Ladybird (9 page)

As she entered the gloom of the pass itself, she paused and took a brief survey of the country she was leaving behind her. It lay green and still in the early light, and the few cattle she could distinguish were, most of them, lying down as if they had not wakened yet. There was no sign of humankind, no horses even in sight, and with relief she turned and hurried forward, wishing to get beyond this place before anyone could meet her or come behind her.

The trail was rougher here and stony. It hurt her feet sometimes so that she had to stop and rub them, but she had not time to think of discomfort. It seemed so long to the end of the pass. The mountains were as thick through as they were high. It was like a great tunnel without a top through which she was passing. If she were caught in here there would be no place to hide. Perhaps she should not have attempted it in this growing daylight. She dared not linger.

The sun was three hours high when she reached the end, her breath coming in quick, painful gasps, for she had almost run the last mile, so great had been her panic. The sound of a stone rolling down the mountain, the dripping of water from the crevices of rock startled her like shouts in the open. She kept a furtive watch behind and before for other travelers, and when she found she had really reached the end of the gloomy pass without trouble, she could hardly believe her senses.

It was bright morning now, out in the world to which she had come. The valley was filled with grass and dotted here and there with trees. This latter fact gave her new hope, for at least a tree was a place of refuge from cattle, if not from men. Cattle and men were her two enemies. There were some cattle in this new valley, but they were off to the left and seemed to be quietly grazing. Perhaps she could pass beyond them without attracting their attention. The way was wide and comparatively smooth, and though she was worn with the excitement of the past hours, still she could walk fairly fast and made good progress. Every step onward meant one nearer to freedom for her, and though the bag on her shoulders dragged heavily sometimes, she went forward with a good heart, determined to get across one more wide-open stretch before she need fear meeting other travelers abroad.

In the wide distance there glittered water, like a sheet of silver, but it seemed as far away as fairyland or heaven. To it her eager footsteps were now directed. It was as if she were in a wide sort of cup, with mountains all around and mountains in the distance just beyond the glittering water. She felt safe and protected. And yet it was through this same valley that the two men who passed her last night must have come. She must not be too trustful.

Thus reasoning, she kept a constant scanning of the distance in every direction and arrived about high noon at a small foothill where there were groups of young trees and a spring of water that trickled down into a tiny stream and disappeared in the valley again. She was thirsty now, for she had eaten some of the salt pork and the last of her corn bread as she walked along, and for the last half hour, she had been parched for a drink. She dipped her cup in the spring and enjoyed the clear, cold water, dashing some in her face, smoothing her hair back with her wet hands and tying the kerchief over her head again. But she could not stop for more than this tidying. She felt that she must utilize every moment of this bright peace and quiet to get on into safety. This long-continued absence of anything to make her afraid was almost too good to be true, and she must not rest secure.

She hurried up the hill after cooling her hot feet in the water for a moment, and when she almost reached the top she flung herself full length upon the ground and began to creep up. She would not make herself a target for any eyes that might be searching the landscape. So she crept up until she could peer over and then slid slowly back, her heart beating fast. The valley below her was full of cattle, and riding among them were three horsemen, seemingly rounding them up. Far away, at the upper end of the range, she could see two more horsemen riding toward the others. Her one quick glance was enough to tell her that Pierce Boyden was one of the men among the cattle and that he was riding his white horse. The back of another looked like Pete, but she could not be sure, and she waited not long to identify the others, for a great panic had seized her. She rolled down that hill and darted out into the golden day across the open like a frenzied creature. She ran and ran until she was breathless, and still she kept on, staggering through high grass, crushing through brush and brambles, wading a little stream that came in her way regardless of its depth and the fact that it was wetting her thin skirt and soaking up the edges of the old coat she wore. She seemed to have always been running, and still she ran on, panting for breath, her eyes blinded now, unable to see where she was going, until suddenly she stumbled and fell across a tree trunk that had been hidden by tall grass. She lay there trying to get her breath and wishing she never had to rise again, afraid to open her congested eyes lest the sun would blind her, too weary to even think.

