The Long Trail Home (Quartz Creek Ranch)

by Amber J. Keyser

  How would Paul and the trainers know where to look?

  Like her fragmented knowledge of first aid, another scrap of information, learned maybe during the one and only year Rivka was a Girl Scout, rose from the depths of her brain. If you’re lost, stay put. They hadn’t stayed put. Probably they’d made their situation a whole lot worse.

  They were in trouble.

  Big trouble.

  Broken ribs.

  A lost horse.

  Two girls alone in the middle of nowhere.

  Rivka had no idea how they were going to get home.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The sky darkened.

  Wind whipped across the rock face where they huddled.

  Rivka squinted her eyes against the flying dust that needled her face.

  Cat leaned into Rivka. “What if they don’t find us?” she asked in a small voice.

  Rivka tucked her arm around Cat. “Paul won’t leave us out here.”

  “My mom probably wouldn’t even notice.”

  The words made Rivka’s chest tighten. It was Friday night. Back at home, the table was set. Her mother was lighting Shabbat candles. Her father was holding up the glass of grape juice. There was a warm loaf of braided challah bread.

  She wanted so badly to be at that table.

  Lightning crackled in the distance, and the air smelled like rain.

  “I’m so sorry I got us into this,” Cat blurted. “Lauren was driving me crazy with her perfect mom and her perfect dad and her perfect homeschool.” Cat looked like she was going to cry again. “And then she called me trouble. My stepdad says that.”

  “Ouch,” said Rivka.

  “I’ve heard it all. Cat the troublemaker. Cat the screwup.”

  “She didn’t mean that.”

  A muscle in Cat’s cheek twitched and she bit her lip. “She said it.”

  A tremendous crack of lightning split the sky and the thunder boomed right overhead, startling both girls and the pony. Rowdy stomped and huffed and pulled against his rope.

  “Thanks for coming after me,” said Cat.

  Rivka leaned close enough for a shoulder bump. “Buddy system. Ma Etty’s orders.”

  “I shouldn’t have taken off.”

  “Probably not.”

  The rain began. Fat droplets hit the ground. Rivka urged Rowdy to come closer so they could use his body as a windbreak.

  “Will you tell me what happened with the car?” Rivka asked.

  Cat sighed. “I overheard my mom and stepdad planning a vacation. They were gonna take my little brothers and my little sister—they’re his kids and I’m not—and leave me with the neighbor. I guess I wandered a little farther than usual.”

  Somehow it comforted Rivka to imagine Cat behind the wheel, music loud, the open road, her hair flying. “Did you get very far?”

  Cat shook her head. “Not far enough.”

  Another bolt of lightning sliced the dark clouds.

  An avalanche of thunder rumbled over them, bringing the heaviest rain Rivka had ever seen. The girls held Rowdy’s saddle blanket over their heads, but icy rivulets slid down their arms and necks and backs. Within seconds, they were soaked. A small river formed in the center of the trail, bulging and rushing. Rivka kept her eyes glued on the twisting water, hoping it wouldn’t get any bigger and obliterate dry land completely. She didn’t think they could climb up and out of the rocks, not with Cat’s injury, and Rowdy would never be able to do it. She considered untying him and letting him find his own way out, but thinking of being without his sturdy presence made her want to cry.

  Cat trembled next to her. “I’m scared. I’ve never been so scared in my entire life.”

  “I have,” said Rivka in a whisper.

  The girls clung to each other, and as the storm pummeled them, Rivka told Cat about her cousins and Passover and the synagogue and how a few lines of red paint can mean I hate you and I wish you were dead.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  After that, all they could do was wait.

  Wait for the storm to stop.

  Wait for the sun to dry them.

  Wait for someone to come.

  By the time it was over, the girls were cold and wet and exhausted. It seemed to them that the whole world—past, present, and future—was nothing but blasting wind and driving rain and angry gray.

  But eventually the clouds cleared and the air warmed. Judging from the angle of the sun and the rumbling of her stomach, Rivka guessed it was dinnertime. The girls took off their soaked shirts, wrung them out, and put them back on again.

