One Hundred Horses

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No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

Cover Art:
Niina Cord

Publisher’s Note:

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are the work of the author’s imagination.

Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is coincidental.

Solstice
Publishing - www.solsticepublishing.com

Copyright 2014 Elle Marlow

One Hundred Horses

By

Elle Marlow

I'd like to thank Laura
 
Johnson for help with this project. I also would like to acknowledge the Native Peoples.
 
You have captured my heart and my imagination.
 
I hope my stories bring upon honor and pride.

Prologue

Red Dawn stirred on her sleeping mat.  The dream had cast a heavy misted veil over her as she watched the warrior run to the sound of the Cat woman.  This, she knew would be the warrior’s greatest battle.  A battle to win the heart of a woman who would bare him many children that would go on to lead the people into the new world. 

They stand on a hill overlooking one of the last bands of Comanche.  The Sun has the scar of Brother Lion on her thigh and tears still wet in her eyes.  Her heart is strong and pure and will belong to the man who she fears the most.

For a while…

Chapter One

Grey Fox saw the rider fall from the yellow horse, but he didn’t know where they had disappeared to. Most of the morning had long passed before he finally found the dead body of the horse partially obscured in a thicket. The rider had left the saddle and head gear and had taken off on foot.

Curious, he decided to follow the tracks in the sand. However, he did not anticipate how far he would have to travel. Father Sun was now high in the sky and still he followed this person with growing interest. He watched as tiny blood droplets next to the footprints increased in both size and frequency, and he was surprised to discover that the small foot prints were those of a woman.

Judging by the amount of blood she left behind, she must be suffering from many injuries. As the pattern of her steps became more erratic, the movement of sand revealed that she had stumbled several times. Before long, the blood trail had increased. Enough, so that the flies were now attracting to the blood she left behind her.

Instincts and nerves strung tight, he ground his teeth in thought. He should just turn back. After all, he was only after the yellow horse. He would have liked to have added the mare to his breeding band back at his village. Upon finding the dead horse he had no reason to stalk its rider. Except one thought hung over him: finding this blood trail was exactly how Red Dawn’s prophecy of his great love began. She had been telling him of this vision for years. He remembered laughing in silence at the absurdity of Red Dawn’s prophecy about a yellow-haired woman whom he would come to love greatly. Grey Fox hesitated. He did not have to continue. He could just turn back now and forget what he saw. She was not one of his people.

The War Chief scanned the horizon, watching intently as Father Sun fell below the tip of the mountain range. Soon, it would be too dark and too cold for him to continue. His brow furrowed. What about the woman? Left out in the elements would assuredly mean the end for her. The coyotes would get her, maybe even the fire ants, but if Red Dawn’s story was right, the woman would be clawed by Brother Lion and he would get to her just in time to save her. Grey Fox placed his bow on the ground as he hunkered down to trace her footprints with his finger. One foot was bare, without its boot. How long had she and her horse been lost out in the wilderness?

Reaching for his weapon and adjusting it behind his back, he stood and released a tired breath. Maybe he should just let nature have the foolish woman. He had decided to turn away when the unmistakable print of a paw stopped him cold. The print appeared fresh and extremely large, even for a lion. Wherever Brother Lion was at the moment, he wasn’t far. A shiver rippled across his skin. Without thought, he drew his bow and arrow. Keeping a low profile, he darted between the low-lying brush as the setting sun cast a red glow to the sky. He heard the lion scream from somewhere down in the ravine, and immediately his heart began to drum wildly in his chest. Could he actually be close enough now? Did he want to continue, knowing what it would mean for his life?

Another scream, only this one sounded female. It was hard to tell, but he raced toward the sound, stopping himself at the edge of the cliff. At first he saw nothing, but little hairs stood on his arms and the back of his neck. He knew she would be down there. Then something shiny caught his attention, and his eyes widened in wonder. He had found her. Her body was sprawled across a boulder, with long, golden hair that shimmered in the sun, beckoning to him.

I would have liked to know what she was wearing. It would give a stronger visual.

He swallowed hard and blinked several times, doubting his eyes. Was this also not spoken of? Red Dawn had described this very image to him. Now here he stood, looking down in disbelief. Was this woman really the one to fill his empty heart? He felt nothing, nothing but a warrior’s instinct to save and protect.

