Yellowstone Legends

by Peggy L Henderson

  Mukua had stepped from between the trees. A creek gurgled among the hot water features, and a man knelt to fill his water container. He wore clothing that was not made of skins, and some strange covering sat atop his head.

  He stood, then his eyes widened the moment he saw Mukua and Wo'itsa standing there. In the next instant, he’d pulled something from the sheath hanging from his belt. It wasn’t an ax or a knife, but had to be some kind of weapon. Wo'itsa had sprung forward, pulling out his ax and stepping in front of the elder.

  The man’s eyes had darted from Wo'itsa to where the woman waited at their camp. He was much older than her. Perhaps she was his granddaughter. Much of this man’s face was covered in silver hair.

  “Miss Kate Ellen, stay in camp,” he’d called in the same language as Natukendra’eh and Cameahwait spoke. Addressing Wo'itsa, he asked, “What do you want?”

  Mukua stepped out from behind Wo'itsa and moved slowly toward the man. Perhaps it was best to let the elder answer the question. There was no reason for weapons to be drawn, and Mukua would simply tell him they were passing through.

  The white man took a step backward, stumbled, and lost his footing. The ground suddenly gave way. Hot steam billowed from the fissure that had opened. The man screamed and vanished as if the earth had simply swallowed him up.

  Wo'itsa had leapt forward and reached out his hand, but there was nothing he could have done to save the other man. It had all happened too quickly. Mukua’s bony fingers on his arm held him back.

  “Don’t be a fool,” the elder had hissed. “Do you want to plunge to a certain death, too?”

  “Ezra?” The terrified call from the woman had echoed through the trees.

  Mukua had pulled Wo'itsa into the shadows of the forest. The elder had stared at him, then at the time travel vessel he’d held in his hand. Wo'itsa had looked at it, his mind reeling with incomprehension. A day ago, the elder had wanted Wo'itsa to save the life of a woman.

  Today, he’d witnessed the accidental death of a man, and it might have been his fault that the man had fallen to his death. Somewhere in another time, another unknown woman and Natukendra’eh were in danger from a grizzly. His heart had begun to pound. He had to do something.

  “This is the original vessel my brothers and I created when I still believed we would save everyone.” Mukua spoke almost to himself. “With this, it will be much easier to travel to the right places in time to stop what my brothers have tried to protect for so long. You have done well, Wo'itsa.”

  Mukua’s triumphant smile hadn’t reassured Wo'itsa at all that he had done the right thing.

  “How does the vessel work?”

  Wo'itsa had asked the question, while in the background, the golden-haired woman wailed. She must have found the place where the man had fallen to his death in the hot water and steam.

  “It is good that you ask, for we will do many more great things together, Wo'itsa.” Mukua had held out the vessel, and Wo'itsa took it into his hand.

  “Touching the right eye will send you to the future, and the left brings you back to where it was last. That is how it works for someone who does not possess the same puha as a Sky People elder, or those whose spirits live within the vessel.”

  Wo'itsa had looked up at the old man. “Whose spirit lives within the vessel?”

  Mukua had nodded. “The spirits of the last remaining children of the Sky People live inside the vessel. It is part of the ancient magic we called forth when my brothers and I created it. Only the elders and the children can truly control the power within. Anyone else touching the eyes might accidentally travel to another time, or at the will of the Sky People.”

  Wo'itsa had realized what he held in his hand. The red eyes had stared right back at him, as if reading his thoughts. Could the vessel take him back to save Natukendra’eh? He had to try. Without thinking, he’d touched the left eye of the snake, and just as Mukua had said, it had brought him back to the last place it had been.

  He’d followed the roar of the bear, and had found Kendra clinging to the tree. With a satisfied smile, knowing he’d done the right thing by defying the elder, Wo'itsa pushed aside the pain from his wounds and drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 19

  Kendra sat by the fire, staring into the orange and yellow flames. She raked her fingers through her hair, working through some of the tangles and knots. Her eyes drifted to Wo'itsa, who’d fallen asleep again.

