Page 49 of Canyon of Deceit
“I will never forget how you saved my life, and the survival skills you’ve taught me. We have our differences, but I’m drawn to you like no other woman in my life.”
Her gaze lingered. “You’re speaking through your pain. But thank you, and I... wish things were different too.”
“Those words will keep me warm.”
She grabbed her machete and flashlight. “You’ll be fine while I go hunting?”
“Sure. What are you hunting in the dark?”
“Food. The agave.”
“You were serious. Be careful. Holler ‘scree’ if you need me.”
Over an hour later, her hunting expedition and the length of time she’d been gone caused too many anxious scenarios to morph in my head. I warmed my hands and kept my attention affixed to where she’d trekked into the wild.
The combo of incessant pain and anxiety threatened to erupt into full-blown, red-visioned rage. My backpack lay at the foot of a pile of rock. It contained an extra shirt, water, and a blanket as well as several much-needed supplies. I added my cell and satellite phones to those essentials. And the keys to the Jeep parked near the Dog Canyon entrance. I swallowed hard to control my anger at what erupted around me. I stressed about Therese and poor Alina who might not have survived her captors.
Chandler might view this as a perfect opportunity to walk into the campsite. I picked up a rock. Fat lot of good this would do me peering down a rifle barrel. A typical David-and-Goliath scenario with the odds in his favor. I squeezed my eyes shut to wait until Therese returned. Maybe if I concentrated long enough, the head and arm pain might take a dive. They didn’t. If this was what Therese’s prayers had caused for God to get my attention, I’d rather she didn’t consult Him.
Several minutes later she entered our campsite carrying the root of an agave, a rather bald agave, on her shoulder.
“Did you find the biggest one out there?”
“The bigger ones have the most sugar.”
The stones had grown hot in her absence. She positioned the root atop the stones and used prickly pear leaves to cover it, which was supposed to keep the agave from drying out. Over the prickly palms she placed dead bark, then piled dirt over it.
“This will be your dinner tomorrow night,” she said. “While I’m gone, go easy on the food and ration the water until I return. The agave is a bonus. I wish you had a weapon.”
“I have a knife in my right boot.”
“So do I.”
“Then we can single-handedly take out a bear, mountain lion, or the worst kind—two-legged beasts.”
“Ah, don’t forget snakes. I haven’t told you how I lost my phone.” She proceeded to give me the short version of the rattler that slithered to coil himself beside her while she wrestled with how to get me to safety.
Having her back helped my attitude. “Thanks to you again for saving my life and ensuring I will again ride broncs with a good arm to keep me balanced.”
“You’ve thanked me enough. We’re chiseled from the same stone, Blane. You’d have done even more for me.”
“If one of us had to go through the fall, I’m glad it was me.”
Therese poked at the fire and hummed a tune. Where had I heard it before?
“What are you humming?” I said.
She tilted her head, with the regal air of a mountain queen. Her honey-blonde hair whipped back in the wind and her cheeks a rosy tint in the orange-yellow firelight demonstrated Therese didn’t need a throne. Her demeanor spoke of stately beauty.
“It’s ‘Just as I Am.’”
“I recognized the hymn from my grandma’s church.”
“Oh, your grandma took you to church?”
“Yep. But it takes more than recalling a hymn,” I said.
“You’re so right. It takes an abiding faith in Jesus Christ.”
