65. A Song for Daisy 

“Lil, that was reckless!” Adam had dismounted close to her.

She pressed her lips together and fastened the Indian bow to her saddle. “I’m not looking on when you are in danger!”

“And what about your storming ahead?” He bowed his head to seek her eyes. “Lil, when I tell you to stay behind me, I expect you to do just that!”

She bit her lip and lowered her gaze. Her temper had gotten the better of her and she knew that it could have gone awfully wrong. “I’m sorry…” It came out much fainter than her previous words.

“It’s alright.” A slight smile stole across his face as he gently brushed over her shoulder. “That sight of Simmons sitting in front of your arrow was well worth the trouble.”

She looked up to him, relieved by the little twinkle in his eyes. But both their faces sobered when they regarded the strident woman who just got up from kneeling next to the dead man who lay surrounded by dead sheep. Adam gave Lilyah a curt nod and approached the lady who did not look up.

“Your son?” he asked tentatively. The dead man was young and his worn out clothes didn’t look as if he had done a lot of riding, but was rather used to walking with the flock. He had been shot in the chest, his gun still lay beside him. He wore no gun belt; likely had carried his gun in his normal belt like many people did who were not used to having it ready all time. He couldn’t have been much of a match for the men under Simmons.

The grey-haired woman blew a breath, still looking down at the dead. “No. We only picked him up near Lobdells. A drifter with an empty belly, looking for a warm meal and a little sense in his life. A good boy, but never with much luck on his hands. Poor kid!”

Adam nodded his head. “I’ll bury him.”

“I can do that myself.” She turned her face to him and Adam saw that she was much older than he had initially thought. Her swarthy face was a landscape of wrinkles and faded pockmarks, but there was a strangely youthful resilience to her that seemed to defy any age. Her pitch black eyes were sharp and alert, surrounded by laugh lines. “This is not your fight, shabaro. I’d hate to bury you as well.”

“Don’t you worry, I don’t plan on getting buried any time soon.” Adam extended his hand. “I’m Adam Cartwright.”

“Esma Dobrachev.” She shook his hand and for a moment Adam was perplexed at the strength of her grip.

“Hopla!” Her eyes glided to Lilyah who had stopped a few yards behind Adam, shy to approach the dead man. “Why, salam alaikum, beautiful one!”

“Oh!” A shy, but still delighted smile showed on Lilyah’s face and she put her hands together to a greeting gesture, politely bowing her head. “Assalamu alaikum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatu!”

“Uhm!” For the first time a smile glided over Esma Dobrachev’s rugged features. “I don’t speak Arabic, child, I just picked up a few bits when I was in Tangiers.” She winked at Lilyah. “But I thank you for the nice greeting.”

“You’ve been to Morocco?” Lilyah’s eyes grew big.

“Only to Tangiers, and only a few times. We travelled a lot when we were young, my Goran and me.” She turned to the dead man again and bowed down with the apparent intention to pick him up.

Adam touched her shoulder. “Mrs. Dobrachev, let…”

“Esma!”

“Esma… let me do this.”

“You?” She looked him up and down. “Shabaro, you look like you barely manage to drag your own weight around! Better sit down and catch a breath before you perform an embarrassing belly-plunge in front of your sweetheart.”

For a moment Adam was at a loss for words.

“He was very ill!” Lilyah hastened to say. “He’s still not fully recovered.”

“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do. Maybe all he’ll need is a good meal and a rest. But first let me take care of this poor kid.” She bowed down and picked the dead man up as if he was a child.

Lilyah timidly made a few steps towards Adam. She felt deeply uncomfortable near dead people.

Esma Dobrachev gave her a smile. “Don’t fear nothing, child. He was a good, guileless soul, and if his death has produced any jinns, they’ll be tiny and harmless and won’t even think of anything evil. And they fear you more than you fear them.” She shifted the weight on her arms and marched off.

Adam and Lilyah exchanged a look.

“What does ‘shabaro’ mean?” he asked in a subdued voice.

Lilyah shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know… it’s not an Arabic word.”

