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Sophia Berenice Zubia


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Sophia was beginning to realize the decision to leave the comfort of San Elizario, of home, was the easiest part of this thing she had set her heart and mind on doing. After only 60 miles of traveling over a few day's time, the rough terrain and biting winds began to wear on her. Although two large wagons filled with belongings and supplies made the journey trailing slowly behind the mass of horses and the four hands she'd managed to bribe into helping, she insisted on riding in the open. Tears flung from her eyes torn by the winds and the pressure of the split reins of her horse's bridle began to cut through her riding gloves and into her fine soft hands. These pains did not dismay her nearly as much as the men laughing at her for taking on such a thing as this or for her hardheadedness insisting to ride sidesaddle through the mountain passes. She noted haughtily that she was keeping pace with these men despite what they considered her handicaps. Still, tomorrow she resolved she would wear proper gear and ride astride. Anything to stave off the chill and the comments of the men, and to arrive safely with no loss of horses or wagons. She decided it was a silly thing indeed to be wearing clothes fit for demonstration or distraction when she could be comfortable and warm like her men.

Sophia distracted herself by watching over her precious herd. Every one of these magnificent beasts must reach the ranch unscathed. She thrilled to see the flare of their nostrils and their quick, smooth steps as they excitedly moved further into the unknown, navigating rocks and steep slopes hereto unknown to them. She marveled at how finely and strongly they moved out. She went nowhere without them, her life blood, and she quietly prayed that she was doing the best thing for all concerned.

Its not like the way back to San Elizario is barred should I wish to return, she reassured herself. The holdings her father had left her after his passing were still under her control.

Sophia urged her own mount into a swift canter and called to the others to move out more swiftly ahead of her as they headed down into the shadows of a deep, sandy arroyo.

Prisa para arriba allí, ˇusted!

The clean, heady fragrance of chaparral branches broken as they thundered across filled her senses and suddenly made her feel so alive. For a moment she nearly forgot her vendetta.




My Novels:

Zone : Westerns
Wild As The West Texas Wind - Out of Print

My Reference Books:

Wild West

My Blog:

My Salons:

The Bandit Queen's Hideout

My Friends:

William Blackburn
Matt Edwards

My Favorite Reads:

Wild As The West Texas Wind - Out of Print
Zone : Westerns

My Pandas:

Panda
Best Melancholy Moment
March 2009


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