I
n a few minutes, it began to dawn upon her senses that she was no longer out in the sunlight but was lying in the cool shade somewhere, and all around her everything was very still. Cautiously she opened her eyes and saw she was lying in the shade of a mountain that loomed above her, and off beyond it she could see the water flashing, a silver sheet in the sun.

She sat up and looked around, half dazed by her fall, her head feeling odd and dizzy. She got out her binoculars and put them up to her bewildered eyes, but presently she identified the low green hill in the distance as the one she had crept up awhile before. She had then come safely across the wide spaces and was close to the water, incredible as it seemed. She had thought that water a whole day’s journey away when she sighted it from the little hill.

Glad and thankful, she rose and tried to walk. Her whole body was stiff and sore, and her feet were swollen and bruised with the stones, for she had not tried to save them in her flight. But she felt she must keep on around that mountain until she was out of sight of the valley she was leaving.

It was just as she reached the turn where a moment more would open up a new vista to her troubled gaze that she turned back once more to look and saw the big drove of cattle pouring from a narrow pass between the little hill and the opposite mountain, and among them were five riders!

Horrified, she flattened herself against the rock that loomed above her and peered through the branches of a tree that grew out from the side of the mountain, watching, fascinated, dumb with hopelessness. They were a long way off, but it would not take them long to catch up with her, and where could she flee? Unless the rocks and the mountains opened up and took her in, or fell on her to hide her, she was lost, for the moving procession seemed to be coming straight her way.

She hugged the rock, her fingers reaching out along its surface, like a child who clings for protection, and a strange thing happened. Her hands found a wide crevice in the rock, a sort of fissure, and looking, she saw it was an opening where the rock had split away, making a fissure some seven or eight inches wide with part of the split rock fallen out making a screen in front. It was wet inside as if a small stream or spring had worked a way behind the rock, and the opening was small. But could she slip inside? If she could she would be practically hidden.

Shifting her bundle, she flattened herself as much as she could and squeezed between the rocks. A sharp, jagged edge bruised her shoulder, and her foot slipped on the mossy stones as she went through so that she struck her face, but she accomplished it and slid behind the fallen pieces of mountain.

Safely hidden, she found that she could peep through the crevice and watch the oncoming group. There was a great bunch of cattle, and the men were riding hard to keep them in check. They seemed to be coming directly toward her and were probably going around this mountain straight to the lake, toward which, five minutes before, she herself had been happily hurrying, thinking to find safety. The men on horseback were so close now that she could see the ugly set of Pierce Boyden’s jaw, the cruel blue eyes, the sensuous lips, as he dug his spurs deep into his horse’s flanks and rounded up a tricky steer. And now she could see the long scar on his cheek that glowed an angry red. In a moment more he would be where he could look straight into her hiding place!

She shrank back and fell to trembling, not daring to look any longer, slipped down to her knees on the cold, wet stones with her face against the wet rock, her eyes closed, and prayed.

The cattle herd swept on with trampling of hoofs and shouting of the men, but she began to realize that they were not going on toward the water but were rounding the mountain behind her. Perhaps the cattle had tried to stampede for the water and that was why they came so far out of their straight course; but at any rate they were going on, and in a very short time they were out of sight and sound.

It was a long time before the girl dared creep from her hiding place, and then so fearfully, so tremblingly that she found it hard work to squeeze through the tiny opening. Fearfully she gazed around her, studying the farthest corner with her binoculars. Her enemies were gone again and she safe once more!

With her hand touching the large rock, she crept on around her mountain, knowing that her strength was spent. She must find a place in which to rest.

Perhaps a mile farther on, around the other side of the mountain, she came upon another large rock split away from the mountain, leaving a hollow place behind it like a cave. Here was shelter surely, and before her lay the great sheet of silver water, almost round and clear as crystal.

