by Lynn Landes
Treasured
Dreams
The Rivers Brothers
Book Three
Lynn Landes
By:
Lynn Landes
Published by:
Landes Publishing
Cover art by:
www.roseannawhitedesigns.com
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, and events portrayed in this novel are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Lynn Landes
http://[email protected]/
All rights reserved.
Other titles by Lynn Landes:
Mercy's Promise
Savannah's Promise
A Question of Faith
Delta's Dawn
Dust & Dreams
Stolen Dream's
Perilous Dreams
Chapter 1
“Ahote is staring at you,” Nashca teases, while she ties the grass skirt around Kimani’s waist.
Kimani glances over her shoulder, and her green eyes widen in surprise. Gone is the childhood friend she used to play with. In his place stands a fierce warrior. Her eyes scan his muscular body, golden in the firelight, Ahote is breathtaking. Wearing only a loincloth, Kimani can’t help but appreciate his strength and masculinity.
“The cold doesn’t seem to bother him,” Nashca teases.
Kimani smiles at her, “It will not slow me down. He will need more than a small snowstorm to catch me.”
His watchful eyes narrow, but he doesn’t look away. His determined glance is highlighted by the ceremonial red face paint of vertical stripes.
“Why is he wearing war paint?” Kimani asks tearing her eyes from his. Butterflies erupt in her stomach and her sister giggles.
“Dyami said he is determined to catch you. It is his way of showing his intent.”
Nerves erupt, and she glances at her sister. “Dyami?” She nudges her sister and waits for her to turn around. “When did you speak to him?”
“Last night.” She smiles at the surprise on Kimani’s face. “He spoke to our father and made an offer. Mother said it was a good one.”
“Nashca, is he the one you want?”
Her brown eyes light up, and she grins, “With all of my heart.”
“I’m so happy for you, little sister.” Kimani hugs her and presses a kiss to her forehead. Adopted by the tribe at two years old, Kimani can now see over the heads of most of the women in the tribe. At five-foot-seven, she is taller than most and equal to some of the men. Her height will only be a problem during this game.
The drums beat a signal of the setting sun and the beginning of the game.
“Hurry, Kimani.” She finishes tying the skirt tight around her waist, and the young women gather in the center. “I can’t wait for Dyami to catch me, he can warm me up.” The promise of snow is threatening to end their fun.
Excitement and laughter flicker through the group of young women. The drum beats grow stronger, and the young warriors dance around the circle of women. Red flames from the ceremonial fire flicker over the bare muscular chests. It is a game as old as the Shoshone.
Chief Nashoba stands in his ceremonial headdress and lifts his hands. Instantly, the drums stop, causing Kimani’s heart to jump. Over two hundred Shoshone fall silent and turn towards him listening for his words.
“Each year we meet for the Spring Tribal to give thanks to Mother Earth and Father Sun. Renewal is at the center of the Shoshone ways. With each Spring we find new life, and we say goodbye to another year. This year the spring rabbits are determined to escape capture. Drive them Sons into the grass and seek them as you would your own spirit. For that is what they are.” The warriors hoot and chant as the drums begin again. Dancing and stomping they drive the women towards the grassy field.
Nashca grabs Kimani’s arm and laughs as the group of fifty-three women are pushed towards the entrance. “Don’t run too fast, sister. I heard Ahote lives up to his name, the Hammer.”
Kimani laughs and shoves her sister, blushing bright red. Thankful for the cover of night, she once again wishes she did not look so different. Nashca had tied her wavy brown hair into two braids and beaded them beautifully. The turquoise beading across the shoulders of her buckskin dress highlight her stunning eyes.
Again, the Chief raises his hands. “Run little rabbits. You will have a head start but hide well or be caught by the wrong hands.”
This game is a favorite of the single women of the tribe. Kimani sighs and risks a glance over her shoulder. Ahote’s dark eyes pierce her, and he moves closer to her. He raises a muscular arm and points at her, shouting, “Run, butterfly! I’m coming for you!”
The drumbeat rises, and the warriors separate allowing the women to see the field before them. Kimani’s heartbeat accelerates. Freedom beckons and a cool breeze blows, causing the tall grass to sway like a river. The drumbeat swells faster and faster, finally stopping, dramatically.
“Hanravuih!” Run, Chief Nashoba shouts.
The wave of women run straight into the field, laughing and sprinting as fast as they can. Kimani leaps into action, determined to follow the path she has run for the past few years.
“She’s fast on her feet, Ahote.” His friend, Yuma teases. “Do you think you can do what none have done before?”
“I will,” he says with a confident grin. He moves with the warriors, his eyes never leaving her. “Her height and hair give her away. I have waited two years to claim her,” he stops speaking when she pauses in the middle of the field and turns back to look at him.
In a blink, Kimani drops disappearing into the tall grass. Yuma laughs at the look of shock on his friend’s face. “This butterfly is not so easily caught.”
Ahote quakes with excitement. “We shall see.” His eyes watch the grass where she disappeared. Eagerly, he moves with the other braves, shouting and chanting he counts down the minutes waiting for the Chief to release them.
