stopped.
“You’re being contrary,” Evelyn complained. She lashed the reins again, but the sorrel wouldn’t move. She stared at the water and noticed the same eddies as elsewhere. Could they be minnows? she wondered. Or maybe frogs? She remembered once after a heavy spring rain seeing a lot of frogs.
Evelyn tried yet again to coax the sorrel forward. “Come on, boy. I want to see Dega.”
The sorrel bobbed its head and nickered.
Evelyn was losing her patience. There was only one explanation. Some horses didn’t like water. She’d never had cause to think the sorrel was one, but that must be the case. She smacked him and whipped him with the reins and he walked into the pool and once again stopped.
Evelyn felt a shaking sensation. With a start, she realized the sorrel was trembling as if cold or afraid. When it turned its head toward the forest, she turned hers. She figured it must have caught the scent of a bear or a mountain lion. But when she followed the direction of its gaze it hit her that the sorrel wasn’t interested in the woodland; it was staring at the pool.
“You’re not afraid of a few fish, are you?” Since force hadn’t worked, Evelyn resorted to kindness. Bending, she patted the sorrel’s neck and spoke soothingly. “There, there. Come on, big fella. You’re a good horse. Move those legs of yours. You’re keeping me from my man.”
The sorrel trembled.
“This is plain stupid,” Evelyn declared. She slapped her legs once, twice, three times, and the sorrel edged ahead as if it were walking through brambles. She was pleased, but she was also mad that it was moving so slowly. “I don’t have all day.”
To her dismay the sorrel once again stopped.
Evelyn glanced down. The water was above the sorrel’s hooves. Everywhere there were the strange eddies. Again she tried to get the sorrel to move, but it refused. She was mad and confused. She went to slap her legs as hard as she could and happened to glance down just as the head of a snake rose out of the water near the sorrel’s front leg and swam past.
Evelyn gasped. She recognized what kind it was; a rattlesnake. Scarcely breathing, she leaned down as far as she dared while clinging to the saddle and peered intently at the movement in the water. Her eyes were slow to adjust to the blend of light and shadow but when they did, fear spiked through her. Those weren’t fish. Those weren’t frogs. They were snakes. Lots and lots of snakes. And God help her—as near as Evelyn could tell, they were all rattlesnakes.
Evelyn straightened and sat perfectly still. No wonder the sorrel didn’t want to move. The horse somehow knew. She looked down, wondering what she should do. The sorrel was only a little way into the water. If she could reach the clear strip that fringed the lake, they would be all right. But which way should she go? Forward or back?
Evelyn’s mouth was dry. So many rattlesnakes, so many fangs, so much venom. Should the sorrel and she go down, they would be bitten to death within moments.
“Oh God.”
Shifting, Evelyn stared at her brother’s cabin. Maybe if she yelled he would hear and come to her aid. She opened her mouth but closed it again. Knowing Zach, he would come charging across the shore, through a dozen pools left by the rain, pools teeming with eddies and the serpents that made them.
“God,” Evelyn said again. “What do I do?” She gazed longingly to the east where the Nansusequa lodge was partly visible in the shadow of the big trees. “Dega,” she said.
The sorrel gave a hard shake.
Evelyn looked down and her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth. A large rattler was coiled around the sorrel’s front leg and was slowly winding up it. She gripped the reins with both hands. She had forgotten her rifle and was glad she had. She could predict what would happen next, and it did.
The sorrel whinnied and exploded into motion. It reared, kicking out with its front legs, seeking to kick off the rattler. The snake slid partway down. Uttering another whinny, the sorrel burst into motion. It was clear of the water in a few bounds and on the clear strip, but it didn’t stay there. It veered away from the lake toward the woods—and toward another, larger, pool.
Evelyn clung on for dear life. She tried to turn but the horse was in a panic. The rattler had fallen off its leg. She wondered if the sorrel had been bitten and prayed not. In front of them loomed the pool. She hauled on the reins with all her might but it had no effect. The sorrel galloped headlong into the pool. Water—and snakes—went flying. The water rose fully a foot, hardly enough to deter a full-grown horse. Beyond the pool was a short stretch of open ground. Evelyn had hopes the sorrel would make it if it kept moving fast enough.
Without any warning, the sorrel stopped in the middle of the pool.
“What are you doing?” Evelyn slapped her legs. The water around them was alive.
The sorrel snorted and wouldn’t budge.
“Please,” Evelyn said, and slapped again. She might as well be trying to get a log to move.
All the sorrel did was shake.
Evelyn didn’t blame it. Her skin was crawling. She saw a triangular head break the surface and swim toward them and dip from sight. She couldn’t begin to imagine how many snakes there must be.
A pebble’s toss away the biggest head yet broke the surface. It rose a good foot and the forked tongue flicked at them and went on flicking as the rattlesnake approached.
The sorrel saw the snake. Its eyes were mirrors of fear. It shook so violently that Evelyn gripped its mane.
The rattlesnake glided closer. It made no sound other than the soft, wet swish of its body cleaving the water.
Evelyn drew one of her pistols. She pointed the heavy flintlock with both hands and thumbed back the hammer. She was nowhere near as good a shot as her brother or her pa or even her ma, but the snake was near enough that she was confident she could hit it. She took a deep breath and held the air in as her father had taught her and aimed at the blunt head and held the pistol as steady as she could. The snake wasn’t more than an arm’s length from the sorrel. “Please let me hit it,” Evelyn said, and fired.
The flintlock belched smoke and lead. To her delight her aim was true. The ball struck the rattler in the head and the head blew apart like a small melon, spattering skin and flesh. The body went into a paroxysm of convulsions.
And the sorrel bolted.
Evelyn had no inkling of what it was about to do. One instant it was motionless, the next it was hurtling pell-mell toward the trees. Instinctively, she grabbed at the reins and the mane. To grip them she had to let go of the flintlock and it fell with a splash.
The sorrel broke out of the pool onto the wet ground.
Holding fast, Evelyn looked down—and almost swooned. Rattlesnakes were wrapped around both front legs and one of the back legs. She saw heads whip and fangs sink in. A terrible certainty gripped her.
The horse veered and another pool barred their way. Without slowing, the sorrel barreled into it. It proved to be the deepest pool yet; the water rose as high as the sorrel’s belly. It roiled, and not from the sorrel. Rattlesnakes were everywhere, writhing and twisting. Many attacked the intruder.
Evelyn couldn’t help herself. She screamed.
The sorrel slowed. It staggered. Head low, it lurched toward solid ground.
“You can do it,” Evelyn coaxed. “Just a little farther.” She glanced at the Nansusequa lodge, so distant it might as well be on the moon. “Oh, Dega,” she said.
The sorrel stumbled.
A rattlesnake arced at Evelyn’s left leg, and she jerked her leg clear. The snake missed and fell back. All she could do was hold on and pray as the sorrel grew weaker and weaker.
The last few feet, the horse could barely stand. Evelyn exhaled in relief when it was clear of the water and kicked to get it to trot. Instead, the sorrel gave a last whinny and pitched onto its side.
Evelyn tried to push clear, but she wasn’t fast enough. She uttered a cry of her own as the sorrel crashed down. For a few seconds she lay paralyzed with pain and fright. Then she turned her head toward the pool.
A rattler was slithering toward her.
