The Sword-Edged blonde

FOURTEEN

Following the map, Cathy and I hiked into the Ogachic Mountains. There was no existing trail, so we had to work with the terrain. It grew harder as we climbed higher, rocks replacing dirt and trees giving way to bushes and scrub. It seemed unlikely that this was really the most efficient way to get to our destination, but the map gave us no alternatives, and I knew nothing of this area.

At last, just above the tree line on one rocky face, we found the first landmark: a horse’s head, in silhouette, painted in white on black granite.

The image was about four feet across, and right at eye level. While Cathy checked the map, I scratched at the paint; it did not flake off. “This is some heavy-duty artwork. Whatever they used, it sealed pretty good.”

“Have to be to survive the weather up here,” Cathy said. “The winters get vicious.”

I knew a bit about art from my childhood tutoring. This wasn’t in the usual regional style, which favored a flatter, more abstract approach. The horse’s silhouette was entirely realistic, down to the slightly parted lips and flying mane. Then I noticed something unexpected.

I got very close to the fine detail work along the mane’s fringe and squinted. “Wow,” I whispered. “Cathy, this isn’t paint.”

She looked up from the map. “What do you mean?”

“This is… quartz or something. Some other kind of rock. Inside the granite.” I ran my hand over it, and only the slightest bump marked the border of the image. “This is a natural formation.”

She joined me and peered at the seam between the two rocks. I was suddenly, uncomfortably aware of her proximity. “Rocks can do weird things sometimes,” she agreed. “Back in Bonduel, there’s a mountain in the shape of an old man’s profile. It looks just like somebody carved it, but it’s all natural.” She turned, and our faces were inches apart. She looked into my eyes, glanced away, and looked back. “Nature can be pretty powerful,” she said.

Her eyes were hazel flecked with gold. I asked softly, “Weren’t we supposed to avoid a white horse?”

“Only if a woman was riding it.” She licked her lips, and I realized my own were suddenly dry.

I broke the moment and stepped away. My face felt unaccountably hot. “So which direction now?”

“Northwest,” she said quickly, looking down at the map. “The next landmark is about a day’s walk away, if the terrain’s not too much more difficult.”

The landscape cooperated and we made it halfway before darkness forced us to camp. It was one thing to use an open road at night, but neither of us wanted to climb over unfamiliar ridges and chasms we couldn’t see. We picked a hidden area next to a small stream, sheltered on three sides. If we kept our fire small, we’d be invisible.

O VER A DECADE later, I stood before that same flat rock again. The weather was a little cooler, but the sunlight shone on its surface just as brightly now as it had done on that long-ago day. The white quartz deposit still stood out starkly against the gray-black granite. But the equine shape I remembered as so definite was now… vague. It could still be seen as a horse’s head. It could just as easily be a wolf, or the bow of a ship, or a random geological formation that resembled any one of a dozen things if you looked at it cockeyed.

I put my hand flat against it just as I’d done thirteen years earlier. It felt weathered and smooth. No marks of workmanship showed; no one had altered it. Either I remembered it wrong, or…

There was less point in speculating now than there had been then. Then, our ultimate goal had been a mystery tugging us on. Now I knew where I was headed, and what awaited me.

I climbed back onto my horse. I don’t know when I began to think of her as “mine,” but somewhere between Arentia and here, I’d actually grown a little fond of her. I still didn’t trust her, but I felt I could turn my back to pee without risking a kick to the head. That was a big change. As we picked our way along, I considered names for her. None of the possibilities clicked.

By nightfall, I reached the stream where Cathy and I had camped before. Given what happened, there was no way I’d use the same spot, so we crossed the stream and continued on until it was so dark my nameless horse refused to proceed. But ultimately, it didn’t matter where I slept. The memories were just as vivid.

It had been a warm night back then. As always, Cathy and I put our bedrolls on opposite sides of the fire. I lay awake staring up at the stars. Tendrils of smoke from the dying fire made gray shifting shapes in the moonlight. I felt tense, and couldn’t place the reason for it. I was absolutely sure no one followed us, especially no mysterious woman on a white horse, and this whole delivery trip should be over in a couple of days. I’d get the rest of my money and be free to continue wandering. And if I wanted to return to Bonduel with Cathy, to help her with her business or for any other reason, there was nothing stopping me. But did I want that?

