Treasured Dreams (The Rivers Brothers Book 3)

by Lynn Landes

He lifts her from the boat before her feet can get wet. “No longer will you walk alone in this world,” he whispers and takes her mouth, desperate to claim his bride.

  Passion overwhelms any thought of where or why. Delicious, unyielding, kisses drug their minds as two bodies ignite. They stumble through trees towards the hidden camp set up by his brothers. Kimani is surprised to see a beautiful teepee, decorated with black wolves.

  Inside he closes the flap, sealing them into a world of their own creation. Ahote drops with her to a bearskin rug, tugging and pulling at her dress revealing her porcelain breasts. He grins a feral grin of possession while her hands trail over his lean, muscular body.

  “Mine,” he growls, and she nods.

  “Yours,” gasping with pleasure she drags him down to her and time stops while two bodies find the rhythm as old as time.

  Chapter 3

  Kimani rolls over reaching for her new husband only to find empty space. She wraps his red and black blanket around her naked body and trails her fingers over the wolves. His tribe, his wife, her new life. There will be no going back now, and she wouldn’t even if she could. The sun isn’t up yet, they have enough time to get back across the river to greet her father for the morning prayers.

  Taking a step from his lodge, she lifts her face to embrace the breeze and sees him walking back towards her through the trees. The beauty of his body takes her breath away. “Ahote?”

  He grins at her and picks up the string of fish, “Hungry?”

  “Cold,” she smiles back and lets the blanket slip from her shoulder. Hunger fills his eyes and a possession that makes her shiver. Sweet desire ripples through her body, luring him back to her.

  “I can fix that, butterfly,” his mouth brushes hers for a soft kiss.

  “I was hoping you would say that,” she whispers and opens the blanket for him. Her smile turns into a squeal of laughter when he drops the fish and scoops her up into his arms.

  Her joy dims as she glances across the river. “We’ll have to get back soon. What if…”

  “All will be well, wife. You are mine now. I will never give you up.” His kiss swallows any objections, fear or worry. Distracted, she savors the taste and feel of her new husband until it is time to return.

  “Ahote? What is that?” Kimani points to the shoreline as he slowly rows them back across the river.

  His body stiffens the moment he turns. Standing on the shore of the river is her Father and his warriors. Chief Sumac faces them with his own tribe. Eighty-three warriors facing off and standing behind them, hiding in the shadows of the tepees are the women and children.

  “Surely, my father will listen to reason, Ahote?” she whispers.

  Ahote doesn’t respond as he rows to shore. Two of his tribesmen pull the boat to shore. This can only go one of two ways. He either accepts them or a challenge will be issued. He lifts Kimani and carries her to shore, setting her down next to his father before he turns to face them.

  “Kimani return to our tribe,” Chief Nashoba orders sternly. A cold breeze blows, warning them of the possibility of a late spring snow and chilling her as much as the look of disappointment reflected in her father’s face.

  “I am with my tribe, Father,” she replies. Her brother’s eyes widen next to her father, filling her heart with sorrow.

  “No!” Her father steps forward only to have Ahote and his tribe shield her from him. Chief Nashoba growls and grips his weapons as the tension escalates. Ahote holds up a hand, stilling his own warriors.

  “The Sumac tribe are a pack,” Chief Sumac declares. “My son has made his choice,” his dark eyes narrow. “We are the Wolf. We protect our pack, we show no fear, we respect our elders and teach our young to do the same…”

  “By stealing their women!” Chief Nashoba shouts at him.

  “Ahote can’t steal what is freely given, Ahbe,” Kimani replies and pushes through to stand beside her husband. Slipping her hand into his, she squeezes gently. “I am part of this pack now. I will protect my pack, survive each day, hunt our enemies, howl to a new tomorrow and explore the unknown.” Ahote grins with pride down at her as she quotes their tribe mantra.

  “The Sumac demonstrate no weakness,” they shout together, “Never back down, and love for all time!” Howling erupts and chants until her father raises a hand. Tears of joy erupt, and she grins at her new husband.

