A Find Through Time

by Marianne Petit

  ****

  Sharp pain shot through his shoulder. Roy awoke with a jerk. He winced. Sweating profusely despite the coolness of the evening's air, he glanced around disoriented. A bright moon shone, illuminating a fire that had long ago burnt out leaving charred gray ashes. He rubbed his eyes, then stretched his legs working out the kinks. It seemed his host once again had failed to wake him, choosing instead to find the comfort of his own bed.

  What had happened to him before he had fallen asleep? Had he completely lost his sanity? To believe he had lived before as some Indian warrior was absurd.

  Old fears swept over him. A picture of his mother back at the institution flashed across his thoughts. His stomach clenched. It had to have been another dream, but he had been awake. No. It was impossible-

  He took a step forward. His toe hit a metallic object. He glanced to the ground. It was impossible, wasn't it? He bent over and picked up the flashlight

  Then why this nagging feeling he’d shared some kind of karma with this warrior? Why the connection he felt he shared with this stranger from a past century? It didn't make any sense; yet it did. It explained, in part, why he knew Lakota words when he'd never studied their language. And why the sudden interest, fascination for Native American jewelry, when in the past, he had stayed away from anything having to do with Indians? And while he thought about it, why had he always felt apprehensive about covering stories about the local natives? Whenever there had been a pow wow or a tribal gathering an unexplainable resistance fell like a wall before him. Why? Fear? Fear of what? Knowledge? Fear of the past? Nay.

  He flipped on the flashlight and made his way to the house.

  The door swung open. A stream of light guided him through the dark as he made his way into the living room. An excruciating pain attacked the left side his chest.

  “Damn it!” He stopped short and leaned against the wall. He needed to go to a hospital. Maybe he had hurt himself a little more than he'd thought. He took a deep breath, pressed into the pain and straightened.

  The beam of the flashlight illuminated the picture hanging on the wall. A chill blasted through him, pricking the hair on his arms. Of all the pictures, this one of the warrior shot through the heart, had a strong effect on him. Fact was he didn't like it. It was way too modern for his taste. He rubbed the sore spot at his breast.

  Death. The feeling hit him so strongly. It was as if that picture sent off some strange sense of weird energy.

  With an abrupt turn, he quickly moved away to find his way to the couch. The old man had said that portrait represented death and rebirth.

  The nagging feeling that Gabrielle was in danger grew with each minute he now paced the floor. He had to get out of here. He jumped up, reached to the table beside him and turned on the switch. If he had to walk to the nearest town to find a phone, he would. To hell with his truck. When the sun came up, he'd be on his way.

  A stack of books caught his attention. Restless, he ambled over and scanned the titles. Reincarnation: We have walked here before, caught his eye. He picked the book up and began thumbing through the pages.

  Everything in your life has happened to you before and will happen again. People who have a deep bond in this lifetime have been close to you in a previous lifetime. Love is the most powerful force in the universe and once two souls are united in love, they will always be as one.

  OK, he thought as he moved to a chair and sat. Convince me.”

  ****

  Two Moons slipped his warm calloused fingers between Gabrielle’s, and they walked hand in hand back to his tepee.

  The soft, amber flicker of the fire's light cast a warm glow around the inside of his lodge. The heat kissed her cheeks.

  Their gazes met. She studied his chiseled, dark face. The strong line of his jaw, the rugged, proud tilt of his head and the bronzed skin stretched over high cheekbones, sculpted the face of an extremely handsome man. He reached out and gently cradled her cheek in his palm.

  “I am proud to call you mine.” His low, sensuous, throaty voice quickened her pulse.

