Samara looked frantically around, almost jumping out of her boots when a squirrel darted across the ground in the distance. Orlando led his massive horse over to her, using smooth slow motions like she’d seen the wranglers at the ranch use on the feisty horses. Samara inwardly smirked at the realization she probably resembled those skittish animals perfectly.
“We’ll have to ride double. Do you mind if I tie your case to the back?” Orlando’s question pulled her attention to the horse that towered above her.
“Sure, no problem.” Samara swallowed the lump of nerves stuck in her throat as she took her dulcimer off and handed it to him. She may have spent the summer working at a dude ranch, but she’d made extreme effort to not find herself on top of the terrifying beasts so many spent thousands on to ride. It might mark her as a coward, but she preferred her own legs, or better yet, her trusty Fiat for transportation.
“I’ll boost you up, then mount up behind you.” Orlando’s deep voice rumbled through her as he stepped up beside her.
She knew she should’ve felt uncomfortable with his nearness. Either the fright of mounting a horse was throwing her off, or her normal hesitant nature around people had been fried. She was blaming it on the horse, she thought as she stepped up to it and grabbed the saddle.
Orlando lifted her into the saddle as if she didn’t weigh a thing. Samara fumbled while finding her balance, almost falling off the other side. He mounted quickly behind her, leaning into her as he adjusted the reins.
Samara noticed he smelled amazing, like the pines and wild grass that grew in the area. Why would she be noticing something as ridiculous as the way he smelled, at a time like this? She strengthened her resolve to get with it and find that mantle of strength forced upon her at a young age.
She took a deep breath and turned to look the man in the eye. “I’m Samara McKenna. Thank you, Orlando, for finding me.”
Then he ruined the moment. “I’m just grateful God sent me to you.”
Samara tried not to roll her eyes, she really did. And she really couldn’t help it if she might have muttered under her breath. But God had never done her any favors. If anything, He purposefully went out of His way to cause her grief. She didn’t want Orlando to think her crazy and leave her stranded though, so she followed her eye roll with a beaming smile, hoping he wouldn’t see her disbelief.
Samara proved unlike any damsel in distress Orlando had ever heard of. First, she’d curled her fists like she was fixing to throw him a punch. Then she rolled her eyes, with a muttered, “Whatever,” when he thanked God. He didn’t know what to make of her.
Orlando figured he was still a bit in shock that God had brought another person back in time. He had struggled to reconcile it when it first happened with his brother-in-law, Hunter. It had taken seeing Hunter’s pack, clothes, and technology, which they’d buried by the cabin, to accept that Hunter had traveled through time. Orlando thanked God for it, because without Hunter, Orlando would’ve lost his sisters to that weasel Linc Sweeney.
Orlando couldn’t fathom what God was doing this time though, sending a woman. Not just any woman either, but one who was so small she weighed about as much as a bag of flour and who had an obvious issue with God. Why send her back now when Viola and Hunter had traveled to Denver, and Beatrice was visiting the new neighbors that moved in on the other side of the mountain? Both were days away and had no plans of returning anytime soon. Both would’ve been obvious ones to help Samara adjust to this time.
God said one knew not His ways, and Orlando figured wondering about what God was thinking wouldn’t get them anywhere. God had sent Samara here and arranged for Orlando to find her. Whatever else God had in store, He would reveal in His time.
Orlando pulled her close as he clicked Loco forward. He needed to get her safe before the pack howling away got close. Now wasn’t the time for woolgathering.
A wolf howl sounded much closer than before. He pushed Loco into a fast walk as they maneuvered through the slick ground that lined the winding creek. He knew eventually they’d find a path to take out of the gully, but the hillside was too steep to climb. Another howl echoed even closer.
“Are they going to find us?” Samara whispered.
“I sure hope not.” Orlando threw the loop off his holster.
“That’s not very encouraging,” Samara said. “A knight in shining armor is supposed to have courage and faith at all times.”
Orlando laughed. “I’m no knight in shining armor, but I promise you, princess, I’ll protect you. With everything I have, even to death, I’ll protect you.”
