Two Moons studied his captive. She raised round clear blue eyes to find him watching her. "She is called Blue Eyes."
"She will cause you trouble." Rattling Blanket frowned. Without another word she left his lodge.
Two Moons squared his shoulders. Blue Eyes and he were to follow the same path, if only for the moment. Until the day came that their roads forked, she would be his to protect. If she truly was his Spirit Woman then he would not anger the Spirits. If she was not, hecetu, so be it.
He took off his vest and hung it neatly over his backrest. He slid the leggings down his thighs, over his calves and ankles, then folded the clothing and laid it beside him on his bed of fur. He knew what was expected if he was to call her his own.
His heart heavy, he glanced down at her, seeing the intense terror etched across her face. She started to rise to her knees. He threw himself over her. Together they fell back against the blanket. She struggled against him. Her hips ground into his as she thrashed about wildly. Her soft breasts heaved against his chest. He clasped his hands against her cheeks to stop the frenzied motion of her head. With gentle fingers he brushed the hair from her face.
The fear clouding her beautiful blue eyes pained him now as it had before when the women of his village had showed their anger at her presence. Had it not been so recent, the memory of loved ones killed by his enemy's hand, then perhaps they would have acted differently. One day she would come to see the kinder more generous side of his people.
He slipped his hand off her face, to the cloth at his hip, untied the knot, then with a flick of his wrist, yanked off his breechclout, and dropped it to the ground.
****
Gabrielle couldn't believe he had brought her here to his home to rape her, but his nakedness said exactly what he had in mind. His chest weighed heavily, crushing into her rib cage, making it difficult to breathe. His groin pressed against her thigh. She could feel the rapid rhythm of his heart against her breast. The cool air on her legs, the touch of his hot hand against her thigh, sent a jolting stab of panic to her chest. She struggled to sit, tried to force her skirt back down.
“Get your hands off me! You disgusting pig! Let me go!” Kicking and thrashing did little to prevent him from sliding his hand up her leg as he shoved her back down to the blanket.
“I won't let you do this. I won't!” The bravado in her voice diminished as the pressure of his thumb in the hollow of her collarbone increased. She understood only too well she was no match for him. He wanted her to know he was stronger, showing her that with just his thumb he was in control.
She stared at him, trying to read what was in those cruel dark eyes of his. Hoping if he saw her fear, he'd change his mind. Was this his pleasure to rape her now amongst his people? Did he wish to let them hear her screams? Gabrielle clamped her lips tight. She would give him no satisfaction.
He lifted her skirt. Cool air assaulted her bare torso. She clamped her thighs together, struggling against him. In the blink of an eye, he reached across her and grabbed a thin piece of rawhide. With the agility and swiftness of one trained in battle, he bound her wrists to a supporting lodge pole. Her heart pounded erratically. She watched in horror as he brought his knife up from the ground beside him. She jerked her knees up; tried to turn away from him, but he rolled her flat on her back, straddling her legs. As he thrust her thighs apart with his hands and cut the chastity rope, Gabrielle's last thread of hope unraveled. A cry escaped her lips. A cry, she had promised only she would hear. She stared up into his eyes, trying in one last effort to get him to change his mind. In their depths she saw not lust, nor hostility, only a sadness she didn't understand.
As quick as he had straddled her, he was off, kneeling beside her. As he yanked the rope from her waist, it scratched against her flesh, burning her. A swift shadow of anger swept across his carved face as he lowered her skirt. He grunted with annoyance, then turned his body away from her gaze.
When he lay down beside her, she nearly jumped out of her skin, relieved he had not raped her-confused. When he threw the blanket on top of them and rolled over, she shrank as far away from him as she could. Finally, when she no longer felt him moving beside her, Gabrielle breathed more easily and closed her eyes.
Chapter Five
The patches of fog grew thicker as Roy drove his pickup higher up the mountain's winding road. The dense gray mist, thick as pea soup one minute, clear the next, made his eyes feel dry from strain. The road seemed almost invisible. He never knew what lay around the corner until he came upon it. He bit his lower lip in concentration. Every fiber in his body grew taut. A tense silence enveloped his truck, as thick as the air outside.
