincts, and pray.

  Which is exactly what she did. In that order.

  Sunshine faltered little, but kept her head and lead Kim directly into the rushing water. As the water rose, and she felt Sunshine becoming a little uneasy, she started to slip over her side, but not before she remembered Thad’s warning about the horse’s legs getting tangled in the reins. Quickly, she tied them close to the mare’s body and gripped them with one hand while the other held onto the saddle horn.

  Icy water splashed into her face and chilled her body as the horse moved confidently onward. Kim didn’t take the time to think much about what she was doing, she just kept floating and paddling next to the horse, hoping she was still heading across river, and not down.

  The horse broke the rushing water, protecting her from its strength, and before she knew it, she felt rock river bottom and she and the horse walked up onto dry land.

  At that moment, a feeling of exhilaration raced over her body and she hugged Sunshine’s neck. It wasn’t that she wanted to prove Thad wrong. No, that wasn’t it at all. It was that she wanted to prove herself right. If anything good came out of this entire trip, it would be that she could go home knowing that she had given this pack trip thing everything she had in her.

  ****

  For miles Kim allowed the mare to pick her way casually over the terrain as they dodged a few more small showers. She hoped that at least the horse had some sense about what direction they were heading. Had she traveled this way before? Could she help Kim find her way to Elk Park by rote, much as the trail horses could?

  Kim decided she couldn’t be sure, as much as she trusted old Sunshine, so she was going to have to watch for signs that might help her point the mare in the right direction home.

  The mountains had a fresh-washed feel about them. The storm had raced over the mountains and down the other side, leaving only brief remnants of rain as a reminder. Stopping Sunshine, Kim shoved the hood off her head and glanced behind her, then all around, as she contemplated where they might be.

  Behind her the mountains seemed to ascend, the sky still dark. Turning forward again, she realized she was definitely on a downward trek. Quickly, she glanced about her. To her far right, she saw a stream flowing downward. The Continental Divide. They had obviously crossed over it and now she was heading west! Hopefully, toward Elk Park.

  A small thrill zinged up within her and she allowed a hint of a grin to form on her lips.

  “All right,” she murmured to the horse as much as herself. “What else did Thad tell me the other day?”

  A glimmer of hope made her feel stronger. “The Colorado Trail,” she stated matter-of-factly. “All I have to do is keep the sun in front of me and search for the trail. It should lead me straight into Elk Park.”

  Kim smiled. With a lot more gumption than she’d had an hour or so earlier, she urged the horse forward, keeping her eyes peeled for any sign whatsoever of the trail that would lead her out of here. It might just be her only ticket home.

  Chapter Sixteen

  There were waterfalls all around her. Kim delighted in the sound of the trickling water and at the sight of the sparkling diamond droplets bouncing off solid rock. The creek seemed to be in front of her and all around her at the same time. Smiling, she slid off her horse and with the reins held loose in her hands, walked the mare closer to the water’s edge so she could drink.

  The horse drank and Kim dug her canteen out of the saddlebag. After taking a healthy drink herself, she slipped the canteen back into position and removed and folded the now dry rain slicker, placing it as well back in the saddlebag. After she did that, she breathed deep of the crisp, clean air and gazed at the spectacular beauty of the mountains.

  Surprisingly, after the storm had left, she’d found herself immersed in the scenery, savoring the clean, pristine beauty of the mountains. For the first time, she really was in no hurry to get back to Kentucky. The Colorado mountains fascinated her, but the thought of returning to her home threw a dismal curtain over the landscape.

  Funny how Thad had insinuated himself into her life so quickly. Actually, he’d fought it and so had she, but it had seemed as though they’d shared a lifetime together. Of course, there was always the underlying current about her leaving at the trip’s end. But that was all water under the bridge now.

  Now, all she had to think about was getting out of here and back to her students in a couple of weeks, and her Junior League meetings, and her bi-weekly manicures. Of course, there was shopping at the mall. And an occasional dinner out with friends. Not to mention her mother’s Sunday-after-church dinners.

  Kim closed her eyes. How had her life become so mundane? So superficial? So...fake?

  Shaking herself out of those thoughts, she turned to peruse the western sky. The sun was dropping rapidly in front of her. Rays of orange and pink shot up into the dusk. The trees glistened like deep green emeralds. The streams and waterfalls rushed by at an exhilarating pace. The evening was crisp and alive and calling to her. Speaking to her in such a manner that she almost felt she could talk back, and that mother nature would understand.