Samara leaned to the side and glanced up at him. Tears shimmered in her eyes and a look of question sat there. She nodded and settled closer into him.
“I believe you,” she whispered, sending a spark of life so strong through his body, he swore he’d give everything to live up to his promise.
The frantic yipping of a pack on the hunt raised all the hair on Orlando’s neck. The harrowing sound echoed through the little creek valley. Samara shivered in front of him. Orlando pushed Loco faster.
Up ahead, the hillside eased into a gentle slope past a group of rocks that jutted next to the creek like a canyon. If he could just get them to the top of the mountain, the brush would clear. They could then outrun the pack without a problem.
They entered the rock formation. Orlando’s eyes scanned the slope ahead for the best route when a dark gray object sprang at them from the rocks. Zeus met the wolf midair in a snarling mass before Orlando had his gun out of the holster. Samara screamed. Orlando turned and shot another wolf as it sprang from the rocks on the other side. A third wolf jumped from the formation, meeting its death with a shot.
“See if you can grab my other revolver and have it ready for me,” Orlando yelled at Samara as he tugged on Loco’s reins to keep him from bolting and throwing both Orlando and Samara off.
Samara nodded and reached behind her, her hand patting up and down his leg. After she found the gun, she held it on his right leg where it would be easy for him to grab. The amazing woman then pulled the rifle out of its scabbard, laid it across her lap, and leaned over Loco’s neck, clearing Orlando’s field of vision.
A low snarl was the only warning he had from behind as he turned and fired. Another wolf landed dead in the creek. The rest of the pack showed themselves on the rocks ahead, growling and baring their hideous teeth. He aimed and shot with little thought, taking out the two closest in a flash. Samara whimpered where she hid her head in Loco’s mane, her fingers white where they twisted into the hair.
The remaining wolves rushed them as one. Orlando tucked the spent gun in his holster and grabbed the one from Samara she still held on his leg. He shot as the wolves configured, both actions happening faster than he could process. When his second revolver clicked empty, a sharp force penetrated his arm. He shouted as the wolf attempted to pull him from the saddle. He reached his hand for his knife in its sheath, but before he could grab it, his rifle belched a bullet into the wolf’s chest.
The two remaining wolves yipped away in fear as Orlando grabbed the gun from Samara’s shaking hands. He placed it in the scabbard and holstered his second revolver. Samara turned around in the saddle and threw herself against him, almost knocking him backward off the horse.
She sobbed into his chest. “Is it over?”
“I suppose so.”
He wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on the top of hers. His heart beat like a stampede of wild mustangs, and he breathed deeply to try to not faint. That wouldn’t fit the knight status he’d just vanquished the enemy for. He should reload and be prepared in case the remaining wolves came back, but Samara’s body, wrapped tightly around him, settled his nerves and yet set him on fire at the same time.
Samara pulled back much too soon to Orlando’s way of thinking and looked at him with eyes as warm as butterscotch. He’d never seen eyes the reddish-brown color that matched her deep auburn hair. They reminded him of the red-st
oned valley of the Yampah hot springs south of there. Earthy and intriguing. Begging for exploration.
“Oh my gosh, that was beyond nuts.” Samara’s unfamiliar words rushed him to the present, where women tumbled back in time and wolves prowled.
He ran his hand over her cheek, pushing her hair from her face. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I can’t believe that happened.” Samara nodded. “How in the world did you shoot those wolves so quickly? It was like a machine gun firing next to my ear.”
“If you can’t handle yourself out here, the wilderness will eat you whole. Thank you for taking care of that last one. With the way he had me, I was worried I’d get pulled off and leave you defenseless.”
A whine from behind pulled his attention around. Zeus limped away from a wolf that lay dead behind him. His beautiful white fur was caked with blood.
“We need to get going and find a place I can treat him.” Orlando dismounted while still holding her.
He set her feet on the ground, and when she swayed, he wrapped her hand onto the saddle. After making sure she wouldn’t topple over, he marched to Zeus who had lain down next to the creek. He whined as Orlando approached and panted quicker than normal.