Like a slow descending curtain, dusk snuffed out the last of daylight. He took one hand off the wheel and flipped on his lights.
“Shit!” The word left his mouth a few minutes before the road curved. Nothing but air and open space loomed before him. With a jerk on the wheel, he swerved his truck to the right and avoided driving over the edge of what appeared to be a thousand-foot drop.
When at last the road widened and the mountains were behind him, he pulled over to the shoulder and stopped. Leaning back against his seat, he closed his eyes and exhaled. Damned if his sense of doom earlier hadn't been right on the mark.
Beads of sweat pooled on his forehead. He wiped his face with his wrist and opened his eyes. He reached under his seat for his first aid kit. Inside the box, gauze, bandages, antiseptic pads and various medical necessities were arranged neatly and organized in their respective places.
He could still hear his father’s words, “Everything in its place, a place for everything.” He popped an aspirin in his mouth and swallowed, then reached for the radio and turned it on. Surprised when nothing happened, he fiddled with the volume and pushed the various buttons.
Stone dead. That was odd.
A loud bark sounded in his ear. Staring out the side window, Roy strained to see past the rolling mist.
A large white dog broke through the fog. The beast came pretty close to resembling a wolf, and Roy hesitated before he leaned out the window. “Hey boy. Where'd you come from? You lost?”
Blue eyes stared back at him as the dog in silence wagged its long bushy white tail.
Thinking to check for a collar, he opened the door and stepped out. Before he had a chance to bend down, the dog skirted around him and jumped onto the front seat.
“Hey fella, nice try, but I don't think so. Come on out.” He patted his thigh. “Come on, get out.”
He reached across the seat and pulled on the animal's fur, keeping his distance from the beast's mouth in the event that the dog might turn on him. “Come on now,” he urged again. “And don't give me that look.”
He straightened, then crossed his arms in front of his chest. “This is my truck and I don't have--”
Suddenly a flash of lightening and an exploding crash of thunder interrupted his words. Huge raindrops fell, splattering the ground, hitting his back.
“Damn it!”
With a quick shove, Roy pushed the dog over and jumped to his seat. The door closed with a thud. As he rolled up the window, a strong gust of wind breathed heavily against the glass, causing it to rattle. The rain grew in intensity. It pelted the windshield like pebbles thrown from above.
Struggling out of his damp leather vest, he folded it neatly over the back of his seat then turned on the ignition.
“I'll take you as far as the next town and then you're out.” He put the truck in gear, stepped on the gas, then glanced at the animal beside him. Blue eyes, the damn dog had blue eyes. Seemed unnatural, if you asked him. Clear blue, piercing eyes. That reminded him… He picked up the phone and dialed.
“George, it's Roy Prescott. You remember me?”
“I… I think so.” George sounded uneasy.
“Good. Ms. Camden, did she come back yet?”
“Ms. Camden ain't here. I told you. She ain't here.”
“George. I know. Calm down. I'm ju
st worried about her. Where'd you say she went?”
There was a pause of silence. “I don't know.”
Flexing, un-flexing his hand, Roy took a deep calm breath. “What do you mean you don't know? I thought you said she had gone up to one of the reservations.”
“Oh. Right.” George paused, hesitant. “She'll be gone a few days.”
“What reservation, George?”
“I don't know. She'll be back. Told me so.”
The hair on Roy's arm rose.
“George, listen to me. I have a terrible feeling something's not right. Now, I don't want to scare you, but think, where'd she say she was going?”
“I don't know,” he wailed. “Said she'd be back. Couple of days or so.” George sounded agitated.
“OK. Don't worry about it. When she gets back, tell her-George? George?”
Silence answered him.
Roy stared at the phone in confusion. What the hell was going on? First the radio, now this? He placed the receiver in the holder and stared into the darkness.
The beams of his fog lights cast an eerie glow to the dark winding road, and the swirling mist engulfed his windshield.
His neck muscles tightened. His lids grew heavy from straining. He blinked, then focused his attention on the dark road. Settling back against his seat, he arched his shoulders forward, then back. The joints in his shoulder blades crunched.