An incomprehensible mumble escaped his lips. He still felt a bit embarrassed by the rebuke, even more so because he knew very well he was exhausted and pretty much on his last legs. It wasn’t particularly soothing to realize that it was so obvious. Putting a hand on Lilyah’s shoulder, he slowly followed the woman. He could at least assist in digging the grave, or gather the stones to cover it.

Their way led them past the battered chuck wagon. The vehicle more resembled a gypsy caravan than a normal wagon and apparently had seen better days long ago. Adam pressed his lips together as he noticed two children lurking behind the wagon – the boy he had seen before and a girl that was only slightly older, maybe eleven or twelve years. There seemed to be no men… or rather, no more men. Adam didn’t dare think what these children must have been through; how many such shootouts they had witnessed, how many dead they had seen on their hazardous journey through arrogated cattle land. There was no love lost between cattle ranchers and sheep herders, and it looked as if the sheep herders had once again pulled the short straw.

Esma Dobrachev halted her step and squinted at the boy. She sure was an intimidating sight carrying the dead man, and her voice rumbled like thunder.

“What did I tell you about invisible children?”

“But, Grandma…” The boy bravely stood up against the fierce glower. “You were in danger and you needed men to…”

“If I ever need a man to protect me, Pico, I’ll call on you first!” she cut him off and added with an even deeper growl, “But I didn’t!”

The boy shrunk a little. “Yes, Grandma…”

She nodded her head. “Go and get the flock together; and then collect some stones for poor Manolito. See to it that you find nice ones, he deserves it.”

“Yes, Grandma!” The children ran off.

“I can help with the sheep!” Lilyah made herself heard. “I used to herd goats when I was a young girl.”

“And what are you now, child? A stone old grandmother?” A flicker of laughter stole over Esma’s face as she turned to continue her way with her ghastly load.

“Mrs Dobr… ehm… Esma…” Adam caught up with her. “Do you have a shovel for me?”

Esma turned around again, but her eyes rested on Lilyah. “He’s a stubborn one, isn’t he?”

“Oh yes, he is!” Lilyah nodded her head. She still looked uncomfortable with the dead man so close, but she apparently hadn’t taken Esma’s previous remark amiss. She rather seemed to have taken a liking to the older woman.

“The shovels are in the tool box at the rear of the wagon. Bring one for me, too, shabaro!”

“Yes, Ma’am…” Adam couldn’t keep his eyes from rolling as he turned to the chuck wagon. But maybe the lady was right and it was better to bury the man quickly, if only for the children’s and Lilyah’s sake. He would doubtless find an undisturbed moment to talk to Esma while they were digging the grave.

Just as he was rumbling through the toolbox to retrieve the shovels from its bottom, all hell broke lose. Shrill neighing, wild barking, a massive crash against the wagon that shook the vehicle to its very foundations.

“CHAI!!” Adam dropped everything on the spot and hastened around the chuck wagon that was now beginning to slide. The brakes were set, but the two little horses harnessed to it were spooking and trying to get away. From the corner of his eye he saw that Esma had dropped the dead man and scurried to her team to calm down the frightened horses.

The black Arabian whinnied again, bucking up next to the chuck wagon and whirling around to crash his hind hooves against the wooden planks. The source of his anger hid beneath the wagon and barked hysterically, just showing a grey nose.

“Chai!” Lilyah came running across the small place. “Chai, stop it! Come here!”

“Titus! Titus!!” The children ran after her.

Adam caught the reins of the stallion and attempted to pull him back. “Chai, stop it!”

“Chai! Behave yourself!” Lilyah had grabbed a hold of his bridle and forced him back. The Arabian bucked and snorted and tossed his head such that her hands lost hold of the leathers.

For the first time ever, Adam feared that she had lost control over her horse. “CHAI, STOP IT!” His hands caught the bridle and forced the stallion’s head down, his muscles burning with the strain. “Behave yourself!”

“Titus!” Both children had dived under the chuck wagon. “Oh, poor Titus!”

Chai gradually calmed down, yet his ears were still aggressively pinned back, his sinews kept on twitching nervously. Adam slowly released his grip as he saw that Lilyah had the upper hand again.

It lasted only until the children had dragged the dog from under the wagon.

