by Linda Benson
“But can I still ride her when she gets bigger?” said Ash, leaning across the horse’s back.
“Yes, you can,” said Sahara. “Just like I promised.”
“Hey, that’s a good name for her,” said Ash. “Promise.”
Sahara’s smile spread all across her face. “Promise.” The young horse let out a shrill whinny, and Sahara laughed out loud. “Promise,” she said again, testing it out. “Yes, that’s a perfect name.”
Chapter Forty-Four
TWO MORE WEEKS OF travel brought the Trader’s Clan near the end of their journey. The time flew by quickly, as Promise settled into the routine of traveling behind the dog carts, and being led to graze on fresh grass each day, without acting up. Dojo came by for supper with Laurel as usual, but the subject of the horse was not mentioned. Sahara kept close company with her animals, and did not bring it up.
The low range of hills they traversed as they drew close to the Gardener’s Camp appeared greener than Sahara remembered. A runner had been sent ahead, so their early return was not a surprise. The camp looked the same as before, when they crested the last hill and looked down across the verdant valley. Still, Sahara was shocked to see the hordes of people lining their path into camp. Would the goat herder Evan be among them? People of all ages clapped with delight at the heavily loaded carts of goods, and whooped their greetings as the dogs struggled through the crowd, eager to finish their long journey.
Sahara stayed near the back, worried that the noise and confusion might startle her horse. She led Promise with a good rope, holding tight to make sure the horse didn’t panic and bolt away with all the excitement. The young animal pranced easily next to her, ears flickering this way and that, taking everything in.
“Hey, she’s got a horse,” hollered someone.
“Who does?”
“The girl. The one who had the wild horse, the one that ran off.”
“A horse? Another one? Where?”
Soon they were surrounded, with strangers crowding close from every direction, trying to see — trying to touch the horse. Promise began to dance with uncertainty, anxious among so many people.
“Easy girl,” Sahara said. “You’ll be all right.” She looked around for help from Ash, or from Laurel, but saw no one she knew.
Suddenly a fluffy burst of black and white wiggled through the crowd, jumping up on Sahara with wet kisses. Moshe! How the pup had grown.
“Everybody back up a bit, give them some room,” said a familiar voice.
Through a gap in the throng of people, Sahara noticed Evan’s sandy-brown hair, and her heart double-skipped at the sight of him.
“You’re making the animal nervous,” he said, immediately taking stock of the situation. “You’ll be able to see the horse later.”
The crowd thinned and people moved on to admire the goods on the carts. Promise quieted at once, and Sahara breathed a sigh of relief.
“Where did you get this one?” said Evan. “She’s beautiful, and so tame. Where did you find her? Tell me everything.” Evan reached to touch the young horse, and with her delicate muzzle the horse smelled him all over, his head, his neck, his clothes.
“Look at her,” Sahara laughed. “She likes you. She was raised on goat’s milk.”
“Are you telling me I still smell like a goat?”
“No, I m-mean…”
But Evan was laughing, too, and in the easy warmth between them, Sahara’s words spilled out, all in a rush. “I found her right after she was born, with her mother, who was dying. There were wild dogs after them, and I had to get her to safety. She followed me all the way down from a stony ridge, right into camp. And Farina had plenty of milk, because she had kids with Rowdy, and also, we found the ruins of an ancient town, and oh, I have so much to tell you!”
“I see that. You certainly are no stranger to adventures. How does one girl manage to do all of that?”
Sahara blushed and shrugged her shoulders.
Nehalem walked toward them. “You might want to find a safe place to keep your horse, while we attend the group meeting and eat.”
“How do you think she’d do in the goat pens, for now?” asked Evan.
“She’s used to the goats,” said Sahara. “She’ll probably be fine. Let me find Ash. He can lead the goats, and I’ll bring the horse. Where did he go?” She looked around for her young helper but spotted him nowhere.
“I think he and Ulu are racing around the camp,” said Evan, “checking out what’s new.” He reached to untie Rowdy from the back of the cart. “I remember this one — the runaway.”