A low throated growl from Brother Lion incited Grey Fox to lift his bow. Summoning all the skills from the hunters of his ancestors, he stretched the arrow tight across the sinew, his muscles begging for release as he rested the arrow between the crook of his thumb and forefinger. He could aim for the woman and put her out of her suffering, or he could aim for the lion and seal the fate of him and this woman forever. Then, without warning, the woman sat up, waved a long stick in the air as she screamed and threatened the lion. The cat growled his final warning as he lowered his ears. She threw the stick toward the beast, then fell back again.

Stunned at this woman’s courage and desire to live, he narrowed his eyes firmly on the cat as it lifted from its crouched position then bolted toward her. Grey Fox let his arrow fly. The razor sharp tip penetrated the animal, piercing right through the heart, but not before the cat managed to dig his claws deep into the woman’s thigh. A blood-curdling scream ripped the air from both the woman and the cat, slicing through in unison and sending a violent tremor down Grey Fox’s spine as he slid his way down the sandy embankment.

Cautiously, he approached the dream like scene described to him many times. He could see no movements, nothing to indicate life. Their blood intertwined as rivulets met and flowed down the side of the rock, where it formed a pool in the sand. Were they both dead? With great force, he shoved the beast off the tiny figure underneath. He gently nudged her, but the woman did not respond, appearing as to him as if she was already in the nether world.

The gash left by the lion still bled, so he hurriedly removed his headband and wrapped it around her thigh to stop the flow. There were so many bites, bruises and wounds that his stomach clenched and his mouth grew dry. Slowly, he reached down to touch her face, fearing the coldness of death. Instead, intense heat warmed his hand and the fluttering of long, dark lashes caught his attention. She was alive, but barely. Looking her over, he realized some of her wounds appeared old. Had she been injured for many suns? Was he somehow too late?

Grey Fox looked toward the south. The clouds on the horizon there, built an angry black canopy. A flash of lightning followed  several seconds later by a low snap of thunder indicated that the storm still sat far off, but Grey Fox knew that in a short order, the small, meandering dry wash he needed for washing this woman’s injuries would soon become a tumbling torrent. He needed to hurry and get this woman to the water before it became too dangerous. He needed to soak her body and cleanse her wounds, hopefully, this would bring down the fire that raged inside her.

He lifted her lifeless form and held her close. Her head lulled toward his chest and rested there. She weighed nothing as he carried her. The heat of her face against his skin, the slack in her arms as they draped down toward the earth, reminded him that this would only be the beginning of her need for him. He had chosen this. Even if he did not wish for it.

Carefully, the warrior sat cross-legged in the shallow pool of cool water. The woman in his lap opened her eyes briefly, then let out a soft whimper.

What does this mean?

He knew that the spirit was not held within the strange grass colored depths that looked back at him. He marveled at the oddness of the color; they looked just like Brother Lion’s eyes. No wonder the lion had claimed her as his own. Perhaps she was one of them? Perhaps she was a lion that had taken the form of a golden woman? This, he thought reluctantly, was also spoken of by Red Dawn. Fear rippled through him. He would never doubt the power of the old woman’s vision again. The weight of responsibility flooded the warrior. The fragile, pale creature in his arms was close to death and it was his duty to save her, protect her and someday love her. None of which seemed possible at all.

Grinding his teeth as his focus remained on her face, he sat and cradled her, watching as the current washed away the dirt and debris from her wounds. Satisfied, he folded the woman into his arms as he stood. His eye scanned the sides of the cliff, hoping for refuge. He was shivering himself, and he knew that the storm would be raging soon. Then, as if Mother Earth gave them both a gift, the warrior spotted a cave just a little ways up a rocky slope. He carried the woman there to keep them both dry and out of harm’s way until morning.

***

Sarah was aware of nothing but a warm, soft comfort as she sighed in relief for the first time in days. She thought for a moment she was lying on a rug in front of the fireplace in her home. She stretched her body, and that’s when she felt the sudden stabbing pain in her side. Her leg was also on fire where the cat had clawed her, spinning an assault on her senses that tugged her back into her darkness and back to Cashion Ranch.

Her mama was watching her saddle the big palomino, Sable.

“Don’t go far. Word from the boys at the Fort is those savages are all restless again. There’s trouble brewing over another broken treaty.” Sarah tilted her head back and let out a ragged breath. Eighteen years she’d been holed up on this ranch. Eighteen years she got the same speech from her mother about traveling past Cashion’s boundaries.

