Conflict (Crossover Series)

by Socha, Walt

  “How are a woman and a man married?” Kristi put her arm around Alta’s shoulder.

  “It is feast.” Alta lowered her head, staring at her hands as she opened and closed them. “Males form line in front of lodge. Husband must fight through.” She looked up. “Play fight. Not kill fight. Then husband faces Grandmothers. Must convince.” A smile cracked her face. “More hard than fight.”

  “Is there someone you considered for husband?”

  Alta glanced at Joe. Chewed her lip. “Grandmothers talk with Grandmothers from nearby village. But talk only.” She picked up a spoon, moved a stray green bean from one side of her plate to another. “Mother looks hard at men.”

  She dropped the spoon. It clattered against the plate before bouncing onto the table. “Mother needs me.”

  Chapter 9. Saturday

  Joe squinted at the early Saturday sun blazing down on the green of the manicured grass that surrounded the mess hall. Already, it was cutting through the last of the cool night air. “I have the day off. Shall we ride the horses again?”

  “Yes.” Alta said. “But why horse let us ride?” “Horses are big and powerful animals.” Joe stepped off the building’s covered porch, matching his pace to Alta’s. “But they are herd animals. They are born to follow a dominant horse. Luckily, they will follow a human if we treat them properly.”

  “How?” Alta moved closer to Joe as they approached the stables.

  Joe glanced at her. Her step slowed, yet she smiled as her eyes flicked from the horses prancing in the corral to the darker interior of the stables. Would he be so brave if he’d been thrown into an alien world?

  “You must be gentle but firm.” Joe slowed to match her pace. “And you need to understand their needs. See the brown horse with the white on her face? Watch her ears as we pass.”

  They continued on past the corral to the main stable door.

  “Ears follow us.” A broader smile lit up Alta’s face. “Horses are prey animals. They are always on alert.

  So we have to approach carefully. See how the eyes are on the sides of the head?” Joe stopped. “That lets them see almost entirely around them when they are eating grasses. But don’t approach from the rear where they can’t see as well.”

  They continued into the stables.

  “Do you want to ride Bambi or Thumper today? Or one of the other horses?”

  “They are nice. But I like to ride different horse.” Alta’s mouth squeezed into a narrow line.

  “Maxy and Blaze are gentle horses. Also good for beginners. Let’s go introduce ourselves to them. Then we’ll review tack again.”

  After a half hour, Joe and Alta led Maxy and Blaze out of the stables. After another few minutes spent checking the saddles and filling their canteens, they mounted.

  “Let’s ride around the ranch first. Then head to a small hill about three miles away where we can get a good view of the mountains.”

  “How far that?”

  “About an hour at a fast walk on foot or a slow ride on a horse.” Joe sighed; any description using time wouldn’t work with someone from a primitive culture. “About as far as you can just see a person moving.” Joe laughed. “Or a bear.”

  “Maybe how far in one hand?” Alta stretched out her hand toward the sun and looked at Joe with a questioning tilt of her head.

  “Hand?”

  “How long sun move distance one hand.” She looked at her outstretched hand.

  Joe frowned. Then sighed with embarrassment. Not primitive, just a different measure of time. “Yes, that’s about right.”

  He led her past Larry’s forge building. The big man looked up as they passed, his face split by a wide beaming grin. Brent’s herb building and garden were empty. Maybe he was off collecting plants. Joe wondered what Kristi was doing.

  After one circuit, they headed northeast. Joe noted the time on his wristwatch and the position of the sun. They took their time and in an hour arrived at the top of a small rise shaded by a towering oak.

  Through the tree branches, Joe noted that the sun had moved about the width of his outstretched hand.

  “Joe, which canyon leads to my village?”

  Shit, how should he deal with this? He pointed. “See the one with the reddish color on the south side? I rode up there. But I arrived in your shallower valley—not the steep-sided canyon we see. The sheriff ’s men also rode up there. And found you. But not your valley.”

  Joe looked at Alta’s face. It was stone. Her family was gone. Her world was gone.

  “Why can I not go home?”

  “I don’t know.” What else could he say? “We ride to canyon?”

  Joe shivered in spite of the warm sun. What would happen if they did ride up there? It would only take a few hours. They had water. He drew a deep breath.

  “We can.”

  ><><

  The clear sky and gentle breeze belied Joe’s inner turmoil as they rode across the patchwork landscape toward the looming canyon of Red Wash. He could not deny Alta’s wish to revisit the place where she had emerged in this world. But what would happen if they disappeared? Or Alta crossed over alone? Was her family even alive?

  Shit, he was totally unprepared. No weapons. No shelter. Just some water. He glanced at the young woman at his side. Alta rode with her torso canted slightly forward, body language all eagerness, while her eyes scanned back and forth along the slopes of the mountains. How could he dash that enthusiasm? Confused images of his grandparents taking him back to his dead parents’ home to gather his few belongings surfaced. Memories faded but he did remember the expectation of returning to the arms of his parents only to find a cold and empty house.

  Within a couple hours the sides of the canyon closed in on them as their horses stepped along the flood-washed flats bordering the sides of the now shallow creek.

  “Where we go?” Alta asked as the creek disappeared between walls of leaning trees and bushes.

  “I found a game trail and followed it up the canyon,” Joe said. “At least until I was not here anymore.” He pointed to a break the vegetation. “There’s one.”

  Followed by Alta, Joe nudged his horse up the bank and onto a trail of broken branches and debris. “I think the Sheriff and his men must have come this way.”

  “I see prints of many horseshoes,”Alta said, stumbling over ‘horseshoes.’

  After an hour or so, Joe reined in his horse and waited as Alta brought her horse to a halt next to his.

