Chapter 24

Guinan had never ridden a horse before and Peaches seemed to sense this. But the escape from Sioux Falls had been so quick that it was sheer adrenaline that kept her hanging on to Peaches the horse. She struggled to hold on to the reigns of the horse, who seemed to know which way to go. Peaches followed her big brother Ulysses who galloped ahead of her with Pritchard on his back. They kept up this pace as far as she could tell for the better part of an hour.

Gradually they came to a low lying valley, and Ulysses slowed to a trot. For the first time in miles, Pritchard turned back and gestured for her to slow down. She did her best, but again Peaches seemed thankfully to know best. Both horses slowed to a walk and Pritchard pointed straight ahead to a clearing surrounded by trees.

Pritchard jumped down from his horse and led Ulysses into a shady area under a tree, looping his lead around a low lying branch. He then jogged over to Peaches who had begun grazing on some sweet grass and grabbed the reigns leading her over to stand next to Ulysses. Reaching up he helped Guinan dismount shakily from the horse.

Weak and hungry she collapsed against a tree. Pritchard rummaged through the saddle bags, whistling to himself. He had hastily stuffed the bags with goods from the wooden crates they had stolen from Bill Loomey's gang. He tossed her a small skin full of water, which she caught gratefully and began to drink.

He patted Peaches on her flank and took a long drink of water. He took off his hat and swatted a fly out of his face, rubbing the crook of his elbow over his sweaty brow. He sniffed in. The air smelled good down in this field. But he knew they couldn't stay here long safely. He scratched the back of his neck and glanced over at Guinan, unable to hide his curiosity any longer. He turned and leaned back against Peaches who nuzzled his neck affectionately. He pulled an apple out of his pocket and gave it to the horse casually, not removing his gaze from Guinan. Ulysses snorted nearby, as he apparently also would have enjoyed a tasty apple.

Guinan put her water down, not wanting to drink it all at once. Now that they were on the move, who knows when they would have more? "What?" she said, noticing his piercing stare.

"I've been around…I was in the War," he said. "But I ain't never seen a gun that shoots fire…and doesn't kill."

"Well," said Guinan slowly. "I've been around too. Like I said before…I know how to travel." She folded her arms over her chest and returned his gaze impassively.

He put his hat back on his head. "And?"

She looked at him and shrugged.

He took his hat off again and held it to his chest, studying her closely. "Where are you from?"

"Louisiana," she said easily.

He snorted. "Louisiana, my foot. You ain't from Louisiana…."

She shrugged again. "Where are you from?"

He straightened proudly. "I'm a Buckeye, through and through. Just like Generals Grant and Sherman."

She looked at him blankly.

"I'm from Ohio," he said testily.

"Ah…" she said as if that meant something to her, and settled back against the tree.

Pritchard cursed under his breath and shoved his hat down over his head. Everyone knew who General Ulysses Grant was, didn't they? "He used to be the President for Pete's sake!" He blurted out, shooting her an annoyed look. "You ready to head out of here? Loomey won't be far behind. And he will be only too happy to shoot the both of us," he said gruffly.

"He can always try," Guinan said, not sounding particularly concerned as she got up from the ground. She stepped into the stirrup pushed off, hoisting herself up into the saddle.

Pritchard watched her. "Not bad," he admitted. "By the end of this adventure you'll be an expert rider. But let's go now, before our adventure ends prematurely."

"What a pretty ship you have," the Klingon Commander Korok sneered as he stomped through the ship next to Geordi LaForge. On LaForge's other side was the Romulan Sub-Commander Saris, making him extremely nervous without saying a word.

"I have a feeling that wasn't a compliment," Geordi said, "but you are right, it is pretty. And we're very happy with it," he said.

"It is too bright in here!" Korok observed, squinting under the lighting.

"Really?" LaForge shook his head. "Hadn't noticed." He glanced at Sub-Commander Saris, wondering if she appreciated his witty banter. Probably not, he decided.

"So as I was saying, the best thing about the holodeck, besides the presentation I am about to show you…is that you can create or re-create any environment you desire." He looked up at Korok. "You can even create computer generated enemies to fight. I know Worf has quite a few programs for that," he said.

"Ptagh…artificial enemies are for artificial Klingons," said Korok, sounding disgusted. "Do I look artificial to you?"

Geordi shook his head. "I…uh…no I guess not."

"And what is the recreational purpose of this…holodeck?" Saris finally asked, looking at him probingly. He realized that she was substantially taller than him.

Geordi straightened. "Well, like I said, you can do anything you want on a holodeck, really," he said.

"But why would you want to?" She demanded. "Is your own life so dissatisfying, that you require artificial stimulation?"

Korok laughed. "A Romulan with a sense of humor? What next?"

"I do not have a sense of humor," she said flatly.

"Whatever you intended, you are correct," said Korok. "Humans are so controlled by their technology that they eat artificial foods as well," he growled as though thoroughly disgusted by this fact.

"Actually I find replicators to be quite ingenious," remarked Saris.

