the LEGEND of She-Cat

Chapter Five

He watched me consider the idea a while, for I was trying to determine if he meant me to be a prisoner or not. I was fit and healthy, so natural caution would urge the man to not linger here as we were in the middle of Mescalero country. Though it would seem I was alone and in need of a horse I realized he had no intention of giving up the mare, so the sooner I accepted that the better.

Finally looking at him I slowly nodded my head, indicating the piebald. His expression remained indifferent though a flash of understanding glinted in his eyes. Before he could look away, I pointed quickly at myself then the mare, and turning, pointed northeast.

I wanted him to know what direction I desired to travel in but recognized I was at his mercy. If the white man wanted to go elsewhere, I could either go far off my course or be left behind. When he didn't move right away I repeated my gestures, putting a little more urgency behind them.

"Settle down woman, I heard you plain the first time," his tone carried the distinct edge of rebuke even as his lips twitched in a faint smile. "I was thinking it over."

I curled my lip at his voice, not liking the obvious reprimand in it and he caught my look. He'd been scowled at before and my dark look did nothing to hurry his thinking. Our eyes held, and though I knew he was waiting for me to back down, I did not. For too long I had been forced to submit, to obey, but no longer. When the white rider straightened up, his full height shadowing over me I dropped my chin but did not break eye contact, glaring at him from beneath lowered brows. It was a direct stare, a clear challenge. The man held my gaze for a moment then turned suddenly on his heel and swung into the saddle on his gelding, gently starting the horse.

Knowing I had a choice to make fast, I waited for the mare to come abreast of me and grabbed a chunk of the horse's mane, pulling myself onto the wide back, gently urging her forward to ride next to the flint colored gelding. Though he didn't look over at me the rider let a faint smile touch his mouth, and we headed north. Relief washed over me in a powerful wave, tightening my throat with raw emotion. How long had it been since my wishes had been acknowledged? I couldn't remember.

Seeming to sense something of what I was feeling, he glanced curiously at me. I avoided his gaze, eyes moist, unwilling to be seen weaker than I had already allowed. After a minute he made a small sound, almost as if he'd drawn some conclusion in his mind. I shot a quick look his way, but the white rider was facing ahead. Choosing to ignore him, telling myself I did not care what he thought, I let the mare keep pace.

We rode the rest of the afternoon, sparing the horses through the scorching heat of the mid-summer day. Through the flat desert we traveled for endless miles, no wind stirring the suffocating air, a thick cloud of dust following in our wake. Every time we stopped it drifted over and settled into our hair, coating our skin, and clothing, clogging our nostrils, getting into our eyes, ears, and pores. The rider stopped every few miles or so to briefly wipe out the horses' noses and eyes, giving them a small drink from the canteens. We were regulating the water, but the horses would carry us to more if they were cared for, so I sat uncomplaining and thirsty.

The sun was setting low on the horizon when the rider acted as though he was preparing to stop. I was surprised, for very close to our position was a small oasis in the sand, freshwater, shade, and grass. When he halted the gelding, I urged the mare forward, putting tension on the lead rope tied to his horse. He looked sharply at me his eyes narrow, but I jerked my chin toward the horizon. Indicating his water pouches, I motioned again, mimicking drinking water. His aster blue eyes widened at that, his look skeptical but I impatiently waved him forward, tired and thirsty. With a clearly mistrusting look he started the gelding again, but keeping to my side, let me take the lead.

We dropped from the seemingly flat desert terrain into a steep-walled ravine choked with stunted mesquite and sharp lava rock. Winding along a narrow game trail, I kept a close eye for the marker rock, one that was shaped like a frog. Seeing it, we turned onto another trail, this one leading up along a vertical cliff before abruptly flattening out on the lip of a mesa. The horses smelled the water, tugging eagerly at the reins.