Excerpt
Chapter 11: Choices
Time has a way of speeding up and slowing down, depending on the circumstances. It was now September 20th. A year ago on this same day, Mama had taken her last breath.
Callie said a little prayer in her memory, but Pa didn’t seem to remember the date. Or at least he made no mention of it.
The sky was the color of dark blue velvet, and a warm breeze flowed up the hillside. This was exactly the kind of day when Mama would’ve itched to go trail riding. It occurred to Callie that she herself hadn’t been on a horse since October; when Mama was alive she had ridden with her almost every day. Today she’d ride in her honor.
There was a particular trail that Charles and she had once explored by foot: Jacoby Gulch. This trail led to a flowing spring and had its own secret waterfall.
Callie changed into her leathers and riding boots and wide-brimmed hat, then filled a canteen. “Goodness, I can’t believe it’s been so long,” she said to Pa.
“I’m glad yer getting’ out there,” Pa said, “Yer mama would want ya to.”
Scout was a sturdy draft horse––a large chestnut gelding who ate twice the amount of hay as any other horse in the corral. Callie tacked him up, breathing in his sweet horsey smell, then got a leg-up from Willie, the hired stable hand. This kind-hearted man treated those animals as if they were his own.
“I do it for the love; certainly not for the money,” Willie told anyone who’d listen. He was paid in gold, so it must’ve been true.
Callie trotted Scout through town, then headed him straight up slope to the trailhead. He moved sure-footedly up the steep rocky grade, passing between cabin-sized quartz outcroppings of yellow, red, and purplish brown. Callie felt the horse’s powerful shoulders flex with each careful step, and she gave him plenty of rein, moving together as one. They crested the ridgeline, immediately free from the endless thundering of the stamp mill.
As they descended into the gulch, Callie spotted a long black timber rattlesnake stretched across the trail. She knew that this critter was simply enjoying the warm sun, so she led Scout slightly off-trail to pass around it. But as they drew closer the snake coiled up, shaking its thick tail rattles. Scout reared up, nearly throwing Callie to the ground. She grabbed his mane tightly, leaning her body against his neck. The snake raised its head threateningly, but with one swift strike of a hoof, Scout flipped the reptile into the air, sending it into a manzanita bush. After she’d caught her breath, Callie patted Scout on the withers, then clicked him forward.
They reached the spring and Callie dismounted, leading her horse to a small clear pool where the spring flowed from the rocks. They lowered their lips to the water’s surface, drinking its cool sweetness. She felt secure with her full canteen for emergency backup, as Pa had taught her.
In the distance Callie could see the soft pastel colors of the desert sweeping north and east for hundreds of miles. The land looked gentle enough to cuddle a baby, yet was as hostile as Hell; this she knew.
A wild thought popped into her head: She could escape to Bakersfield! It was straight ahead to the northwest from here. Scout knew the roads, and she had a supply of water; certainly there’d be places along the way to refill the canteen. She checked the hip pocket of her leather jacket and found two silver coins, enough to buy a few supplies. If it got too hot they could travel at night. She figured it would probably take five or six long, difficult days to get there. This was her chance––perhaps her only chance––to be free and go home and sleep in her own bed in a real house again.
But what about Pa? And Charles? They’d be worried sick, believing that she’d been killed by mountain lions or bears. They would search for days or weeks hoping to find any trace of her, even a few bones. And when they didn’t find bones, would the townspeople blame the Indians? She wondered. They might go after Mu’at! Oh, what to do?
No answer was given, just the steady rush of wind through pines and junipers. Callie swung up into the saddle, turning her back on her dream as she headed toward the corral.
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