No. I wanted Janet. But Cathy was everything I should want.

Shit, I thought as I rolled onto my side. I couldn’t believe I was actually losing sleep over this. This was just a job, after all. Cathy was my boss, not my damn soul mate. I was making way too much out of it.

I looked through the smoke at Cathy’s bedroll for a long moment before I belatedly realized it was empty. I sat up and heard splashing in the creek. I pulled on my pants and went to check on her.

Cathy lay crossways in the shallow water with her back against a rock. She was naked, of course, and as I watched she ducked her head under and came up with a gasp of happiness. I’d never heard that sound from her before. If a sound like that could still exist in the world, I thought, maybe fate was telling me I’d suffered enough.

I called out, softly so I wouldn’t startle her. “Sorry, but I saw you were gone and came down to see if you were okay.”

“I just couldn’t pass up the chance for a bath, even a primitive one,” she said. She made no effort to cover herself, although the moonlight twinkling on the water preserved her modesty. She kicked her feet like a child. “You have no idea how good this feels.”

“Probably not,” I agreed.

She turned onto her stomach and crossed her ankles above the water. For a moment only the creek made any sound. Finally I said, “Guess I’ll go back to camp.”

“I couldn’t sleep, either,” she said. “I can’t help thinking this is all some big, elaborate game, and we’re pieces the players would gladly sacrifice. Not a good feeling.”

“No.”

She looked back over her shoulder at me. “So since we both can’t sleep, why don’t you come out for a swim?”

“Not much of a swimmer.”

“Oh, come on. Those feet of yours could use it, if nothing else. Do it for me.”

“I’ll pass.”

She stood up in the knee-deep water, hands at her side, unashamed. Her short red hair swept back from her face. The moon cast highlights on her straight shoulders, the tops of her breasts and the sides of her hips. The rest of her body glowed pale gray against the sparkling river.

I’d seen plenty of naked women, but never one who seemed so naked, exposing not just her skin but some aspect of herself hidden far beneath her tough-girl personality. That was it, I realized: she was a girl now, untested and untouched in the ways of adult women. It had nothing to do with physical virginity and everything to do with a heart filled with things that had long ago been driven from my own.

“I have a surprise for you,” she said.

“I’m already pretty surprised.”

“It’s the only thing you’ve ever asked me for.”

She turned her back to me. There was, indeed, a tattoo of a dancing girl across her shoulder blades, the legs extending down her spine. “Worth the wait?”

“I dunno. Can you make it dance?”

“Not sober, I can’t.” She faced me again. “So,” she said after a moment. “What do you think?”

“Nice ink.”

“And the canvas?”

I bit my lip. The rest of the evening played out before me now; I’d undress and join her in the river, we’d make love until the cold water drove us out, then we’d return to the fire and continue until we fell asleep. And tomorrow everything would be different.

“The canvas is nice,” I said. “But I really only know about ancient art.”

She walked toward me, making little bow waves with her shins. “Some of the modern stuff can be pretty exciting.”

“My taste is for the classics.”

She stepped out of the water in front of me, shining and soft and very, very desirable. Even though she was tall for a girl, she had to tilt her head up to see me with those big guileless eyes, unashamed of anything in her life. Then she smiled. “Even the classics were new once.”

I took the deepest breath I’d managed in years. She put her hand on my chest, stepped closer and gazed into my eyes. “Care for a little art appreciation?” she said softly, then tiptoed so she could kiss me.

I let her, but I didn’t respond. She settled back on her heels and scowled. “What?” she asked, in her old voice.

I couldn’t look at her. I mumbled, “I’m not really up for this right now.”

She grabbed me around the waist and pulled her body tight against mine. Her smile returned. “That’s not true,” she said in a soft growl.

“Hey, it’s nothing personal, he always gets up a half-hour before I do.” Instantly I regretted it. Even in the moonlight-maybe because of the moonlight-I saw tears fill her eyes. She strode quickly back to the water’s edge and stopped, her back to me, arms wrapped around her sides. Her voice did not weaken. “You’re a jackass, LaCrosse. And you just missed your chance.”

With that she splashed back into the water and swam away downstream. I sighed. I had no idea at the time whether I’d been noble or idiotic.

Now, though, I know.