I t took Dorothy longer than usual to get through the Superstition Mountains toward home. Walter made her wait until he knew the way would be clear, before he let her go, a wait that seemed to last forever. Then, the gold in her pack weighed her down. Between the weight, lack of sleep, and the growing heat, Dorothy had to take far too many rests.
She questioned her decision to give her word all the way through the Superstitions. Even while she ate her packed meal, keeping an eye out for her follower, she wondered if she shouldn’t go back and beg the man to let her out of her promise.
He made it clear early on that there could be no takebacks. And I need the gold. Where else would I get it? Father’s life is in my hands—I must act accordingly.
She had nearly finished her lunch when she heard the sound of another person. With a sudden loss of appetite, she packed up her things, scrambling to her feet.
Only now did it occur to her that she would need to carry all the gold to Apache Junction on Saturday. Alone. Her heart pounded even harder at the thought. Artie’s warning about people and gold repeated itself in her memory.
Will I ever be free of all this? I feel trapped with no way out. What if this doesn’t satisfy the debt? What else could I possibly do?
She heard another set of steps in the brush and tried to quicken her own. The Superstition Mountains are not built for hurrying on foot. There are too many rocks, inclines, and slippery patches. Even for a person as experienced as Dorothy. In her attempts at dashing away from her pursuer, she missed a patch of loose rock on a decline. Her foot slipped. Moving too swiftly to stop herself, Dorothy slid with the rock, wrenching her ankle as she went down.
For a moment, she sat in the brush and rocks where she had landed, panting as she waited for the initial searing pain to die down. She thought that she had screamed, but now everything around her had fallen into utter silence.
Any animal or bird within hearing range is probably terrified of me.
The thought reminded her that an actual human had probably heard her fall as well. She looked around wildly before reminding herself that he had already proved that he knew how to stay out of sight. Even if she frequently heard him.
She tried to move her ankle, but pain still shot through it. She hadn’t broken anything; she had already made certain of it. She had wrenched it badly, however.
It will take twice as long to get home now. She couldn’t even see the shack from her position. Oh, Lord, protect Thou me. Grant me the strength to make my way home.
She couldn’t hurry or rush. At the first, it was all she could do to put her foot down on the ground. Then, slowly, she could take steps. Each time she put weight on her injured foot, fresh pain shot through her. She wished that her father would appear, headed home, so she could ask him for help.
Praying every few steps, holding onto anything she could until the mountain began to melt away behind her, she kept slowly on. Every time she stopped for rest, she heard the sounds of scuffling and, once, the sound of heavy breathing. She pushed on, her heart hammering in her chest, her breath coming short. As the sun began to set, her thoughts turned over and over with a prayer for protection and safety.
Twice as she neared the lower part of the mountain, Dorothy slipped again, reigniting any pain in her ankle that had begun to subside. Each time required an even longer rest. By the time she should have been able to see the shack, the sun had set. Stars began to light, though with no moon, she had to go by memorized instinct and the position of the stars.
Resting her ankle and reassessing her position, she froze entirely when she thought that she heard a voice. She realized that she hadn’t heard her follower in a while. This sounded too far away to be him.
It hardly matters. I need to get home.
She didn’t wait for long. Hunger and fear drove her on, despite the pain in her ankle. She thought she saw a faint glow of light in the distance coming from the window of the shack until she remembered that there should be no light.
It must be my imagination.
She thought of the possibility that her follower had circled in front, deciding to meet her at the shack. She shivered from far more than the evening breeze.
Imagination. It must be my—
She didn’t finish the thought. A scream, human and unearthly as it echoed off the rocks of the Superstition Mountains above her head, stopped Dorothy in her tracks. Her heart seemed to stop as well as her breathing, while she stared into the deepening darkness surrounding her.
The echo died down. Then a second scream pierced the evening air. Despite the pain in her ankle, Dorothy broke into a run.
She didn’t hear another sound, beyond that of her own heartbeat banging in her ears and her footsteps pounding the earth. She nearly ran into the wood of the door but managed to avoid it just in time. Pulling the door open, she closed herself into the darkness of the shack as swiftly as she could manage. Sinking to the ground, she tried to breathe, tried to listen, tried to pray. Pain seared through her ankle.
Oh, Jesus, who did I hear? What hath occurred? That was no rabbit!
She couldn’t stop shaking. She wrapped her arms around her waist, trying to breathe.
Father in Heaven, I would that I wasn’t here alone…