Then Gogra returned.Gogra and his people had wintered with us the first winter that we’d spent in the valley. The old man had proven to be a friend. We’d spoken on the trek to the valley and once again when we’d arrived there. The Horse People had their way of doing things and I had mine. I had found that out when Tonko, Gabon, and the others had joined us at our cave in the other valley. It helped that we all shared a common language, but it had still been stressful for a while as we became accustomed to each other and everyone adapted to my way of thinking. In the end, Gogra and I had come to an understanding. Together we worked to ensure that our forced seclusion that first winter went well. When the older man had left the next spring he had ridden away happy and content and still my friend. I had taught the Horse People everything that Agar had asked of me. They knew how to make bows and arrows, and how to make three types of saddles. One was the copy of my western style saddle,. I know she went this way. I see the brush still moving and hear her laughter in the distance. The branches of the bracken slap my face and scratch my arms as I force my way through. Logs conspire to trip me, rocks to twist my feet. But no matter – my Love waits at the end of the chase. Though my hard on has withered as the grass under the Texas summer sun, I will seek for her. I will find her. I will be hers, and she mine. I am near. Her laughter gets louder. I hear her singing in the near distance. A few more yards, a little bit closer, and I break into a clearing. There is a deep blue pool twinkling in the moonlight. A towering waterfall plunges liquidly into the pool. Surrounding this paradise is a short beach of bright white sand that’s sparkling in the light of the full moon. SHE is standing in the middle of the lake. The water lapping around her thighs. She is laughing and motioning me to come to her with the crook of her finger. The smile on her lips tells it all. I was set.
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