69. To the Stars 

“Careful, Esma!” Adam turned around to the old woman following after him. “Give me your hand!”

“I don’t need your hand, whippersnapper! Keep moving and get that horse out of my way!”

He couldn’t help a smirk. Esma certainly was one remarkable lady, hauling the rather massive ram up the cliff like it was nothing while dragging her second team horse along.

Adam pulled the bay he was leading closer to his mare to give Esma the room for her animals. “Do they have names?”

“Who?”

“Your horses.”

“The children call them Bobby and Socks – Socks being the one you are leading.”

“Ah…” Adam had a look at the bay’s legs. Four white socks. “Got it.”

Esma urged her horse to jump up to the small advance they had reached and checked on the load of boxes, bags and lamb basket on the bay’s back. She finally turned around and straightened up. “Now the real test starts!” she remarked.

Adam nodded his head and followed her gaze to the flock below. The sheep were visibly excited, running crisscross and in circles in front of that first large barrier in their path, their baahs and meehs growing to a staggering crescendo as they peered out to where their ram had gone. The ram that Esma held on a short leash answered the fraught calls with long deep bleats, and the lambs stored on the back of Esma’s horse didn’t seem to stop their crying for their mothers long enough to even catch a breath. Combined with the frantic barking of the dog, it was a considerable noise and Adam was once again glad that the guards his father had left behind were too far away to hear any of it. His eyes fell on Lilyah who had left Chai standing to help the children urging the reluctant sheep up the slope.

And finally – just as Adam was about to lose confidence – the first ewe climbed up the ascent to go after them. With the bleating getting even more excited, other sheep scrambled to do likewise.

“They always follow the ram, eh?” He couldn’t really hide the relief in his voice.

“They always follow the ram!” Esma confirmed. “You lead the ram along and the flock will follow, no matter where to.”

“Wish we’d have something like that with cattle.”

She let a short laugh. “Wouldn’t that take the shine out of your cowboy life?”

He broke into a boyish grin. “Not mine.”

“We better get moving, shabaro. If they all come up here, the small space won’t suffice and they start falling off the cliff.”

Adam dipped his head in agreement and turned to his horses. Mariah gave him not the slightest problem, willingly following his lead and trusting his hand even on the most treacherous ground. The bay, Socks, was an entirely different matter. Again and again he balked, refused to go on or backed off from a crag. More often than not Adam had to push and to shove him, or rely on Mariah to drag him along. He couldn’t blame him, though. The poor thing had likely spent his entire life leisurely pulling a wagon and was hopelessly overcharged with the risky climb up a steep mountain side, carrying half his owner’s household on his back. Maybe he even knew what would happen to him if he slipped on that loose gravel.

Adam hastily pushed every thought of the dangers they faced back into the depths of his mind, and yet he couldn’t prevent anxiously looking out for Lilyah. The sheep had since spread into a long line of white woolly spots clambering up the barely treadable path, and she would have to be at the end of that line – with a horse that had the temper of ten. No… Adam shook his head. She had proven time and again that she could handle her horse, and Chai loved her too much to cause her any real trouble. But what if she got carried away looking out for any sheep? She doubtlessly was tired out after the long ride earlier that day… she hadn’t had a minute of rest yet. He could feel his own deep fatigue, how would she fare? If anything happened to her… why, oh why had he made her walk at the end, instead of at his side where he could have watched out for her?

Mariah’s nicker tore him out of his thoughts and he squeezed himself along the rocky wall to get in front of the mare. A steep cliff barred the way, maybe three or four feet in height. It was right at a point where they would have to change from zig to zag on their zigzag course up the slope, and it was understandable that the mare didn’t know where to go when there was nothing but an abyss of several dozen yards down in their old direction.

Adam strenuously climbed up the cliff and turned to the mare. “Come on, girl, you can do it!”

It was all Mariah needed. Her big brown eyes fixed on her master, she fought herself up the slippery cant until she had all four hooves safely on the new level.

“Good girl, good girl…” Adam praised and patted her, but pulled a face when Daisy started bleating. “Now what do you have to complain about? You have the box seat!”

He had to bow to slip under the tensed rope that led from Mariah’s tack to his next problem. With a deep sigh Adam skidded down the cliff again.

“Now come on, Socks! Look at Mariah – she went up there like a charm. What would she think of you if you wouldn’t keep up? Come on, boy, it’s time for you to be a man and impress the lady!”

The bay gave him a pitiable look, and while he didn’t exactly display any desire to impress the mare, Adam’s soothing words by and by helped him to build up some more confidence. Yet his shaky and unsure legs caused Adam’s stomach to slump while he pulled at the bay’s halter to urge him up, and he felt the sweat standing on his forehead when the horse finally scrambled to the spot next to the mare.

“Go, Mariah! Go, girl!” Adam breathed a sigh of relief as the mare obediently moved forward, causing the bay to follow until they both were on a somewhat broader ledge. “Wait here, girl!” Adam patted her again and wiped the sweat from his face before he scurried back to skid down the cliff once more.

“Esma! Throw me the lead of your horse, it’s a tricky spot here!”

“I can handle it. Keep moving!”

“Esma, don’t argue with me! It’s a dangerous corner here!”

“Oh, so? Thanks for the warning.”

Adam felt his last patience slipping off. “Come on, there’s no time for that now! The horses can barely make it through that corner. Now give me the rope!”

“Well, well, that old disease…” Esma slowly drew closer, the ram at her side, the horse following, but she showed no intention of handing over any leads. “All the typical symptoms are there.”

“What??”

“The symptoms!” She stopped in front of him, regarding him with an almost amused smirk. “That unshakable belief that no one but you can really ascertain a situation at hand; that firm conviction that only you can handle it, the even more indestructible assumption that no one but you can take care of everybody’s problems, and last but not least this incorrigible delusion that everybody else’s sake and fate is resting on your shoulders.” She nodded to herself. “It’s a typical man’s disease. Your father is a particularly sad case, most likely beyond any redemption, but for you I still see some hope.”