Sahara laughed. “Oh, he behaves better now. He has three females to keep him in line.”
“Come along then, goats,” said Evan, as he towed all four goats behind him. Sahara walked by his side, leading the young horse.
“Does she have a name?” asked Evan. “What do you call her?”
“Her name is Promise.”
“Like a promise of good things to come?”
“Maybe,” said Sahara. “I hope so.”
Evan opened a small pen and turned the four goats inside. Then he slid the boards away from an adjoining, stouter corral. “What do you think?” he asked. “She’ll be able to see the goats from here.”
“It should work,” said Sahara. “That way she won’t be lonely.” She led Promise through the opening and helped Evan secure the boards to close the gate, tossing an armful of grass inside. The young horse put her head down and ate greedily.
“I think she’s almost weaned,” said Sahara. “Especially now that there’s enough grass.”
Evan stood close as they leaned over the fence to admire the young horse. Sahara had not realized how much she missed the goat herder. He seemed to understand perfectly what she thought, and what needed to be done for the animals.
Suddenly, the horse’s head shot straight up. Realizing that she was finally free from the restraint of the rope, Promise began to trot, and then to race wildly around and around the boundaries of the small enclosure.
“Wow, look at her,” said Evan, watching the horse run. “She’s beautiful.”
“She ran away from us, a couple of weeks ago on the journey coming here,” said Sahara, her voice cracking. “A herd of wild horses raced by, and she broke away and followed them. I thought I had lost her, like the first horse.”
“How did you get her back?”
“I didn’t. She came back on her own. I followed her out onto the desert, for what seemed like hours. Finally, she came galloping back to me. Dojo said it was because she couldn’t keep up with the wild ones. But I think she remembered me, and decided she belongs with us. Don’t you think that if horses and people were together long ago, that horses might remember us, too?”
“Seems reasonable to me,” said Evan. “It’s amazing that she came back at all.”
After a few more laps to stretch her legs, Promise stopped galloping madly around the corral. Settling down, she lowered her head and ate again, not the least bit scared of her new surroundings.
“Even Nehalem admits she’s not wild anymore,” said Sahara.
“No, I certainly wouldn’t call her wild. Right now she seems tame as a dog.”
The dogs! Sahara hadn’t unhitched Banner and Blitz after their long trip. “Could you watch her for just a bit? I’ve got to tend to the dogs.”
Evan nodded, and Sahara raced back to the line of carts.
Laurel was taking the harness off Banner, and Dojo was unhooking Blitz. Sahara watched in amazement as the dog shook himself, then shoved his head under Dojo’s outstretched hand to be petted. Sahara blinked, not quite believing her eyes. Blitz seemed to have taken a shine to Dojo.
“Good boy,” Dojo was saying, but he stopped abruptly when Sahara came closer.
“Thank you for taking care of the dogs,” said Sahara, avoiding Dojo and speaking directly to Laurel. “I was busy tending to the goats and the horse.”
“It’s fine,” said Laurel. “The dogs worked
hard today. Dojo even has a treat for them. Some venison chunks.”
Dojo tossed a piece of meat to each of the hungry dogs, then dug in his pocket for another.
Confused, Sahara wanted to call the dogs to her. How could they possibly beg meat from Dojo? But Banner and Blitz had traveled a long way, so as she watched them dig into the venison, she kept her feelings to herself. But her stomach churned with mixed emotions. It was true they were her dogs, but they pulled the load for her family and were useful to everyone. When did they start liking Dojo?
A loud horn sounded in the middle of camp, signaling them to dinner. Ash and Ulu came running, sliding to a stop right in front of them.
“Sorry I didn’t help with the goats,” he said, out of breath. “But guess what? A Wanderer is here. He’s a Storyteller, too. He has traveled all over the desert, and has seen lots of things. We’re going to get a good spot, so we don’t miss anything. Hurry, Sahara!”
