Page 7 of Roping the Alien Cowboy

The curtain parted and the older woman entered, her wild white hair escaping the braids woven with colored cord. Her face was lined but her eyes were bright and keen as she looked me over.

“Let’s have a look at you,” she said in a scratchy voice.

Gently, she examined me, checking the bumps and bruises left by the crash. She rubbed salves on my cuts and scrapes that soothed and took away the sting. Through it all, she kept up a steady stream of questions - how did I feel? Any dizziness, nausea, pain? I answered as best I could and she seemed satisfied.

“You’ll be all right,” Marah finally pronounced. “Need to get your strength back up. I’ll have some broth and mealcakes brought.”

She bustled out, leaving me alone again with my thoughts. I must have dozed off, for suddenly Alya was there, setting a tray on the table beside my bed. The smell of the food made my stomach growl.

“Here, eat up,” Alya said. She helped prop me up with pillows and handed me a cup of broth. I sipped the rich, salty liquid and instantly felt revived. The mealcakes were chewy and dense, studded with nuts and dried fruit. I ate every crumb.

“Thank you,” I told Alya as I set the empty dishes aside. “I feel much better now.”

“Good,” she said with an approving nod. “I’ve brought you something else too.”

She held up a bundle of fabric in shades of brown and rust.

“That dress should fit you. It will help you blend in here. And I thought you might like to get cleaned up.”

I nodded eagerly. I felt grimy and sweat-soaked from the desert heat. Alya helped me to a small bathing room where a tub had been filled with steaming water. She turned her back politely as I peeled off my dirty clothes and sank into the heavenly warmth with a groan of relief.

Alya handed me soap that smelled of herbs and desert flowers. As I washed up, we chatted about her life in the village. She told me of her family, her work as a weaver and cook. Her voice was soothing. By the time I emerged, wrapped in a blanket, I already felt I’d made a friend.

Back in the clinic, Alya helped me into the Surlon dress. The woven fabric was a little stiff, but it fit like a glove. Alya tightened and pinned it until it fit my frame. The style reminded me of something you’d have seen in those Old West movies from Earth.

“There,” she declared with satisfaction. “You look like one of us now.”

I caught a glimpse of myself in a polished metal mirror on the wall. With the dress covering most of my pale skin, I really did resemble the Surlon people.

Alya made me lay back down, fussing with my pillows and blankets until I was tucked in comfortably. “You need more rest,” she insisted. “Healing takes time and energy.”

I sighed, feeling strength starting to return to my exhausted body. But my mind was still buzzing with questions about everything I had seen since crashing here. Since it seemed I wasn’t going anywhere for a while, I decided to take the opportunity to learn more about this strange new world.

“Alya, will you stay and talk with me? I have so many questions about your people and your village. I want to understand...”

“What would you like to know?” Alya asked with a genuine smile.

“Tell me about your people,” I asked her. “The Surlons seem so different from humans.”

Alya smiled again, smoothing her skirts as she perched on the edge of my bed. “Well, we are one of the eldest races on this planet. We have dwelled in these canyons and deserts for over a thousand years.”

Her voice took on a rhythmic cadence, as if reciting a beloved tale. She told me how the Surlons were deeply connected to the land, the seasons, the creatures that shared their world. How they worshipped the twin suns that nurtured life. How their villages were run by councils of elders, with sheriffs to keep the peace.

“We live simply,” Alya explained. “We build, farm, hunt, create - all we need to sustain our people. It is our way.”

I thought of the simple clay and wood dwellings I had seen, the animal skins and cotton garments. So different from the high-tech environments I was used to.

“What can you tell me about the siroccos?” I asked. I vividly remembered the beautiful horse-like animals the Surlons rode. They were like nothing I had ever seen before.

Alya’s face lit up at the mention of the siroccos. “They are sacred to us,” she said reverently. “Wild and free, but some choose to bond with a Surlon companion. We never force them into service.”

She explained how each sirocco and rider formed a close psychic bond. How they could sense each other’s thoughts and feelings once linked. The Surlons and their mounts became one - a relationship built on trust and respect.

“Each one is unique,” Alya said fondly. She described the different markings and temperaments of the siroccos she had known, and how you had to get to know them as individuals to form that special connection.

Her words painted a picture of an amazing symbiotic relationship between the Surlons and these mystical creatures. I found myself longing to understand it better, to form my own bond someday. Alya must have sensed my eagerness, for she laughed softly.

“Perhaps once you have recovered, Kian will allow you to meet the siroccos near our village. But they are quick to sense uncertainty. You must be calm, patient. Let them come to you.”

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