Adam stood as if someone had poured a bucket of water over his head. His protest stuck in his throat. He hardly knew where to look.

“Shabaro,” Esma went on. “If I need your help, I won’t be too proud to ask for it, and I will be glad if you grant it to me. But until then, let me take care of my own things. And just between you and me: you’re not quite at the top of your strength. Handle what little you still have wisely, so you’ll have enough of it left in case someone really needs your help!”

Adam helplessly raised his hands and let them fall again, looking everywhere for words. “Esma… it’s just that it’s a very dangerous ascent… and it’s my responsibility that you’re here in the first place…”

“No, it’s not your responsibility,” she retorted. “It was your kindness that showed us this way, and we chose to walk it on our own two feet, and at our own risk. And now skedaddle! The flock is coming close, and apart from that it’s not really smart of you to leave your own horse unwatched just so you can look after someone else’s!”

Adam felt his ears turning hot and he looked down to have his hat hide his face. She was right… and while all her other words still danced around him daring him to look at them, this last remark cut through his senses like a knife. Mariah was an extremely reliable mare, but she was tied to a skittish horse that could be acting up any minute, probably spooking from the sheep on top of her load, and if the bay slipped and fell… What had he been thinking?

“Uhm…” He cleared his throat. “You… you’ll tell me if you need help.”

“I sure will.”

“Good…” Adam made a few steps backwards, seeking for something more to say, but he didn’t know what. He finally turned and hastened back to his mare.

Esma smiled to herself and began to push the ram up the cliff.

* * *

Lilyah tried futilely to stifle another yawn, but the urge proved to be too strong and she finally gave in, feeling her eyes tearing as the yawn cracked her jaw muscles. She felt so tired and merely trudged after the last sheep in the line, forcing herself not to cling to Chai’s lead rein, not to hang her weight on the stallion whose hooves carefully picked their way from one tilted ledge to the next. They had made it to more than halfway up the slope, and while the moon still lit the rocky cliffs and crags, the small valley deep below seemed to have disappeared in a hole of blackness. She couldn’t even make out the wagon anymore. She didn’t look down much anyway, instinctively avoiding the gaze into the abyss there that hovered about like an unspoken threat beneath them. It was one thing she had learned during her travels through the Atlas Mountains – don’t look down if you don’t need to.

She would much rather look up, her eyes searching for Adam who usually was one or even two levels above her. She could barely see much of him, with dark crags and overhangs blocking her sight, or when his path was wide enough so he could move away from the dangerous edge. Yet she could hear the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves, so very distinctive from the busy clatter of the sheep’s hooves, clearly audible through the endless bleating, and more often than not the sound stirred flares of fear in her heart. While Mariah clearly moved calmly and reliably, he seemed to have enormous trouble with the team horses. Irregular hoofbeats, the scratching of slipping hooves fighting for traction, the sound of a stomping horse backing off, fearful snorts of protest – he had to push and fight that horse every step of the way. And he surely was as exhausted as she was, worse even given his weakened condition, his sore feet. How could he even hold on for so long? Lilyah closed her eyes. She should have given him Chai to lead and taken that unwilling wagon horse instead. The stallion had long since lost his bad mood and given in to his fate, and he was surefooted and courageous enough to take all the climbs and obstacles along the way without hesitation.

The sheep caused surprisingly little trouble as well, much less than her goats would have. They were less inclined to jump off in the boldest of leaps, less eager to outrun each other or fight for position, and for the most part they nicely clambered along one after another. Only on the odd occasion when the steep walls softened to a lower angle would one of them be tempted to try a shortcut to the constantly bawling ram, usually resulting in a haplessly slipping sheep that had to be snatched before it could plunge over the edge. The children outdid themselves in catching any wayward animals, bustling back and forth along the line to keep it smoothly moving. Pico seemed to be everywhere at once, jumping here, running there, climbing up and down the rocks like a goat, always accompanied by Titus, the ever-barking, limping dog, whose feet seemed to be as untiring as his vocal chords.

Yet the greatest dangers lurked at the often breakneck turns in the zigzag course, on spots where rougher cliffs had to be taken, when the forerunners would hesitate or have difficulties to climb on while the trailers would come up one by one, pressing into what little space there was, threatening to push each other from the precariously narrow ledges. Those were moments of highest alert, and Lilyah herself had more than once left Chai standing to hasten along the long procession in order to hold back animals or help the children push and shove the sheep along and keep the line safe and secure.

Lilyah yawned again and reached for her water bag. She had learned to control her thirst from an early age on, always cautious to be sparse with water, but she couldn’t resist the temptation to rub some of it into her face in order to try and fight the debilitating fatigue that stuck to her like glue, threatening to numb down her senses. The liquid was warm and muddy since the sheep had turned the water hole below into a morass, and the particles of dirt rubbed on her skin as she wiped it over her face.

Her head snapped up when she heard the noise from above, the frightened whinny of a horse, Adam’s call, fighting hooves, the heavy thump indicating that something big had fallen down. For one terrible moment she could catch the glimpse of a horse’s hind leg dangling over the edge above, the groaning of the animal and Adam’s suppressed curses as he fought to force the horse back to safety.

And then it rained stones and gravel from above, pelting down on her and her own horse.

“Chai!” Lilyah froze in shock as she heard the neigh, saw her stallion rearing up. While her first instinct had driven her to press herself against the wall to avoid getting hit, she now leaped forward to hang onto the reins. “Chai! Stop it!”

It was the most unfortunate spot for an incident like this. A ledge no more than two feet wide, with a rocky wall on one side and a precipitous bluff sharply falling away on the other. She saw the stallion’s hind hooves slipping while his front legs were still flailing the air, and she screamed with fear and shock as she desperately tried to pull him down and forward to a wider spot.

Somewhere above she heard Adam yelling her name.

