Free Wild Fire by Linda I. Shands

shouldered their fishing poles and headed upriver right after breakfast. The others, including Ryan, had all gone on a trail ride.
    The Wilson boy had been taking lessons and could ride better than they had thought. Colin had put him on one of the older horses and let Ryan tag along on Star.
    Kara hummed some of last night’s music as she saddled Lily for the ride to Otter Lake. With Ryan out of her hair and Anne busy fishing, she’d finally have some time to herself .
    Anne handed her a long, tubelike cardboard case. “Fishing rods,” she explained.
    There were no reels, only a net on a long pole. Kara tied the gear onto Lily’s saddle, then watched as Anne slipped a bridle over Dakota’s ears, grabbed a handful of mane, and leapt onto the horse’s back.
    Kara realized her mouth was hanging open and snapped it shut. “You’re riding bareback?”
    â€œMy father never allowed us to burden a horse with a saddle. Without it, horse and rider work together, become as one.” She clucked lightly with her tongue, and the big horse moved calmly toward the trail.
    Kara felt a flash of irritation. Is there anything that woman can’t do? Anne was right. Bareback was easier on the horse. And the rider. Kara had ridden that way often, but only from the pasture to the barn. Anyway, stirrups and a saddle were safer for a trail.
    She followed slowly, enjoying the feel of the sun on her back as they followed the river east, crossed the meadow, and headed into the trees. Thunderheads were already building up over the mountains in the north.
    The storms came almost every day this time of year, but they seldom hit until late afternoon. Luckily, they were always accompanied by rain. Kara still felt skittish when the lightning flashed. She had seen what dry lightning could do. It was that kind of storm that had killed her mother.

T HEY MADE THE HALF-HOUR ride to the lake in silence. Kara tied the horses in a stand of fir trees, then helped Anne carry the gear down the steep, fern-covered slope. The lake was fed by two creeks and an underground spring. It was small, but deep enough to shelter schools of rainbow trout and smallmouth bass .
    They turned over stones at the water’s edge, uncovering hellgrammites—Ryan called them skitter bugs—to use as bait. Then they rigged and set the lines.
    â€œNow, we wait.” Anne settled cross-legged on a large, flat rock and began digging through her backpack. She pulled out two books and handed one to Kara.
    â€œHere is my father’s book about the Yana people. It is yours.”
    â€œMine? But why would your father want to give his book away?”
    â€œMy father left it to me, so it is mine to give.”
    Kara studied the cover. It would be great to learn more about the people Anne thought were her ancestors, but could she really accept part of someone else’s inheritance?
    â€œA gift freely given should at least be considered.”
    Kara blushed and took the book. “Thanks, I’d love to read it.”
    Anne nodded and picked up the book she’d brought for herself. Kara recognized it right away. “Mom had a Bible just like that.”
    Anne rubbed her fingers across the frayed edges of the soft, red leather. “It is my favorite. Small enough to carry anywhere.” She grinned. “Worship and fishing keep good company.”
    Kara couldn’t help but grin back. “Riding too. Sometimes I pray while I’m riding Lily. When I’m alone, in the woods or by the river, God always seems so close.”
    â€œDo you know Jesus, Wakara?”
    The question felt like a slap. “Of course I do! I accepted Him when I was Ryan’s age.” She realized she was shouting, but the older woman ignored her tone of voice.
    â€œAnd He is close only in the woods?”
    She shrugged. “Well, yeah. I guess lately, not even then.”
    Anne just looked at her, waiting, and she stumbled on.