Chai jumped backwards and reared, neighing out his anger as he sought for some space between his humans to get to the perceived enemy. The dog immediately started barking again.

“Titus, shut up! And come here!” Esma had succeeded to calm her team and slowly came around the wagon.

The dog went silent and trotted up to her. Adam saw that it limped badly on a bandaged leg. At least Chai couldn’t be responsible for that. Not really trusting the stomping stallion, he still kept a hold of the reins.

“I’m sorry…” Lilyah held the bridle again, pressing herself against her horse. “He hates dogs and everything that looks like a dog. He was bitten by a dog when he was little, and he later used to fight off jackals when we had our goats.”

“He’s evil!” the girl blurted out. “Beautiful, but evil! Titus is our friend!”

“No animal is ever evil, Ruby!” Esma seemed completely unfazed by the whole ruckus. “Men can be evil, but animals never. And if he has learned to protect goats from jackals, he sure is a very special horse. He’ll just have to learn the difference between a shepherd dog and a jackal. Come here, child. Show your horsie that the dog is good.”

Lilyah hesitated. “I’m… I’m afraid of dogs…”

The old woman chuckled. “And then you wonder why your horse won’t calm down? He’s clever, he knows you’re afraid. And that’s why he still thinks the dog is a danger. Now come on. Titus is a sweet one, he won’t harm you.”

Lilyah pressed her lips together and searched Adam’s eyes.

“Go.” He gave her a smile. “I’ll hold Chai.”

She took a deep breath and carefully approached the dog that sat next to Esma. Hearing Chai’s angry snort behind her, she knew that she should not hesitate, not show any insecurity for it would only rile him up even more. The dog was big and it looked massive with its thick, shaggy fur. The color was a brownish grey with white blotches, the tail round and bushy. The long hairy ears hanging down from its head looked almost funny, like it wore a fur cap with long flaps. Still she could not decide to touch it.

“Don’t mind the bandaged leg, child,” Esma remarked casually. “Titus was shot down by one of those cow freaks last week when he tried to protect the flock.”

“Ooh…” Lilyah’s heart flew out to the dog and she finally mustered the courage to touch its head. “You poor dog…”

The dog began to wag its tail and looked up to her with big, brown eyes, causing her heart to melt even more. “His fur is so soft… I always thought dogs were…” She broke off.

“Unclean?” Esma smiled. “No, child.”

“Can I touch his ears?”

“He loves it when you scratch his ears!”

Lilyah continued to pet the dog, relaxing more and more until she finally turned around. “Look, Chai – this is Titus!”

Adam rubbed his nose while still holding the reins, smiling behind his hand. He knew the procedure that would now start. His eyes warmed when his mind wandered into the past, to the day when he had first found her. Little had he known on that day that he had stumbled upon the love of his life. His wife…

Listening to Lilyah lengthily declaring the dog a friend to the rather reluctant horse and Esma’s short instructions to the dog, he still held the reins until he felt that the stallion would not try to attack again. His eyes glided over the two children breathlessly following the process. Their clothes were as ragged as those of their grandmother and the boy apparently had not had a hair cut for a very long time. He could not be much older than seven or eight years, the girl no more than thirteen. Yet their small faces showed a hardiness that seemed to defy their age, revealing that they had been forced to grow beyond their years. And the worst was probably yet to come.

Adam pressed his lips together as he cast a short look at the sheep who still looked traumatized, bleating with no end. Dozens of them were shot, but there were a good 300 left, aimlessly moving about the barren place. They couldn’t have picked a worse time to show up on drought-stricken cattle land…

* * *

“What are you going to do now, Esma?” Adam hauled the last shovel of earth on the flat grave and wiped the sweat from his face. His eyes routinely glided over to where Lilyah was still busy gathering sheep, leading Chai along to make sure the truce with the dog would last. As beautiful as the picture was, it did little to soothe his growing restlessness. “You cannot stay at this place for long, there’s no grass for your flock.”

“There’s a small water hole less than a mile ahead, and some grass to fill their bellies!” Esma smoothed the earth on the shallow grave and began to cover it with the rocks the children had gathered.