  “Are there any more snacks in the saddlebags?” Cat asked. Rivka rummaged through them and came up with a bag of jerky, which they split. “What are we going to do?” Cat said, handing Rivka the last piece.

  “I don’t know,” she sighed, noticing how quickly the sun was dropping toward the horizon. Staying put was starting to seem like a terrible idea. Exhausted as she was, the thought of spending the night out here without a flashlight or sleeping bag made her skin crawl. “I think we should keep going. Try to find our way out of here.”

  “And end up where?”

  Rivka shrugged. After all the twists and turns of the trail through the rock maze, she wasn’t sure where they were. “If we can get out of these rocks and find the river, we can find our way back to camp.”

  Cat looked dubious.

  “Got a better idea?”

  “No,” Cat admitted.

  “You should ride,” Rivka told Cat, and she began saddling Rowdy. The pony poked her with his nose and snuffled.

  Rivka led Rowdy as he carried Cat.

  They walked until the dusk deepened, turning the sky the color of a bruise in the east and of smoke in the west.

  Right foot, left foot, right, left—Rivka watched the toes of her boots as she scuffed along. She was beyond tired, beyond hungry, and beyond scared. She moved in a numb sort of floating. The connection between her brain and her limbs had gone patchy. If she thought too hard about walking, her legs tangled. If she lost what little focus she clung to, she practically fell asleep on her feet.

  They reached a fork in the trail. Without pausing, Rivka led Rowdy toward the wider path. Without landmarks and without a map, it was the only choice that made sense. Several times they’d reached dead ends and had to backtrack. Those steps, the repeats, were the hardest.

  Two steps down the wider path, the halter rope in Rivka’s hand went taut, pulling her to a stop, and she nearly fell.

  “Come on, boy,” she said, giving the rope a tug.

  He pulled against her, dragging her back.

  “What’s going on?” said Cat, jolting awake at the sudden change of direction. She clung to the pommel, trying to make sense of what was happening.

  Rivka found her balance and slid her hand up the halter rope until her fist gripped the rope near Rowdy’s chin. His head was lifted and his ears swiveled in all directions. In another circumstance, it might have been funny. She might have made a joke about how he was part rabbit, but right now, it made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She felt like something was watching them.

  The light was nearly gone, the world dissolving from color into black and gray. She did not like how the darkness hid the details around her. Rowdy took two more steps backward, pulling the rope through her hand, and stood with his front legs splayed.

  “It’s okay, Rowdy,” she said, trying to keep the trembling out of her voice. But even as inexperienced as she was, Rivka knew that he was nervous about something. “I think,” she said to Cat, as low and steady as she could, “that you need to hold on. He might run.”

  “I can’t fall again,” said Cat. “I’m scared.”

  Rowdy sensed her agitation and tensed. She remembered what Madison said about Rowdy needing all the right cues from her. “You’ve got to stay calm,” she told Cat. “We’re going to try this again.”

  Rivka led Rowdy away from the fork in the trail and back the way they’d come unti
l they reached a place where she could make a wide circle and return to where they’d started.

  But when she tried again to lead him down the fork, he balked a second time.

  “What’s bugging you, Rowdy?” she murmured, stroking his neck. “We’ve got to try and get home.”

  Suddenly, Rowdy stretched out his muzzle, lifting his upper lip and sucking air in and out, in and out, like a person hyperventilating. Once again, Rivka had the sensation of being watched. She peered into the growing darkness, trying to make out shapes from shadows.

  Cat let out her breath in a long, low hiss. “There’s something down there.”

  Movement.

  A shadow slipping through darker shadows, sinuous as a snake but far larger.

  The shape paused in the center of the trail twenty feet from the girls. Long legs, muscled back, velvety coat. Its enormous, broad head swung toward them, round eyes flaring in the dim light. Its tail flicked.

  Rivka froze. She was eye to eye with a giant cat.

  Mountain lion. Cougar. Puma.