  Chief Nashoba drops his head in defeat. “Your joy is evident, daughter. I pray you’ve truly found your home. The Shoshone are too few to fight amongst ourselves. Come, brothers, I will accept your offer for my daughter.”

  Kimani gasps and runs to her Father’s arms. “Ahbe’ thank you!”

  He squeezes her tight and kisses her forehead. “Today we celebrate the joining of our tribes! I should’ve listened to you.”

  His body jerks, a fraction of a second before he spits blood over her face. The noise of the rifle shot echoes a deafening boom before a volley of shots strikes around them. The warriors start falling all around them.

  “Father!” Kimani screams as the impact of the bullet shoves his body into her, flinging her backward onto the ground. Chaos erupts as the bullets mow through the village. Tepees are riddled with holes and fall. Ahote shouts and throws himself to the ground while some of the warriors left standing split up intending to run into the village, but a wave of women, and children flow towards the river from every direction.

  “Run, Kimani, to the river!” Her Father rolls to his knees and shoves at her, coughing more blood.

  “No, Father!” Kimani sobs grasping his hand. Ahote grabs her by her upper arm, dragging her away from her father and pushing her in front of his body, towards the river. A stampede of feet, screaming women and children push and race to the sanctuary of the river.

  “Fly, butterfly!” Ahote orders, shoving her away he spins to face the rain of death. Silence falls as instantly as the gunshots began. A smoky haze from the gunfire floats on the air, and it seems as if the very earth holds its breath.

  All the warriors left form a wall of protection to allow the women and children a chance to escape into the water. Wounded and bleeding, they shield those they love.

  “Don’t stop!” Chief Sumac shouts at the woman and children. Some run upstream towards the rock slides hoping to escape through the mountains and shallow water, only to be cut down by hundreds of soldiers waiting on horseback with rifles. Ahote realizes that they are surrounded. He shouts and runs upstream with a few of his warriors, he plans to punch a hole, so some can escape.

  Kimani feels tiny hands grab at her and she doesn’t think twice. She snatches the three-year-old child out of the water. The little girl climbs Kimani and wraps her trembling arms around her neck. The sound of soldiers on horseback causes her to pause and glance back at the shore. Bodies litter the ground, some in and some out of the water.

  They ride through the haze of gun powder in front of the tribe with rifles and Kimani’s heart sinks. “No,” she pauses in horrified confusion. Some of the men leap from their horses and begin hacking at the dead. They do not care that some are still alive when they start scalping them.

  Kimani doesn’t see Ahote and this time when the gunfire starts, she doesn’t look back. She struggles through the quickly moving water downstream and prays to find safety for her and the child.

  Along the river banks, Kimani is startled to see a wall of boats stacked up with some of the women behind it. Powaka glares at her when she makes it to the safety of the barrier. She shakes her head at Kimani and points at the child.

  Kimani doesn’t hesitate, she untangles the child and hands her over. Powaka’s companion snatches the girl and dives back for cover. Desperate to survive, Kimani steps forward only to have a knife pointed at her.

  “Please,” she begs, but a searing pain rips through her thigh. The bullet burns through her leg, causing her to double over in pain, Powaka swings, punching her and sending her careening into the fast-moving water.

  Cocooned from the
noise and chaos, Kimani doesn’t struggle against the flow of the water. It pulls her downstream until she hits a barrier of bodies. Nashca is floating face down above her in a silent scream. Kimani reaches for her sister only to have a hand grab her and pull her from the water. Coughing, and sputtering she is drawn to the surface by another female.

  A rope drops around her companion’s head, and she is jerked away from Kimani with a look of horror in her eyes. Roped like animals, the women and children are being towed to the shoreline by soldiers on horseback. They holler and hoot like animals and laugh at the look of horror and shock on the faces of the women. It doesn’t seem to matter if the captives are dead or alive. The goal is to claim as many as possible.

  Kimani screams in rage and swims after her friend, but she pushed under the water again. A body slams into her, and she screams in anger as her sister’s dead body is strung with a rope to pull her from the water. Without a second thought, she pushes towards Nashca and wraps her arms around her waist. “No!” she screams as her face breaks out of the bloody water.

