Yeah, it looked silly, but who cared?
She glanced up at the sky to check the sun’s location and guessed it might be midafternoon. She was already hungry, and her mouth was too dry to spit. She might as well set up camp now. Once the sun went down, the temperature would drop, and she wasn’t wearing the right clothes to sleep outside in thirty-degree temperatures.
The first item on her survival list was to start a campfire. As long as she stayed busy and kept her mind focused on problem-solving, she wouldn’t have time to worry about her situation.
Flint, found in chalk and limestone, was readily available along the riverbed, and from where she was sitting, she spotted a piece of limestone that probably had some in it. But what about steel for a striker? Until she went off to college, she always carried a small piece of steel on her keychain. Marcasite would work, but she probably wouldn’t find any along the creek bed, although she could find it in the geological formations around the buttes.
That meant if she wanted to make a fire, she’d have to find some marcasite. She picked up a chunk of limestone and threw it down, breaking it into pieces. She searched through them until she found some flint that would work, but she still needed a striker, a piece of steel, something. She stared at the flint in her hand. Maybe her sapphire and titanium ring would work? Titanium would spark. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was possible.
Once she created a tinder bundle from roughed-up grass and cedar shavings, she struck the titanium against the flint over and over, watching for sparks. After several attempts and scuffing her fingers, sparks landed on the tinder and started burning.
She patiently fed the flames with kindling and then smaller pieces of wood until she had a good campfire going. After gathering up firewood to last the night, she collected a mixture of green boughs, ferns, and leaves to make a bed. Satisfied she had everything she needed, she grabbed her fishing spear and headed to the creek.
Spearing a fish took patience, and she didn’t have much left, but after a half dozen misses, she finally caught a walleye.
While the fish cooked on a stone in the firepit, Ensley harvested dandelions and searched for purslane. Dandelions had more calcium than a glass of milk and were chock full of potassium, folic acid, and magnesium, and because the plant was high in fiber, it would help her stomach feel full. And purslane was like spinach and was high in omega-3 fatty acids. She could also boil dandelion roots and make coffee. It wouldn’t taste like Starbucks, but it was the best she could do.
She found dandelions but not any purslane. Maybe tomorrow.
After supper, she nestled into the bough bed that smelled like sweet hay and summertime. The sun dipped below the horizon, and the red and orange sky was simply spectacular. She wasn’t afraid of being out here all alone. How could she be? She was back home. But back home when?
Sometime during the night, she woke up chilled and piled more logs on the fire, then lay there and listened to the twigs and logs crackling and snapping until she fell asleep again. At dawn, she woke and remained still for a while as yesterday’s events played through her mind.
If it was true that she’d traveled to another time, how would she ever get home? Dwelling on that scared the hell out of her. So she didn’t. Instead, she fished for breakfast, washed up in the creek, collected her knife, spear handle, and dandelion roots.
Now what?
It was decision time. Which way should she go? Since she had to have access to water, there was only one logical answer. Follow Spring Creek.
The landscape ranged from prairie and prairie dog towns to high plateau plains and narrow, treed coulees. If she’d taken this hike the week before she sold the ranch, she might not have sold it.
In some areas, she had to swing far right of the creek onto a sagebrush terrace and then cut back and forth, slowing her progress. But she couldn’t afford to get too far from her water source. Unfortunately, it was a squiggly line, not a straight one, and following it would take twice as long to get wherever she was going. But it was her only sane option.
She was thinking so hard as she navigated one of the switchbacks that she lost her footing, and with nothing to grab hold of, slid down the side of a rocky formation, screaming. Her hat flew off, her full weight landed on her hip, and the impact rattled her teeth.
“Shit!”
Adrenaline stormed through her veins. She froze, not even breathing, barely able to hold her fear in check. It happened so fast there’d been no way to stop her fall. When her breathing started up again, she was panting so hard she was afraid she might hyperventilate.
She had to assess her injuries. Find out what was broken or bleeding.
And she dreaded what she might find.
When the shock wore off, walloping pain rolled over her.
My foot. It’s my damn foot.
If a grizzly appeared out of nowhere, she wouldn’t be any more terrified than she was right now.
If it’s broken, I’ll die out here.
Almost paralyzed by sheer terror, she lifted her hip and straightened her right leg. The pain was on the outside of her foot. She could rotate her ankle and wiggle her toes, but the side of her foot hurt like hell. The test would be how painful it was when she stood.
Stand? Hell, no.
She was going to stay right here until help arrived. Then it hit her. Smack! Help wasn’t coming. Not in an hour. Not in a day. Not ever.
That took a moment to sink in, and when it did, tears rolled down her cheeks. But she couldn’t