Chai had good instincts. Knowing that there was just one way left for him, he threw himself to safety, his front hooves crashing on the rocky path. Lilyah screamed again as one of his hooves hit her, throwing her to the ground. She sheltered her head with her arms and attempted to roll into a ball as the stallion threatened to trample all over her in his charge forward. A wild joy flamed up in her that he had not fallen, immediately drowned out by the realization that she had to stop him from blindly storming ahead. She sprang to her feet, feeling no pain, no weakness, no fatigue.

“Chai! Chai, stop it! CHAI!”

“LIL, NOOO!”

She did not even hear Adam’s voice anymore. She saw Chai buck and stumble as he had run straight into the last sheep of the line; she heard his neigh and the frenzied screech of the stricken ewe which in turn attempted to run to escape the sudden onslaught. She did not even know and could never tell later how she ever got past the Arabian and in front of him to clutch the reins once again.

“Chai… Chai… easy, boy, easy… that’s my boy… easy, Chai…” She clung to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, feeling the sweat standing on his coat and her tears streaming from her eyes as she buried her face in his mane. “That’s a good boy…”

The stallion stomped and snorted, but he had calmed down.

“LIL! You alright?” Adam’s frantic call cut through the darkness from above.

She didn’t get to answer.

“Heeelp!”

Lilyah’s head flew around, trying to access what had happened. The panicked ewe had run into the next to last in line, causing that one to storm ahead, triggering a kind of cumulative effect, riling up the whole end of the flock. Ruby had attempted to stop the running sheep and restore the order of the line, and she somehow must have had lost her footing.

“Ruby, I’m coming!” Lilyah ran up to the spot from where the call had come. Ruby had slipped several yards down the steep slope, clutching to a rock to stop her from further sliding down, but unable to get back up again. Lilyah fell to her knees and tried to crawl down herself to reach out to the girl, but they were too far apart and the slope was too treacherous. She almost lost her balance and clasped the edge at the last moment.

A good fifteen yards above the drama another quarrel took place.

“Don’t be a fool, shabaro!” Esma’s fists had a grip like a vice around his arms. “You’ll never make it there in time! Let the girls handle it! They can do it!”

“Esma, I’ve just had about enough of your… ah, confound it!” Adam hissed in frustration. Of course she was right. While it was fifteen yards straight below, it would be a rough and rocky descent of at least 200 yards for him to get there, climbing all over the steady line of sheep – whose forerunners were coming precariously close already. And the still trembling bay was anything but calm and relaxed.

He stepped as close to the edge as he could. “Lil! Take the rope!”

It was hard telling whether she had heard him or had come to the same conclusion by herself, but she hurried to fetch the lariat he had fastened to Chai’s load and returned to her spot above where Ruby was clinging to the rock.

“Ruby, here comes the rope!” Lilyah began to unravel the lariat, lowering one end to the girl.

“Need my help?” Pico’s bright voice rang through the night.

“No!” Lilyah called back. “Stay with the sheep! Ruby, can you see the end?”

“Yes!”

Adam nearly shivered with the tension inside of him, straining his eyes to see every detail. “Lil! Wrap the rope around your wrist!”

Lilyah did nothing of the sort. She wrapped her end of the rope around her stallion’s neck.

“Clever girl, eh?” Esma commented.

Adam did not react. Dropping to one knee, he watched with bated breath as Lilyah urged the Arabian to move backwards, watched the rope tensing and finally Ruby’s climb to safety. He heard them laughing and giggling with sheer relief as they embraced, still squatting on the ground before they helped each other up, chattering about how thrilling it all had been. Only then was he able to deeply exhale, closing his eyes in a moment of mute restoration.

Esma had stepped to the edge. “Have we lost any sheep?” she hollered out.

Adam raised an eyebrow. She should know that no sheep were lost, they would have noticed it had it happened. But he understood the moment he heard the tremendous pride in Ruby’s cheerful answer.

“Not one, Grandma! Not one!!”

“Very good!”

Adam slowly got up again and turned around to the old shepherd woman. There was an outright mischievous smirk on her face as she looked him over. He reset his hat. “Flock’s coming up,” he dryly remarked. “We should keep on moving.”

“Right so!” She turned around to gather her horse while keeping the ram from pulling away.

He had a last look below and returned to Mariah and the bay.

* * *

It took them the best of two hours before they finally reached the top of the slope. The night had begun fading, with the upcoming dawn tinting everything in a reddish twilight that seemed darker than the nocturnal moonlight before. Adam breathed a sigh of relief as he dragged the bay up the last crag. While the dusty plateau littered with rabble and debris didn’t look exactly inviting, it at least offered space enough for the flock to gather and to allow everybody a much needed rest. Most important, it could not be seen from below – whereas during the climb they would have made easy targets for anyone looking up.

Esma panted when she arrived after him, and she did not even protest as he skidded down to unceremoniously take the reins of the second bay. She shoved the bleating ram up the last slope and took a few moments to catch her breath while her eyes scanned over the plateau.

“Doesn’t look much like we’d find any firewood here…”

“We shouldn’t make a fire here, anyway – the smoke could be seen from below.” Adam shrugged his shoulders as he patted the bay’s neck and checked the load. One of the boxes had lost a fastening during that last jump and hung a tad askew. “As much as I’d love a hot coffee now. And I could die for a warm meal!”

“Well, I guess a cold meal will have to do, then,” Esma replied. “I got some fine bread and a good side of bacon!”

“Bacon…” Adam wrinkled his brow. “Pork?”

“Sure, pork… oh!” Esma grinned and tied the ram’s lead to a rock. “Your little Arab wife… She’s strict with religion?”

“No, not really,” he smiled, turning to the horse again to refasten the box. “She just never eats pork.”

“I see. Don’t worry about that. I also have plenty of fine cheese!”

He laughed. “Now that’s what she likes. And I’ll take her share of the bacon!”

