words Lisa could make out.
It looked like the poachers were one less thing for her to worry about, but her sigh of relief was cut short as her situation became clear. She was precariously balanced on what appeared to be little more than an old goat trail. She had no idea how far it continued down and no way to go back the way she had come, even if she’d wanted to.
“Kate said you have some mountain pony in you, Stewball,” she said, nervously patting his neck. “Guess this is where we find out if that’s true.”
Having no other options, Lisa gathered her reins loosely in her left hand and took a shameless death grip on the saddle horn with her right before giving the pinto a gentle nudge. It was all up to the animal now. Her life was in his hands.
Stewball moved slowly forward, picking his way cautiously down the precarious path. It seemed to Lisa that he was testing every piece of ground ahead of them before committing his weight to it, which suited her fine. She made no effort to interfere, only doingher best not to throw him off balance. To control her own anxiety, she tried to avoid looking down into the dizzying depths of the shadow-filled canyon. How the horse managed to keep his footing she had no idea. She wasn’t sure she could have walked along that path even with her spine pressed tight to the wall, let alone with four feet and a person on her back. They inched along at a painfully slow pace, each and every step life-threatening. Once in a while she would try to look ahead, but mostly she contented herself with sitting quietly, eyes screwed tightly shut, letting the horse take control. When she closed her eyes she saw her friend lying in the cold prairie grass. When she opened them she saw blackness.
Stewball stopped moving. Lisa opened her eyes to see what was the matter, and her heart plummeted to her boots. Part of the trail was gone. Apparently a rock slide had wiped a section of it clean off the cliff face. In the ten-foot gap was a pile of loose rock and shale that would offer no footing.
On the far side of the gap, the path continued for a short distance, then made a sharp right. It headed down a steep grade, then doubled back in their direction about twenty feet below. The area affected by thelandslide was substantially narrower on the trail below. In fact, the lower gap looked small enough to jump—if they could only get to it. The immediate problem was the area currently confronting them. The distance across appeared impossible to span.
Doubtfully, Lisa looked behind her. By the light of the moon she could make out the treacherous path the two of them had already traveled to get to where they now stood. She reasoned they were about halfway down, and there was no room on the narrow path to turn around. Her heart thumped painfully against her rib cage as panic mounted. There was no going forward; there was no going back.
Perhaps she and Stewball should stay where they were and wait for help to come in the morning. When she and Carole didn’t return to the ranch they would surely be missed. Naturally Mr. Devine would send out a search party. But would Carole be alive by the time they got back to her? Lisa had no way of knowing how sick her friend was, but her condition had certainly appeared very serious. There was no time to wait for a rescue. Lisa was going to have to take action herself.
Stewball shifted his weight uneasily. He was waiting for her decision, and he seemed to be picking up onher fear. If she wasn’t careful she would shatter his confidence, and then they truly would be doomed.
Forcing all doubt from her head, she considered her options. There was no way to span the gap in a single jump, but maybe, just maybe, the shale in the middle wasn’t as loose as it appeared. If Stewball could find even a little extra foothold, with a lot of luck they might make it to the other side.
Lisa gathered her tattered courage. An inner voice shrieked that what she was about to try was
It looked like the poachers were one less thing for her to worry about, but her sigh of relief was cut short as her situation became clear. She was precariously balanced on what appeared to be little more than an old goat trail. She had no idea how far it continued down and no way to go back the way she had come, even if she’d wanted to.
“Kate said you have some mountain pony in you, Stewball,” she said, nervously patting his neck. “Guess this is where we find out if that’s true.”
Having no other options, Lisa gathered her reins loosely in her left hand and took a shameless death grip on the saddle horn with her right before giving the pinto a gentle nudge. It was all up to the animal now. Her life was in his hands.
Stewball moved slowly forward, picking his way cautiously down the precarious path. It seemed to Lisa that he was testing every piece of ground ahead of them before committing his weight to it, which suited her fine. She made no effort to interfere, only doingher best not to throw him off balance. To control her own anxiety, she tried to avoid looking down into the dizzying depths of the shadow-filled canyon. How the horse managed to keep his footing she had no idea. She wasn’t sure she could have walked along that path even with her spine pressed tight to the wall, let alone with four feet and a person on her back. They inched along at a painfully slow pace, each and every step life-threatening. Once in a while she would try to look ahead, but mostly she contented herself with sitting quietly, eyes screwed tightly shut, letting the horse take control. When she closed her eyes she saw her friend lying in the cold prairie grass. When she opened them she saw blackness.
Stewball stopped moving. Lisa opened her eyes to see what was the matter, and her heart plummeted to her boots. Part of the trail was gone. Apparently a rock slide had wiped a section of it clean off the cliff face. In the ten-foot gap was a pile of loose rock and shale that would offer no footing.
On the far side of the gap, the path continued for a short distance, then made a sharp right. It headed down a steep grade, then doubled back in their direction about twenty feet below. The area affected by thelandslide was substantially narrower on the trail below. In fact, the lower gap looked small enough to jump—if they could only get to it. The immediate problem was the area currently confronting them. The distance across appeared impossible to span.
Doubtfully, Lisa looked behind her. By the light of the moon she could make out the treacherous path the two of them had already traveled to get to where they now stood. She reasoned they were about halfway down, and there was no room on the narrow path to turn around. Her heart thumped painfully against her rib cage as panic mounted. There was no going forward; there was no going back.
Perhaps she and Stewball should stay where they were and wait for help to come in the morning. When she and Carole didn’t return to the ranch they would surely be missed. Naturally Mr. Devine would send out a search party. But would Carole be alive by the time they got back to her? Lisa had no way of knowing how sick her friend was, but her condition had certainly appeared very serious. There was no time to wait for a rescue. Lisa was going to have to take action herself.
Stewball shifted his weight uneasily. He was waiting for her decision, and he seemed to be picking up onher fear. If she wasn’t careful she would shatter his confidence, and then they truly would be doomed.
Forcing all doubt from her head, she considered her options. There was no way to span the gap in a single jump, but maybe, just maybe, the shale in the middle wasn’t as loose as it appeared. If Stewball could find even a little extra foothold, with a lot of luck they might make it to the other side.
Lisa gathered her tattered courage. An inner voice shrieked that what she was about to try was
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