  If it hadn’t been for his labored breathing, she would have almost thought he’d died. It was probably a good thing he hadn’t been conscious for a while. The lacerations on his chest had bled profusely, and the only thing she’d had available to stop the bleeding was her shirt, which she’d removed and used to apply direct pressure.

  She stared up at the sky. “What am I supposed to do?”

  The sun had disappeared below the horizon a few minutes ago, and it was quickly getting dark. Stars emerged, twinkling as if they were winking at her. Were those her ancestors looking down on her? If they were, they definitely weren’t forthcoming with an answer to her desperate question.

  Kendra shook her head. They were just stars. Burning orbs of gas millions of light years away. They weren’t long-dead people she had never met.

  She blinked as a tear rolled down her cheek and fingered the snakehead in her jeans pocket. If she didn’t act soon, Wo'itsa was going to die. The lacerations on his chest were deep, and they continued to ooze. Without proper medical attention they would get infected.

  She pulled the vessel from her pocket. The red eyes reflected the light from the fire, giving them an intense, almost sinister look. She glared at it, as if she was staring down some creep on the streets of L.A., and she was unable to pull her eyes away. Once again, she was drawn to that object like a magnet. She held it up closer to her face.

  “You’re supposed to take me where I need to be the most. Right now, I need to be in a hospital.” She forced her eyes away and back to Wo'itsa. “He needs to be in a hospital.”

  Wo'itsa stirred, then flinched as if he’d been jabbed, but his eyes remained closed. Even sleep didn’t seem to bring him any relief from the intense pain his wounds must be inflicting.

  The tattoo on her arm tingled. Kendra rubbed at it through the fabric of her jacket while her eyes were on the selfless man who’d risked his life for her.

  “If you survive this, you’ll have marks like mine. Only, yours will be much more impressive because they are authentic, and a testament to your bravery.”

  She left her seat by the fire to sit beside Wo'itsa. She touched his burning hot forehead. His abdomen rose and fell with each uneven breath he took. A hesitant smile passed over Kendra’s lips, and she blinked back another tear.

  Dammit! She didn’t cry.

  “You saved my life,” she whispered.

  It hadn’t been the vessel or some mystical power that had saved her from the grizzly, but the selfless act by this guy. He’d looked out for her since Day One of her time travel ordeal.

  “You’re not my enemy. You never were.”

  Kendra’s gaze roamed his face as her hand stroked his forehead and she brushed strands of his long, dark hair from his face. Even now, he was ruggedly good-looking. Warmth filled her chest, as if the heat from his fever coursed through her fingers, up her arm, and surrounded her heart.

  My little warrior woman.

  She smiled, and a soft laugh that might have been a sob, escaped her lips. No one had ever uttered words to her that sounded so endearing.

  She’d never been in a meaningful relationship before because guarding her heart and keeping her distance from others had always been the safest option. Even her relationship with Kunu had been guarded. Knowing she’d been abandoned as a baby had created a fear of losing those she cared about. That fear had always been stronger than her need for companionship.

  Why, then, did this guy, of all people, have such an incredible pull on her? She’d felt it over the last few days, and she’d done her
best to ignore it. Watching helplessly as he slipped away – leaving her abandoned yet again – was suddenly more terrifying than facing an inner-city street gang.

  “You’re not going to die.”

  Abruptly, she stood and gripped the snakehead in her hand. Her thumb hovered over the red eyes. She could go to the future to get help, but she hesitated. Who knew where that vessel was going to take her next if she touched the eye. It certainly hadn’t done what Naatoyita had told her it would do. It hadn’t brought her to a place where she – and Wo'itsa – needed to be.

  She walked a short distance through the woods, until the campfire no longer blinded her to her surroundings, and waited for her eyes to adjust. She lifted her head to stare into the ever-darkening forest. The trees opened into a wide valley a short distance away, and a river meandered through the grass. A steep mountain framed one side of the valley. Earlier, when there had been a little more daylight, she’d recognized it as the rim of the Yellowstone caldera.

  The question remained – where and when was she this time? She hadn’t ventured any further to explore the area, not with Wo'itsa needing her close.

