An Undisturbed Peace Read Online Free PDF

fallen. Abe struggled up and hoisted himself onto Hart. They rode through what was left of the night and all the next day until by some holy accident they arrived at the blessed clearing that was home to Marian of the foothills.
    Marian stood halfway between her cabin and the goat pen. Through half-closed eyes slit by pain and exhaustion, Abe watched her shield her face with one hand and look into the brilliant yellow red of the setting sun behind them, which doubtless blinded her. He hoped she could make out that a compromised horse and rider approached, that the horse moved in a halting way, listing to one side every other step, and that the rider was bent over its neck. Her neck straightened, her pose suddenly full of urgency, as if there were no reason she could imagine a man would continue to ride a horse that perilously lame unless he was dead. They came closer. The sun set a little more. Her hand dropped. “Oh, Great Father of the Trees and Sky!” she cried out. “It’s my little peddler!”
    She broke into a run toward them.
    When she reached them, she checked Abe first, saw that he was breathing. He was barely conscious and moaned out of great pain from several wounds to his limbs that had already closed and dried. She pulled him from his mount, quickly assessed his condition, and let him slide to the ground. Through barely open eyes, Abe watched her tend to the horse as she stripped him quickly of saddle and gear, ripping her shirt to bind his right foreleg where a long gash dripped blood. He tried to speak to tell her the flesh around the wound was swollen and hot, which indicated infection, but his voice failed him. “Come, horse,” she said, “come with me to where you can rest.” She herded the goats out of their pen and put her mare in it, then led Hart to the three-sided shed where her own horse usually sheltered and bedded its floor with fresh straw. Twice she slapped Abe’s horse hard on his belly with both hands to keep him on his feet. She washed his leg, applied an herbal paste, and wrapped him again, winding long strips of cloth from his ankle to his knee. She washed other less serious injuries. She gave him water, holding a bucket under his nose for his ease. She fed him a warm mash. Abe stretched out a trembling hand to her, supplicating for like treatment, but she did not come to him. He closed his eyes and slipped into unconsciousness.
    Early the next morning, Abe came to on the grass in front of the cabin. He was surrounded by munching goats, one of whom had woken him by biting at his hair. He limped to her door. She was not inside. He found her in the shed, sleeping next to his horse, who was reclining. Her head lay against his back. With difficulty, considering the pain of his own disabilities, Abe got inside the fence and then kicked at her foot. She opened her eyes and looked at him without expression. “You left me there to die,” he said. She blinked. “You look alright to me.” He blushed. “Well, I am now, but I could have died out there. I could have.” The woman shrugged. “You were not in danger. This one was in greater peril.” Hart’s ears twitched at the sound of Abe’s voice. In one sweeping move, the horse shifted his weight, got his feet under him, stood and rubbed his head once over Abe’s trunk. The greeting looked to cost him significant effort. Abe took his head in his hands and kissed him above the eyes. Marian got to her feet as well. “Come,” she said. “We’ll change his wrap and feed him. Then we’ll have a good look at you.”
    When they removed the bandage from Hart’s leg, the wound looked much improved. Marian offered a prayer of thanksgiving in her sacred language. Abe did the same in his. By the time they finished ministering to his mount, he felt as close to her as he had after three and one-half days of lovemaking at the end of last summer. As if answering