Geordi beamed at the compliment.

"Of course replicators are a Romulan invention, and one that was clearly stolen by Humans and hardly improved upon."

Geordi was so outraged by this accusation that he forgot for a moment that he was so intimidated by his attraction to Saris. "What? Are you kidding me?"

"Did you not just hear me say that I lack a sense of humor? I am certainly not 'kidding', Mr. LaForge," Saris assured him. "The replicator was invented by Tarum, a Romulan, in the year 2030."

LaForge shook his head again, as they reached the holodeck, but decided not to argue further with her. Was there such a thing as a Romulan who wasn't arrogant? He punched in a security code. He had a feeling what the Klingon and Romulan were about to see, would shut them both up, at least for a while. As the holodeck doors opened, he walked in ahead of them and then turned gesturing for them to enter. As the doors shut behind them Geordi opened his arms wide. "Welcome to the interior of a Borg cube…."

It was nearly nightfall by the time Pritchard was satisfied that they were far enough off the more well-traveled trails to evade Loomey's gang. Once they found a suitable site, they made camp near a stream where they both washed up. Pritchard extolled the importance of washing up downstream from where you drew your drinking water, and really she could not argue with his logic. In addition, she learned that neither one of them had the least bit of modesty when it came to bathing in front of each other. After they washed up, he explained the importance of boiling the water before drinking it to take care of any harmful microbes.

Boiling the water she knew required making a fire, something that she was not unfamiliar with, having made a fire for her ailing grandmother too many times to count. So while Pritchard watched her while drinking from a bottle of whiskey, she painstakingly built the fire. Of course she could have used her disruptor to ignite it instantly, but she had drawn enough attention to her situation already without adding to Pritchard's suspicions.

Pritchard was so delighted that she had made the fire that he set himself about making dinner out of some of the food items he had stolen from Loomey, and some he'd already had in his saddlebags. When he was done cooking something he called "chili" he handed her a bowl of it and then sat down across from her on the other side of the fire.

"Where're your people, Guinan? And I know they ain't in Louisiana," he added with a smirk, before beginning to eat quickly from his tin plate.

Her eyes widened slightly as she swallowed a mouthful of chili. Not this subject again. "My father is…a long ways away. And he and I don't get along very well," she said considering the subject closed.

Pritchard didn't seem surprised by this answer. "Hmmph. And your Ma?" He threw her the bottle of whiskey, which she caught deftly with her free hand.

Guinan took a sip of the whiskey. It burned her throat, but did not appear to have the same effect on her that it did on Pritchard. He was definitely loosening up. "I don't know where my mother is," she replied honestly. "To be honest, I stopped wondering years ago." She rolled the half empty bottle back to him.

"Hmmph," he said again with an expression that said he doubted her truthfulness. "You never forget your mother."

He took another swig of the whiskey and then wiped his mouth with a faraway expression. "My father was a full-blood Shawnee," he said. She couldn't tell from his voice if he considered that to be a good thing or not. She figured maybe he had been told long ago by someone that it wasn't. For some reason she felt a sadness he didn't seem capable of projecting himself. "Most people don't believe me since I was born in the 30's when they pushed the Indian tribes west of the Mississippi…they always ask how I stayed to grow up in Ohio." He shrugged. "A few of us stayed behind, but most of the tribes were forced to leave."

Guinan unfortunately knew nothing of what he was talking about. "What happened to your father?" she asked.

He spat onto the ground. "Murdered," he said simply. "So because my mother was a white, we stayed put. Didn't have to move to the reservation after all."

Guinan looked off into the distance. "I'm sorry about what happened to your father. It must have been difficult."

He lay back against the log. He took a long drink out of the bottle again. He burped loudly and then fell silent for a few minutes. "To tell the truth, for a long time I forgot about my Pa, probably like you forgot about your Ma…."

She finished her food and put the plate on the ground, feeling satisfied. Following his earlier example she let forth a loud burp. Pritchard looked at her in surprise and then started laughing loudly, which he continued for longer than she felt was really necessary. Eventually he quieted and stared off into the distance again. "So what made you remember him again?" She asked after a time. "Your father, I mean."

He cleared his throat and got up for a moment to poke the fire with a long stick. "It was my son," he said quietly, sitting back down on his haunches. "He looked just like my Pa." He broke into a slow smile. "Except for his red hair," he added.

Like his mother, no doubt, Guinan thought. She smiled, remembering what Pritchard had said about mentioning his wife. She wondered if it was still a deal-breaker, but decided not to risk mentioning it. "Where's your son? I would like to meet him some time," she ventured cautiously. She knew immediately that she had crossed a line, and his expression became unreadable.

He poked the stick into the ground absently. "You can't meet him. Not ever." Getting up suddenly he grabbed a bedroll for each of them and then tossed her one rather roughly. Without another word, he stretched out on the ground still holding the stick, and settled his head down on his other arm. When she felt herself drifting off, she could still see him staring into the fire.