Kimani waits, allowing the runners to pass her and she grins. She crawls on all fours towards the river where the canoes wait. Grunting she dares to pop up, hoping that her light-colored hair will not give her away and runs to the edge of the field. Year, after, year, she has participated in this game. Never, until now, had she hoped to be caught, but she will not give in so easily. If he wants to claim her, Ahote will have to use every skill he possesses. She learned quickly that the beads on her dress and moccasins gave away their location. That will be the first thing to go once she reaches the river.
As she breaks free of the field of tall grass near the river, she works her way up to the canoes. Cathedral peak is just on the other side of the Snake River. It rises above her with over twelve thousand feet of sheer cliffs. The runoff from the mountain feeds the large river and provides life for those who know how to live off it.
Giggling girls run past her, and she watches with a grin as they hide beneath the vessels. Others run to the horses, hoping they will hide them. Some run to the trees, climbing as high as they dare. Even more head to the other side of the village, past the tepees to the rock slides to hide amongst the large boulders on the bank. Kimani will hide in plain sight. It always surprised her to find that she could circle back around and move through the village. Under cover of darkness, with music, food, and drink, most will not pay her any mind. Usually, she waits it out in her tepee near the woods.
Careful to go silently, she’s shocked to feel a blow from behind. Pain erupts behind her eyes, and she grabs at her head, falling to the ground. When the ringing stops i
n her ears, she stares up in shock.
“Ahote, is mine, Sadeema,” Powaka sneers over her.
The back of her head is throbbing, and when she looks at her hand, she is shocked to see blood. A group of four surround her and her stomach drops.
“Dosabite sadeema!” White Dog, they shout as her companions kick her in the ribs. Kimani blocks as best she can. They tear at her buckskin dress and rip the turquoise beads her sister helped sew. Fury erupts, and Kimani grabs two fistfuls of muddy, dirty rocks and tosses them at their eyes.
Screams erupt, and she scrambles to her feet. Kimani throws a swift punch at the closest of them. This time when she runs, it’s for her own safety.
The game is forgotten, she knows what will happen if they catch her again. Her usual hiding place will not be an option, they’re blocking the way back to the village. Splashing along the muddy bank of the river away from the village, she pauses a fraction of a second. When she hears the horn blow, signaling the release of the men the women scream threats at her again.
Disappointment clouds her heart, this is not a game she can win. Tonight, hatred is bigger than hope. A thrown rock catches her cheek, cutting and bruising her and jarring her from her thoughts. “Run, dog!” Powaka screams, and Kimani runs to the one place she knows she will be safe.
Their laughter follows her as she runs away. Kimani runs until she comes to the deepest bend in the river. They were taught to avoid a treacherous swim in the fast-moving rapids. Female laughter sounds out sealing her decision. Kimani rushes into the frigid river. Once, when she was five her mother, Mitema showed her the way. Floating to the center she allows the water to carry her where her feet no longer touch the bottom, then she dives deep, swimming towards the spot where the rocks become warm. The temperature changes, going from ice cold to a subtle warmth. Kimani counts the stones as she was taught. Fifteen stones placed for just this purpose to show her the way. They lead down, until finally starting to rise. Desperate for air, she kicks swiftly rising through the dark abyss and breaking free with a gasp.
Pain erupts as she drags herself from the river into a small grotto. With an arm around her ribs, she drops onto the cold ground, coughing and gasping. “Move, Kimani,” she orders.
The inky, black, darkness doesn’t scare her. She has been here many times with her family, and it’s a shared secret amongst only the Chief and his children. Shivering, she forces herself to feel along the ground until she finds the large boulders. Two, side by side, and tucked between them is the rolled-up hides. Pain ripples through her ribs and she smirks when she thinks of what Dr. Harris Rivers will have to say the next time he sees her. He’s patched her up on more than one occasion. The Rivers family shared the land with the Shoshone and Harris is the only white man they would trust with the health of the tribe members. The last time she spoke to him they fought. She touches her lips thinking of his kiss and remembers the shock on his face and hers when the passion flared between them.
‘How long will you allow them to abuse you?’ Harris demanded.
‘You don’t understand our ways, Harris,’ she snapped while he wrapped her bruised ankle.
‘No, I don’t. We don’t abuse the women in our family,’ he hissed.
‘Don’t you?” She jerks her foot away from him. “I’ve seen what white men do to each other, and the women have no rights. Leave me in peace.’ She grabs the gauze and finishes wrapping it herself.
‘Kimani, that isn’t true.’ He reaches out tipping her head up and stares into her green eyes surprised by the heat reflected in them.
‘Why are you pushing me?’ She stands up and hisses in pain when she attempts to put weight on her damaged foot.
Harris reaches out to steady her, before gently pulling her to his body. ‘Don’t you know?’ When his head moves towards her, she is too stunned to pull away. His lips touch hers softly, exploring and tasting her. The second his tongue touches hers, Kimani’s entire body reacts with a rush of heat.
