Wild Indians Narrative

At the howling of wolves, she was surprised to hear the pounding of horse’s hooves behind her. Terrified that it was more Indians, for a moment only, she thought, let them come. Then Gabe seemed there, reminding her of the reason she must fight and must live. She whipped the tired mare into a canter, afraid anything faster in the dark would harm her or Amos.
Finally, the pounding stopped and she slowed her own animals. In the dark, she could hear the heavy breathing of the horses, hoped it was only her own. With the trail dry, it had been easy to see where all the wagons had traveled before them and the horses followed the road, even after she fell asleep in the saddle.
Exhausted, just before dawn, with the sky slowly lightning, the road moved

Alma patted the docile animal in wonder. Were these the “wild Indians,” who had chased them all night? Slowly, carefully she used some of the soap to wash away the animals frightening markings. As she finished the first, a gold colored stallion with light mane and tail took his place, nuzzling and snickering at her. Enchanted, naked, Alma used the last of the soap to bathe it as well.
On land, she quickly toweled with her dirty clothes, pulled into the clean ones and her worn out shoes. She rolled the old ones, careful to not spill their contents, and stowed them in her tote while she debated what to do next. Her arm was too weary even to comb her hair and she knew she couldn’t go on. Whether it was one mile or five, she would catch up with the wagon train later that morning.
Alma unsaddled the mule and mare first, carefully hobbled them. Then she removed the woven fiber halters from the Indian horses and used them to hobble the new animals. Satisfied it was all she could do, she pulled out the bedroll. She spread it on the grassy shoulder of the trail, amid the grazing animals. Once inside, the warmth and smell of Gabe and their lovemaking from the night before surrounded her, and she cried herself to