  She closed her eyes, feeling the silent strength of his comforting touch. He ran his thumb back and forth, caressing her jaw, then his fingers shifted to rest beneath her chin as he raised her face to his. His kiss was gentle, yet left her mouth burning-begging for more. Crushing her to his chest, his fingers caressed her back. He pressed his lips deeper, hungrily tasting hers; then his mouth descended to nibble on her neck. Her knees weakened. A surge of heat pumped through her veins. She dropped her head back. His breath was warm as he ran his tongue along the rim of her ear. The soft, moist tip darted in and out, playfully. She heard herself groan as his strong arms lifted her from her feet.

  Cradled in his arms, he carried her to his fur blanket and gently laid her down. Kneeling over her, his one arm resting at the base of her head, he drew his face closer.

  “Your wound. We must-”

  He kissed her. “It is nothing but a scratch, I barely feel,” he whispered softly before he reclaimed her lips once more.

  His tender kiss left her breathless. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, needing to feel his driving heat and possessive strength. Her lips parted as he thrust his tongue in her mouth. Consumed by the stroking, velvety moistness of his tongue, her head whirled.

  She watched him stretch out beside her and the jagged gash marring his shoulder caused her concern. She stroked him lightly. “I promised I'd clean this-”

  “And the thought of your touch upon my skin sets my heart a flame, but it is not a bath I need right now.” Again he kissed her. “The flame that burns…” He nibbled her neck. His fingers played with her hair. “… is not of my shoulder. The fire that burns is much, much lower.”

  Lost in his intoxicating kisses and the feel of his exploring hands upon her skin, the loud cough from behind them came as a jarring bolt, splintering their passion.

  She turned her head to stare into Rattling Blanket's eyes. Her cheeks burning, Gabrielle glanced away. With a tug on her dress, she raised her body from Two Moons’ in a desperate attempt to break away from his embrace. But he held her pinned to his chest. His face showed no emotion as he addressed Rattling Blanket in his native language. She could just imagine what his mother was saying. The word hussy came to mind.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity Gabrielle watched Rattling Blanket turn and duck outside, leaving the tepee flap open behind her.

  “My mother says you must leave my lodge.” He planted a kiss on her nose. The dismissive kiss made her feel empty, disappointed by his sudden change of heart.

  “I don't understand?”

  Gently he urged her off and he sat up.

  “Your heart is heavy, is it not?” Lovingly he ran his finger against her cheek. “There is no need. This is a good thing, my mother asking that you leave.”

  Gabrielle crossed her arms across her chest, already missing his warmth, then glanced away, confused.

  Gently, he tilted her chin toward him. “Rattling Blanket says since you are now free to walk among us, you are now accepted as one of my people. And an unmarried maiden does not sleep in an unmarried man's lodge, unless they are family. I do not like this rule, especially now when I ache so deeply for you.”

  Rattling Blanket was actually concerned about her virtue? Gabrielle bit her lip and stared outside, watching Rattling Blanket's departing steps.

  “Do not be mistaken, my blue-eyed one.” Two Moons' voice broke with huskiness. “This is not finished between us.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next day the camp caller rode through the village announcing that they were to pack up and move. Within minutes every tepee was rolled, every cooking utensil packed, every horse loaded down with huge bundles; and every man, woman and child was ready to leave. As usual, Gabrielle took her place in line. Two Moons rode up beside her leading a white horse by the reins.

  “You will not walk today.” He looked down at her. “Come, see what
a fine animal I bring you.”

  He slid from his mount and handed her the reins. “Here. He is yours-a gift. There is no need to fear him. He is gentle.”

  Hesitant, she reached out her hand.

  “I have made sure of this.” Two Moons insisted. “You will be safe. I will ride beside you.”

  She patted the horse's velvety nose and thought for sure the beast would snort or react in some way, but true to his words, the animal stood placidly.

  “Does he have a name?”

  “A name should be given by the one who rides him. You must decide.”

  She thought a moment, studying the white horse before her.

  “Beast. What is your word for beast?”

  Two Moons brows rose. Then, realizing her thoughts, he grinned. “Wamakaskan.”

  She nodded. “Wah-mah-`kahs-kahn. I like that. Thank you.” I think. She stared up at her new gift.