  Her gaze followed the shadowy outline of the mountain. The only certain thing was that she and Wo'itsa were nowhere near Hayden Valley and Cameron Osborne’s cabin, if they were even in the right time.

  Kendra turned and headed back toward the light of the campfire. It didn’t burn quite as bright as a few minutes ago, and it was time to add more wood. She still gripped the snakehead in her hand, indecision about what to do driving her mad.

  If she used the vessel to time travel again, there was no telling where she’d end up next, or if she’d even be able to get back here. Nothing in her police training had ever prepared her for something as bizarre as time traveling. The only certain thing was that an officer didn’t leave a fallen partner behind.

  Partner

  Was Wo'itsa her partner?

  “There is one other child who survived the war. Find him, and together you can reunite the clans.”

  Was Wo'itsa the other survivor of the original Sky People? That question had been on her mind the last couple of days. And what exactly did the elder mean when he’d said that together they could reunite the clans? There were no clans left to reunite.

  A loud click behind her startled her from her thoughts. Kendra spun around, her heart already pounding. A man stood several yards away, just outside the light from the fire, and he pointed a rifle at her.

  Slowly, he moved closer. He wore a fringed buckskin shirt and buckskin pants. Kendra’s gaze lifted to his face as she slowly moved her arms out from her sides to show she wasn’t armed. For the hundredth time since time traveling, she cursed her own stupidity for leaving her pistol at home on the day she’d gone to see Aimee Donovan.

  “Take it easy, friend,” she said cautiously, squinting to try to make out his features. His alert eyes combed her camp. Something about him looked oddly familiar.

  The man took a step closer, bringing him fully into the light of the fire. Kendra’s eyes widened, and a gasp escaped her lips.

  “Who are you?” The man came even closer. His question was spoken in the Tukudeka dialect. He took his sharp eyes off Kendra to glance at Wo'itsa lying on the ground.

  Kendra stared. She blinked, then stared again.

  “Matt?” The name came out in a whisper. The instant she said it, she shook her head. This wasn’t Matt Donovan, but this guy was a dead-ringer for a younger brother.

  The man glanced up at Kendra, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. His question – this time spoken in English – surprised her even more. “How do you know my brother?”

  “I . . . don’t understand. I didn’t know Matt had a brother.” Her eyes dropped to the weapon in his hand. “Please, lower your rifle. I’m unarmed, and my friend is in no condition to be a threat.”

  The second part of her statement had the desired effect. The stranger lowered his gun. He looked more closely at Wo'itsa.

  “How badly is he hurt?” He knelt beside Wo'itsa, then glanced over his shoulder at Kendra. “Are you two Sheepeaters?”

  Kendra nodded. There was no time to explain that only Wo'itsa was a Sheepeater. “He was attacked by a bear, trying to save my life. He needs help.”

  Would this guy be of some help to them? Hope welled up inside her. He didn’t seem like he was going to hurt them. Then there was the uncanny resemblance to Matt Donovan. Most confusing was that he’d said Matt was his brother. If Matt had siblings, neither Naatoyita nor Cameron Osborne had mentioned it.

  The guy stood and faced Kendra. “You’re right. He’s going to die if he doesn’t get help. My mother is a healer. We live in the valley about a mile away. I’ll get my father, and we can move him.”

  Kendra sighed in relief. She even smiled and laughed. Nodding vigorously, she said, “Thank you.” Then, “Who are you?”

  The guy looked her over with a curious glance, lingering on her clothes. Her modern attire must have looked strange to him, making him suspicious of her.

  “Samuel Osborne. My folks are Daniel and Aimee Osborne. We’re friends with the Tukudeka, but I don’t recall having ever seen you or your . . . husband?”

  Osborne!

  Kendra’s mouth went dry. She simply nodded, having heard nothing after he’d said his name. The only other word that jumped out at her was the name Aimee. Could he possibly mean Aimee Donovan, Matt’s daughter? What was going on here?

  “Are you all right?” Samuel Osborne leaned forward, staring at her with raised eyebrows.

