The Land of Painted Caves - Jean M. Auel [32]
“And Jondalar can help us,” Ayla added.
“Help you with what?” he said.
“Zelandoni was talking about making some trips this summer to visit other Caves, and I thought it would be easier and faster using horses.”
“It probably would, but do you think Zelandoni could learn to ride?” Jondalar asked.
“She wouldn’t have to. We could make a comfortable seat on the pole-drag for her and Whinney could pull her,” Ayla said.
Jondalar’s forehead wrinkled as he thought about it, then he nodded his head. “I don’t see why not,” he said.
“Zelandoni said sometime she’d be willing to try to see if Whinney could pull her, and I said, ‘This is as good a time as any.’ ”
Zelandoni glanced at Jondalar and detected a glint of enjoyment in his eyes, then looked at Ayla and tried to think of a way to put it off. “You said you would have to make a seat. You don’t have one made yet,” she said.
“That’s true, but you didn’t think Whinney could pull you. You don’t need a seat to try it and see if she can. I don’t have any doubt, but it might reassure you, and give us a chance to think about how to make a seat,” Ayla said.
Zelandoni felt that somehow she had been snared. She didn’t really want to do this, especially not right away, but she didn’t think she could get out of it now. Then, recognizing that in her eagerness to have Ayla begin her Donier Tour, she had done it to herself, she heaved a big sigh and stood up. “Well, let’s get it over with then,” she said.
When she lived in her valley, Ayla had thought of a way to use her horse to transport things of considerable size and weight, such as an animal she had hunted—and once, Jondalar, wounded and unconscious. It consisted of two poles attached together at the shoulders of the horse with a kind of strap made of thongs that went across Whinney’s chest. The opposite ends of the poles spread out and rested on the ground behind the horse. Because only the very small surface area of the ends of the poles were dragged on the ground, it was relatively easy to pull them, even over rough terrain, especially for the sturdy horses. A platform made of planks or leather hides or basketry fibers was stretched across the poles to carry the loads, but Ayla wasn’t sure if the flexible platform would hold the large woman without bending down to the ground.
“Finish your tea,” Ayla said as the woman started to get up. “I need to find Folara or someone to watch Jonayla. I don’t want to wake her up.”
She returned quickly, but not with Folara. Instead Lanoga, Tremeda’s daughter, followed Ayla in, carrying her youngest sister, Lorala. Ayla had tried to assist Lanoga and the rest of the children almost since she arrived. She couldn’t ever remember being so angry with anyone as she was with Tremeda and Laramar because of the way they neglected their children, but there was nothing she could do about it—nothing anyone could do—except help the young ones.
“We won’t be gone long, Lanoga. I should be back before Jonayla wakes up. We’re just going to the horse shelter,” Ayla said, then added, “There’s some soup behind the fireplace with several good pieces of meat left and a few vegetables, if you or Lorala are hungry.”
“Lorala might be. She hasn’t eaten since I brought her to Stelona to nurse this morning,” Lanoga said.
“You have something, too, Lanoga,” Ayla said as they were leaving. She thought Stelona had probably given her something to eat, but was sure the girl hadn’t eaten since the morning meal either.
When they were some distance from the dwelling, and Ayla was sure she wouldn’t be overheard, she finally voiced her anger. “I’m going to have to go over there and check to see if there’s any food for the children.”
“You brought food over there