She joined in his laugh as they turned to the entrance slope together in order to retrieve the first upcoming sheep and help them manage the last obstacle to the plateau. One after another they came up the narrow path, bleating with excitement as they eagerly fought their way across the rocky edge to finally get to their ram. The ram of course kept on bleating as well, and the lambs stored in the basket on one of the wagon horses seemed to fall into a frenzy baahaa-ing for their mothers. Esma had covered the basket with a net to keep them from jumping out, but with all the wriggling and twitching going on inside it seemed to be a mere matter of minutes until the whole basket would jump off. It didn’t really add to the poise of the horse carrying it.

And with every bleat ringing in his ear, Adam knew that his hopes for a short rest were mute. The animals were simply too loud; they would betray their presence to everyone riding into the valley below.

“Esma, we should skip the rest and move on as soon as everyone is up. Unless there is a way to make them shut up and be quiet.”

“Without a blade of grass anywhere around? Not a chance!” Esma wrinkled her brow. “How far is it to that promontory we’re headed for?”

“Four hours, if we keep a good pace. Maybe five.”

“And good grass there?”

He nodded a confirmation. “Good grass and water.”

“Well then.” She stepped back. “I’ll prepare some food for us to eat on the way. You get along here?”

“I sure do!” After 50 or so sheep he had developed a routine how to best shove them along when their little legs struggled with the slippery gravel of the slope. It were the older and heavier ewes that had the most troubles, while the younger ones and the half grown lambs gaily skipped past him before he could reach out for them. Sheep after sheep – he forced himself to not recall that there were about 300 of them.

And with every sheep, his expectation grew, his eyes glanced down the way with even more impatience. He had friendly words for Pico and Ruby as they came up, even a stroke for Titus, but all his senses were waiting for someone else. And his heart jumped to his throat when she finally appeared.

Adam’s eyes began to shine. The brown robe she wore shimmered red in the reddish twilight of the early dawn, her long hair flowed openly down her sides, more or less unrestricted as her usual hairdo had not survived the night. The veils and the black wrap she had worn when they had started their climb were loosely thrown across Chai’s crest. The Arabian followed her without being led. Adam felt his heart swell with love and with pride.

“Hey, cowboy!” Ruby’s voice tore him out of his enchantment. “Are you sleeping?”

It was just then that Adam noticed the older ewe that struggled with the slope right in front of him, bleating in her predicament as she once again skidded down the gravelly cant she couldn’t climb up. Grumbling to himself, he gave the ewe a mighty push that helped her over the edge. Three more sheep followed that made the slope without his help, and before he knew it, a small hand glided on his arm.

“Adam…”

He looked into the face he loved so dearly, the large eyes that held the world for him, and without a word he pulled her into his arms, pressing her tightly against his chest. His hands brushed all over her small body as he bowed his head to search for her lips. Just as she rose to her toes to kiss him, she suddenly hissed and flinched.

“Lil… Lil, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing…” She abashedly touched her left hip. “I’m afraid I got kicked…”

“Oh…” He stepped back, his fingers gently approaching the spot she indicated. “Let me have a look!”

A small smile stole over her face and it dawned in on him that he couldn’t so easily examine a spot so well and safely hidden.

“It’s only a bruise, Adam. A big one, I’m afraid, but really nothing more.” Her hands glided up his arms and shoulders and she rose to her toes again. “Just be careful with it, will you?” Her lips searched for his.

“Of course I will…” he mumbled into the kiss before his tongue touched hers. It was a soft kiss, a tender kiss, and his hands caressed her frame ever so lightly. “I was so afraid…” he finally whispered. “That moment earlier on…”

“Shsh…” She dotted his mouth with little kisses, her fingers stroking his cheeks. “Nothing has happened…”

“Hey, Grandma has sandwiches!” Pico shot up to them. “What’s keeping you?”

A lopsided grin spread over Adam’s face as he half turned around to the boy. “We’re coming! Don’t eat everything by yourselves!”

Lilyah’s smile didn’t last as she saw how stiffly Adam climbed up the slope and then turned to help her up. His movements were slow and conscientious, as if he were in pain. She could see the strain in his eyes, she could sense his exhaustion, and she noticed how pale his face looked. The black beard stubbles made his bare skin appear even more ashen, and the lines in his features had grown so deep that they made him look ten years older than he was. Her eyes hastily darted across the plateau and she noticed with great relief that the whole flock had assembled and still had space to spare. They could rest here. Maybe Adam could even sleep a little.

“Hop!” Adam laughed as the black Arabian boldly jumped up the slope, unhindered by the bulky load on his back. “If only some of that could rub off on poor old Socks…”

“Adam!” She closed in on him. “We can rest here, can’t we?”

“No…” His eyes took on a rueful look as he glanced down on her. He could sense how tired she was. Her small face was smeared, her hair a tousled mess, her robe dusty and wrinkled. To him she was just as beautiful as ever, maybe even more so with the pride he felt, but he knew well that she herself would be more than unhappy with her appearance and would love to refresh herself. And her bruised hip had to be hurting…

“Why not?”

He explained it to her.

“But, Adam, I don’t understand!” She reached out for his arm. “Wouldn’t they know anyway where we went, whether they can hear the flock or not? You said yourself there is no other way, and surely we’ve left traces!”

“Lil, that’s not the point! It’s one thing if we’re just gone and could’ve been gone the whole night, and quite another if they can hear that we’re still well within earshot.”

She wasn’t about to give up. “And even if, what would it matter? They couldn’t shoot at us across the mountain’s edges and they couldn’t follow us so easily – Adam, it took us half the night to crawl up here!”

“But we’ve made it, haven’t we?” His thumb softly brushed over her cheek. “Lil, if they can still hear us, it would be like dangling a piece of red meat in front of a pack of wolves. But if we’re out of sight and out of earshot, they’ll have no way to tell how far we’re ahead of them or which way we’re headed.”

Lilyah bit her lip. His arguments were solid and hard to refute.

“And we didn’t leave any traces!” Pico who had been leaping about them called out in obvious mischief. “Because I’ve wiped them all!”

