I sighed melodramatically and gave a big pretend sob while I wiped pretend tears from my eyes.

“Beautiful, isn’t it.” She blew at me then lipped the water, shifting her weight fretfully. “I can see you’re not impressed with tragic and depressing love songs sung with a tragic and depressing lack of understanding of even the basics of musical pitch. Okay, okay—how about I give you a little taste of something I am actually fairly decent at.” She glanced at me, obviously gun-shy from the demonstration of my singing talent, or rather my lack thereof.

“Hey, smartie, I do remember a description of a horse from an essay I’ve taught to sophomores.” Her ears pricked at me. “The author wrote, ‘A duck is a long low animal covered with feathers. Similarly, a horse is a long high animal covered with confusion.’” She blinked at me and looked a little huffy. “Well, it seemed funny then. Guess you had to have been there.” She was fidgeting again, and I figured I would only be able to get her to stay in the water for a couple more minutes. Groping around in my brain, trying to keep my mind off my freezing feet, the lightbulb of inspired thought suddenly clicked on in my head.

“Hey! I know what you’d like.” She wasn’t paying much attention to me, and I had to keep leaning on her left side, forcing her right hoof to stay submerged. Her back legs were starting to move restlessly.

“Yeah, I know this isn’t any fun. Just listen to one more, and then we’ll blow this freezing pop stand.”

Clearing my mind, I delved back into my memory. My Bible as Literature professor had been an eccentric woman—a truly fine representative of a long succession of bad-clothes-wearing college English instructors. For part of our semester final she made each of us memorize and present aloud sections of the Old Testament that dealt with animals. My third year of college was a longggg time ago. But as I started my hesitant recitation of the ancient verses, they began tumbling from my mouth as if they were happy to be set free of the cobwebs in my brain:

Hast thou given the horse strength?

Um…something—something…um…oh yeah.

The glory of his nostrils is terrible.

He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength,

He goeth on to meet the armed men.

He mocketh at fear and is not affrighted;

Neither turneth he back from the sword.

The quiver rattleth against him,

The glittering spear and the shield.

He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage:

Neither believeth he that it is the sound of the trumpet.

He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha,

And he smelleth the battle afar off,

The thunder of the captains, and the shouting.

At least this time I kept her attention.

“The Book of Job, Chapter something-or-other, Verse I-don’t-remember.”

Her ears were pricked in my direction and she tossed her head briefly, giving me a snort of what I hoped was horsey appreciation. And, more importantly, she had stood still with her hoof fully submerged in the healing water.

“Thank you, thank you. No, no, you’re too kind.” I bowed as gracefully as one can bow with frozen feet. “I think that about covers our literary moment for the day. Tune in tomorrow, same time, for another twisted version of my own personal PBS. Come on, old girl. It’s damn cold out here.” Leading Epi back to shore we moved slowly. Feet are odd appendixes when they’re frozen. I felt a little like Quasimodo hobbling out of the water to find sanctuary on dry ground.

Because of the erosion, the rocky ground was mingled with the ferny green carpet of the upper forest. It was actually a nice resting place. There was plenty of grass within Epi’s reach, which was perfect because she really needed to rest. Pulling the saddle from her back, I tried to keep a close eye on how she was acting, without being obvious.

“Wish I had some currycombs. You sure look nappy.” Improvising, I pried a piece of bark from a nearby log and rubbed it back and forth over her tired body, giving her a nice scratching. She sighed and closed her eyes. “Kind of like a foot rub, huh.” I patted her rump. “Why don’t you graze for a while and rest, then I’ll take another look at that hoof.” She stood with her right front leg cocked to take the weight off it and settled down to the business of eating.

And I realized that I really needed to, well, tend to The Call of Nature. Ugh.

“Epi, I’m going to take a little walk.” She gave me a quick glance before returning her attention to her three-legged grazing. “Be right back.”

Scrambling up the bank, I kept my eyes peeled for a nice-size bush and a soft-leafed plant. I hate camping. Wading off the path and into the indigenous foliage, I began testing plant leaves, grading them on texture and durability, like an insane Mrs. Whipple.

And, shazam! I bumble into a little slice of heaven. Grapes! Big, dark, ripe grapes! Rushing through my toilette (Note to self: remember to wash your hands), I (delicately) crammed several of the wonderful pieces of fruit into my salivating mouth. Yummy.

Yanking as many of the clusters off their vines as I could carry, I hurried back to where I left Epi.

“Hey, Epi! Look what I found.” She looked unimpressed, but at least she wasn’t restless or pawing. She went back to grazing. I put my stash of grapes down by the saddle blanket, went to the river to reclaim my discarded boots and wash my hands. Then, finally, I plopped my tired and flattened behind down, resting my back against the saddle, and I set to work feasting upon nature’s aphrodisiac. (Michelle told me once that grapes are nature’s aphrodisiac. And she should know.)

The grapes were delicious, and I don’t think it was just because I was starving. It sure felt nice to have a full tummy. And I didn’t notice any unusual side effects from dining entirely on an aphrodisiac. At least not yet. But I did notice my eyelids felt verrrry heavvvvy.

Dragging my tired and sore behind up—God, my thighs felt like I’d been riding the entire Dallas Cowboy defensive line—I gimped my way over to the sleepy mare.

“Let me see this hoof.” She roused herself long enough for me to take a look at the bruised frog. It didn’t look any worse, and it didn’t feel quite as hot as before, which must be a good sign. I patted her neck and gave her a tired hug. “To quote John Wayne as Rooster Cogburn—‘Here. We camp here.’ Forgive me if I don’t make that quote more realistic by falling off you and onto the ground.” She didn’t even blink at my attempt at humor. Guess she was getting used to me. “Let’s just take a little nap. Wake me if I sleep past time for school.”

Gingerly, I returned to the saddle and let my body slowly come back in contact with the ground. How a rocky shore and a horsey saddle blanket could feel so good I didn’t know, but I was grateful for whatever I could get. Not grateful enough to reconsider my aversion to camping, but grateful. As my eyes closed I mentally set the alarm clock in my mind to go off in “a while.”

7

The first time I woke up it was dusk. It was like the setting sun had called open my eyes. The warmth of the day had been replaced by a pleasantly cool breeze scented with the clean, watery fragrance of the river. I stretched and shifted a little, reaching under my left butt cheek to remove a particularly uncomfortable rock. And heaved the sigh of the disgruntled. I had to pee. Getting to my feet was no fun. I was stiff and groggy and sleep clung to me like an annoying two-year-old.

Not too far from my makeshift bed, Epi was sleeping, horsestyle, on her feet—which is an ability I’ve always coveted. I tried it once, on a particularly long flight overseas when my leg cramps just wouldn’t go away. Leaning near the emergency exit situated over one wing, I had tried to doze, with little success. Every time I began to relax, my head would flop around, and to complete the failed experiment, I found that standing sleep woke in me an unfortunate propensity to drool. But Epi sure seemed comfortable. Her right front leg was still cocked, but she wasn’t fretful and I decided she didn’t need me obsessively checking her hoof. When she woke up I’d try and get her to soak it in the river again, but right now I was too tired to come up with any more poetry or depressing ballads.