by J. P. Bowie
“What d’you mean?”
“Tomorrow his spirit will have left him. I can stop it if you’ll but let me see him.”
“Too late for that, I’m afraid.” The doctor’s voice from behind Barrows was sorrowful. “Captain Garland died a few minutes ago.”
“Damn,” Jamie muttered.
“No!” Nashoba cried.
“I’m so sorry,” Jamie muttered, gazing at Nashoba’s stricken expression.
“No,” Nashoba said again, his features clearing of shock. “He is not dead. He cannot be… I would have known it, if it were so.”
“Steady.” Jamie put a hand on Nashoba’s shoulder. “The doctor knows—”
Nashoba wrenched himself from Jamie’s grasp and ran inside. Tomlinson put out a hand to stop him, but Nashoba avoided him and ran into Matthew’s room. He threw himself on his knees at Matthew’s bedside and gripped his hands.
“Matthew,” he said softly. “Matthew, hear me…”
“Wh-what the devil?” Tomlinson stammered as Nashoba began to sing, his voice a clear, melodious sound that filled the room and caused chills to run down Jamie’s spine.
“What’s he doing?” Jamie whispered to Tanaka.
“He is singing the song of life,” Tanaka replied. “He is asking the Great Spirit to release Matthew from His embrace, to send him back to us.”
“Is such a thing possible?”
“Of course not,” Tomlinson snapped while Barrows started forward as if to intervene. Jamie held out his arm in warning and Barrows, after glaring up in disbelief at Jamie, remained where he was.
Nashoba’s song ended and instead he began a low humming chant. To Jamie’s amazement, Tanaka walked over to Nashoba’s side and joined in the chant, the two voices blending in a strange harmony the like of which Jamie had never heard before. A silence filled the room when they were done—then the impossible happened.
Matthew sighed.
Doctor Tomlinson’s eyes widened with shock. “I-I must have been mistaken,” he gasped and hurried over to the bed.
Nashoba stood but kept holding Matthew’s hand as the young captain opened his eyes and smiled at him. “I had the most wondrous dream,” he murmured, gazing at Nashoba. “You and I surrounded by snow-capped mountains covered with tall pine trees.”
Tomlinson cleared his throat. “Nashoba, if you’d let me examine the captain for a moment. This really is most remarkable.”
Nashoba stepped aside and smiled at Tanaka. “Thank you for your help. The shaman spirit within both of us made his journey back to us easier.”
Jamie chuckled at the dumbfounded expression on Barrows’ face. “I can’t believe what I’ve just seen,” the lieutenant muttered.
Tomlinson straightened after examining Matthew. “I must have been mistaken,” he said, again. “Perhaps his heart hadn’t really stopped, but I could have sworn…” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“No matter, Doctor,” Jamie said quickly. “The good news is the captain’s not dead, for which we are all thankful.”
“Indeed, indeed…and his wound looks tremendously improved. Quite remarkable. But as you said, MacDonald, he is young and strong. Obviously able to recover quickly.”
“And don’t forget the herbs Tanaka brought you.”
“Right, correct,” Tomlinson agreed.
“So he wasn’t really dead then.” Barrows sounded relieved. “I thought for a minute that Nashoba had really brought him back from the grave.”
Jamie clapped Barrows on the shoulder. “Well, as the doctor said, that wasna’ possible.”
Tanaka and Nashoba merely smiled.
* * * *
“But it was, possible, that is,” Jamie said when he and Tanaka were alone again, a few hours later.
“Yes, Jamie. We believe that the spirit lingers near us after death, and with the right incantation and strong purpose, it can be brought back and give life again to the one who has died.”
“If it was anybody else telling me this I’d laugh in their face, but I ken you and your people are far more spiritual than any other I’ve known.” Jamie regarded Tanaka’s fine-featured face with affection. “Me, I’ve never believed the rubbish spouted from the pulpit…all that hell and damnation if you dinna’ toe the line, but what I saw you and Nashoba do, and really just being with you these past few years, has made me realize that perhaps there is more to people’s beliefs than I give credit for.”
