She thought maybe she had heard gunshots, but with the crackle of lightning, boom of thunder, and roar of the rain, she couldn’t be sure. Galiha slowed to a trot after what felt like forever. Not from exhaustion or his lazy nature, but rather because the line that tethered him to the mare was so taut he was literally pulling her along. The poor thing could barely keep up. Hoping to see Rick, Cat peered behind the mare, but the rain swallowed anything more than thirty feet away.
She couldn’t leave him to fight and possibly die for her. She just couldn’t. Shifting her weight back, she pulled on Galiha’s reins until he dropped to a fast trot. Her stomach sank as she realized she didn’t know which way to turn to go back to Rick. The endless gray may as well have been the black of night. As if in answer to her prayers, the haze began to lift and the rain grew lighter. The noise of the storm swallowed the sob of relief that tore from her. Muscles tensed in preparation to give Galiha the cue to turn, she froze. The clouds above her swirled in a vortex. She stared at them transfixed, horrified.
The stories of such storms were the things of nightmares. What had the papers called the phenomenon? Oh yes, a funnel cloud. Staring at the base of a forming tornado, she could only hang onto her fleeing horse. The wind shifted and the big paint squealed and reared. His front legs kicked out as if trying to attack the storm itself. When he came back down and his feet hit the ground, he launched like a cannonball. In only two strides he all but dragged the little mare. No amount of pulling on the reins that Cat could do with one hand could even slow him.
Letting go of Lincoln wasn’t an option. If she did, he would fall. But if she did nothing the mare could pull them over. Only one thing to do remained. She draped the reins over the horn and said a prayer that they would stay. A moment of panic ensued while she tried to dig beneath her flapping cloak. Finally, her fingers found the hilt of the knife belted to her waist. She drew it and severed the rope that tethered the mare to them with one swift swipe.
Free of his burden, Galiha shot forward at a reckless pace. Part of Cat feared she should slow him down. One misstep and they’d all tumble to the ground. At this pace such a fall would likely be fatal to them all. But they were still beneath the forming funnel and the wind already tugged at her so hard she had to cling to Galiha with all her strength. She wanted to look back and check on the mare, but she couldn’t. The wind had become so strong she couldn’t even turn her head. Each breath she pulled in, the wind tried to steal back.
They ran and ran and ran. Soon the wind eased along with the rain. Tree-covered hills stretched in the near distance. She chanced a look behind them. The mare was nowhere to be seen in the gray soup of rain and clouds. Overhead, the base of the massive funnel cloud extended out toward the horizon for easily a hundred feet or more. A darker gray core lay in its center, drawn upward like a cone. Rain flowed backward up into the cone, along with grass, leaves, and even small bushes. The sight held Cat in thrall until the wooded hills engulfed her.
Even the thickest of trunks swayed and bent in the wind, providing moving targets as they fled amid them. Sides heaving, Galiha soon slowed to a fast trot through the near-dark of the forest. Cat kept him at that pace for some time. Not only did she want to continue to put distance between her and the storm, letting the horse slow too quickly would be bad for him. Once the forest grew too thick for easy passage, she slowed him to a fast walk. The teardrop leaves of aspens torn from their branches blew about almost as thick as the rain. Small twigs and forest debris smacked her now and then, but the size and frequency decreased with each step.
After what felt like a lifetime, the frantic swaying of the branches eased. Rain pattered down steady but gentle in comparison to only moments ago. The distant drum of thunder and the metallic taste in the air kept Cat from relaxing. She sucked in a deep breath, grateful to be able to do so again. Clutching the shivering pup tighter, she guided Galiha deeper into the forest. Rick’s words played over and over in her mind. She kept moving as he had instructed her. It would do no good to make it out of the storm only to have the natives catch up to her. She rode until the storm faded and the sky darkened with nothing more menacing than the coming of night. Not knowing where Rick or the natives were, night itself was menacing enough.