  “This is not superficial, or mundane, or fake,” she whispered, searching her surroundings. “This is real.” A small rabbit scurried from beneath some low brush startling Kim, and she jumped, then laughed. “I am real.”

  Huffing ou
t a cleansing sigh, she stood contemplating those thoughts, not quite sure to what end they would conclude. She only knew that when she left here, she would miss this place.

  Kim moved toward the horse. Since the storm had left, the evening sky was free of clouds, but the air had turned decidedly cooler. Her clothing was still a bit damp and she wished for a heavier jacket, or a sweatshirt. If all else failed, she’d slip back into the rain slicker, knowing it would protect her somewhat from the chill.

  The day’s end held her spellbound. If it weren’t for the fact that she knew she had to make camp somewhere soon, she would have liked to have parked herself on a rock amidst the waterfalls and simply watched the sun slip over the horizon. But she couldn’t. She had to find shelter somewhere. She’d waited too long.

  Slipping her foot again into the stirrup, she raised her body into the saddle and turned the horse away from the water’s edge. After urging her up the small rise she’d moments earlier descended, she glanced at a pile of rocks to her right. Funny, she hadn’t noticed them before. As she moved the horse closer, an odd sensation crept up her neck and tripped down her spine. The rocks were piled high on top of one another like a miniature henge.

  A rock cairn! A Colorado Trial marker?

  Excited, she let her gaze mark a path leading into the forest and her heart picked up its cadence. She’d found the Colorado Trail! And it was definitely heading west. Hopefully, she was only hours from Elk Park.

  But there was no way she could travel much further tonight. Her immediate concern was shelter. And the only way she could do that, was to follow the trail into the forest and hope that she would find someplace, anyplace, where she felt safe enough to lay her bedroll for the night.

  And as she headed down the trail, she realized that she was not afraid. She was in control. And that she was actually enjoying the beautiful, peaceful wilderness that surrounded her. Perhaps she should be afraid, but after her initial shock wore off about what she’d so impulsively done, and after crossing the river, the fear had left her. Replacing the fear was a sort of self-reliance that she’d never in her life felt before.

  And it felt wonderful.

  The only thing that marred her otherwise pleasant thoughts, was the way she and Thad had parted. She would have like for it to have been different, but she guessed that wasn’t to be. If he could only think of her as someone to share his life with, not protect from life, then maybe they could have worked things out. But as long as he viewed her as someone he had to coddle, then it would never work.

  She had to make it to the train. And she had to do it by herself. That just might be the only redeeming feature of this entire trip. And it would be the thing she’d take home with her and remember for as long as she lived. That and her memories of loving Thad, however bittersweet.

  Heck, she might even tell her grandchildren about it someday. Well, most of it, anyway. If she ever had grandchildren.

  Within thirty minutes the forest was too dark for her to continue. The narrow path wound its way through a host of trees and she’d searched for even a small clearing where she and the horse could rest but it seemed there wasn’t anything.

  She rode on. The horse gingerly picked her way through the dark. Their pace was slow and Kim knew that before long, one way or another, they were going to have to stop. Any further along the trail and she wouldn’t be able to see five feet in front of her, and she couldn’t risk the horse slipping and tumbling off a trail that led to nowhere.

  Finally, a break in the trees happened and she tiredly urged the horse to the right. Stepping from beneath the umbrella of forest to beneath the night sky, she noticed that a few stars sprinkled overhead, along with a full moon, leant a small shaft of light over the clearing. Unsure exactly what she should do, she dismounted and by moonlight, untied the bedroll from behind the saddle. She lead the horse to the edge of the clearing and tied the reins to a low hanging branch.

  A hoot went up from the tree above her and Kim froze. Standing still for another minute, she waited, but the sound didn’t come again, and Kim decided that the least of her worries was an old hoot owl asserting authority over his territory. In the back of her mind, though, there were other concerns she harbored about sleeping out under the stars. Small worries like snakes and rodents, and bigger ones like elk and bear. She hoped that by staying close to the horse, the mare would warn her of any approaching danger. She just hoped she wouldn’t trample her in her sleep in an attempt to flee that danger.

  Nevertheless, she had to get through the night.