Adam started. “You did what?”

“I’ve wiped them! Just like Grandpa showed me!” The boy triumphantly puffed himself up. “We often wiped our traces when we didn’t want any cowboys to know where the flock went. I even collected the droppings… wait!” He stormed off.

Adam and Lilyah exchanged a look as the boy returned, dragging a big bag behind him. Both vaguely remembered having seen him with that bag before.

“Here, have a look! Just look at this!” Pico proudly opened the bag and Adam felt obliged to at least have a glimpse inside, wishing he could somehow stop his nose from functioning.

“It’s good stuff!” Pico explained. “If we dry it, we can use it for the fire when we’re scarce on wood!”

“Uhm…” Adam inconspicuously pinched his nose. “Good thinking.”

“It really is,” Lilyah agreed. “The Bedouins in the desert do the same. Only they usually use camel droppings!”

“Why?” Pico asked. “Don’t they have any sheep?”

“Ehm…” Lilyah fluttered her lashes. “They have, but… they also have quite a lot of camels.”

“It’s really quite logical,” Adam chimed in. “Camels have the bigger droppings.”

“Ah, I see!” The boy nodded his head. “Camels are big animals, aren’t they? Bigger than horses?”

“Much bigger than horses,” Lilyah confirmed.

“Wow…” Pico exclaimed in awe. “That must be good droppings!” Before anyone could remark on that, he grabbed his bag and jumped off. “Come on now! Grandma has sandwiches!”

Lilyah couldn’t help a soft laugh and drew closer to Adam, her hand touching his side. “One day we’ll have a son like this…”

“Yah…” Adam smiled and put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him. “Just remind me to make sure we never run out of firewood.”

“Oh, you!” She laughed and brushed over his face.

Adam saw her laughter fading, saw the worry returning into her dark eyes as she looked him over. “Lil…” He softly touched her face. “It’s just four or five hours to the promontory. It’s a good and safe place, and it has good grass and a fine spring. I think we both will rest much better knowing that all the animals have food and water. Besides, we will also rest better when we can lie down for good and have a sound sleep, and not just for an hour or so at a place where we won’t find any peace.”

She reluctantly nodded her head. “It’s just, that…”

“Yeah, I know…” Adam pulled her head to his shoulder and kissed her hair. “But don’t worry about me. I’m much tougher than you think.”

She didn’t answer and snuggled to his chest. She knew how tough he could be. She just didn’t want him to be forced to prove it once again.

* * *

70. The Arab Way 

It was hard to tell what exactly had riled up Hop Sing on this early morning that barely let the first daylight peep through the windows. Somewhere in between the Chinese grumble and mumble, snippets like ‘only two’ and ‘all wlong’ could be made out, and the demeanour with which he tossed a plate of scrambled eggs on the table vividly spoke of utmost upset. Not even waiting for a reaction, the cook threw his hands in the air and stomped back into his kitchen, muttering under his breath.

It didn’t exactly improve Ben’s spirits. Wearily lowering himself onto his seat, he looked over the checkered tablecloth, over the two dishes laid out there for Joe and for him. It wasn’t really a rare occurrence for one or two of his sons to be absent from a meal, particularly Adam who often was gone about business, always a little earlier up than the rest of his family, but still the table looked painfully empty. Ben’s eyes glided over to the staircase. That Joe was inclined to sleep well into the daylight and never really eager to leave his warm bed wasn’t anything unusual, either. And still he missed the busy footfalls coming from above, the sound of heavy knocking against wooden doors and half exasperated, half amused calls like ‘Hey, shortshanks, get up!’ or ‘Rise and shine, little buddy!’.

There was nothing but silence now.

Ben poured himself a coffee. He had not had the best of nights and it still was hard for him to sort his thoughts, to come up with a plan for the day that would look both convenient and promising. He would have to talk to Adam. Again. Hoping that somehow Adam had regained his usual calm resolve, his rational attitude. Listlessly sipping his coffee, Ben tried to convince himself that his eldest had surely come to his senses during the night, had used the time to explain to this shepherd woman that selling her sheep at three dollars per head was the best solution for everyone involved. Three dollars per head was a good offer – it was an excellent offer indeed. Ben pulled the egg plate closer. Maybe he should apologize for his all too harsh tone. Show some understanding. Congratulate his son on his marriage and say something nice about it, about the young lady. Adam’s wife. His daughter in law. Ben sighed and pushed the egg plate back again, without having taken any. He would have to learn to accept it. Maybe he should have done so from the beginning. And hope that Adam wouldn’t get in trouble with that unholy law of cohabitation.

He looked up at the staircase once again, but he didn’t get time to consider going up to stir his youngest. The fast hoofbeats of a galloping horse could be heard from the yard, apparently being ridden in there at great pace, not stopping until the animal was nearly running into the doorway. Alerted, Ben wrinkled his brow and got up. He hadn’t even taken a step when someone frantically hammered against the door.

“Mistah Cartwright! Mistah Cartwright!”

Ben hastened to open and a sturdy cowboy nearly fell into the frame. “Mistah Cartwright! Ya better come quick!”

Ben’s eyes flew from the agitated man, one of the hands assigned to look after the cattle on the open range, to the sweat covered horse and back again. “Gates! What’s up?”

“Them dogies… the herd on the open range.” The man caught his breath. “Mistah Cartwright, they’re dying! They’re just droppin’ dead one after one. Nevah seen anything like it…”

Ben froze, his eyes blackened as he stared at the man.

“Ya better come look, Mistah Cartwright.”

Ben whirled around. “JOSEPH!!!”

* * *

“And HOP! Now come on! Up with you! GIT!” Adam pushed and shoved, head and shoulders pressed against the ewe’s woolly backside, her tail twitching up and down his face while her short legs struggled with the rocky slope. “UP!”