  All the names she’d ever heard for this animal tumbled through her head. None of them came close to capturing the creature. Powerful, beautiful, terrifying. She held her breath and prayed, not in words or even thoughts but in the frantic surging of her blood. Electricity coursed through her skin. For a split second, neither girl nor beast moved.

  The mountain lion snarled, a gravelly, thunderous rumble. Rivka felt it in her chest like a punch. Cat gasped, and Rivka knew she recognized the sound. This was the animal that had spooked Bucky. It lowered its huge head, stretching toward them, low and lithe. The cougar’s eyes were locked on Rivka. It extended a paw, took a step toward them.

  And another.

  The rabbi’s words filled Rivka.

  I am but dust and ashes.

  The world was created for me.

  And in that instant, both of those things were equally true.

  Behind Rivka, Cat’s breath came in short, staccato bursts. The pony pawed the ground.

  The mountain lion was a coiled spring.

  A single thought penetrated Rivka’s panic. It was as if Rachel Jacobs spoke from the grave—STAND UP!

  Rivka dropped Rowdy’s reins, threw her hands high above her head, and yelled as loud as she could. The guttural cry echoed off the rock walls, reverberating through the rock maze.

  For a second, the mountain lion held her gaze and Rivka’s heart froze in her chest, and then, without warning, it leapt up the jumbled rocks and disappeared into the night.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  For a long minute, neither girl moved or spoke. The air around them settled in a blanket of quiet.

  Cat slid off of Rowdy’s back, wincing, and went to Rivka’s side. “Is it gone?”

  Rivka’s head ached from peering into the blackness for a flicker of a tail or the glow of gigantic eyes. The pony huffed and nosed his muzzle into Rivka’s shoulder. She leaned into Rowdy.

  “He’s not scared anymore,” she said to Cat. “So I don’t think we need to be.” She scratched Rowdy in his favorite spot. “You’re so good,” she breathed, running her hand down the pony’s neck. “Such a good horse.”

  “I want to get out of these rocks,” said Cat.

  “Me too,” said Rivka. “Can you walk a bit?”

  Cat nodded. Together they shuffled along the trail, feeling with their feet for rocks that could trip them. Rowdy seemed happy enough to follow. After about ten minutes a half moon rose, turning everything silver and making it easier to walk. When the trail emerged from the rock fall, they could see for a long way in all directions.

  The hillside sloped gently down to the river, which shone silver in the moonlight. They scanned up and down the river looking for landmarks, something familiar that would show them the way back to camp. The adrenaline from their encounter with the mountain lion had drained away, and Rivka’s exhaustion had returned. They’d have to stop soon.

  “If we’re going to have to spend the night, I think we should try to get to the river.”

  Cat took a deep breath. “Makes sense. Rowdy needs water.”

  “So do we. The bottle’s empty.”

  “I’m so tired.”

  Rivka could hear an edge of pain behind her words. “Do you want to ride the rest of the way?”

  “Is that okay?” asked Cat in a small voice. “It’s your turn.”

  Rivka squeezed her hand. “I’m okay.”

  She helped Cat mount, feeling a deep ache in every muscle. She picked her way along a game trail that led down the slope toward the water. Her legs were robot limbs. Eventually the sharp stab of blisters in her cowboy boots punctuated every step. She’d pay a thousand dollars for sneakers right now, and a helicopter rescue and dry underwear and . . .

  “Did you see that?” Cat asked.

  Rivka felt a jolt of fear. “What? Where? Is it the mountain lion?”

  Cat pointed toward the river, and Rivka thought she saw a flicker of light.

  There it was again.

  A yellow twinkle in the thick brush along the river.

  “Hello?” Rivka yelled. “Is anyone down there?”

  The light paused, pointed toward them. “Rivka? Cat?” The man’s voice was faint, but they both knew exactly who it was.

  “Paul!” the girls yelled together. “It’s us!”

  He let out a triumphant whoop, and the girls saw the light bob toward them, a beacon leading them home.

  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

  Madison wrapped Cat’s ribs with an Ace bandage.

  Paul made cocoa, warm and extra-chocolatey.