  Kim removed the large rain slicker from the saddlebag and laid it over the ground first, it’s outer repellent side next to the ground. She hoped the coat would help keep ground moisture from seeping into her sleeping bag, and ward off a chill. Then, she laid the bedroll on top of that. Quickly, she searched the saddlebags for anything else that might be useful, but only came up with a pair of binoculars, which she thought might come in handy tomorrow, and a half-eaten granola bar left from her lunch. She’d eaten the sandwich and apple and the other half of the granola bar throughout the earlier part of the day. She contemplated saving the bar for breakfast, but reasoned that her body needed fuel to keep her warm throughout the night, and that perhaps tomorrow, she’d arrive at the Elk Park spur early enough in the day so she could buy something for lunch there.

  She could only hope.

  The mare nickered and tossed back her head. Kim froze beside the mare, straining her ears. Had the horse heard something? Sensed, smelled something?

  Silence fell about her makeshift camp. Night birds twittered above her in the trees and in the distance, she heard a faint howl. Unmoving, she allowed only her gaze to shift across the small clearing, trying to spy any movement that seemed out of the ordinary. Her ears were alert to any sound that might warrant danger. If need be she was ready to snatch up her bedroll and slicker, and mount the horse again quickly.

  But after a moment the horse settled back into grazing mode and Kim relaxed. With granola bar in hand, she settled deep into the sleeping bag, zipping the thing up nearly to her ears.

  With a sigh she felt the tension slide off her shoulders, and her eyelids grow heavy. As nervous as she was about sleeping out in the open, she was just as tired. And when the moment came that she thought she might actually drift off to sleep, the mare lifted her head again and sounded a warning nicker.

  And another one answered her from down the trail.

  Another horse! People?

  But the moment’s elation was stifled in the next second when panic set like a rock in her abdomen. What kind of person might be traveling on a horse out in this wilderness at this time of night? Would it be someone she could trust? Heaven knows she was vulnerable to just about anything. She was totally at the mercy of whomever was out there.

  Her horse neighed again and the other echoed. Louder. Closer.

  Kim bolted upright in the sleeping bag and pulled it close under her chin. Suddenly, she was shivering. Another neigh. Another echo.

  “Kim!”

  His voice stunned her. Thad? For a small eternity she contemplated his finding her and all that it meant. He was ruining everything. She had to do this alone. Should she answer him? Or should she just let him go on and pass her by.

  Again, the horses called to each other.

  “Kim!” His voice sounded frantic. “Are you out there?”

  She hesitated only a second more.

  “Over here, Thad,” she returned tentatively. There was no use letting him wander around in the dark, endangering both himself and his horse.

  They broke the clearing and Kim could see the buckskin in the moonlight. She stood up. “Where are you?” he called out.

  Relenting, she answered. “Over here.”

  Within seconds, he and his horse were standing directly in front of her. Quickly, he dismounted.

  She didn’t give him a chance to speak first. “What are you doing here,” she hissed, still harboring a bit of resentment.


  “Trying to save your hide. That was an asinine stunt you pulled.”

  “It wasn’t a stunt, Thad. And I’m doing quite fine, so you can just go right on back from where you came.”

  “Oh, no you don’t. I’m staying.”

  Kim smiled in disgust. “Here we are again. You’re making demands and expecting I obey. Haven’t you got it yet, Thad? I’m a woman of my own means. I make my own decisions.”

  It was dark, but she could still make out the steel hardness of his eyes. “And I can make it to Elk Park just fine. It shouldn’t be much further.”

  “You’re right. It’s not far. And I’ll see you there safely tomorrow if that’s what you want, but tonight, I’m staying here with you.” He shifted toward the horse. “I’ve got a tent and I don’t mind sharing.”

  I’ll bet you don’t.

  Kim didn’t want to share. “I’m fine where I am. This is a free country, set your damned tent up anywhere you please.”

  “And you’re going to share it with me.”

  “I like sleeping under the stars.”

  “Since when?”

  She contemplated that question. “Since...” Embarrassed and angry that she’d brought up the thought of them sleeping together under the stars, she turned and plopped back down into her sleeping bag on the ground.

  She felt Thad’s gaze upon her. Lying there, she realized her heart was beating way too rapidly and that her breathing was coming in short, shallow gulps. Damn him! He was ruining everything!

  Thad whirled from Kim. Alternately relieved at finding her, and angry at her refusal of his help, he hastily untied the bedroll from his horse’s rump and tossed it to the ground. Within a matter of a few minutes, he’d tied his buckskin close to Kim’s mare and had pitched the tent and rolled his own bedroll out inside. Throwing one last glance toward her, he decided to give it one more shot.