Sierra by aimeegneiting (suggested reading TXT) 📖

Sierra awoke and rose at sunrise, heading down towards the little lake, and it's feeding stream, that she had spent the night by. She drank for a few moments, after watering her horse, and looked about her. Sierra would be nearing the country of whites again, although she wasn't sure that would be good or not. She was used to fending for herself, and hadn't been near other white people in a while. It would probably be a while before she got used to them, but not long.

Then she turned and walked back to camp. After breakfast she started preparing for the day's journey by packing up her supplies onto Comanche, her black Indian pony. Sierra tied up her tent and got her collapsible bucket, filled with water, and doused her fire. Once finished with Comanche, she took a stick and swept her campsite suitably clean. She looked into the lake edge before leaving, and gazed at her reflection. She was not the person she had once been.

Sierra's hair was long and a little ragged, also dirty, with tiny sticks and leaves, among other things in the long tresses. Her clothing had a little layer of dust and was rather filthy and worn out. But she cared not. Sierra mounted Comanche and began to make her way around the lake, her mount's finely-toned muscles working smooth as silk. He trotted on, and the lake was soon gone, hidden from view as they made their tireless way through the mountains and valleys. She often met with her Indian friends, for she had several tribes as friends.

It was night when she arrived at one such tribe. They were friendly, peaceful people who called her "Rides With Us", because she, unlike the other palefaces, considered them all as equals, and often went on hunts with them when she was in the area. Sierra rode closer, watching the horses of the Indians wheel around in pantomine terror. Then she heard the dogs barking as they announced to their owners someone was approaching. A few braves came out riding their ponies, and cheered when they saw Sierra, and Comanche whinnied a response to all the neighing horses. One of the braves wheeled his steed back to the other indians to tell them Sierra had arrived.

The others surrounded her, and escorted her to their camp, cheering and greeting her. The chief stepped into the center of the encampment, and Sierra dismounted and greeted her old friend in the graceful Indian language as she grinned at the old chief. He greeted her, then turned to sit near the fire, and nodded her to sit next to him and smiled brightly at her. She and he and the others continued to speak on, until the food was served by the beautiful squaws, then they ate swiftly, enjoying their stews greatly. It was very dark before Sierra got a chance to retire to her bed.

Early the next morning, Sierra rose, and groomed her horse after dressing. Then she recieved a message that the chief wished to see her, so she mounted Comanche and rode bareback to the chief's large tent. After dismounting and letting Comanche be taken to spend the day with many other horses, she ducked past the flap into the dark, smoky room. Sierra went to sit by her old friend. He seemed very solemn, she noted. He greeted her, then told her that palefaces were encroaching, getting closer and closer as they grabbed land that wasn't theirs to claim.

Sierra was appalled. It had been years since she had left white people. She had been secretly afraid that whites would keep moving westward. Sierra was told that because of the whites' encroachment, the tribe would have to move farther west. Most of the Indians had not been told yet. The small settlement they often traded with had tried to stop their fellow kind from doing such a horrible thing.

Then the chief told her how the mustang herd the tribe had often taken a few horses from, to train, had all been captured. They had all been treated very badly to make them as vicious as possible before being shipped East as broncs for paleface entertainment. Sierra was horrified. Her own horse Comanche had roots from that herd.

Finally, after a few days and much talking, Sierra told her goodbyes, packed her horse, and turned Comanche east. It took a couple of days' travel, but she began to see signs or white people. Soon Sierra passed through the valley the settlement was in. It did not look much like a settlement, but a bustling town.
She was highly considering avoiding it, but figured she had better go in, to sell her furs.

Sierra took the faded pathway that got bigger as it winded towards the village, then walked past the first outlying homes. She goaded Comanche into a canter down the long, dusty road, and shivered at strangers' curious stares. Sierra slowed Comanche as they passed a general store, then turned the black horse by the posts and dismounted.

She started to remove a bundle of furs tied on her horse's saddle when a woman came out, accompanied by her daughter, a young woman. The poor women caught sight of her after a shopping trip and stared at Sierra. They had rarely seen anyone quite like her. She just turned and stared right back, the women rushed off, and she entered the store. The shopkeeper was pleased to buy furs from Sierra, although a ragged woman selling furs was a sight he had not expected.

Sierra was only too happy to gallop Comanche out of that town. Comanche was in fine fettle as they turned their noses west, heading for peaceful times and dangerous times. The wind pushed them from behind, as if encouraging them to go faster. Sierra's heart was happy as could be, even though she would have been safer from dangers in the town. But she welcomed the danger, as much as the untamed beauty. It was the West in her, in both of them.

Publication Date: 11-22-2010

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