Again, a weird premonition of impending disaster overcame him. He shook his head and wiped his sweaty palm on his pant leg.
The wind pushed his truck with a heavy hand. Leaves whirled up from the ground, hit his windshield, then were swept away by the rapid swish of his windshield wipers.
Rounding the bend, he was starting down the mountain, when a crackling bolt of light hit the pavement blinding him. His shoulders jerked.
Out of nowhere a black hawk, the size of an eagle, swooped down and landed in the road before him. Grasping the steering wheel tightfisted, Roy swerved to the right to avoid hitting the bird. The pickup's speed increased as it skidded down the road’s incline. He slammed on the brakes. The steering column shimmied in his hands. The car swerved to the left. Now off the road and onto the shoulder the pickup rocked, throwing him forward.
A tree loomed up ahead. Sensing the impending danger, the dog dropped his head in Roy's lap. “Hang tight fella. It's gonna be a bumpy ride.”
Roy’s eyes widened. He thrust his arms out tautly and braced himself against the wheel. He heard a yelp, felt the weight of the dog being jostled beside him. Roy sank down in his seat.
Thoughts came to him like a movie reel on slo-mo, dragging across his brain. He was go.. ing to hit th … at tree.
****
Tree branches creaked in the wind. A hawk cawed. But inside the sweat lodge, Two Moons, his legs crossed, sat in silence, focusing his thoughts to the pit of hot stones before him. Flames of golden amber crackled in the burning fire. The door flap of the tunka tipi, sweat lodge, shut out the evening's light. In the darkness the stones glowed a deep red and gold.
From his leather pouch, Black Hawk sprinkled a fine dust over the rocks, filling the room with the woodsy smell of cedar. Two Moons thrust his cupped hands into the sacred smoke and drew it toward him.
“Tunkashila, Grandfather, creator of all, look on us. We offer you all we have. All else belongs to you. So hear us, your children.” Black Hawk sprinkled more cedar onto the stones and waved his eagle wing fan over the flames. “May this sacred cedar carry our words to your ears, so that you may hear and guide us.”
Steam hissed. Wood popped. Smoke rose fiercely, filling the lodge with a gray mist, as he sprinkled handfuls of water onto the fire.
Hot vapors washed over Two Moons. The fierce heat burned his nostrils as he breathed in deeply. His shoulders rose and fell in shallow rhythm with his chest. Smoke stung his eyes and his lids fell shut. Sweat poured down his forehead, tracing a path down his cheeks. He tasted its salty wetness on his lips, as he began to pray for guidance.
Blurred visions wafted in and out of his consciousness. The steady beat of a drum, the ceaseless vibration of a rattle, kept with the rhythm of his heart, as it beat faster and faster. Black Hawk's guttural low chanting carried him higher and higher.
Darkness embraced his mind and he welcomed it-prayed for a vision, prayed for guidance-until Two Moons entered the world beyond, floating on a smooth, transparent mist, surrounded by a glowing yellow light. Cold droplets of rain hit his face as he burst through the clouds and found himself running beside the wolf. Suddenly he and the beast became one. Images, fast and furious, sped past him. He sensed danger, fear, as the earth beneath him shook. He clenched his hands. A sharp pain cut across his chest. He winced. Then the darkness swallowed him.
From the distance he heard a song. Soft and whispered, carried over the breeze, it flowed like a gentle gurgling river, filling his soul with peaceful contentment. As quickly as it came, it disappeared. He was back in the lodge, confused, lost and lonely.
A breath of cool air swirled in, fanning his steaming body, striking him back to reality.
Black Hawk signaled to the doorman to keep the flap open. “The spirits have spoken…”
“I do not understand what they have shown me.”
“You are beginning a new circle of life.”
Two Moons nodded. “I saw a hawk flying over me. As its legs touched the ground, it grew larger and larger. Its giant wings gathered me up and carried me above the clouds. Then I was on the ground, but the earth beneath my feet was black. As I ran the white wolf with the eyes of the sky was beside me.”
“He is one of your animal spirits. So, he guides you in and out of the spirit world.”