  “Come, I will help you up.” He lifted her onto Wamakaskan's back.

  Gabrielle held the reins tightly, afraid the animal would kick or run, but it didn't. She sighed a breath of relief.

  Seeing the anxiety on her face, Two Moons reached over and grabbed the bridle.

  It took her a while, but finally she relaxed. At one point Two Moons let go and she managed to steer the animal in the right direction. Pleased with herself and by his thoughtfulness, she smiled. “She is beautiful. Thank you.”

  “I will bring you many fine horses.”

  “No. Please. One is more than enough. Thanks. Really.”

  He laughed and nodded with understanding.

  “Look. There.” He pointed to a cluster of trees. A herd of elk stood erect. Their antler's held high as if mesmerized by some silent music, they watched with curiosity as the procession past by. “We call them unpan. And there.” He pointed toward the sky. An eagle soared above them. “Wanbli. What name do your people call them by?”

  “Two Moons, I…” Did he expect her to know the word in Crow? She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “Eagle.” He must be wondering why she didn't speak the language. Maybe she should just tell him who she really was and where she came from. But then what, have him think her a crazy fool again? No. Not yet. Not when things were going so right between them.

  “My father-he is a soldier. I was very little when he brought me to live with him. I don't speak the Crow language.”

  “This soldier-your father, was he at the fort where I found you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And did he have…” he waved his hand under his nose. “Hair here?”

  She suppressed a smile, realizing where his questions were leading. “Yes.”

  He grunted.

  “His hair is red, like a fire.” She lied.

  Two Moons' brows creased. A frown tipped his lips. The way he had acted the other day, it would serve him right if he thought Grandpa Jackson was her lover.

  “I demand to know his name,” Two Moons frowned.

  “Who? My father?” Her voice trailed, teasingly.

  “You know of whom I speak.”

  “You're cute when you're jealous.”

  “I am not jealous.” His broad chest expanded as he straightened.

  “No? Good. Then I wouldn't tell you that the man you saw me kiss was my father.”

  “I do not understand. Your words said-”

  “I was kidding. My father has brown hair, not red. That was my father you saw.”

  He looked confused; then a grin slid across his lips. “I think you play with me.”

  She smiled. “Yes. I play with you.”

  “That is good. I will tell you that I play with you when I say I blame you for my friend's death.”

  “No. You meant that. You weren't joking.”

  “I do not blame you. I am sorry if I caused you any sadness. My heart was also laid upon the ground; my words were said in anger.”

  She pulled on her reins, reached out and lightly touched his arm. “We both said things we didn't mean. Guilt has a way of doing that.”

  “You do not have guilt. His death was not your fault. I take the blame.”

  “Why. You didn't force Shadow Elk to go with you. If I hadn't gone with Little Wolf, he would still be alive.”

  “This is not good, this talk. Many words come back and beat me. I wish not to speak of this.”

  He nudged his horse forward. Following his lead, she studied him. She got the impression Two Moons wasn't just talking about his friend. It seemed they both had a skeleton or two from their past, haunting them.

  The thunderous sound of horses hooves and a loud roar of bellowing voices, echoed across the valley. Gabrielle lifted her gaze. Before her was a sight beyond anything she'd ever seen.

  Racing over the hills, leaping over low lying bushes, a swarm of Indians merged with Two Moons’ people. Riding a gleaming blue-black stallion, Sitting Bull was in the lead, followed by a band of some twenty or so warriors.

  Momentarily stunned, she stared, letting the image of him register. He wore a fringed smoke-tanned buckskin shirt, decorated with green porcupine quill work and tassels of hair locks. His leggings matched the dark color of his shirt. His long breechclout of deep red was a striking contrast. Rows and rows of black and white eagle feathers forming a headdress, cascaded down his back and that of his horse’s. Picture perfect, in all his stately splendor, she knew the sight of that man would be etched in her memory for the rest of her life.