“Thank you, my friend.” Orlando knelt next to Zeus.
He examined the many bites and scratches that riddled the dog’s body. While none of them were deep and needed stitches, his leg would need to be wrapped. Orlando brushed his hand through Zeus’s fur before picking up the heavy dog.
“Is he okay?” Samara asked, concern etched across her face.
“He’ll be fine after some rest and relaxation,” Orlando answered as he headed for Loco. “It’ll be a tight ride, though, since his leg won’t take any weight right now.”
He adjusted the dog in his arms and looked at his horse. He knew it was too much to ask of Samara in her frightened state, but she was here now. Women of the wilderness had to be tough.
“I will need to hold Zeus in front of me. If I mount up, can you mount behind me and hold on? It won’t be far. I remember a cave up ahead where we can rest and take care of his injuries,” he asked, hating himself for it.
Samara looked so small and weak where she stood leaning against Loco’s neck. She took a deep breath and ran her fingers through Zeus’s blood-matted hair. She leaned forward and kissed the dog on the head.
“Thank you, sweet thing, for protecting us,” she whispered into his neck, eliciting a happy whine and licking from Zeus, his tail thumping against Orlando’s side. Samara stood straight and peered determinedly into Orlando’s eyes. “I’ll do whatever you need me to, Orlando. It’s the least I can do.”
Orlando nodded, reached for the saddle horn, and grunted with the effort of mounting while holding the hundred pound dog in his arms. After catching his breath and making sure Zeus wouldn’t tumble off, he extended his hand down to help Samara up. She gasped, touching beside the gash where the wolf had clamped its jaws.
“You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing compared to Zeus. We can’t make it all the way in tonight. We’ll need to find a place to bunker down. Come on, I need to get camp set up and tend to Zeus before night falls.” He pulled her slight weight behind him.
Samara wrapped her arms tightly around him, bunching the front of his shirt in her hands. She laid her cheek on his back and sighed. He urged Loco on with his knees, placing his left hand, which held the reins, on top of Zeus to steady him. He then wrapped his right arm behind and around Samara to hold her to him. While he still didn’t understand God’s crazy thoughts in sending someone so delicate back here, he rejoiced that God commissioned him to find her.
Orlando found the cave he searched for, and after setting Zeus against the entrance, he checked to make sure no animal resided in it. When he found it void of anything that might eat them, he brought Zeus in, Samara following close and sitting next to Zeus. The sunlight penetrated the darkness just enough for him to see their outlines. He watched as Samara threaded her fingers through Zeus’s fur.
“I need to run and grab some wood and get a fire going. Then I’ll get him cleaned up.” Orlando kneeled down next to her.
“Okay. Are you sure nothing can get us here? No bears will slink out of the back of the cave while you’re gone?”
“Bears don’t slink. They lumber, but no, the cave is small with nothing in it but us,” Orlando answered.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Keeping Zeus calm like you are is helping.”
“And Harry won’t find us?” Samara’s voice wobbled.
“Harry won’t find you ever again, that I’m sure of,” Orlando said with confidence, especially with Harry being over a hundred years in the future, but no need to weigh her down with that news just yet. “I’ll just be a minute.”
“Then you’ll take me to town?”
Orlando’s heart clenched. He didn’t think she was ready to hear the truth. Shoot, he wasn’t ready to explain it all, not knowing exactly how to tell her. “We’ll leave tomorrow. First light.”
Orlando rushed from the cave before she could ask any more questions, but not before he saw her eyes narrow and her lips tighten. He wouldn’t be able to put her off for long. He searched the area for fallen twigs and branches. After tying Loco to a tree just outside the entrance, he grabbed his canteen and saddlebags and hauled his bundle of twigs inside. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was surprised that she had moved herself and Zeus closer to the entrance and eyed him in suspicion. Maybe she felt more comfortable closer to the entrance. He would if he was in her situation. He scanned the rest of the cave while he built the fire. It was a small but clean space, with a high ceiling that contained a fissure of some kind since the smoke drew out of the cave from above. He praised the Lord in that provision since he wouldn’t have to worry about the smoke.