Adam’s brow crinkled. He knew the spot she was talking about and an unsettling foreboding rose in him. “Esma, it would only last a day or two…”

“I know. Oh, Ruby, that’s a very nice stone you have there! Put it on the top so it will shine.”

“It has real glimmer on it, Grandma!” The girl took the seam of her apron to polish over the stone. “It will catch the sun for Manolito.”

“I have one with red stripes!” The boy came running. “I believe Manolito liked red, didn’t he, Grandma?”

“Oh, yes, Pico, he did.”

Adam was strangely touched as he watched how the stones were placed on the grave. To him, they all just looked the same – ordinary rocks and stones that littered the ground everywhere around. But the children apparently saw great differences between them and sorted them accordingly. It probably helped them to overcome the pain they felt with the carnage all around. He had noticed that especially the girl had shed tears over the dead sheep. The boy had fought his own tears down.

Yet he felt an increasing tension inside, a strong sense of upcoming danger, the urge to spring into action. They could not possibly stay at this place. The spot Esma had in mind wasn’t the best choice, either, but there were no alternates as long as the sheep weren’t fed and watered. Adam bit his lip. The men would come back – and no matter how he tried, the thought of his father did not exactly fill him with confidence.

“Esma, we should…”

“We’ll sing a song for Manolito now!” Esma rose to her feet.

“And for Daisy!” the boy called out.

“And for Daisy, of course, and all the others, darling.” She smiled at the boy.

“Esma, there’s no time for…” Adam did not get any further.

“We always sing a song when someone has died!” The girl bestowed a reproachful look on him. “Just as it is right and proper!”

“Uhm…” A helpless smile stole over his lips. “Of course… It’s just that…”

“You better not mess with Grandma!” the boy exclaimed with an air of someone who knew what he was talking about.

Adam took a slightly exasperated breath, searching for words. “You see, those men that were here will…”

“There’s time for that later on, shabaro!” Esma cut him off. “Manolito died for us, we owe him that much!”

“And Daisy!” the boy reminded with a serious face.

“And Daisy!” She nodded her head.

“Esma…” Adam started another attempt. “If those men…”

“Poor Daisy…” The girl wiped a tear, but still cast a sinister look at Adam. “She deserves a song! It’s already bad enough that we don’t have anyone for the guitar anymore, so we should at least sing a beautiful song for Daisy!”

“And Manolito.” The boy added.

“Adam can play a guitar!” Lilyah who up to then had silently kept herself back, came closer, still leading Chai along. “He’s a wonderful guitarist!”

“Oh please, Lil, no…” Adam broke off as the children’s faces suddenly lit up; he raised his hands as if he had to defend himself. “Uhm… there’s really no time for that… and… and I don’t have my guitar with me… we really should think of…”

He couldn’t look as fast as the boy had dashed off to the chuck wagon. Adam sighed. “Esma, I understand that you want to pay your respects to Manolito, but…”

“And Daisy!” the girl chimed in.

“Uhm, yah… and Daisy, but the situation at hand is quite serious, and…”

“Here it is!” The boy returned with a battered guitar and proffered it as expectantly as demandingly to Adam.

Adam took it almost against his will, with hardly a choice as it was literally forced into his hands. “Esma, if the men ride fast, they’ll need less than two hours to reach…”

“Shabaro, everything in this life has its time,” she declared with dignity. “Now is the time to sing for Manolito, …”

“And Daisy!”

“… and Daisy, and then it will be time to care about your worries and see what we can do! One thing after the other, each at its own time!”

“My worries…” Adam exhaled in apparent frustration. “Esma, I’m afraid you don’t quite…”

“You better sit down, shabaro, before you fall on your nose. You’ve just lost your last bit of color.”

“Adam, she’s right, please sit down!” Lilyah took a hold of his arm and ushered him to one of the numerous boulders.

He blew his last breath of resistance and sat down, looking up at her from under knitted brows as she caringly helped to place the guitar on his lap. Her eyes were warm and with an unmistakable shine of expectation in them. His gaze glided over to Esma who gave him an encouraging nod. Adam sighed and scratched his neck. Somewhere in his inside the question rose up who Daisy had been. There was no other dead person except the young sheep herder, so maybe she had been a dog. Most shepherds had more than just one. He did not want to think that she might have been a girl or a woman that had been killed before.