Two Moons nodded. “I held in my hand a small box that talked in my ear-”
“I have heard of such. So, it is said that in this year, in a village called Philadelphia, a man with the name Bell has made such a box.”
Two Moons continued to talk about his vision, while Black Hawk smoked his pipe in silence.
“Lost, I walked through a heavy gray mist. Then I came upon a man riding in a wagon with no horses.”
“A horseless carriage,” Black Hawk replied. “Yes. On my visit to talk with the Great White Father, I too have seen these wagons.”
“Black Hawk, this wagon”… Two Moons leaned closer. “From its jaws of wrinkled metal, it spit smoke.”
****
Dark and confusing, images blurred: a black hawk, a white dog, clouds of gray and a loud crash. Slowly, Roy regained consciousness and became aware of being slumped over the steering wheel. His movements sluggish, he straightened and leaned back. An excruciating pain attacked his chest. He hunched forward to relieve it, then closed his eyes. Motionless for a moment, he took a long, deep breath and tried to regulate his breathing-tried to recall what had happened. He had hit the tree. Thank God. He was all right. But, what about-
He glanced sideways. The dog was gone. How? The window was still closed. The windshield wasn't broken. Clutching his chest, he raised himself on his other hand and stared out into the darkness. He couldn't see much; everything beyond a few yards was pitch black.
With great care, he reached for the doorknob and pushed the lever up. When his feet hit the ground, they buckled slightly beneath him. Dizzy, he leaned against the door for a moment, then slowly walked around to assess the damage. The front left of his truck crumpled into the tree. The hood had popped open. He fanned away the smoke pouring out from the radiator and leaned closer to the hood to take a better look. Steam hissed. Heat, covered his face.
“Your jeep will not carry you any further.”
Startled, Roy hit his head on the hood of his truck. He cradled his head with his hand and whirled around. An old man with braids and a dark floppy hat, stood behind him.
“Where… ?” Roy’s gaze darted about him.
The old man seemed to read his mind. “Not far.” He waved the beam of his flashlight over his shoulder. “Just a short walk up the roa
d. So, you and I will go there.”
“But my truck. I…” Momentarily distracted by a severe pain in his ribs, Roy paused for a moment. “Right. I'll need to call for a tow truck.”
“Come then. We will see to all your needs later.” The old man turned away, not waiting for an answer.
Reluctantly, Roy reached into the back seat for his camera, turned and followed him, his movement’s stiff and awkward. “Did you happen to see a white dog? He looked kinda like a wolf. He was in my truck before --”
“I let him out.”
Roy stopped dead in his tracks. “You let the dog out, but left me unconscious in the truck?” What was wrong with this picture?
“He asked to go out. You did not.” The old man paused and glanced at him from beneath bushy, gray brows.
Roy couldn't believe he had heard correctly. He frowned in exasperation.
“So, besides,” the old man continued, “I knew you would come to.”
For a man with so many years under his belt, he sure moved fast. Roy took a few quick steps to catch up with him. “I hope the mutt is all right. Must live around here, huh?”
“He runs with the wind. Mother Earth is his home.”
“I guess you can't collar the wild part in him. Trying would probably kill him. I can relate to that.” A heavy weariness began to seep into his body, as he tried to concentrate on just keeping in rhythm with his companion. His chest ached. His head pounded. Sweat poured down his forehead. And if things weren't bad enough, he could swear he knew the old man from somewhere.
Chapter Six
A breath, hot and heavy fanned Gabrielle’s cheeks. A warning sounded in her ears. Gabrielle awoke with a start. Yellow eyes stared down at her. She choked back a cry, frightened, afraid to breathe. He was so close, nose to nose. She could smell his animal odor. She clenched her hands. The ropes that held her immobile tightened against her wrists. Paralyzed, her body numb with fear, she kept her attention focused on the beast hovering over her and silently prayed the wolf would leave. Bending his head to her chest, he sniffed her. She cringed. Where was her captor? She knew without turning that he no longer slept by her side. Had he left her to die? Was this to be her end, like this? Torn apart limb by limb by this beast? Please Dear God, she prayed it wouldn't be so.
A Find Through Time Page 7