Tanaka smiled gently. “Sometimes it is easier to disbelieve. It takes less thought.”
“Wait a minute,” Jamie huffed. “Here was I being a’ complimentary and you being insulting. Are you saying I dinna’ think?”
“Never, my Jamie.” He touched Jamie’s face with his fingertips and caressed him gently. “Sometimes your mind is a whirlwind, but always it is rational. I could never spend time with a man who does not think.” He leaned in to press his body against Jamie’s and kiss his lips.
“Hmm, that’s better, and now when I think about it, I remember saying you had to make it up to me when we were interrupted back yonder.”
“I knew you would remember.” Tanaka chuckled softly. “Well, as you are so fond of saying, there’s no time like the present.”
* * * *
Two days later, Matthew was able to sit up and walk a short distance with Nashoba’s assistance. No one seemed to question Nashoba’s presence at the captain’s side. The rumors of course centered on Matthew’s miraculous recovery. If Nashoba hadn’t actually brought him back from the dead, he had certainly helped him mend from a near-fatal injury. Lieutenant Barrows was heard to declare that it had been a bloody miracle and no mistake, and he’d been there to witness it!
Colonel Fowler remained in his cell, mostly in a comatose state. Doctor Tomlinson, after examining him, told Jamie that he feared for the man’s mind.
“I think the best thing would be for him to be shipped home to England, but General Rathbone will have to make that decision when the colonel goes back to Fort Sumner. He’s most certainly not in a position to command this fort. I will write a statement to that effect and leave it to them to decide what’s to be done.”
Jamie went to visit Matthew later that day. He found him sitting in a chair at his desk, writing.
“Back to work already?” Jamie remarked.
Matthew smiled. “My letter of resignation, along with a detailed account of what has taken place in the last few days. I decided that I couldn’t let the colonel’s behavior go unreported. Doctor Tomlinson agrees with me and will also write a statement regarding the colonel’s mental health.”
Jamie nodded. “Aye, he said as much to me. But you’re resigning? Is this not just a hasty decision because of what happened to you?”
“That, and the promise I made to Nashoba.” He put down his quill and regarded Jamie with a look that was both serious and hopeful. “He saved me, Jamie. I was dead without a doubt, and he brought me back from the shadows. I could hear his voice calling to me. Incredible though it sounds, I know it to be the truth. I was in a cold, dark place, lost and alone, and I was terrified. All I could think of was that I would never see Nashoba’s face again, never hold him in my arms, kiss his lips… I reached out for him and—” He blinked. “I am sorry, that was probably more than you ever wanted to hear.”
“Don’t apologize…I understand. I know that my life would be hell on earth if anything happened to Tanaka. But resignation? Is that not a large step to take? What will you do, live among the Choctaw?”
Matthew eyes took on a faraway look. “No, Nashoba and I will make the trek to Canada. I have never been to Canada, but somehow I believe that what I saw in my vision was where we are destined to be. Foolish though it may seem, it felt like home. Nashoba has already spoken with the elders and they, though saddened by his decision to accompany me, have accepted his proposal that Tahman be elected as chief.”
Jamie expressed his surprise. “So much has happened in such a short time. But I’m glad to hear it. It wi
ll make our decision to bid you farewell, the easier.”
“Ah yes, your desire to see the great ocean. I have a map here…a bit primitive, but it does show a vast body of water on the western shores. The Spanish have infiltrated most of the area. The call it Alta California.” He pulled a rough parchment from his desk drawer and spread it out for Jamie to see. “This is where we are.” He pointed to a spot on the map. “Alabama. There is an enormous amount of territory that you will have to cover in order to reach the ocean.”
“And you also,” Jamie said, seeing the expanse of land between Alabama and Canada.
“It is daunting, I admit. But if we leave fairly soon, we will have the good weather for most of the journey.” He pulled a piece of parchment toward himself. “Here, let me draw you a copy of the map to help you on your way. At least it will give some idea of rivers you may have to cross. Perhaps, one day we may meet again as travelers.”