The shoreline seemed deserted. There was no sign of a shack or habitation of any sort in sight. If there were humans living around, it must be beyond the thick foliage, which clustered at the upper end, and that would be too far to see a small lone figure creeping in behind a rock. She needed food, but she was too tired to eat the salt meat or the dry meal, which was all that she had left, so she crept to the edge of the lake, filled her cup, drank plenty of water, then stole back to her cave, arranged her hard pillow, and lay down. There might be processions of enemies going by, but she was out of sight; the mountain behind which she hid might be full of wild animals, but the thought did not occur to her. Utterly spent, she lay down and slept and knew not when the second sun went down upon her pilgrimage, nor when the stars came out or the young moon like a silver boat was reflected in her lake, upside down. It might even have been that some night creatures crept around her feet and sniffed at their strange companion, but she slept on.

It was early morning when she woke again, startled and wondering where she was. A sparkling new day lay before her, with the lake in white ruffled wavelets, lapping softly on the pebbly shore.

She crept from her hiding place and looked around, but there was no one in sight. She would have liked to take a swim in the clear water, as she and her mother had often done on days when the men were away and the trail to the river free from intrusion, but she dared not, so near the enemies’ territory. Those cattle were probably being driven somewhere to be sold, and it might be that while Pierce and Pete and the others were away, she would be more free to escape from this region entirely. She must not delay. So, adjusting her bag to her shoulders comfortably, she went down to the water’s edge, filled her water bottle, tucked it safely into the bag, and then stooped for a refreshing dash of water in her face and on her arms. She took a long drink, too, lapping the water Gideon fashion, and felt better. Now she would hurry on at once.

But before she could rise, the sense of another presence nearby brought a great fear. Turning her head, she saw not five feet away from her standing beside his black horse her old enemy Pete. He leered at her with a wicked grin of triumph, knowing that he now had her in his power.

For an instant she was too frightened to think or move, and the strength seemed to be ebbing out through her feet, leaving her helpless there before him as he stood gloating over her. Oh, if the water would only rise and receive her out of his sight! She had a wild thought of flinging herself into it, though she knew Pete carried a wicked weapon and would shoot with unerring aim, only to wound and capture her at last. Pete was a great swimmer, too. She could not escape that way.

Then in her terror she seized upon the only weapon at hand—the pebbles and sand at her feet. With a quick motion, so deadly quick and subtle that Pete was taken off his guard, she flung two handfuls of sand and tiny pebbles straight into those two evil eyes, and springing past him as he cringed with sudden maddening pain, she flung herself toward the fiery black horse. Would he let her mount? He was known as an ugly brute and had always seemed to her to possess a demon spirit like his owner. But he was her only hope now to get away.

Perhaps the horse, too, was taken unawares by the daring of this slip of a girl—a little white, frightened, flying creature who hurled herself upon his back and dug her bare heels into his sides.

The bridle had been flung over the saddle, but she had no time to grasp it, for when the beast felt this new rider upon his back, he began to rear and plunge, and she could only throw her arms around his neck and cling with a desperation born of her terrible plight.

Failing to dislodge her at the third plunge, the horse whirled with a peculiar motion all his own that would almost have flung off a leech and started to run. The running was almost like a bolt of lightning or a ball shot from a cannon, and had not Fraley been trained by her father to ride a wild western pony fearlessly when she was a little child, she would have stood no chance whatever in this race with death. But she had early learned to hold on, and now as the horse fairly flew through the world with a wild unbridled freedom that was breathtaking and horrifying, she clung as she had never clung before, each second seeming a year of horror. The bag across her shoulders banged its weight against her and each instant seemed about to be torn away from her by the motion. Would she ever be able to find it again if it dropped off? Her hair blew wildly over her eyes and whipped her face unmercifully. She expected momentarily to be flung to earth, and her heart was beating so wildly that it seemed to her it was about to burst. Was that a shot she heard? She could not be sure, but she felt rather than saw that they had skirted the lake and already left it behind.