  The soldier eyes meet hers, and he backs his horse up dragging them both to the shore. Kimani coughs out the water from the river, and trembles beside her dead sister. “Nashca,” she pleads, ignoring the man who dismounts and points his pistol at her. He fists a hand in Kimani’s hair and lifts her screaming to her knees.

  “Look what I caught, a live one!” Laughter flows around them. Kimani glares at him, and he’s shocked when he realizes she is white with green eyes.

  “General Barclay, this one’s not a savage!” he shouts.

  A man rides over on his mount and demands, “Are you a captive? Speak woman!”

  “They are my family.” Kimani glares up at the deep voiced stranger sitting on his horse. Red hair, and a goatee. She memorizes his face, from the color of his uniform to the medals he wears on his jacket. Her eyes drop to his saddle where he proudly carries a string of scalps from the Indians he has murdered. “Barclay?” she murmurs. He jerks when she says his name.

  “Why are you doing this?” She screams.

  “Your tribe was caught with stolen weapons. U.S. Army rifles to be exact and they’ve been using them to kill our soldiers and other peaceful families traveling across this land.”

  “That’s a lie! We are peaceful!”

  The soldier laughs, and his hand squeezes her hair tighter.

  “Savages are never peaceful. The woman is clearly stained by these vermin.” The General sighs and glances at the soldiers. “We can’t afford witnesses. Kill them all but save her scalp for me.” He grins at the disgust on her face. “Perhaps we are doing you a favor, protecting you from the truth.”

  A pain filled whaling scream erupts from Kimani. She twists and struggles free, lunging, she plunges a knife she pulled from her dead sister’s waist belt hilt deep into the closest soldier’s chest. When she falls to the ground to crawl away, she is surrounded by five more soldiers. A booted foot kicks her in the stomach and Kimani curls into a ball to protect herself from the blows she is sure will come.

  “Not a savage?” Barclay snorts and watches as the bloody knife is pulled from the screaming soldier’s chest. He’s taken away by another man.

  General Barclay turns on his horse, “Give the order, the other two Gatling guns are in place. They don’t stand a chance, wipe out these vermin.” He rides away with a laugh to the tree line towards the main camp. As he passes into the trees the guns begin again with rapid reports of the bullets banging from the spinning barrels.

  Ahote sees the men turning to attack Kimani and ghosts through the trees as close as he can. He watches, waiting, while the men laugh, kicking at his wife. A couple start to unzip their pants as the noise of the guns begin again. He uses that to mask his final leap at the distracted group. He swings his war club at the closest soldier kicking at her. The weighted hard wooden ball shatters the skull with a sick crunch of broken bone. Her attackers drop around her, dead. Kimani watches in awe as she now understands why he is called the Hammer. Ahote knows he only has a few moments left. More soldiers are coming this way!

  “Get in the water now!” Ahote shouts at her.

  Kimani stares in confusion, but she obeys her husband as he picks up a dead soldier. “I’m sorry, butterfly, I brought this to you.” Kimani turns and looks at him in confusion.

  “No,” she whimpers and watches as Ahote tosses the dead man’s body at her in the water, just as bullets pepper through his body.

  Kimani screams as the dead soldier strikes her and takes her under. Instinct has her clutching at the lifeless body, trying desperately to surface. The water is deep and moving faster now. She is pulled along with him towards rapids. Breaking through the frigid water she clutches at the soldier, using his body as a float and a shield from the bullets that never seem to stop.

  The river picks up speed around the next bend, and Kimani knows that this is her last chance to get free of the water. The river narrows in front of her but cuts through large boulders causing fast moving rapids to drag at her. She releases the soldier and flips onto her back the way her father taught her too. Lifting her feet, she scans the riverbank looking for the narrowest point of rushing water to attempt a swim towards shore. Allow the river to carry you, her father’s voice replays in her mind, Seek your target and swim hard!

  A wave slams over her, instinctively she holds her breath and turns her head to the side, only to scream at the wall of bodies clogging the river in front of her. Grasping for anything, she clutches onto a body and climbs, pulling herself up over a mountain of the lost. Coughing and sobbing she realizes she’s close enough to make a jump for the shoreline.