  Kendra swallowed. She glanced at Wo'itsa. “Yes, I’m fine. Please, I would appreciate any help you can offer to save him.”

  Samuel nodded. “I’ll be back shortly.” As quickly and quietly as he’d appeared, he disappeared into the trees.

  “This is all too strange.” Kendra held her palm to her forehead and swiped some hair back out of her face.

  Had she just encountered another member of her blood relatives? And if so, why did he look so much like Matt Donovan? Cameron had referred to Matt as his brother, but they weren’t related by blood.

  Kendra sat with Wo'itsa, feeling his hot forehead again. All she could do now was wait and see if Samuel would return as he’d said. Wo'itsa stirred. His eyes opened briefly, but he didn’t seem to see her.

  “Natukendra’eh?”

  His question had been barely audible.

  “I’m right here. Help is on the way, and you’re going to be just fine.” She leaned over him and spoke close to his ear.

  Wo'itsa’s hand came up to touch her face. His fingers grazed her cheek, and her heart fluttered in response. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, savoring the sensation while at the same time wanting to run away from it. Instead, she leaned her face against his palm and placed her hand on top of his much larger one.

  “Everything’s going to be all right,” she whispered, more for her own assurance than for his.

  She sat, unmoving, holding Wo'itsa’s hand against her cheek. When the faint noise of someone moving through the brush beyond the light of the fire reached her ear, she raised her head, breaking the contact. She stood, and squinted into the darkness.

  Seconds later, Samuel Osborne reappeared with another, much older, man. Kendra stared. While he had to be in his sixties or even older, this man bore a striking familial resemblance to Cameron. What year was she in?

  “This is my father, Daniel Osborne. He and I will move him,” Samuel said as they both strode into the light of the fire.

  Despite his age, Samuel’s father had eyes that were razor sharp as he assessed her with an almost indiscernible gaze. If her clothing seemed strange to him, he certainly didn’t let on.

  Rather than asking a bunch of questions, such as where had she and Wo'itsa come from, or what had happened to him, the older man nodded to his son. Samuel dragged something behind him that looked like a stretcher of sorts. A travois, perhaps?

  “My wife will tend to your wounded man,”
he spoke in a rich, deep voice that belied his age.

  Kendra nodded. If he wasn’t going to waste time by asking questions, then neither was she. It was more important to get Wo'itsa somewhere safe where he could be cared for better than in the forest.

  “Careful when you move him. He’s in a lot of pain.” Kendra cringed at the concern in her voice.

  Samuel gave her an indulgent look, and with the help of his father, lifted Wo'itsa onto the travois. After Wo'itsa was positioned on the contraption, the older man killed her campfire, plunging everything into darkness.

  “He’ll be uncomfortable, but it’s the only way to get him back to the cabin. My mother’s waiting and prepared to tend to his wounds.”

  Kendra followed the two men through the forest and down a slight incline leading to the valley. Things were barely visible in the darkness, and she focused on walking without tripping or colliding with a tree. The old man stayed close beside her, no doubt to make sure she didn’t get separated from them.

  It didn’t take long before the faint glow of several lights appeared. Shortly after, the dark outline of a house, or cabin, could be seen if she strained her eyes hard enough.

  The door to the cabin swung open as Samuel dragged the travois closer, and the silhouette of a small female figure appeared. She waved him closer, and stepped aside when Samuel and the old man lifted Wo'itsa off the travois and helped him to his feet. With an arm slung around each man’s shoulders and wedged between them to hold him up, Wo'itsa staggered into the cabin.

  “Take him to Sarah’s old room. I’ve got the bed ready.”

  Kendra stopped just outside the door. Her eyes met that of the old woman. Their gazes locked. Most of her hair had turned gray, and the wrinkles of time criss-crossed her face, but the blue eyes held the same sparkle she’d had the night of her father’s death, before she’d been told the devastating news.

  Aimee Donovan.

  “I’m Aimee Osborne.”

  The old woman held out her hand in greeting and stared back at her, clearly trying to place her. Her eyes lingered on Kendra’s modern clothes.