“What shall I play?” he asked resignedly. The sheep continued to bleat in the background.

“Just follow along, shabaro,” Esma replied with apparent content. “Listen and your fingers will let you know!”

Adam nodded his head, more a gesture of succumbing to an inevitable fate than anything else. Rolling his eyes, he began tuning the strings, but inadvertently flinched when Esma started singing. Her deep, rough voice had reminded him of a fog horn before and it didn’t become any softer as she sang. Forcing his face to a mask to not show an unflattering grimace, he strummed the guitar and tried his best to ignore the bleating of the sheep. It was a slow and sad song with a simple melody and it wasn’t very hard for him to tune in on it. To his utmost surprise, the old, well worn instrument had a wonderful tone. It sounded much richer and better than his own guitar ever had.

The children started to sing along with their grandmother. The girl had a very nice voice, the boy not so much, but both sang with a lot of feeling. And by and by, Adam’s initial reaction faded. As crude as Esma’s voice was, there was a genuine soulful passion to it, a melancholy that seemed to come straight from her heart; and slowly, but steadily it revealed a strange fascination that began to touch his own soul. He could not understand one word of the foreign language and yet the song spoke to him, began to arouse an echo in his heart that moved him deeper than he would have thought possible. With slight wonderment about himself, his fingers played the melody as if he had known it for a long time.

His enchantment grew even more when Lilyah joined in with her soft, dark soprano. At first it seemed as if she would know the language of the song, but then Adam realized that she was merely adlibbing, using her melismatic voice to accompany the melody. It provided a strange but mesmerizing contrast to Esma’s rough deeper-than-alto organ. And Adam suddenly found that he had to control his facial expression again, although this time to keep his eyes from getting moist.

And a part of his heart regretted it when the song came to an end.

“You’ve got a lot inside of you, shabaro!” Esma regarded him with a strange glance. “But you better learn to let it out. No bird can fly in a cage.”

Adam looked up, a puzzled look on his face and completely at a loss for an answer.

“Child, you sing beautifully.” Esma turned to Lilyah. “Manolito will go into the netherlands as a happy man after you sang for him.”

“And for Daisy!” the boy reminded.

“And for Daisy!” Esma confirmed.

Adam finally shook off the strange captivation that had taken him during the song. Carefully placing the guitar against the rock, he got up.

“Esma, we really should talk now! It’s serious, and it’s important.”

“We will talk now. Pico, put Grandpa’s guitar away!”

“Yes, Grandma!” The boy snatched the guitar and carried it back to the chuck wagon.

Adam had little time to contemplate the touching thought that this guitar must have a special meaning for the small family. At long last, the old woman was willing to listen.

“Esma, that place where you…”

The frantic barking of the dog interrupted him. Chai gave an angry snort and started dancing at the rein, but remained peaceful while the dog excitedly jumped from one to another, barking his soul out.

“Grandma, look at Titus! He must’ve found something!” The children were galvanized. “Show us, Titus! Show us!”

“Wait!” Adam hissed a sharp breath as the children ignored him to run after the agitated dog. Pulling his gun, he turned to Lilyah, “You stay here!”

“Don’t worry, shabaro!” Esma seemed amused. “It’s not his emergency bark. It’s his ‘I’ve-found-something’-bark. Let’s have a look at what it is!”

Adam nearly grimaced, rolling his eyes in mounting impatience and growing frustration. By now, the posse under Simmons must have reached the Ponderosa…

“Esma…”

“Grandma! Grandma, IT’S DAISY!!”

“Oh, Adam, it’s Daisy!” Still leading Chai along, Lilyah hastened to keep up with the old woman who had sped up her steps. While she had no idea who Daisy was, the obvious joy in the children’s call was enough to lighten her features.

“Daisy…” Adam blew a breath and followed.

The children squatted between the boulders a little more than a furlong from the small valley, where the ground began to steeply rise against the surrounding hills. At first sight it looked like they were studying the earth, but it soon became clear that they were gazing into a deep cleavage that had ruptured the rocky ground. The dog still barked into the hole.