  Kimani plants her feet into a fleshy mound and leaps for a large boulder, slamming against the slippery stone. Arms flailing, she scrambles for a handhold, but the water is too strong to fight. Her feet slip off, and she sobs out, knowing she is going to die in this river of death.

  A hand grabs her and pulls. It drags her backward across the slick rock and towards the churning, muddy shoreline. Overcome with exhaustion she doesn’t fight when the white man bends over her. His mouth is moving, but she can’t hear him and just over his shoulder a giant black wolf stares at her, she reaches for him, just as the world goes dark.

  Simon Adams stares down at the young waterlogged woman and knows if the other soldiers find her, she will pray for death. Not sure what to do he hesitates and glances at the river. If this is a nightmare, Simon prays that he wakes up soon. They asked for volunteers to join in a mission, but this is not what he signed up for. When he voiced his opinion, he was told to do or die.

  He was selective in his shots, only killing the men but General Barclay doesn’t tolerate weakness. They sentenced him to the end of the line, collecting the dead bodies and shooting any that survive. So far, she is the only survivor.

  Glancing at the river, he notices a dead soldier. Some of the men wore their uniform from the war, but most wore regular clothes. Perfect! He strips the uniform from the body and thinking quickly, he cuts away the buck skin garment from her body and dresses her in the man’s clothing. Bruises litter her from head to toe, gashes, and a ripped thigh bleed freely, but he can’t worry about that right now. Panic fills his mind, at least one must survive. This is the devil’s work, killing women and children. She must survive. He feels as if his soul will be damned if she dies. Simon slips the too large cowboy boots on her damaged feet and picks her up, running to his horse. In the distance, he can hear the sound of the Gatling gun as they continue their slaughter of death. “What do I do Lord?” he prays.

  Kimani comes too and starts to fight. A tortured wail erupts from her soul and Simon can barely hold onto her. “Stop!” he shakes her trying to make her understand that he only wishes to help her.

  Her eyes fly open wide, and she stares at him. Large, green eyes filled with terror and loathing. Simon curses under his breath. “I don’t know if you can understand me, but if they find you, I won’t be able to help you.
”

  Simon tosses her on his horse. Kimani grunts and scrambles to hold on. When she grips her legs tight to the horse saddle her wounded leg rips and burns. Glancing down at it she sees the red stain seeping through the course fabric. She gasps, realizing what she’s wearing.

  Before she can speak, he holds up a wide brimmed hat. “Hide your hair, it will be a sure giveaway.” Unholstering his colt pistol, he lifts it and has to grab the reins to keep her from reacting. “Take it! Ride hard and don’t stop for anything. We will head west. I suggest you ride south to avoid us. The saddle has rations for two days,” Simon glances at her when she takes the pistol and points it at him with a trembling hand.

  Hatred flickers across her face and fills her soul, but the sorrow in his eyes causes her to pause. “It’s no less than I deserve,” he whispers stepping back from her.

  Kimani’s eyes flick behind him when the sound of horses approaching warns her. “Thank you,” she whispers hoarsely just before pulling the trigger, shooting Simon in the upper arm. Two riders appear as he shouts in agony and falls to the ground. Kimani shoots in their direction causing them to take cover.

  Silence fills her with terror, and she kicks the horse, riding in the direction he suggested.

  Blood stains his arm, and he struggles to his feet, watching her ride away. Two soldiers thunder towards him and one leaps off his horse to help Simon, the other follows her.

  “What happened?”

  “I came across a woman, wearing Claude’s clothes. She must have stripped him and stole his gun,” Simon hates to lie, but he also doesn’t want to die either.

  “More like, killed him.” The soldier spits on the ground and glances at the pile of dead Indians Simon has been accumulating. “She stole your horse?”

  “Nah, got Claude’s. I was working a different section of the river.” Simon groans and clutches his arm to stop the questions. “Need to see to my arm,” he gasps.

  “Take my horse, General Barclay will be happier if we bring some scalps back. You can tell him about the woman escaping,” he spits out a wad of chew and grins with his black tar-stained teeth.