The ewe bleated, fought and wriggled until she finally made it over the edge, triumphantly pulling away to where the ram was bawling, bleating even louder. Adam picked up his lost hat and saw from the corner of his eye that Lilyah was struggling with another sheep. It was a smaller animal than his ewe, but big enough to cause her to loose her footing while she fought to push it up the slope.

“Lil…” Adam scurried over to her and grabbed a hold of the sheep, pushing it over the edge. His own legs threatened to give way and he almost lost his balance as he tried to help Lilyah up. He saved himself by leaning heavily against the slope, more sitting than standing, while Lilyah steadied herself at his shoulder. For one moment they both just panted, and Adam spat out a few woolly sheep hairs.

“That was the last one…” Lilyah tried to calm her breathing and brushed a long strand of her hair out of her face. “Mash’allah!”

“Yah.” He touched her cheek. “You alright?”

“Yes… And you?”

“Still lasting.”

Their eyes met, smiling, laughing even in the joyous relief of two people who just had accomplished a major feat together, one that had left them spent and exhausted and yet happy to have it done. For one moment this joy even displaced their ever growing worry for each other, and each one felt relieved to see it in the other’s eyes, having felt pained by the sorrow in the other’s heart. And somewhere deep inside, each heart realized that same notion in the other one, and their eyes met again in wondrous sensation.

“Come…” Adam pushed himself off the rock and reached for her arm to help her up the slant. She slipped several times and once stepped on her seams, causing an audible rip in one of the lavish draperies. Hastily wrapping up her robes with one arm, she nearly lost her footing again. Adam took her hand and pulled her up. Chai followed, as valiantly as ever, nickering while he jumped onto the level ground of the small plateau where the others had already assembled.

“Whoa…” Adam stretched his knees to keep his legs straight, inconspicuously reaching out for the stallion to support himself. If he were to fall now, he probably wouldn’t be able to get up again.

“Here, have some water!” Lilyah took her water bag and offered it to him, after wetting her hands to cool his cheeks and temples. Her eyes ruefully wandered across the load on Chai’s back. “If only I could find your medicine! I could swear I’ve put a bottle away for you in my smaller saddlebag, right here…”

“You’ll surely find it later.” Adam felt genuinely sorry for her as she unhappily checked on her saddlebag again. He knew quite well where the medicine was – in a rolled up blanket hidden away in the lowest layers of Chai’s load. After all, he had packed the stallion and used the chance to get the vile concoction out of her immediate reach. Only to help her to not accidently overdose him with the stuff, of course. He returned the water bag. “Have a drink yourself… eh, eh!” He raised a finger. “You first, Chai later!”

She blushed a little and took a few sips before she poured some water into her cupped hand for the stallion to lick it out. “Are there any more of such rough cliffs coming?”

“This was the last one for awhile.” Adam still held on to the horse, but felt the bout of vertigo that had grabbed him slowly vanishing. “Only when we reach the promontory we’ll have to climb a little again, but until then it should be a rather easy trip.”

“And we go higher and higher!” Lilyah turned around herself, glancing over the area. The sun had begun to rise, lightening the scenery with a golden shine, taking the shadows of the night away. The small plateau they had reached extended to a wide, rising stretch, surrounded by even higher hill sides and rocky cliffs, losing itself in advanced mountain slopes. It still was a rough and gravelly trail, yet compared to what lay behind them it seemed downright comfortable to walk. If the horses weren’t packed as they were, they could even ride there. Chai pushed her hand to get more water and she gave him some more. “There’s not much left… when do we get there?”

“Little more than two hours…” Adam squinted, rubbing his nose as if a sudden thought had rose in him. And judging from the darkening of his brow, it wasn’t a good thought.

“Adam, what is it?”

“Nothing…” He bit his lip.

“The water?”

A sudden look from hazel eyes told her that she had hit the nail on the head. Tentatively, she asked, “Do you think it might not be sufficient for all the animals?”

“No.” He blew a laugh. “It’s more than sufficient – the spring is big enough for you to take a bath in. And a short stretch below the promontory it actually builds a little waterfall. You’ll love it if you see it.”

She looked into his face and from the serenity of her dark eyes he could tell that she knew this wasn’t what he had thought of. And while she didn’t say anything, he knew that she was waiting. His wife who had a right to know.

Adam took a breath and let his eyes wander across the flock of sheep that had gathered around where Esma and the children apparently did the same that he and Lilyah did – taking a small break to catch their breaths. “As I said, it’s a large and lush spring,” he finally began. “It runs for miles down the mountains, partially underground, merges with several other, smaller springs and builds pretty much the sole water supply for our Southern pastures down in the valleys, particularly during dry times.”

Lilyah listened, absentmindedly caressing Chai’s muzzle, patiently waiting for Adam to proceed.

“Couple of years ago we had a lot of trouble with some prospectors,” Adam went on. “They had somehow managed to sneak up there, build a camp and start blasting adits into the mountain sides in search of silver and gold. They dug sluices from the source of the spring to wash out the sediment, and the chemicals they used, particularly mercury, polluted the spring water and badly affected our pastures miles below. Took us a good fight to get them out of there.” He looked down on his boots. “I almost forgot about that. This promontory is so far off and so hard to reach that no one ever went up there again.” He pressed his lips together and Lilyah knew that there still was something coming.

Adam met her eye. “Lil, if my father figures out where we’ve gone, he won’t sit down and just forget about us. Not as long as he thinks the sheep have anthrax and might infect the spring.”

“I see…” She glanced over to the flock. “But they look so much better after they’ve been watered and fed in the valley below. They still do! And the mere fact that they made it up here should be proof enough they’re not ill!”

A dry grin stole over his lips. “It’s not any disease that’s the problem here, Lil. It’s the fear of a disease, and a rather irrational fear that won’t listen to reason.”

“Is there another way to the promontory?”

“Only one – a good six-hour-ride from the ranch house, and a rough ride at that. Some time after the fight with the prospectors my brothers and I tried to drive some cattle there and we had to give up. Then one year later we tried to get a buckboard up there because we had the idea to cut the grass and make hay, but nothing came of that, either. We worked like mules but couldn’t get the buckboard even half up the way.” He let a short laugh. “There’s a reason why nobody ever made use of the good grazing ground there.”