“That would please me and Tanaka.” Jamie watched as Matthew skillfully copied the rude map onto the parchment. “Will we have time for a wee drink to wish one another well afore we go?”
“Absolutely. Nashoba and I will be here until a new commander is sent to replace me.” His eyes gleamed with what Jamie took to be inspiration. “I know, why don’t we have a celebration of some kind…the men and the settlers…the scouts…a kind of dance with food and perhaps a drink or two? It might help raise everyone’s spirits. After all, we had a great victory over the French, and I survived being shot by the colonel!”
Jamie laughed out loud. “Y’did indeed, but d’ye think you’re fit enough for something like that?”
“I will be in a day or two. I’ll talk with the ladies who helped out in the hospital…they might have some ideas they could share.”
Jamie nodded. “You’re right. It’s a good idea. Fort Bligh could do with some lighthearted fare for a change.”
“And it will give you and Tanaka a grand send-off.” He stood with just a little difficulty and held out his hand. “Thank you, Jamie, for all you have done. I will remember you and Tanaka with great fondness.”
“Let us not say goodbye, Matthew,” Jamie said taking the captain’s hand. “Who knows when we might meet again? Till then, deagh fhortan mo charaid. Good fortune, my friend.”
* * * *
The next two or three days saw a flurry of excitement and preparation at Fort Bligh. Matthew went to visit Colonel Fowler, but the man had withdrawn into a sullen and noncommunicative state that gained neither of them any progress. Matthew could not wait until his relief arrived and they took Fowler back to Fort Sumner to face the charges of drunken behavior and of shooting a fellow officer.
“That fellow officer being me, Nashoba,” he said wryly.
“He is a lucky man that I was not present when he shot you,” Nashoba remarked quietly but with enough venom that left Matthew in no doubt how Fowler would have fared at Nashoba’s hands.
“I am glad you were not present. Harming Fowler would have resulted in your arrest…along with the colonel of course…then where would we be?”
Nashoba bared his teeth in a grin. “You are correct of course, but sometimes even now my hands itch to grip him by the throat.”
“He is a sick man, Nashoba. I recommended in my letter to General Rathbone that he be sent home to England rather than have him face the ignominy of a trial. I really don’t think the man is completely sane.”
He looked up as Barrows and Andrews entered the room. “Sir, we are here to inform you that the festivities are about to start, and that your attendance is required. The Choctaw scouts are ready to begin their ceremonial dance.”
Nashoba jumped to his feet with a muttered, “I’d better go,” and fled from the room.
Barrows stared at Matthew for a long moment before saying, “We shall miss you, sir. We’re all hoping that whoever they send to take over will be at least half the leader you are.”
“Thank you, Barrows. I know I’ll miss all of you men too. Don’t worry about who is taking over. I’ll make sure I whip him into shape before I leave.”
They chuckled then Barrows gestured that Matthew should precede them out onto the parade ground. A large crowd broke into applause as he emerged flanked by Barrows and Andrews.
The vibrant sound of drums echoed through the fort and the Choctaw scouts led by Nashoba and Tahman flung themselves into a series of athletic gyrations that had everyone, soldiers and settlers alike, whooping and clapping in time to the hypnotic rhythm of the beat.
Jamie and Tanaka stood off to the side watching the people’s enjoyment. Jamie was glad that in the morning, they would finally continue their journey farther into the west toward the great ocean. No doubt there would be more adventures along the way…at least he hoped there would be. For what would life be without some danger and excitement? Perhaps one day, he and Tanaka would cease their wandering, settle down and live a life content to gaze at sunrise and sunset. Perhaps one day, but not yet.
He slipped an arm around Tanaka’s waist and kissed his neck, inhaling his warm and musky scent. “There’s a place nearby in the woods waiting for us,” he whispered, brushing his lips over Tanaka’s ear.
“Then let us not keep it waiting.”
His smile made Jamie’s heart beat the faster. Unseen by even those standing close by, they made their way to the gates and to the forest beyond. Jamie laughed as Tanaka tugged at his hand, his impatience a joy to see, the promise of what it meant filling him with love and desire.