“Lil, stay here!” Adam touched her shoulder. “It’s not safe for the horse to go there.”

She nodded her head, watching him as he climbed up to the spot. Esma followed, apparently having no problems to absolve the steep ascent.

“Daisy, hold out! We’re coming!” The boy nearly slid into the hole himself and Adam came just in time to grab a hold of his shirt.

“Daisy, we’ll rescue you!” The girl was more careful, her hands clutching the sharp, rocky edges. “Don’t be afraid! We’re here! We’ll get you out of there!”

Adam had a look into the hole and sighed. Daisy was a sheep. An obviously wounded sheep with blood stained wool, lying at the bottom of a pit that reached a good six or seven yards into the ground. The blood indicated that she must have been shot, and it wasn’t very likely that the deep plunge into the hole had not caused further harm. The animal struggled futilely to get on its feet, letting out a desolate bleat. Adam met Esma’s gaze and saw her pressing her lips together.

“Daisy, Grandma’s here! She’ll know what to do!” The boy’s faith in his grandmother seemed to know no boundaries.

“Grandma?” the girl asked, suddenly with a ring of fear in her voice. “We’ll get Daisy out of there, won’t we?”

For the first time, the resolute Esma seemed at a loss for an answer. “Oh, Titus, shut up!”

The dog that had been barking without pause immediately went mute.

Adam drew a deep breath. “I’ll get the lariat. Maybe we can do something with it…”

“And how would you get the ewe at the lariat, shabaro?”

“Uhm…” Adam tried to measure the size of the hole. “Maybe I can get down there…”

“You’re too big.”

“But I’m not big!” Pico hastily threw in, but seemed to find a fault in his own words at once. “I mean, I’m not quite as big as he is! I can go down there! Please, Grandma!”

For a short moment Esma seemed to waver, but then she nodded her head. Adam caught her look and understood. It wasn’t any danger for the boy that made her hesitate. It was the thought of pulling up an animal that likely was so severely injured that they might be forced to destroy it. It would be so cruel after the children had so much hope.

Adam climbed down again and found that Lilyah had already called Mariah to her to get his lasso from his saddle.

“Daisy’s a sheep!” he informed her in a voice low enough to only reach her ears.

Lilyah smiled. “I guessed as much…” She saw his look and added, “I also used to have my favorites when I was little. My father always called them the Holy Goats of Ras Madeehbecause I would not allow to have them slaughtered. They usually lived out their age plundering the gardens.”

For a split second, a forlorn shade passed his brow, the fragment of a memory, the long forgotten image of a little boy and a decrepit old mule that was too old to earn its keep any longer, useless on the long way west. Adam unwillingly shook off the notion and took his lasso to return to the hole.

Pico literally jumped at him, brimming in his sudden importance. “I can climb down on the rope! I used to climb up on trees that way!”

“Oh no, you won’t climb!” Adam smiled. “You will float down there!”

“Float??” The boy gave him a deeply skeptical look. “Hey, what are you doing? Grandma!”

“He’s doing the right thing, Pico!” A small smile passed Esma’s lips as she watched Adam tying the rope around the boy. “We’ll let you down on the rope, you tie it around Daisy and we can lift her up. And once she’s up here, we let the rope down again to pick you up.”

“Or not,” the girl quipped.

“Pffft!” Pico showed his tongue to her.

Adam chuckled. “Can you undo the knot when you’re down?”

“Of course I can! Grandpa taught me all about knots!”

“Show me!”

The boy began fumbling with the knot and got it open in no time.

“Good! And can you make a safe knot again?”

“Of course! Grandpa showed me how to do it!” He quickly tied the rope around himself again.

“Very good!” Adam controlled the knot and searched Esma’s eyes. “We’ll have to make sure the rope won’t scrape along the edge.”

“Yeah.” She closed in on him and had a solemn look at the boy. “Don’t you fidget around when you’re hanging from the rope. Be still and don’t move much – Daisy’s rescue depends on you!”

“Yes, Grandma!” He seriously nodded his head.