Once she could no longer see through the trees, she let Lincoln down and dismounted. With the pup literally underfoot—as much as a three-foot-tall canine could fit underfoot—she walked her horse. Hand out before her, she felt her way through the trees. Hours later it seemed, a slip down a blessedly short hill into a small hollow finally forced her to stop. The danger of going on was too great in the thick darkness. She hunkered down in the hollow with Lincoln, covering the two of them with her cloak. Galiha hovered close by without her even having to tie him. Wide eyes staring out at the dark, she went through each and every saint, begging them to watch over Rick.
* * * *
The rustle of light steps in the forest duff nearby snapped Cat’s eyes open. The forest all but glowed with the soft, yellow light of early dawn. Yellow aspen leaves appeared translucent in the illumination of small beams that broke through the branches here and there. Birds filled the still morning with their sweet tunes. But the calm didn’t fool her. Something had awoken her.
Breath held, she listened hard as she looked around. Her gelding’s white, brown, and black coat made him blend into the aspen and fir trees so well she had to look twice to find him. Head still drooped in slumber, Galiha stood not ten feet away like a massive equine sentinel. The rustling came again, closer, and a little louder this time. But only a little, as if whatever—or whoever—made the sound was attempting to be stealthy. Hands over her heart to try to stifle its pounding, she held her breath. Lincoln popped up from her side, eyes wide, slightly flopped over ears as perked as they could get. Before she could think to grab hold of him, he shot away from her.
She stifled the impulse to call after him. If someone was out there, she couldn’t risk them hearing her. One or more of the natives might have escaped the storm. And there was always the threat of Cofield being out there somewhere. That thought lingered in the back of her mind every waking moment. She understood and respected Rick’s insistence that she not kill the man, but if she had she wouldn’t have felt the need to constantly look over her shoulder.
At the top of their little hollow a small, gray form scurried at Lincoln’s approach.
A long, deep breath eased from Cat. “A rabbit,” she murmured with a shake of her head.
Stretching out stiff muscles, she rose slowly. Yesterday’s wind had blown rain into every crack and crevice it could find in her cloak, soaking her quite effectively. A night spent on the ground hadn’t helped matters. Already the morning air was warm enough that she wouldn’t consider herself cold, exactly. Miserable, most certainly, but not cold. The blue sky peeking through the branches overhead promised it would only get warmer. Perhaps she’d dry out if she got moving. After a long moment of listening, she rose and went to her still saddled horse. One of Galiha’s eyes opened and rolled her way as she dug around in her saddlebags. She pulled out her canteen and a bit of hard tack for a makeshift breakfast. It was tasteless, but that hardly mattered. She wouldn’t have tasted even a full breakfast of bacon and eggs. Her mind was far too distracted.
She wondered if Rick had escaped the natives, or the storm, for that matter. Where was he now? He could be lost, hurt, or worse. The thought of anything bad happening to him squeezed her heart until she swore it would stop beating. She had left things on such a bad note with him that she felt awful. If she had any idea which way to go, she would have tried to find him. But that would only get her lost. He could be anywhere.
Unable to finish her meager breakfast, she leaned her head on the saddlebag. The movement awoke Galiha enough that he started munching on the grass at his feet. At least the horse had the good sense to eat when he could. Her shaking hands stroked his neck and mane. She felt bad leaving hi
m saddled all night, but she had wanted to be able to ride away quickly if needed. And she’d already lost too much to risk having to leave behind her saddle and saddlebags. The thought made her throat constrict.
Lincoln bounded over the hill and down into their hollow, tail wagging with abandon, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. The pup made her think of Rick all the more. Cat sniffed and blinked back the tears that threatened to spill. She scratched the tall pup behind the ears.
“No rabbit for breakfast, then? Well, here.”
She offered him the bit of hardtack she had left and shook her head as he ate it. Lips pulled back, eyes squinting, he chewed and chewed. A short laugh bubbled from her, surprising them both.
“Well I didn’t say ’twas good.”