Hands joined, they ran to the welcoming shelter of the trees and were soon lost to the eyes of men. Tomorrow would see the start of a new adventure, but for now, tomorrow could wait… The night was all they needed… That, and each other.
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Murder by Design
J.P. Bowie
Excerpt
Every time Sam Walker woke up with a hangover to end all hangovers, he vowed never to go on another bender again. Okay, so last night had been a kind of celebration and the guys from the precinct had more or less forced him into joining them in their favorite bar…but still, was this awful freaking headache and queasy stomach worth it? Carefully, he eased himself out of bed and headed with unsteady steps to the bathroom.
Staring at himself in his bathroom mirror, he groaned. Jeez…a face only a mother could love, or so the saying goes. Well, maybe not his mother. She hadn’t loved anything about him for a long time. It wasn’t the handsomest mug at the best of times, in his opinion. His jaw was too square and that stupid cleft in his chin made it hard to shave without a deal of careful blade maneuvering. He sighed and pulled down his lower eyelid, shuddering at the red that was practically overwhelming the blue. Ugh… He ran the cold water and splashed his face and chest for a bit, hoping it would liven him up some. He could go back to bed. There was nothing pressing at the precinct. The captain had told him and Martin McCready, his partner, to take the day off, so why not take advantage of it? Maybe a cup of coffee first.
His cell buzzed as he made his way to the kitchen. He pretended not to see the trail of clothes he’d left strewn across the bedroom floor. After a glance at the ID screen he croaked, “Hey, Martin. What’s up?”
His partner’s chuckle was followed by, “You sound real chipper this morning.”
“I might be after a caffeine fix. How’re you doing?”
“Fine and dandy. Better than you by the sounds of it. Of course, I didn’t stay till closing time like I’m guessing you did.”
“And I wouldn’t have if I had a beautiful wife and kids to go home to.” Sam tucked his phone against his ear so he could prep the coffee machine and talk at the same time.
Another chuckle. “That would make headline news.”
“Smartass. So why are you calling me so damned early?”
“It’s almost ten, Sam. Liz wanted to know if you’d like to have dinner with us tonight. Think you can handle a home-cooked meal for a change?”
“Hey, I cook…”
“Yeah, anything that comes frozen or canned.” Martin tsked. “I don’t know how you keep in such good shape eating all that crap all the time. Anyway, Liz is making meatloaf, her mama’s recipe, the one you had three helpings of last time. Abe and Sara still talk about Unca Sam putting it all away. Sara wanted to know why you don’t have a belly like mine.”
Sam smiled as he spooned the coffee into the filter. “Metabolism, I guess. Plus, three workouts a week, at which you could join me if you wished. And the answer is yes, I would love to have dinner with y’all. What time and what can I bring?”
“Forget the workouts. Raising a family is enough of a workout for me. Six, and you don’t have to bring anything. You know that. And especially all that stuff you always bring to spoil the kids with.”
“Okay, six it is,” Sam said, ignoring Martin’s last remark. “Looking forward to it, Martin. Thanks.”
Waiting for the coffee to brew, he counted himself lucky to have a partner like Martin McCready. A lot of detectives had good partners, but Sam always felt he’d struck gold with Martin. An African-American, tall with big shoulders and big fists, a good guy to have with him in tight corners, but also sane, with no judgment and a great sense of humor. Sam was sure that no matter what, Martin had his back, and when it came down to it, he had Martin’s, no questions asked. He’d heard the expression about taking a bullet for someone, and he thought he really would for his partner…without a doubt.
Plus, he had the added bonus of being included in the McCready family. He had none of his own, being one of those teens thrown out for being gay—and maybe he overcompensated by bringing Martin’s kids ‘stuff’ every time he visited, but what the hey? He’d been banned from seeing his own niece and nephew so he couldn’t spoil them. Their loss, he’d told himself a hundred times over the years, but deep down, sometimes it still hurt.
Sam’s dad had stared at him, his face mottling to a dark red. ‘You are—what did you say?’