  Fletch built up the fire, and Lauren wrapped a sleeping bag around Rivka’s shoulders. Sam took care of Rowdy. Everyone was talking a mile a minute.

  “Cat, Bucky came back hours ago.”

  “We were so worried.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “What happened?”

  The words blurred in a collage of sound. All Rivka wanted to do was stare into the flames and eat dinner and bask in the warmth of being with the others. It felt like she’d been gone a lifetime. When Cat told the story of what had happened to them, she made Rivka sound like some kind of hero.

  After they had explained everything, Rivka snuggled down into the slick fabric of the sleeping bag and curled into a ball, finally warm. But, tired as she was, she couldn’t fall asleep right away. While they were lost, Rivka had been scared and tired and worried. She’d felt very small and insignificant, but now something bloomed in the middle of her chest—a warm surge of pride in what she had done.

  Rivka fell asleep satisfied that she’d done all right in the big wild everything.

  \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

  They rode back to the ranch the next day. On the trail, Rivka kept leaning down to stroke Rowdy’s neck with her free hand. “You know,” she told him, “you’re awfully sweet for a stubborn old pony.”

  He snorted at her as if he knew exactly what she was saying, and promptly reached for the nearest clump of grass.

  When the trail was wide enough, she and Cat rode side by side. Bucky’s jostling gait was painful for Cat, and Rivka’s own muscles were tight and sore.

  “Hot bath,” she said, when they caught the first glimpse of the ranch house.

  Cat sighed. “That would be heavenly.”

  “You can go first.”

  Cat smiled at her. “Nah. It’s all you, fearless leader.”

  Rivka grinned back.

  As it turned out, Rivka did indeed get the first soak. Ma Etty bustled and clucked over them like a mother hen before hustling Cat into the truck for a trip to urgent care for an X-ray. As Rivka’s fingers and toes turned wrinkly in the bath, she wondered if she and Cat were going to have consequences for running off like they did. She thought they probably deserved it but really hoped Ma Etty wouldn’t assign shoveling manure or moving firewood. Her poor muscles screamed from the exertion of the previous day. She wasn’t sure s
he could walk back to the bunkhouse, much less do any more physical labor.

  She was half asleep on the couch when Ma Etty and Cat came home.

  “Nothing’s broken,” Cat announced.

  “She’s got some amazing bruises though,” Ma Etty added. “I’m talking eggplants.”

  “Can I see?” Lauren asked, and Cat lifted the back of her shirt to show the mottled purple markings on her ribcage.

  “That’s impressive,” said Madison. “You’re going to have to take it easy for a few days.”

  “What about riding?” Cat asked. “We don’t have much time left in the summer.”

  Mr. Bridle chuckled and slid an arm around Ma Etty’s waist. “You’ve done it again, Henrietta. Taken another perfectly normal girl and made her wild about horses.”

  Ma Etty gave him a playful nudge. “That’s called character-building. And I’m excellent at it!”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The next day, Ma Etty intercepted Rivka and Cat after breakfast. Once the other kids had left with Madison and Fletch, she and Mr. Bridle sat them down at the big table for a serious talk.

  “Your parents are coming to get you early,” Ma Etty explained.

  The girls exploded. “What? No!”

  “You can’t make us go home,” Rivka protested. “I had to go after her. You said buddy system!”

  “It wasn’t her fault,” Cat burst out. “I’m the one who ran off. Rivka shouldn’t get in trouble at all!”

  Mr. Bridle calmed them like spooked horses. “Easy there. Settle down.”

  Rivka and Cat spluttered into silence.

  “You parents are coming because they need to see for themselves that you’re okay,” Ma Etty explained. “They were pretty upset when I called to tell them what had happened.”

  “Why can’t we just talk to them on the phone?” said Rivka.

  “Yeah,” said Cat. “It’s not like my mom wants to come anyway.”

  Ma Etty gazed at her. “Your mom was really worried, Cat. She’s going to call in about an hour to talk to you.”

  “Don’t hold your breath,” Cat sighed. “She’ll probably forget.”

  Ma Etty patted her hand. “It’s never too late to find your way back together, especially if you stick around to make it happen.”