Rising, she pulled the small compass Rick had given her out of her pocket. After a bit of turning this way and that, she nodded and climbed into the saddle. Galiha’s head lifted. Her hand came to rest on the butt of her gun. From this height she could see up out of the little hollow to the quiet forest beyond. Green and yellow leaves along with small branches littering the forest floor were the only signs of yesterday’s chaos. The peaceful morning seemed somehow wrong after last night’s storm. But no sign of anyone else existed. A long breath eased from her.
Ears perked, Lincoln looked up at her.
“Oh no, I’ve had enough of that for a bit. You’ll be walking today,” she told him.
A slight tug on the reins lifted Galiha’s head. Looking out over his long, black mane, she twisted the compass this way and that until she found north. From there she gave the direction of northeast her best guess and guided Galiha from the hollow. She once again held her breath as they crested the top of the hill. Nothing more menacing than sun-drenched downed branches and tall, half-naked trees awaited in all directions. Breathing a little easier, she started into the forest. Lincoln bounded out a few feet ahead. The pup tried to look every which way at once, nearly landing on his rear a few times. After several moments of this his ears and tail drooped.
“I know, boy. But he’s going to meet up with us,” Cat said in a soft voice. Her eyes scanned the trees for natives. Yes, that was why she kept quiet. It wasn’t because the doubt and fear she felt might be detectable in a louder voice. No, she wouldn’t allow herself to believe that was why. To do so would be admitting she thought Rick might not meet them at the fort. Admitting that wouldn’t allow her to go forward.
Each time Galiha’s hooves came down on a branch and sent a resounding “crack” through the forest, she flinched. Keeping a close eye on the compass, she did her best to travel in the direction she knew the next station lay. She soon gave up putting the thing back in her pocket. She strung it on a leather tie strip from her saddle and hung it around her neck. Hours ticked by. Or at least, she thought they did according to the movement of the sun. Things of that nature had never really been her strong suit. But she knew for certain when high noon arrived. The sun on top of her head was hard to mistake for any other time. It beat down on her, roasting her within her cloak. She didn’t want to stop to take it off, or even to rest or eat. Rick was out there on his way to the next station. He could already be there, waiting, worrying about her. Getting there, to him, was all that mattered.
A mournful whining from several paces back gave her no choice but to stop. No more than a slight shift back of her weight stopped Galiha. Pressure from one foot turned him back the direction they had come. As she often did, she marveled at his training—and the man who had trained him. Urgency shot through her at the thought, but she fought it down. Lincoln lay ten paces or so back, prone on the ground, head resting on his paws.
“Not the only thing that matters, I suppose,” she muttered as she dismounted. She would rest, for his sake, and Galiha’s.
As Galiha lowered his head to graze on the spots of green grass growing here and there, she dug in the saddlebags. Pulling out a bit of hardtack and her canteen, she sat down on a fallen log next to the horse. Warm water that tasted of creek loam and rocks slid down her throat, not quenching her thirst so much as satisfying it. She held the cracker in her hand as if considering it. Lincoln rose slowly to his feet and trotted over to her. He plopped down on his haunches in front of her as if the small trip had taken every bit of energy he had left. The sad look in his eyes told her it had more to do with missing Rick than with exhaustion.
She handed him the cracker. “I know how you feel,” she said, petting his head as he worked at eating the chewy thing.
When finished, he licked his lips—and half the side of his muzzle—and perked his ears up. Again she petted him.
“Sorry, boy. That’s all we can spare for now. I don’t know how far the fort is—or when we’ll find it,” she told him.
She might have to hunt. It wasn’t something she enjoyed, but she could do it if she had to. Sighing deep as only a pup can, Lincoln curled around her feet as much as his big body would allow and promptly fell asleep. His thick, wavy hair fluffed up through her fingers as she petted him. The motion soothed her almost as much as him, lulling her into a weary state. Heat radiated off him. The poor thing. She had been pushing them far too hard for as hot as it was.
