Looking at the buckskin ropes and then glancing at the parfleche bags, she came to see that one attached the ropes to each bag through a hole in the center of the envelope. Taking up the ropes one by one, she passed each through the hole so every envelope had a rope attached to it.
But, now what should she do? How did one tie this onto the horse? And, how did one then ensure the bags were distributed evenly enough so as to hang down on each side of the horse where they must not move?
With a great deal of effort and scooting under the animal's belly from one side to the other, she at last accomplished tying two of the parfleche bags onto the horse. But, there were five of these bags still needing to be attached in some way, and one of the parfleches was round. Sighing, she realized she was a little stumped as to where each one of these bags should be positioned on the pony.
While some of these parfleches were used to carry food, there were others used to hold clothing and other items like knives, wooden bowls and the digging stick. Was there an order to them? The food bags in one place and the clothing parfleches in another?
In the end, she paid no attention to what was in the bags. Still, it took her what seemed to be several hours of hard work, passing the ropes under the belly of the horse. More times than not, all the bags fell in a rush to the ground, yet Sharon, who was becoming more and more frustrated, still refused to give in and ask for help. But, it did mean she had to begin all over again…and again.
Often her pony, Black Slippers, whinnied and looked back at her as if to say, "Even I could do better than this."
And, once, after all the bags and ropes had fallen again to the ground, Black Slippers looked over her shoulder and reached her nose back, grabbing away the parfleche Sharon was holding. Worse, her pony, while holding the bag in her teeth, refused to give it back even though Sharon begged her to let it go.
It was as though her own pony were intent on mocking her, or perhaps helping her.
However, after one trial and error after another, Sharon at last managed to tie all the parfleches onto her pony. But then, upon looking at her handiwork critically, she was not pleased with the haphazard look of the bags as they lay over the animal's back. Didn't Sharon remember these same parfleches more neatly tied to the animal and in good and pleasing order when she and Strikes Fast had unloaded them?
She sighed, frowning. Perhaps no one else would notice how cluttered the animal appeared to be except her. Maybe and hopefully Strikes Fast and Rising Bear would be a little tolerant of her handiwork, considering this was her first time doing the task.
"Ready…are you?" came Strikes Fast's baritone voice from directly in back of her.
Sharon was still frowning when she turned around to catch a frown upon Strikes Fast's countenance. But, she turned her own scowl into a smile, then said, "All ready."
He grinned back at her and said, "You and boy…ride… pack horse…sit on…bags. Ahead…I ride…to defend." Then, suddenly he laughed and signed, "Did you know your horse is carrying a bag in her teeth?"
"Yes," she replied, grimacing. "I've tried to take it from her, but she won't let me. I think she's trying to help me."
He chuckled a little, then said, "Good horse. Take seat…on horse…we go." And, turning away, he approached his own steed.
Rising Bear was awaiting Sharon on the right side of the pony, and he signed, "You mount horse first. You ride in front. I in back. I be rear guard."
Sharon nodded. "Yes, of course," she signed, and, jumping up onto the animal belly first, she got into position by swinging her left leg up and over the animal, straddling it. Then, she took her seat upon the parfleches.
It was perfect. The bags might not have presented an aesthetic appearance, as they were strewn every which way over the animal, yet the ropes held them fast.
And, then Rising Bear straddled the horse, coming to sit behind her.
Good. It was perfect. But, as soon as Rising Bear kicked the pony into moving forward, suddenly the ropes failed, the bags jittered awkwardly, and before the pony could take more than a few steps, all the parfleches slid off the pony's back.
Sharon saw Rising Bear jump safely to the ground, but she was caught off guard, and she screamed involuntarily. And, as the last of the bags slid to the ground, Sharon went also, grabbing hold of her horse's neck and holding on tightly, her backside becoming angled over the ground while she was caught between the ground and her cape, which was now wound around her neck.
It didn't exactly help her plight or her frame of mind when she heard Strikes Fast, as well as Rising Bear, laughing, even as Strikes Fast came running to her, first straightening her cape—which was practically choking her—and allowing her to then slip into his arms.
He was still laughing when he set her onto her feet. But, he didn't say a word as both he and Rising Bear redid the task of tying the bags back onto the pony, accomplishing the undertaking in minutes instead of hours.
When it was done, Strikes Fast picked her up and placed her onto a good and safer seat atop the bags, still without uttering a word nor signing anything at all. He was still laughing, however—as was Rising Bear—when he shook his head and trod back to his own stallion.
****
Sharon shivered. There was something ominous about the tall ponderosa pines growing up so closely together in this forest. Also, the height of the ponderosa and red cedar pines blocked out the sun, causing a darkness to pervade this part of the land that even the white snow couldn't brighten. Looking up, she could barely see the sky because of the overly tall trees. Even her pony appeared to be small in comparison to the soaring pines.
From her position upon her pony, she looked down but could see nothing, apart from the snow covering the ground, the only exception being in those few places directly under a tree. But, even there, she saw no traces of bushes or other ground cover, only pine needles.
Perhaps worse than the feeling of melancholy, however, was the lack of sound in this deep mountain wood. No bird sang here, no animal howled nor cried, causing an overpowering silence, as well as a pressing kind of despair, to pervade this place.
So menacing was the feel of this wood, Sharon felt gladdened when they pushed upward toward a bare strip of the mountain, and, once there, she rejoiced to feel the warmth of the sun upon her head. It was a small, but pleasant relief.
They came to rest their ponies then on an outcrop of solid rock jutting out from the mountain. Looking down, Sharon caught her breath. This she hadn't expected. The beauty spread out before her was astonishing. Here, she could look down upon the tops of the many hardwood trees.