Orlando studied Samara where she sat with Zeus’s head in her lap, running her fingers through his fur and watching Orlando. She watched him with eagle eyes the entire time he worked. Like she didn’t know if he meant to help her, or if she’d have to fight for her life again. He noticed, with the rhythmic way her fingers went through the fur, that it seemed to calm her more than the dog. Wariness like that didn’t come from one experience, but from a lifetime of experiences, making Orlando wonder what had happened to her to cause such caution.
After putting water in the small pot he always carried and placing it on the fire to boil, he approached the two and knelt beside her. Her expression held a strength and suspicion that warred against each other. Or perhaps they’d existed so long together they’d become forged upon her face.
“I’d like to take care of your wound first, if that’s okay with you.”
Samara glanced at Zeus with concern.
He hurried on. “Don’t worry, it won’t take long, then I’ll take care of this lug.”
“Alright.” At Samara’s quick assent, relief rushed through Orlando’s body.
Orlando inched closer and examined the wound that had stopped bleeding. Her dress clung to the cut where the blood had dried. He cringed, wondering if he could prevent her from experiencing the pain of peeling the cloth away. The wound, so similar to the ones he’d found on his father’s body, brought back the agonizing pain Orlando had felt then. A pain he seemed unable to heal himself of, though in truth he figured it was his due. A lingering parasite from his ineptitude that would probably slowly destroy his body and soul. If only he’d searched for his father earlier.
That line of thought wouldn’t help him now, and his focus needed to remain on the patient before him. She would survive, her only wound not life threatening. He didn’t need to allow the past to push him off course. He had wounds to clean to prevent infection from setting in. Hers, at least, would need stitches, a painful but necessary procedure to keep the deeper, more insidious cut from festering. But first, he needed to get her clean and remove the fabric from the cut.
Orlando ripped a sectio
n of cloth he kept in his bags for bandages and dipped it into the warming water. He knelt next to her and began wiping the blood from the skin, his fingers trembling slightly. He knew he was putting off the inevitable, but he rationalized he could better distinguish the wound if he cleaned the rest of her exposed skin. She remained quiet, her eyes squeezed shut and her breathing quick. Her fingers continued to weave through Zeus’s fur where he slept beside her.
“I’m really sorry, Samara. I know this makes you uncomfortable.”
She opened her eyes, taking a deep breath and steeling her shoulders. “No, it’s alright. I’m okay.”
After re-wetting the rag, he looked into her eyes and warned her, “I need to clean your wound now. It will hurt because your dress’s fabric has dried slightly into it. I have nothing for the pain but a small flask of whiskey and some willow bark tea. I want to save the tea for tonight to help you sleep. Would you like some whiskey?”
“What, no ibuprofen in your bag of tricks?” Samara joked, making Orlando wonder about what the medicine did as he shook his head in answer. “No whiskey for me. I had a foster dad who liked to pick on his wards when he got drunk, particularly the girls. Kind of put me off drinking.”
The off-handed way she discussed her father’s treatment made Orlando’s muscles bunch. Had he beaten her? Or worse, had he violated her? He knew it happened, but never imagined how a father could ever hurt their child.
He started working on cleaning the wound. “So your father is a drunk?”
She scoffed in contempt. “No, my father got himself killed in the Philippines by some extremists when I was ten. I spent the rest of my childhood jumping from foster home to foster home, evading foster dads intent on taking advantage of poor, defenseless girls, until I ran away and lived on my own. But that’s not something I want to talk about right now.”
Orlando stared at her in shock. What had she gone through in her own time to make her so nonchalant about her suffering and hardships? He shook his head and focused on tending her wound. Maybe that’s why God brought her here, to give her a chance for a life not filled with other people’s animosity. Though the wilderness could tear a man apart, the people, aside from the few bad ones, treated each other with respect or indifference.
Vestige of Legacy Page 2