She leans into his body and slips a hand up the back of his neck holding him close. Kimani gives without reservation. How long has she imagined the way his touch would feel?
Harris groans when she nips his tongue and smiles against his mouth. He pushes away, releasing her and runs a trembling hand through his hair.
‘Kimani, I want you to come home with me. Marry me? Let me take care of you?’ he asks.
‘Why?’ she demands not bothering to deny the attraction between them.
‘We could be good together, and you need a safe place to live.’ Harris snaps back.
‘I see. So, you want a wife to warm your bed?’ Her arms wrap around herself.
‘Yes, no… it would be the easiest solution for you.’ He replies in frustration, ‘I’ve already spoken to your father.”
‘No.’ Kimani interrupts him and turns to hide the pain in her heart.
‘That’s it. Just no?” His steel blue eyes narrow with anger.
‘I owe you nothing more, Doctor Harris.’ Kimani starts to move away and the beads on her dress click.
‘You owe it to yourself, Kimani. I’m offering you a chance at a future free of pain and humiliation’ Harris explains slowly.
‘No, you are offering me a lonely, loveless existence, Harris. Thank you for your… offer, but I deserve more than you can give me. You still love your wife,’ she says softly.
Harris flinches, knowing she speaks the truth. ‘That has nothing to do with this…’
‘It has everything to do with it.” Fury and hurt push her to leave. “I deserve no less than you had. Let me live my life. You are not responsible for me.” She turns and walks away, allowing the tears to fall once she is safely in her tepee.
“Fire, Kimani, make a fire.” Her head throbs when she moves, and she can’t decide what hurts worse. Her ribs or her head? The kicks they had landed were vicious.
One buffalo hide has the provisions for a fire, a small tomahawk, wood, and dried meat rolled up inside of it. “Thank you, Yuma,” she smiles thinking of her brother and tears threaten. Just once, she wanted to stay and be part of the celebration. Maybe she should have accepted Harris’s offer of marriage? The past few years, Ahote did not come to the spring tribal. He was training and raiding with his tribe. Rumors had spread of the massacres by both parties, white man and Indian.
Efficiently, she starts a small fire and shudders from her wet clothes that cause her to groan. The grotto is quiet, save for the crackling of the small fire. A sound from the water warns her. She reaches for the tomahawk and stands facing the pool of water. Bubbles appear, popping and the water ripples as the top of his head breaks through the surface followed by his dark eyes. He blows out softly as he lets his eyes adjust to the light from the fire. Water rains down his red streaked face and black hair onto his muscular chest as he stands from the still water.
Kimani steps backward and raises the tomahawk in front of her. “No,” she whispers. Fear has her scanning the cavern, desperate for a way to escape. The girls who attacked her were from his tribe. As he climbs from the water, she backs away clutching at her ribs with one hand and tightening her grip on the smooth wood of the tomahawk.
Ahote’s pride at tracking her fades away as he takes in her condition. He followed Kimani’s footprints until he found the beads from her dress. Now looking at her he understands.
“I found you, little butterfly. Are you going to strike me down for it?” His childhood nickname for her causes her weapon to drop, slightly.
“That depends, Ahote, did you come to finish what they started?” Kimani steps left, and he mirrors her action. Tremors of pain and fear flow through her body.
Anger at her condition, has him lifting a hand and speaking softly. She looks like a dear about to bolt. “No, Kimani. I came for you.”
“Why?” she whispers. Watchful, wary eyes and plump, peach lips call to him.
“Do you not know?” He steps towards her and plucks the tomahawk from her hand without warning.
Ki
mani stumbles back from him and turns to run, only to find herself captured in his arms. “Settle little, butterfly,” Ahote whispers in her ear. Chills erupt on her body, and she shivers against the strength holding her. “I only want to bring you safely home. Let me help you?”
Kimani turns in his arms and stares at him. His hand trails up the back of her neck, and she hisses in pain when he touches the bloody knot on the back of her head. The unmistakable metallic scent has anger flaring in his eyes.
“How did this happen?”
“The same way it always happens,” she replies gently pulling away from him.
“Your Father should not allow this,” he snarls.
Her semi-hysterical laughter strikes his heart.
“It wasn’t our people, this time.”
His eyes stare at the blood on his hand, the condition of her dress, coupled with her fear of him and an ugly picture is painted in his mind.
“Can you swim?” He asks softly.
“I… I don’t know.” Her head is throbbing more with each movement, and she’s freezing. “My head is pounding, and my ribs, I need to rest. I will return after the game is over. You can go back without me.” Kimani reaches for the second buffalo hide only to jump when he grabs it and drapes it around her shoulders. He pulls her closer to him, and his dark eyes tease.
“I will care for you from now on, little butterfly.”
“You have not yet earned that right, mighty Hammer,” she teases softly.
Her green eyes fall to his full lips, and she wonders what his kiss would taste like. He steps close enough to see the orange flecks in the center of her eyes. His thumb traces over the wound on her cheek, and he grins. “That isn’t a no?”