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She looked to both sides of her as she rode onward, the white steed like a ghost in the night. And then she saw something that made her slow the horse to a trot as she rode toward what appeared to be an abandoned shack.
It was all but falling down, precariously leaning to one side, where several boards had rotted away, leaving sharp edges protruding from the ground. There was no smoke at the chimney, or lamplight at the windows.
As she rode up to it, she drew rein and gazed questioning at the front door, which stood agape. She knew that no one lived there except for perhaps some wild animal. She shivered at the thought that some creature might be sleeping inside.
But at least it would be a roof over her head for the night. When dawn broke, she would travel on.
With luck, she would find Thunder Horse’s home.
But even if she did, would he welcome her, or turn her away?
Chapter Thirteen
The sun pouring through cobwebs at the two windows of the shack and the pain in her hands awakened Jessie.
She ached from having slept on the cold floor. Her flesh was cold and clammy beneath her clothes.
She was thankful that she had had the horse’s blanket to wrap up in during the night. But the horse and the blanket were all that she had taken from her cousin’s ranch.
Other than that, she was a woman without any possessions or means to fend for herself. She didn’t even have a weapon.
She was so hungry her stomach ached unmercifully, but she had nothing to eat. Jessie pushed herself slowly up from the floor and folded the blanket as she looked around her.
Someone had lived in the shack, but surely a long time ago. There were cobwebs on everything, even the cooking utensils that sat on shelves over a table.
A wood-burning stove stood at one end of the room, but there was no wood, or she could have had at least some heat during the night.
She saw empty tin cans where food had once been.
She saw a dead rat, twisted and mangled in a thick cobweb at one corner of the room. She felt nauseous at the sight.
She rushed outside to where she had left the beautiful stallion secured beneath a tree. At least it could eat the thick oat grass, by its feet.
“Seems you’re much luckier than I,” Jessie said, slinging the blanket over the horse and then adding the saddle.
The steed gazed at Jessie with large brown eyes, then resumed munching grass.
Jessie took the time to run her fingers through her long, thick, auburn hair to get the witch’s tangles out of it, then untied the reins that she had secured to a low tree limb.
She swung herself into the saddle and was on her way again. She still had no idea where to find Thunder Horse, but hoped she was heading in the right direction. She soon passed the sacred rock and continued onward.
As she rode, her hunger pangs became even more distracting than the pain in her fingers. Once again she b
egan to wonder what she would do if she didn’t find Thunder Horse.
Then her heart skipped a beat when she spotted smoke spiraling up from above the treetops. She smelled the very identifiable scent of food cooking!
Had she found the village, or some white person’s ranch?
She reined the horse to a trot and rode slowly toward the smoke. As she passed through a thick stand of aspen trees, the smell of food was almost an assault on her senses, she was so painfully hungry.
Suddenly she saw something that made her heart sing. Ahead were many tepees; the smoke she had spotted was coming from the smoke holes of the Indian lodges.
She also saw several women and men coming and going, and a circle of children playing what appeared to be a game of tag. Their laughter came to her like a joyous song, for children always gave her a sense of peace.
Tears came to her eyes. She had found a safe haven from her tyrant of a cousin.
But the next moment she gasped as several warriors on horseback appeared on all sides of her. They had come so stealthily and quietly, she had not heard them until they were there, their arrows notched on their bowstrings, their eyes showing mistrust.