  All feelings of elation over Sitting Bulls' appearance dissipated like a puff of smoke, however, when Gabrielle realized what his presence meant. She jerked her gaze back to Two Moons.

  “Where are we headed?”

  “We join our brothers at the banks of the Greasy Grass.”

  The Greasy Grass? That was what the Indians called the Little Big Horn River. All her suspicions of the past few days were right. They were heading for Custer's Battlefield.

  “No!” She pulled back on her reins. Her horse stopped. “You can't go there.”

  “Your words cloud my head. The river is good. There are fine cottonwood trees for firewood and the children look forward to the sweets we make from the tree bark. I must admit I find myself a bit of a child also, for I feel as they do. I like the sweet juices that run from the trees. It is my weakness. But do not tell my friends.” He winked. “I have no weaknesses, aye?

  Despite the radiant smile beaming on his face that made her insides flip-flop, anxiety churned like a gnawing lawn mower. She shook her head. “You don't understand.” Exasperated, her voice rose an octave. “In a week, maybe less your people will fight against Custer and an entire army.”

  In his dark eyes she could see the blunt stare of disbelief. How could she make him understand? What could she say? He was looking at her as if he thought she'd lost her mind. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't spit them out.

  She flung her hand out in despair. “Do not ask me how I know this. I just do.”

  “I believe you and your words make my heart light, for I have waited many nights to meet with Long Hair again.”

  “Two Moons, please-please tell your chiefs it is not a good place to go.”

  He shook his head. “No. Now your words are foolish. Tatonka Iyotake, Sitting Bull, leads us to the rest of his people and we go with him. This is a good thing. Our women wish to meet men, our old ones to share stories with others. It will be a time for games and much dancing. Hiya, no, we go. I have much to show you.”

  Gabrielle knew by the tight-lipped, closed expression on his face, she would just anger him if she persisted. He made his thoughts perfectly clear; the conversation was over.

  ****

  That night she sat cross-legged, outside the tepee she shared with Chahanpi. Staring up at the sky, listening and feeling the space around her, she tried to force the image of Sitting Bull and her anxiety over the future from her mind.

  It was at times like this, in the stillness of the night, when a million stars, like diamonds on black vel
vet filled the sky, when above the chirping crickets she could hear the distant drum and the droning song of a single voice in prayer, when she felt totally at peace with her surroundings.

  And yet, she felt so torn between both worlds. Knowing the outcome of the battle, the fulfillment of history, knowing what lay ahead for Two Moons people, frustrated her. She was afraid to tell anyone. Perhaps for their sake, it was better that no one knew.

  She missed the comforts of her own century. Yet found the simple way of life, the openness, the honesty, the almost church-like quality of this world, a comfort. Meeting Two Moons and being in love was the best thing that ever happened to her. Yet, she felt saddened. Who knew when fate would pluck her away again.

  All Two Moons talk of family life made her miss her mother for the first time in a very long time. Maybe all these years her mother felt just as lonely.

  She glanced toward a group of old men sitting in front of a tepee glowing like a huge golden cone from the small firelight within. She could hear their hushed, murmured voices, see their animated expressions and exaggerated hand gestures as they each took turns telling their stories. She bet her mother had a few stories to tell.

  Gabrielle sighed and stared up into the vast endless darkness.

  Her world was so far away. She was here as White Swan, walking in footsteps that weren't hers. Every step she took, every word she said, had the power to change the course of history. An awesome responsibility she fought against every day, she managed to push these thoughts from her mind. But seeing Sitting Bull…

  She wondered for a moment if she and White Swan shared the same feelings and fears as well as their bodies. And if she was White Swan incarnate, then where was White Swan's soul, back in 2000? A jarring realization hit. That woman could be causing all kinds of havoc back home; hadn't she done the same?

  She closed her eyes. An image of Shadow Elk's cold body flashed before her. Her presence had sealed his coffin.