“You don’t have to warn me every time, Mother, I already know,” Sarah said tightly. Deidre gave her daughter a pinched look.

“I know you do, but please don’t be late for supper,” Deidre told her before she disappeared inside the house.

Mmm, supper!
The woman lying on the hard-packed clay floor of the cave groaned from hunger.

***

Grey Fox was asleep next to her when her cries awoke him with a start. She clenched her sides and sweated badly. Alarmed, Grey Fox reached out to touch her and found that she was even hotter than before. Without hesitating, he gathered her up in his arms and raced out of the cave. He knew he did not have much time left to get her to Crazy Goose, the village shaman.

Through the filtering light of the morning, Grey Fox

This seems redundant. Perhaps just 'Grey Fox moved/made his way swiftly along the ridge that led to his valley'

hurried with swiftness as he made his way along the ridge that led to his valley. Half the day had now passed and in that time, the golden woman still had not opened her eyes even once. He would stop often to try and coax her to drink, but was only able to get her to swallow a few drops at a time. His concern growing for her strength, he spotted a clearing in the brush that held a bed of soft sand. This he knew, is where the wild horses would roll. He laid her there and stood over her, unsure now of what to do. He decided to kneel down next to her and gingerly rub his hands over her body. He was no shaman, but Grey Fox silently repeated a few familiar words, asking for help. He did not want to see this woman take her spirit walk this day. It would mean that he failed in the one vision Red Dawn had for his life.

There was nothing beneath his hands but skin and bones
. He allowed his touch to travel from her delicate ankles up her legs and around her bony hip. He increased the vigor of the massage until she finally responded with a heavy moan and a pinching of her expression. At least now, maybe he could get nourishment in her body. When she started to move on her own, he stopped. He dug in his bag for food that he could make into a paste. Grey Fox soon soaked a strip of dried deer meat into some water and ground it with a stone until it became soft enough to feed to the yellow woman. He covered his finger in the mash and attempted to get her to suck the food off his finger. He knew no other way. 

***

Sarah thought she was at the dinner table. One of the ranch hands must have butchered a deer. The flavorful, salty meat melted like warm butter on her tongue. But the fork and the dinner table somehow vanished and shifted into something she couldn’t quite grasp. Soon, she became aware that she was actually being fed like a baby bird. She smiled then, trying to understand why her mother thought to do something so funny. Sarah licked her lips at the flavor of the smoky meat. Then, a soft moan escaped her lips as she felt the food suddenly being pulled away from her mouth.

***

The war chief jerked his hand away in response to the woman’s moans. The sound of her pleasure, her sucking on his finger created a sudden and shocking yearning in his loins. He was not prepared for the rush of desire she had sparked within him. He also didn’t like the fact that when she smiled, her face changed. Maybe to a white man, this woman would be considered beautiful, but how could anything so fragile and weak and pale be beautiful? Grey Fox looked at her with heavy uncertainty. This was the woman of the prophecy, the one he was to mate with, the woman with which he was to father many babies? There would be no way this petite body could birth the sturdy frame of a Comanche son.  There would be no way for him to ever see her than anything as beautiful as a woman of his people.

***

Sarah began licking her lips. She didn’t know where the food had gone but she wanted more. When she opened her eyes just enough, sunlight entered and awakened her thoughts to dance in and out of reality. She briefly became aware of fragrant rain-infused air and the gentle breeze that brushed her skin. For a moment she hazily believed she was attending a picnic. She tried sitting up, but it hurt so much she gasped. However, the pain alerted her that she was not at a picnic; instead, she sat atop a bed of sand. Once again, the fog overtook her as she lay back down into its softness.

The spinning had stopped.  Sarah blinked her eyes several times as she gazed up to the sky. All she wanted was to simply sit up so she could figure out just where on the ranch the cowboys had decided was a good spot to watch the buffalo. Gerald had told her there were buffalo crossing the valley. But there were no buffalo; she was still delirious. Why couldn’t she make sense of anything? One thing became a solid thought: she was horribly lost. More pain pierced her sides, and her hands immediately flew to her ribs. The intense stabbing there matched the pounding of her temples and the pulsating of her thigh. She reached down her leg until her fingers felt the tight wrap around the wound. Her vision remained foggy as the Earth swayed beneath her. The churning of her stomach incited a groan as she looked to see the man who rescued her.