She smiled and put a hand on his chest. “So it’s still a good place for us now, isn’t it?”

His fingers caressed hers. “I’m just afraid it might not be the most peaceful place.” He pursed his lips. “Even though it’s a good place to defend – and not at all easy to conquer, as we had to find out back then.”

“That sounds just about perfect…” She brushed over his stubbly cheek. “Why this worried look in your eyes?”

He knitted his brow, his eyes lost themselves in the distance. “Are you aware that this is our honeymoon? Crawling up some godforsaken mountain, holing up on a godforsaken mountaintop, entangled in a range war with a stubborn old man, and still no definite plans for our future anywhere in sight.” He blew the air through his teeth. “I actually had some other honeymoon in mind. Having some wonderful times of leisure, doing some sightseeing, things like that…”

Her smile intensified as she lovingly rubbed his arms. “Adam, if there is so much good grass and water on that mountaintop, it surely isn’t godforsaken – it rather sounds as if Allah has blessed it. The future is ours as it lives in our love; and as long as we’re together, we’ll have plenty of wonderful leisure times, no matter where we go. And as for the sightseeing, you can still show me that waterfall.”

Adam laughed softly, taking her face in his two hands and kissing her on the forehead. “You’re one fine woman, Mrs. Cartwright.”

“And why are there still those worry lines?” Her fingertips gingerly followed the lines in his face.

His laugh lost itself, his eyes averted her look. It took a while until he finally spoke, “Lil, I’m a man who prefers to have things sorted out, to have his affairs in order, or to at least have a plan for the future. I’m a proud man, Lil, proud to have something to give. And I would like to give you so much more than I can now – good land to call yours, a fine house to live in, a safe and secure income to allow you a decent standard of living. Right now… right now I’m not much more than a drifter. My bank account is empty and I don’t have the slightest idea where to go from here, or what will come after this is over. That’s what’s eating me right now.”

She silently nodded her head. “The prophet, peace be upon him, says it’s easy for anyone to look good in riches, but it’s in poverty where real nobility shows. Adam…” Her hand touched his face. “We’ve only just started to live together. We’re young, and we’re strong, and we will build our future by and by – together! And our plans will come as we go, little by little. You have so much to give, and it is all within you.” She smiled and searched his eyes. “And apart from that, now that you’re married to an Arab woman, you probably should learn to view things a little more in the Arab way!”

Adam regarded the twinkle in her eyes. “The Arab way?”

“The Arab way!” she confirmed. “The ancient wisdom of the Arab people, the foundation of Arab philosophy.”

“Ah, yeah…” One of his eyebrows climbed up. “And what exactly is the Arab way?”

A cheeky smile built on her features. “Oh, it’s really very easy. It’s all about getting yourself into the biggest possible mess and then wait for Allah to sort it out!”

For one moment he just looked at her while the deep worry lines in his face gradually dissolved into merry laugh lines, until he finally burst out into a heartfelt belly laugh. “Now that explains a lot!” Still laughing, he pulled her into his arms. “The Arab way! Why, I always had a feeling there’s been a whiff of Oriental sagacity hovering over our heads ever since…”

She joined in his laughter until his lips touched hers and his arms closed around her even firmer. The kiss went from playful passion to a deep tenderness, and her heart swelled as he finally looked down on her, his hazel eyes warm with love.

“I love you…” The words breathed from her lips almost all by themselves.

The shine in his eyes grew deeper. “I love you,” he softly returned.

Lilyah smiled. She could still feel his exhaustion, even more so when he put his arm around her to lead her to where Esma and the children were waiting, she noticed the strenuous limp with which he walked and it still pained her. And yet nothing could take away her joy upon seeing the dimples in his cheeks, the sparkles of laughter still in his eyes, and hearing the deep chuckle coming from his chest as he mumbled to himself in amusement, “The Arab way…”.

* * *

Ben Cartwright felt a cold rage brewing deep in his guts as he stared at the staggering steer in front of him. The animal had troubles staying on its feet, shivering in spasmodic cramps that suggested intense abdominal pain. A thin line of bloody feces ran down the steer’s hind legs as it bawled out its misery, and slowly, slowly, the front legs gave way and the massive body sank down. The bowels could be seen twitching beneath the coat, and one could only guess the agony the poor beast had to endure. It would die, as others had died before. Ben counted more than two dozen cadavers.

He abruptly turned around and walked back to his horse. He did not look left or right as he ripped his rifle from its scabbard and readied it before he returned to the fallen steer. The shot rang loudly across the open range, caused the horses to throw up their heads, caused some of the cattle to back away and run a couple of yards. They didn’t run far, tired and malnourished as they were, lacking sufficient feed and water on the severely overgrazed range. And some of them couldn’t even run at all. Beautiful Texas Longhorns. So much tougher and hardier than the Herefords, especially in the often harsh Nevada climate. He had hoped to crossbreed them, adding some of their endurance into his herds. Some of their beauty.

“Pa…” Joe shifted uncomfortably in the saddle.

Ben did not listen, he did not even look up as he uncocked and recocked the lever. His face an unmoving mask, he marched to the next animal that was already down on the ground, showing profound muscle fasciculations. A second shot bellowed up. Uncock and recock, the mechanical ratchet of the lever. A calf of maybe ten months. And a third shot. By now, the cattle scarcely stirred at the noise.

One of the two cowboys assigned to watch the herd opened his mouth as his boss passed him by, but one look into the stonelike features caused his words to stick in his throat. The ranch hands who had accompanied father and son from the ranch cowered in their saddles, faces hidden by lowered hat brims.

