Taos, Chapter 4 -- PG-13
Posted: Fri May 22, 2015 1:12 am
Well, only one day late, here's the next installment.
Taos
Chapter 4
Desert Flight
“Come on, Prolly. Come on.” Sarah leaned low against the neck of the little Appaloosa, urging her forward with knees and voice, and whipping the rein ends across the mare’s withers. She was strangely unsurprised to find herself flying across the desert on Betty’s horse.
She cast a quick look behind her. Looming out of the distance, two riders, widely separated, were slowly converging on her. They were too far back to see features, but she knew instinctively who they were. The blurred figure behind her to the right, on a big buckskin, must be Rob. To the left, on a dappled gray going dark with sweat, Jim was riding just as hard. And they were gaining on her.
Sarah knew, with a deep certainty, that she had no choice but to outrun them somehow. She clapped her heels against her mount’s flanks, hoping for more speed. A feeling of dread spread through her, like cold fire.
She looked back again. Her pursuers were drawing closer. Closer to each other, closer to her. Forcing herself to look forward, she suddenly realized that she was fast approaching a gully, a deep arroyo hidden in the desert. If she slowed, if she tried to cross this gulch carefully as she and Betty had on their ride the other day, she’d be caught. But she had no idea if Prolly could make the leap across, and if she failed—Sarah’s blood ran cold at the thought.
Time seemed to stretch, her heart beating faster and faster.
Then, from nowhere, came a voice that sounded like rasping steel, with an unmistakable note of impatience lurking underneath. She’d heard it all her life, disapproving, demanding. “Sarah,” she heard, “make the jump. You can do it if you’ll only apply yourself.”
Her heart sank. She was going to disappoint him again. Still, she had to try. She urged Prolly forward, feeling the horse gather herself for the jump.
And then they were flying, soaring across the chasm. She glanced down, and her heart skipped a beat. The bottom was so far away, lost in shadow. She couldn’t tell if they were going to make it. Rob and Jim had pulled up at the edge of the arroyo. She couldn’t see them, exactly, but she knew they’d stopped, knew they were shouting at her and at each other, their words lost in the rush of the wind.
Her father’s voice came again, commanding. She stretched out her hand, tried to call for help, but there was no answer. She realized, if she was going to be saved, she’d have to do it herself. Sarah urged the horse again, willing it to finish the jump. She was almost there, almost there—the mare’s hooves hit the edge of the arroyo, but it wasn’t quite enough, and she was falling. Falling….
And she jolted awake, her bedroom misty in the early light. She tossed the twisted covers aside, welcoming the rush of cool air from the open window, a fragrant hint of sage and piñon.
The dream was fading rapidly, the urgency retreating, leaving her uneasy and confused. She was enough her father’s daughter not to put too much faith in dreams, but it had all seemed so real. She sat up and took a few deep breaths, trying to chase away the phantoms.
She glanced at the alarm clock on her bedside table. It was just shy of a quarter to six; too early to get up, after the late night she’d had. She lay back down, expecting sleep to elude her. Closing her eyes, she tried not to think about the unpleasantness of the evening. She imagined herself dancing on a cloud, twirling by herself in perfect happiness, but the image slipped away in the darkness, and in a few moments, so did she.
&&&&&
Breakfast at the Wells ranch house was a come-and-go affair. Sarah had finally risen later than usual, hoping, she was honest enough to admit to herself, that Rob would be up and gone before she appeared. The ride home last night had been tense, with Betty’s presence the only thing holding Rob’s temper in check. That dream had been more unsettling than she cared to admit, too. It wasn’t that she put a lot of stock in dreams having meanings exactly, but it was hard not to see where that one had come from.
She breathed a sigh of relief to see the dining room empty when she came down. To her dismay, though, just as she was sitting down to eat, Miss O’Keeffe appeared, nodding a curt greeting as she went to the sideboard to fill her plate.
“I hear you had a spot of excitement last night,” Miss O’Keeffe said, sitting down across from Sarah and shaking out the napkin to spread it across her lap.
Sarah could feel her cheeks growing hot. “It was nothing, really. A misunderstanding.”
“Oh, but a misunderstanding on whose part?” the older woman asked.
Sarah stirred her eggs with her fork. “That’s – a very astute question,” she commented.
“Yes, well,” Miss O’Keeffe said dryly, “I have some experience to draw on.” She paused. “And there’s no doubt Rob Wells could use taking down a peg or two. Too full of himself by half, I’d say.”
Sarah sighed. “He’s a nice enough boy,” she said. “Just – I already have a father to run my life.” She met Miss O’Keeffe’s eyes, and was a little surprised to see a sympathetic twinkle, accompanied by a snort of laughter.
“They’ll do that, if you let them,” said Miss O’Keeffe, shaking her head. “But they can be educated, if you stand your ground.”
Sarah nodded, taking a sip of coffee. “I think I’m learning that,” she said. She glanced out the window, at the clear and cloudless sky. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? There’s such an awful clarity to the light here.”
“An awful clarity?” Miss O’Keeffe repeated, as though savoring the phrase. “I like that, Miss Whitley. I do like that.” She put her head a little to one side, regarding Sarah intently. “Teresa was right. There’s more to you than I thought.”