Chapter Forty-Five
A MAN IN A LONG robe sat at a table with Nehalem and the leader of the Gardener’s Camp. His garments frayed and worn, his beard ragged and unkempt, he did indeed look as if he’d traveled most of his life.
Ash and Ulu ran to a table with their friends, and Sahara looked around for a place to sit. Usually she sat next to Laurel, but where was she? With Dojo? Sahara tried to piece together her feelings about Dojo and the dogs. Did his behavior toward them mean he actually had a kind side to him, like Laurel had suggested? Sahara wrestled with the thought.
Scouting the tables, she noticed a frail, withered woman sitting alone near the back of the tent. She looked like Evan’s aunt, the old woman who had given Sahara the book on horse training. She wouldn’t be here, would she? She rarely ventured down from her home on the steep hillside, where she kept all the books.
There were so many people, Sahara stood uncertainly, not sure where she belonged in the crowd.
“Greetings,” spoke the leader of the Gardener’s Camp, his voice resonating through the large hall. “And welcome to the many travelers we have here tonight. There is much news to share. The Trader’s Clan, as you see, arrived early. Their leader, Nehalem, says they have uncovered the ruins of a large town, and this merits further study. They also brought a horse with them, one that seems quite tame.”
Mumblings raced through the crowd, and Sahara caught the surprised look on the face of the teacher, the one who had made her feel foolish last summer, when Sahara had suggested such a thing were possible.
The leader of Gardener’s Camp continued his announcements. “Some of our hunters have found the carcasses of several dead dogs lying to the south. So please be forewarned. Hopefully they are not carrying a disease, like the dog distemper, but please keep a vigilant watch on your dogs, as we do not wish any sickness to spread.”
Sahara shivered. Her clan had come from the East, and they had seen no such dogs. Only the wild pack that attacked Promise’s mother. But she would keep a close watch in the future.
“Ahem.” The leader cleared his throat, interrupting the chatter that had started with his announcement. “We have another special visitor here tonight,” he said, gesturing to the traveler in the long robe. “William the Storyteller. He has traveled extensively to lands far away, and brings us news of other clans and villages. It is good that we share information on our world, and what we have all seen. Obviously, there is much to learn from one another. But for now,” he said, spreading his arms wide, “let us eat.”
And with that, people began bringing in large dishes of food. Sahara noticed Laurel slide onto a long bench several tables away, and hurried to take a seat next to her. But before she could reach her, Dojo scooted in quite close to Laurel, who responded with a quick nuzzle to Dojo’s cheek. Sahara’s gut churned with a mixture of emotions — happiness for her sister and a lingering feeling of distrust for Dojo. Still, he had seemed to be nice to her dogs earlier. Feeling more alone than ever, she decided to find another seat. But where? It was strange not sitting with her sister.
Two girls behind her, who had made fun of her last summer after the first horse ran away, whispered together. “She was holding it,” said one. “I saw her.”
“Ask her.”
“No, you ask her.”
“How did you catch it?” one spoke up. “How did you manage to get the horse so tame?”
Sahara shrugged her shoulders and kept moving. She didn’t want to talk to these silly girls.
“Where is it now?” one continued. “After dinner, can we go see it?”
Someone shushed them as they began the words of thanks for food, and Sahara was relieved. She didn’t feel like sharing her horse just yet. Maybe Promise should get adjusted to the strange surroundings first. Where was Evan? Was he still watching the horse? Surely he would come to dinner also.
She looked around the vast covered area, but could not see Evan anywhere. Maybe she should skip dinner and make sure the horse was settled in the new corral. Finally, she spied Evan slipping in the back and taking a seat at the last table. The wrinkled woman flashed him a toothless grin as he scooted in next to her and began helping her with her food. It was Evan’s aunt. Did she still live by herself up on that stony ridge? Sahara longed to sit with them, and she had many questions to ask. Did the old woman have another book about horses? Would she allow Sahara to look through the books again?
