Rattler. Barry Andrew Chambers

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      Pandora did not speed up. I think she was running as fast as her fat little legs would carry her. I didn’t look back. I kept looking at the wide, endless expanse in front of me. No cover. I was a dead man.

      “Yow! Yow! Yow!”

      They were probably fifty feet behind me. I tensed, waiting for the deadly arrow or spear to pierce my back. Pandora whinnied in panic. Without my command, she started to zigzag in a defensive strategy.

      Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a Comanche brave. The whooping sounded horrendous as they pulled up beside me. There were two on each side of me. Gathering my courage, I looked into the face of a young brave.

      Then the whooping turned to laughter. They were laughing! They were laughing at Pandora, slowest horse in the west.

      One of the braves beside me pointed and continued laughing. He shouted something in Comanche to the others and another laughed so hard, he fell off his horse. I glanced back and saw him rolling in the dust, still laughing.

      After about half a mile, the Comanches broke off and let me gallop slowly away from them. Pandora, not realizing they had stopped their pursuit, was still zigzagging through the sage. I looked back and saw all of them sitting on their horses, coughing and laughing uncontrollably.

      “Okay Pandora, it’s okay. It’s okay girl.”

      I stroked her mane and she stopped her zigzagging. After two more miles, I checked to see if the Comanche’s had followed us. I saw no telltale dust. We were apparently out of danger.