Taos
Chapter 4
Desert Flight
“Come on, Prolly. Come on.” Sarah leaned low against the neck of the little Appaloosa, urging her forward with knees and voice, and whipping the rein ends across the mare’s withers. She was strangely unsurprised to find herself flying across the desert on Betty’s horse.
She cast a quick look behind her. Looming out of the distance, two riders, widely separated, were slowly converging on her. They were too far back to see features, but she knew instinctively who they were. The blurred figure behind her to the right, on a big buckskin, must be Rob. To the left, on a dappled gray going dark with sweat, Jim was riding just as hard. And they were gaining on her.
Sarah knew, with a deep certainty, that she had no choice but to outrun them somehow. She clapped her heels against her mount’s flanks, hoping for more speed. A feeling of dread spread through her, like cold fire.
She looked back again. Her pursuers were drawing closer. Closer to each other, closer to her. Forcing herself to look forward, she suddenly realized that she was fast approaching a gully, a deep arroyo hidden in the desert. If she slowed, if she tried to cross this gulch carefully as she and Betty had on their ride the other day, she’d be caught. But she had no idea if Prolly could make the leap across, and if she failed—Sarah’s blood ran cold at the thought.
Time seemed to stretch, her heart beating faster and faster.
Then, from nowhere, came a voice that sounded like rasping steel, with an unmistakable note of impatience lurking underneath. She’d heard it all her life, disapproving, demanding. “Sarah,” she heard, “make the jump. You can do it if you’ll only apply yourself.”
Her heart sank. She was going to disappoint him again. Still, she had to try. She urged Prolly forward, feeling the horse gather herself for the jump.
And then they were flying, soaring across the chasm. She glanced down, and her heart skipped a beat. The bottom was so far away, lost in shadow. She couldn’t tell if they were going to make it. Rob and Jim had pulled up at the edge of the arroyo. She couldn’t see them, exactly, but she knew they’d stopped, knew they were shouting at her and at each other, their words lost in the rush of the wind.
Her father’s voice came again, commanding. She stretched out her hand, tried to call for help, but there was no answer. She realized, if she was going to be saved, she’d have to do it herself. Sarah urged the horse again, willing it to finish the jump. She was almost there, almost there—the mare’s hooves hit the edge of the arroyo, but it wasn’t quite enough, and she was falling. Falling….
And she jolted awake, her bedroom misty in the early light. She tossed the twisted covers aside, welcoming the rush of cool air from the open window, a fragrant hint of sage and piñon.
The dream was fading rapidly, the urgency retreating, leaving her uneasy and confused. She was enough her father’s daughter not to put too much faith in dreams, but it had all seemed so real. She sat up and took a few deep breaths, trying to chase away the phantoms.
She glanced at the alarm clock on her bedside table. It was just shy of a quarter to six; too early to get up, after the late night she’d had. She lay back down, expecting sleep to elude her. Closing her eyes, she tried not to think about the unpleasantness of the evening. She imagined herself dancing on a cloud, twirling by herself in perfect happiness, but the image slipped away in the darkness, and in a few moments, so did she.
&&&&&
Breakfast at the Wells ranch house was a come-and-go affair. Sarah had finally risen later than usual, hoping, she was honest enough to admit to herself, that Rob would be up and gone before she appeared. The ride home last night had been tense, with Betty’s presence the only thing holding Rob’s temper in check. That dream had been more unsettling than she cared to admit, too. It wasn’t that she put a lot of stock in dreams having meanings exactly, but it was hard not to see where that one had come from.
She breathed a sigh of relief to see the dining room empty when she came down. To her dismay, though, just as she was sitting down to eat, Miss O’Keeffe appeared, nodding a curt greeting as she went to the sideboard to fill her plate.
“I hear you had a spot of excitement last night,” Miss O’Keeffe said, sitting down across from Sarah and shaking out the napkin to spread it across her lap.
Sarah could feel her cheeks growing hot. “It was nothing, really. A misunderstanding.”
“Oh, but a misunderstanding on whose part?” the older woman asked.
Sarah stirred her eggs with her fork. “That’s – a very astute question,” she commented.
“Yes, well,” Miss O’Keeffe said dryly, “I have some experience to draw on.” She paused. “And there’s no doubt Rob Wells could use taking down a peg or two. Too full of himself by half, I’d say.”
Sarah sighed. “He’s a nice enough boy,” she said. “Just – I already have a father to run my life.” She met Miss O’Keeffe’s eyes, and was a little surprised to see a sympathetic twinkle, accompanied by a snort of laughter.
“They’ll do that, if you let them,” said Miss O’Keeffe, shaking her head. “But they can be educated, if you stand your ground.”
Sarah nodded, taking a sip of coffee. “I think I’m learning that,” she said. She glanced out the window, at the clear and cloudless sky. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? There’s such an awful clarity to the light here.”
“An awful clarity?” Miss O’Keeffe repeated, as though savoring the phrase. “I like that, Miss Whitley. I do like that.” She put her head a little to one side, regarding Sarah intently. “Teresa was right. There’s more to you than I thought.”