“Alright, we’re ready!” Adam held the rope tight as Pico began to climb down the hole and finally hung in the rope. The boy did not weigh much, but the task of keeping the rope from scraping over the sharp edges of the rocky pit while smoothly lowering the boy inch by inch required a lot of strength. He felt his muscles straining and the sweat building up on his brow, another painful reminder that he was still a far cry from his usual stamina. He normally could have done this alone without even exerting himself, but now he was genuinely glad for Esma’s help. She was an amazingly strong woman, and together they kept the rope safe and steady.

“I’m at the bottom!” Pico called out while the rope slackened. His light voice sounded hollow from the depth below. “I’m with Daisy!”

“How is she?” The girl tried to see what was going on.

“I think she’s ill! She’s bleeding! Grandma, you’ve gotta look after her! I’m tying her to the rope now!”

“Be careful and don’t hurt her!” Ruby admonished. “And make good knots so she won’t fall when she’s lifted up!”

“I know everything about knots! I can make better knots than you!”

“Alright then!” Adam’s call ended the exchange. “Tell us when you’re ready, Pico!”

At the bottom of the pit, the boy seemed to climb all over the sheep while looping and tying the rope securely. There barely was enough space down there for both him and the animal. He finally pressed himself against the rocky wall.

“Ready!”

Adam collected himself and focused on the lasso again to pull up the sheep. A miserable bleat came from below as the rope tensed.

“Be careful!” The girl nearly cried with excitement. “Be careful!!”

The sheep was finally lifted over the edge. It bleated once more and tried to get up, only to nearly fall into the cleavage again. Adam grabbed a hold of the wool and pulled it to safety.

“Oh, Daisy! Poor, poor Daisy!” Ruby hastened to fling both her arms around the ewe. “I’m so glad you’re not dead, Daisy!”

“How is she?” Pico hopped up and down at the bottom. “Grandma, how is she?”

“I’ll have a look when you are up!” Esma called back. “And tie the rope around yourself properly, you hear me? DON’T climb up on it!”

“Yes, Grandma!”

They let the rope down again and the boy was up in a minute, just to throw himself over the sheep. “Oh, Daisy!”

Adam sank on one of the bigger rocks to catch his breath. He was truly spent now, his arms and legs feeling like he had lead weights hanging from them. If he would lie down, he’d most likely fall to sleep like a stone. And yet he watched as Esma examined the ewe, with almost the same anxiety as the children did. He vaguely remembered the forgotten hurt again he had felt so long ago and he wished for the children’s sake that their pet would somehow make it.

Esma looked from one to another. “It’s not looking very good!” Her dark voice rumbled. “I can bandage the wounds and fix the leg, but I won’t have the time to properly care for her. That will be up to you!”

“Oh yes, Grandma!”

“Of course, Grandma!”

The children nearly fell over themselves in their eagerness to assure that they would, of course, take care of Daisy, look after her and certainly not neglect their duties over her. She, Grandma, wouldn’t even notice that the sheep was there.

Adam smiled to himself, suddenly feeling much better than before. He noticed the grateful looks the children gave him before the sheep occupied their full attention again. They literally clung to their grandmother’s skirts as she picked the animal up and began the descent back to the camp. He swallowed down the slight embarrassment at the thought that he should have been the one carrying the ewe and strenuously got on his feet again. It probably would have gotten him nothing but another less than flattering remark, not to think of the even more embarrassing possibility that he could have had visible difficulties with the load.

“Adam!” Lilyah had come towards him as far as she could lead Chai along. “Adam, you really should rest a little! You look tired!”

“Yah.” He brushed over her face, enjoying her loving hands. “But I’ll have to talk to Esma first.”

“Adam, can’t that wait?”

“No. Lilyah, those men will come back. We should be prepared for that.”

Lilyah pressed her lips together, her fine brow furrowing.

“Lil, don’t worry – my father will be with them this time, so it won’t get dangerous again. But I’ll have to talk to Esma, anyway.”

She slid her hand into his as they walked back to the chuck wagon. Deep inside, in spite of his words, her worries rose, almost to the amount of fear.

* * *