Ben did not even notice as he approached a wobbly cow. Still standing, but the cramped, uncoordinated movements and the wide opened mouth revealed her doom. He shot without the slightest hesitation. Uncock and recock, his face frozen as his darkened eyes scanned for the next target. He only halted once, in front of a large, blue speckled bull. A beautiful animal. Beautiful horns. At least six-and-a-half feet tip to tip. Yet after that one, mute moment, he did not flinch as he shot the bull in the head, straight between those beautiful horns.

He only stopped when his repeater rifle ran out of ammunition.

“Pa…” Joe had dismounted and approached his father, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Pa, I’m sorry…”

Ben drew a deep breath. “So am I, son. So am I.” His head flew around. “Turner! Gates!”

The two cowboys hastened to come closer, the mounted hands followed more slowly.

“When did this start exactly?”

“Only this morning, Mistah Cartwright.” Gates nervously took off his hat and put it back on. “There warn’t nothin’ wrong with them dogies yesterday. Sure, they’ve been hungry with that meager grass, and that waterhole is muddy as hell, but that’s what they got used to…”

The man called Turner pulled up his shoulders. “Maybe young Miller was right all along. He came by last night, said some of the critters weren’t acting quite right. We checked on them, but found nothing wrong…”

“He warn’t really sure about it,” Gates added. “As Turner said, we went through the whole herd and the critters just seemed fine enough. And that young feller thought he’d maybe just been seeing things in the dark.”

Ben curtly dipped his head. “We’ll have to separate the herd. Drive the healthy ones a little farther off, and shoot the sick ones. No use in letting them suffer.”

“Pa, maybe we could try and…” Little Joe broke off as his father flew around to him, a thunderstorm in his face.

“Joseph, if a herd is stricken with anthrax, there is NOTHING you can try! NOTHING!” His eyes shot flashes, but he caught himself and continued in a calmer tone, “All we can do is pray that we can save at least some of the herd.”

Joe collected himself. “Pa, we don’t know it’s anthrax. Adam’s said the sheep…” He did not get any further.

“DON’T remind me of that brother of yours and his wild, bare-faced brazen smart talk!” Ben’s finger shot up as if he was about to stab his youngest with it. “Your brother will have to answer for that!”

Joe drew a breath and noticed that some of the cowboys stealthily signaled him to tread lightly from behind his father’s back. They hastily lowered their hands as Ben turned around again.

“Go to work!”

They hastened to bustle off. No one really wanted to get in the way of Ben Cartwright’s anger at a moment like that.

Joe chewed his lip, desperately thinking of something, anything he could say while his father walked back to his horse to reload his rifle. He wished that Hoss would be there. Hoss always had a better hand with Pa when the flames flared high. Hoss certainly…

“JOSEPH!”

Joe swallowed the sigh and turned around, yet before he could answer, his attention was drawn to two riders approaching in a fast canter. The golden coat of Frank Miller’s palomino was easily recognizable. At least they diverted his father’s attention.

Frank Miller brought his horse to a rapid halt. There was no need to tell him what was up. All around them cattle staggered about, bawling in pain, groaning, showing the same symptoms as those Ben had just shot. And the dead ones bore sad witness to how serious it was.

Frank visibly swallowed. “Outbreak?”

“Outbreak,” Ben confirmed. “I was told that you saw it coming…”

“No.” Frank shook his head, looking about the dead animals. “I mean… I had a hunch, kind of. I wasn’t sure. We checked the cattle, those two men and I, but we found nothing wrong. Ben, if I really had thought it was that bad, I would’ve done something right away.” He pressed his lips together. “But I did have a bad feeling. That’s why I rode to Carson City this morning and asked Thomas to have a look at the herd.”

Ben’s eyes wandered to the second rider, a scrawny man in a black suit, once fashionable but now sadly threadbare. Hair and beard were meticulously groomed, yet his features revealed a certain amount of debauchery.

“Thomas Dawson, Sir, at your service.” The voice was surprisingly pleasant, trustworthy.

“Thomas used to work as a veterinarian in Sacramento,” Frank took over the conversation again. “He does not practice anymore, but I think he can still give a professional opinion.”

“I sure can.” Dawson dismounted and approached some of the shot cattle.

“We’re fairly sure it is anthrax,” Ben called out, watching the man as he bowed over a dead steer.

“Yes, I’ve heard about the epidemic in town,” Dawson replied. “The cowboys call it Blackleg, but it’s pretty much the same. Brought in by a herd of infected sheep, it was said.”

“We’re not really sure of that,” Joe threw in, ignoring his father’s sharp hiss. “My older brother Adam…”

“Joseph, that’s enough!” Ben’s eyes had grown black. “Let the man do his work!”

Joe opened his mouth, but was cut off before he could say a further word.

“I’d appreciate it, young man, if you could mount your horse and help the hands separate the herd.” Ben glowered at his youngest. “Now!”

Joe knew when a battle was lost. “Yes, sir.”

“I’ll join you in a minute, Joe!” Frank had also dismounted and gave the youngest Cartwright an understanding look before he closed in on Ben. “Ben, a word…”

Ben wrinkled his brow at Frank’s lowered voice, but followed as Miller junior led him a few steps back, lowering his tone even more. “Ben, Thomas was a veterinarian, and as far as I’ve heard, a pretty good one, as well.” He glanced over to Dawson, who still looked about at the dead cattle, as if to make sure the man could not hear him.

“And?” Ben asked.

Frank sighed. “Ben, it’s at least ten years since he practiced.” His voice fell to a near-whisper. “But then he took to drinking, gambling, he pretty much lost his footing. I don’t want to gossip, I just want you to know. Maybe he forgot some things… but as it happened, he was the only veterinarian I knew of in the area.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Ben placed his hand on Frank’s shoulder. “Frank, I want you to know that I’m really thankful for everything you did. You’re a good friend. Your father can be proud of you.”

“Thanks, Ben.” A small smile stole over the young man’s lips, but it faded fast as he gazed at the herd. “Guess I better help Joe and the others. And I think we’ll have to burn the dead ones.”

Ben nodded his head and his face hardened again. What lay before them wouldn’t be easy.

* * *