But it was crowded toward the back of the room, and Sahara could not see a way through. A strange couple shifted over to make room for her, and she sat. Famished from the long days on the road, she was grateful for the food that arrived on large platters. Tired of eating venison and rabbit and bread, as they did when they traveled, the savory fare at the Gardener’s Camp was a welcome change.
When the food was cleared away, William the Storyteller stood and cleared his throat.
As if by magic, Ash and Ulu and many other young ones found a spot on the floor in front of the old man. Ash caught Sahara’s eye, and he grinned broadly at her, flashing white teeth.
“See,” he mouthed, “I told you.”
Everyone turned toward the speaker.
“I am an old man now,” said William, “but in my youth, when my legs worked better, I walked for days and days and days. Here and yonder I’ve been, far and away and back again.”
“Have you been to Nu-Town?” someone from Trader’s Clan called out.
William rubbed his beard. “No, I have not been there myself. But I have heard of this place — a settlement of many people. Far to the east and far to the north.”
“They have doctors there, we heard,” a woman said. “And many people live together in old buildings.”
“Yes, I have heard these things also. I would like to see it with my own eyes, before I become too old to travel so far.”
“But what have you seen?” asked a boy sitting in the front, eager for more.
William smiled broadly. “Oh, many, many things. I’ve seen the shores of a great, blue sea, with waves that crash again and again onto sands white as fresh powdered snow.”
“What is snow?” asked a small child, and a few older people chuckled.
“Ah,” said William. “You come from a dry climate, I see.” He wrinkled his brow, and began, “Snow comes down from the sky like raindrops, but slower. Not wet, but fluffy and soft. And it forms a white meadow as it falls all around you, where your footprints make a mark when you walk.”
Sahara smiled. She had heard of this thing called snow, but never seen it. The old traveler certainly knew how to captivate an audience. Still, Sahara was restless, feeling the need to check on her horse. Promise was probably doing fine in her new surroundings, but Sahara just wanted to see for herself.
During a brief lull in the stories, Sahara stood abruptly, attempting to slip unnoticed out the side entrance. But two women, in animated conversation, bent across the aisle, blocking her way. So Sahara minced forward, toward the front entrance, right past the table where Nehalem sat, talking to William. Somewhat shy in
the strange man’s presence, Sahara wiggled sideways, trying to exit with a minimum of disruption. As she slid between the tables, she felt someone’s hand grab at her neck.
Startled, Sahara’s first instinct was to struggle, but William’s gravelly voice stopped her.
“Wait girl,” he said, his gnarled hand grasping the silver medallion hanging at her throat. “Where did you get this?”
Chapter Forty-Six
SHOCKED AND EMBARRASSED IN front of the crowd, Sahara’s hand went protectively to the treasure she had worn for as long as she could remember. “It was given to me,” she said in a small voice.
William released his grip. “I believe you,” he said, with a gentler tone. “But who gave it to you?”
“It was m-my mother’s,” Sahara choked out.
“Sit,” said William, pointing to a space on a bench at the long table of leaders. “Nehalem tells me you have tamed a young horse.”
“Yes. And I was going to check on her. She might be frightened, penned up in a strange corral.”
“Ahh. Good. Can it wait just a bit longer?” The Wanderer cleared his throat, and took a sip of water. “I’ve another story I’d like to tell.”
Sahara sat down gingerly.
“I am an old man now,” said William. “But when I was young, I traveled far and wide.” His deep voice carried all across the hall, and as he warmed to another story, people turned again to listen. “Of course — ” William paused for effect “ — my legs worked better than they do now, and I could walk for days and days. Here, there, far and yonder, I’ve been.”
This sounded awfully familiar. Sahara squirmed on the bench.
William’s eyes bore into her, urging her to stay. “And far to the West,” he said, “across a vast, open plain, and at the edge of high, forbidding mountains, I visited a people that lived with horses.”
Horses? Sahara’s eyes opened wide with wonder, and her heart skipped a beat. The silence in the dining hall was palpable.
