Using the knife, she creates a stake to tie a rope to the reins and secure it in the ground, so the horses don’t wander off. They are her only means of escape.
“Fire, dry clothes, then bandage my leg. I will set some traps in case they decide to follow me. I doubt anyone would risk traveling in these conditions.” She talks to herself as she builds a small fire, making sure to keep it in the back of the cave, away from drafts. Soon, she is thankful for the comfort and heat it provides.
Next, her clothes. Kimani rips the offending garments from her body, intending to burn them but stops herself short. The extra layers would be a blessing in this cold. The bottoms are the first to go, and she hisses in pain when she pulls and realizes the material is saturated with her blood.
Grabbing the canteen, she pours a small amount of water over her leg. Pain shoots through her and she pours more water over the wound to wash away bits of cotton and blood. The bullet sliced through her upper thigh. Blood is streaming down her leg, and she is trembling with cold and exhaustion.
How many times has she had to patch up her own wounds? Pushing the thought away she removes her shirt and slices it up to pad the wound. Next, she rips long strips to use for securing the bandage and builds up the courage to sew the gash on her leg. Blood will draw predators, and with the wolf around she doesn’t want to take any chances.
“You can do this. Harris has sewn you up on more than one occasion.” With shaking hands, she threads the needle and pales as she looks at the five-inch wound. It must be done, or the ride on the horse will cause it to reopen. The first stitch is the worst as she bites down hard on a piece of wood to keep from screaming. She sews quickly and thinks about tomorrow. Kimani is oblivious to the tears rolling down her cheeks. Survival is on her mind and if she can ride fast, the River’s land is a two-day journey from east the bottom of Cathedral Peak. Tying the knots, she realizes it will take longer to get to the ranch itself. What if they are chasing her? She could double back and try to slow anyone down?
Pressing the dirty shirt against the wound, she wipes away the blood and rinses it with water before she digs for the clean clothes. She finds, long socks, which she quickly pulls on her cold cut feet. Next a massive five button shirt which she gladly pulls on. It is cotton and thin, but it will have to do. She slips the over shirt on and closes up the wool cloth with wooden buttons trying not to laugh at how absurd she must look. She winces when she tugs on the large coarse fabric pants and looks for a way to secure them, looking around she finds a strand of rope. With it slid through the belt loops on the pants, and a couple of knots they will manage to stay on. Her leg is throbbing with the effort, she sits down near the small fire, it’s time to plan. If these trackers are anything like the Indian trackers, she’s in deep trouble. Waiting until tomorrow morning is no longer an option. Tonight, she will leave for the River’s Ranch, but first, she will leave them a message, warning them to leave her alone. Picking up the roll of baling wire she gets started, ignoring the chills and headache settling into her body. Signs of infection pulses through her body, but she has no time to stop and worry about it.
Two hours later she has set the trap and gone through the second soldier’s saddlebags, taking any supplies she could carry. The ammo could come in handy as will his rifle. Kimani feeds the horses and decides the second horse could be used as a distraction.
“Sorry boy, but I need you to draw them in.” She leaves him tied inside the ledge to the stake in the ground and rides down the shallowest part of the river, not wanting to leave any horse tracks behind.
Chapter 7
The Snake River was aptly named as it snakes around the base of the mountains leaving little room to cross. On the other side is sheer cliff face jutting up into the darkened sky. The trackers trot along the river following the curve of the water until they come to a spot with a patch of trees on the other side of the river bed.
“Brother, the tracks end at the river,” Evan Newton says quietly.
Craig jumps down and glances down the icy river bank. “This would be the best spot to cross, but why would she cross at all?” He squats and wipes at the snow with his hands finding the frozen track he is looking for. The prints are covered by fresh snow, but they easily wipe that off.
“Barclay said she was injured, maybe she stopped to rest,” Evan suggests.
“True, and look, blood and horse prints.” Craig pushes his hand into the horse print, “This is a few hours old.”
“Look Brother, smoke,” Evan points.
Craig remounts his horse and glances across the river. Large pine trees obscure the view, but the smoke is a dead giveaway.
“We’ll split up, Evan. You go straight through the trees, and I will circle around on foot,” Craig suggests.
“It can’t go back far. That’s a massive cliff behind these trees. She’s stuck unless she can climb like a spider,” Evan laughs softly.
“Let’s go look,” Craig kicks his mount
