She closed her eyes and began to pray, but soon realized he had only moved her to another place where the grass was a little higher, as well as being quite lush.
He spoke to her, his voice unusually calm, as though he might not mean her harm. She gazed up at him, and, for the first time, she really looked at him. His face was strangely handsome for a man strong enough to pull her from one horse to another. Moreover, from within his eyes, she glimpsed a spark of…was it kindness emanating there?
Taking a chance he meant her no injury, she gathered her wits together and said in a curiously high voice, "I don't understand you."
His reply was in a language she had no way of understanding and she did little more than stare at him. She watched him as he sighed, even when he looked as though he were frowning. But oddly, she knew he wasn't frowning at her.
Then, as though exasperated, he resorted to an exaggerated kind of sign language. Now, because she'd been learning this dialect of gestures, she came to understand he was asking if she would allow him to check over her body for injuries.
She nodded before fright, once again, took over her wits. Why had she so readily agreed? Was this it, then? Was he perhaps going to do more than check her over for any injuries?
Though she knew she had given him permission to look upon her body to see if she were injured, she almost fainted when he raised her dress a little and ran his hands over her calf muscles and feet. And, she was more than a little alarmed at the idea that he might try touching her elsewhere. But then, unexpectedly, he sat back on his heels.
He then gazed at her for many minutes before, again using amplified hand movements, he asked if she hurt anywhere he had touched.
She understood what he'd asked and shook her head.
Then followed the strangest communication she could ever remember engaging in with another living being. He touched his chest before asking—again with exaggerated motions—if she hurt there on her own chest.
She shook her head.
Next, he touched his back, his legs and arms, even his head, asking her again if she were hurt there.
Again, she shook her head.
When he came up to his feet before her and indicated she should do the same, she realized she was at a disadvantage. At this moment in time, it was beyond her to be able to stand up. Indeed, how could she stand when her legs, her chest, and even her arms trembled.
When at last it seemed he realized she couldn't arise on her own, he offered her his hand to help her up, although it seemed to her that his offer was reluctantly given.
She didn't take his hand. She couldn't. Instead, she looked away from him.
He bent down toward her then and, reaching out to her, took her in his arms. But, with no forewarning, his hand brushed against one of her breasts.
She caught her breath. Was this it, then? Did he mean to ravish her?
But, he immediately pulled his hand back as he stood up to his feet, though he kept hold of her. When he didn't make any further advances toward her, but instead trod toward the place where his pony was standing beneath a lone tree, she began to breathe again.
Setting her down, he once more used exaggerated hand motions to communicate, and it appeared to her as if he were apologizing to her. But, she didn't answer, because, at this present moment, she realized his power over her was all consuming and she didn't wish to do anything to encourage him.
He made the motions for her to stand up, but when she couldn't do it, he squatted down directly in front of her, forcing her to look back at him. She frowned.
Here was an observation she was reluctant to acknowledge: this man was good-looking. He was also quite masculine and manly in a way she couldn't recall ever beholding in another man. He was young, pleasantly dressed in all his Indian garb, and, at this moment, he seemed to be concerned about her.
As he sat there before her, looking at her and she gazing back at him, she again saw a glimmer of kindness in his eyes. Perhaps it was this which caused her to grasp, at last, what this man had done for her: literally, he had saved her life.
Instead of being calmed by the knowledge, however, she was at once overwhelmed by it. Indeed, she felt as if her eyes might have gone wide as she gazed back at him. But, at last, she realized she should say something to him, and, with her voice unusually high, she said, "You saved my life. If you are asking me if I am injured, I will tell you that I think I am unharmed. I am simply weak, but I think it will pass. Give me a moment, please. I should be all right presently."
He shook his head, indicating he could not understand her words. Should she try to communicate with him utilizing the little bit of sign language she knew?
No. She didn't have a good grasp of it yet, and she was certain it would embarrass both her and him if she tried to "speak" to him with it. And so she said, "Perhaps, sir, you might take me back to my fiancé, for I am certain he is concerned about me."
But, like her, he didn't understand her words, and he merely shrugged. He stood up, then, and she saw him glance at his pony. And then, without a single word to her, he dropped suddenly to the ground and lay flat upon it, his abdomen over the ground. What was he doing?
She watched, stunned, as he belly crawled to the edge of the small hill. Once there, he appeared to study the land below. What he saw there, she didn't know, but he soon turned over onto his back and looked up at the sky.
After a few moments, he sat up and spoke to her, asking her a question she had no way of answering. Blankly, she stared back at him and watched as he stood to his feet and stepped toward her. Sitting directly in front of her in a cross-legged position, he stared at her, although there was not any anger in his look. But, he didn't smile, either, nor did he say a word. Instead, he extended his hand toward her and, with gestures, invited her to put her hand in his.
She hesitated, but after he kept encouraging her, she at last put her hand in his. He then pointed to his own hand and said, "Isché."