The thought reminded her of her cloak. She undid the buttons and removed it. The cool breeze wafting through the forest swept away the heat that had begun to stifle her without her knowing it. It lifted like a weight. She took another long drink of water and offered some to the pup. He raised his head enough to lap at it for a bit. If they were going to make it she would have to take better care of all of them. Careful not to disturb Lincoln, she rose, strapped her cloak to her saddle, and poured a bit of water into a cup for Galiha. The horse managed to get his lips in the cup and suck the water from it. At any other time such a sight would have made her laugh.
Her eyes scanned the woods as she contemplated how long to let them rest. Every sigh of the wind, creak of a branch, rustle of a leaf, or strange call of a bird drew her attention. The streets of New York and even the small farm she’d grown up on were so very different from this place. Without Rick here she felt vulnerable, exposed, and she hated it. She hated that she needed him here to make her feel comfortable. But mostly, she hated that she wanted him here with her. After Michael died, she had vowed never to need a man again. Yet here she was…
The loud crack of a large branch breaking yanked her from her thoughts. Birds cried out and took to the skies in a flurry of dark wings. Cat spun toward the noise, fumbling for her pistol. For a terrifying moment that thrust her heart up into her throat, she couldn’t figure out how to free the weapon. By accident really, she pushed back the leather guard that lay over the hammer and pulled it free. Twice her shaking thumb tried to pull the hammer back and failed. Giving up on that method, she used the entire palm of her left hand to pull it back. The resounding click made her acutely aware that she may actually have to fire at someone.
Another cracking branch pulled her wide eyes to the right. A huge, dark shape moved in the trees. Lincoln popped up. The gray and black hair along his back stood on end and a low growl that made him sound much older than his few months rumbled from him. The pistol barrel shook before Cat as her left index finger moved toward the trigger. Around the edges of her vision things began to go dark. Oddly, it helped bring the shape into focus.
The thing pushed through the underbrush, revealing an equine head. Cat’s finger began to twitch against the trigger as she looked to the horse’s back. The trigger flexed slightly beneath her finger pad. Two more steps and the little brown mare emerged, without a rider. The makeshift packs hung half off her left side, the leather scuffed and torn in places, but intact. Breath releasing from her in a loud rush, Cat moved her finger away from the trigger and lowered the pistol. The mare jumped a bit at the sound of the exhale, but held her ground.
It took a few tries, but Cat finally eased the hammer down and holstered the pistol. Murmuring soothing
words, she approached the mare. The horse shied away a bit, but let Cat get a hold of her rope without too much fuss. Aside from a few scrapes and scratches on her legs and rump, she appeared well enough. Cat adjusted the skewed pack. Only a few items of clothing and maybe a cooking pot seemed to be missing.
A wave of hope big enough to sweep her away surged through her.
Since the mare had survived, maybe Rick had as well. She held tight to that hope and refused to think further on it. Too much thought would introduce doubt and she wasn’t going down that road. Refreshed to the point of near-bursting with energy, she tied the mare to Galiha and mounted up. With Lincoln bounding along a few steps ahead, they set out once again.
The compass soon led her out of the forest. She hesitated at the tree line, scanning the open fields of green before her. Yellow and purple wildflowers dotted the gently rolling hills. Nowhere among them could she see any people. Breathing a bit easier, she started out into the open. While no people meant no natives, it also meant no Rick. At the top of the first rise she beheld a sight that brought tears to her eyes. Wagon wheel ruts cut a path through the low part of the valley. The short grass between them indicated they were well used.
She let out a little whoop of triumph. Lincoln barked and hopped through the tall grass to her and Galiha’s side. She grinned down at the pup. “We found it, lad, we found the trail!” More tears of relief came with the words.
An overzealous squeeze of her legs moved Galiha into a trot. She wanted to urge him into a canter but she didn’t dare, not with the little mare tagging along. Besides, they could maintain a trot much longer than they could a canter. It encouraged her to remember those were Rick’s words. Settling in for the bouncy ride, she did her best to contain her excitement. Rick could be down this trail. Rick would be down this trail.
Courting the Corporal Page 15