  “I don’t think I came this far up the canyon.” Joe swept his hand to encompass the narrower canyon walls. Red Wash creek still flowed, but the small stream they had been paralleling was now just a trickle, as springs provided most of the flow further down the canyon.

  “Do not recognize land,” Alta said.

  Joe watched Alta’s shoulders sag as her mouth tightened into a thin line. What was going on in that pretty little head? When he had entered his parents’ home so many years ago, he had run through the rooms calling their names. Flashes of empty rooms overlaid with his screams had invaded his dreams throughout the rest of his childhood. He couldn’t let that terror and loneliness happen to Alta.

  He just couldn’t.

  ><><

  Joe entered the mess hall. Most of the weekend guests were finishing up dinner or already gone. Alta was nowhere in sight—probably still cleaning up after their long ride. According to Kristi, she had taken to indoor plumbing and used the shower at every opportunity.

  He spied Larry at an empty table. The big guy waved. Joe picked up a tray and browsed along the picked-over buffet. His stomach growled.

  “Joe is talking a strange language.” Alta’s voice startled him.

  “Sorry, missing lunch is hard on my stomach.”

  Alta smiled as she filled her tray, avoiding anything with dairy or sauces.

  “Missed you at lunch,” Larry said as they joined him. “And you almost missed dinner.”

  “Took a longer ride than we expected. No one in the sta
bles when we got back so we had to brush down the horses,” Joe said, avoiding any mention of the detour to Red Wash.

  “We went Red Wash,” Alta said between mouthfuls of potatoes and beans.

  “What did she say about Red Wash?” Larry’s eyebrows squeezed together.

  Joe hesitated. “We rode up to Red Wash.”

  Larry was silent for several seconds. “What did I say about not going anywhere without me?” His voice was low, almost growling.

  “Nothing happened.” Joe took a long breath. “Alta was just curious.”

  Larry looked down at the coffee in his hand. Finally, after a very long minute, he let out a held breath. “We’ll talk later.”

  He shifted to face Alta. “Did you enjoy the ride?” “Mountains lonely,” she said after Joe translated the question. She smiled with a tight face, and then took another bite and turned to Joe. “After eating, can we see how food is cooked?”

  Joe blew out a breath of relief at the change in topic. “Sure, we’ll see how Potts and his crew feeds everyone.” He looked around. “Where’s Kristi? Brent?”

  “Haven’t seen either of them all day.” Larry took a sip of coffee and frowned. “Cold.” He set the cup down. “Can I join you in your visit with Potts?”

  Joe and Alta finished their dinner and, with Larry, bussed their trays. As they walked toward the kitchen door, they met one of the kitchen staff struggling through it with a mop and bucket.

  Larry stood aside, holding the door wide. “Hi, Reata, how ya doing today?”

  “Muy bien.” She smiled, and then frowned. “How is Señor Brent? No problems?”

  “He is doing well. Everyone treatin’ ya okay?”

  “Si.” Reata’s smile broadened as she continued pushing the bucket into the mess hall.

  Larry stepped back allowing Joe and Alta to enter the kitchen. “Damn well better,” he mumbled.

  “Trouble?” Alta asked Joe.

  “Reata works with Potts. A couple of weeks ago, two of the pokes were rude to her. Brent talked to them. And they kind of fell down and hurt themselves. That’s why she wanted to know if Brent was okay.”

  Larry looked at Joe. “Did you tell Alta what you did?” Alta stopped and waited.

  “The two men who got hurt tried to get Brent fired. I helped Brent keep his job. I had some of the guests—along with Potts—speak up,” Joe said to Alta. “I also had to… say some smooth words. Something I’m not good at.” Joe unfocused his eyes as he thought back on the meeting with Alex. The ranch manager had been furious.

  Alta pursed her lips. “Man in village bad to wife. Grandmothers force him leave.” Alta’s shoulders sagged and her eyes focused on a far distant image. “I hope they safe.”

  “I hope so, too.” Joe searched for a diversion. “Potts might be in the storeroom. Let’s start there.” He moved toward the back of the kitchen, trailed by Alta and Larry. Potts looked up from his clipboard as Joe introduced Alta and told him of her request. “Do I look like a tour guide?”

  “Potts wants to know what he looks like,” Joe said, failing to come up with a politer translation.

  “He looks like chief,” Alta answered.

  After Joe translated, Potts squared his shoulders. “Oh all right, but I still have a lot of work to do yet tonight.”

  He explained the ordering of food and the delivery schedule, with Joe translating.

  “Why men bring food?” Alta asked.

  “We give them ‘money’ to do so,” Joe said, failing to find a word in Alta’s language for money.

  “What is ‘money’?” She looked puzzled.

  After Joe translated the last question, Potts raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Money is a promise on a piece of paper. We trade promises for food. The men—and sometimes a woman—who bring the food take those promises and trade them for other supplies or for work.” “Everyone must be trustworthy,” Alta said after Joe repeated the answer in her language.

  After hearing the translation, Potts stood still for several seconds. “That is pretty much the basis of all economic theory.” He continued the tour by describing the sinks, dishwashers, and sanitizers.

  Alta watched Potts and listened to Joe, eyes flicking from item to item.

  Potts moved on to the preparation and cooking areas. Alta pointed to one of the stew pots. Potts nodded and Alta picked it up, turning it to all sides, ignoring the dings and scratches but apparently fascinated at the shiny surface. She rapped it with her knuckles.

  She looked at Joe. “How take to Mother?” Joe hesitated.

  At a questioning look from Potts, he translated.

  Potts looked from Joe to Alta, a small smile cracking his face. “I’ll give you a set of cookware as a gift.”

  When Joe translated, Alta beamed. She took Potts’s hand and, bowing, brought it to her forehead.

  Potts frowned briefly, and then he broke into an embarrassing grin. “Young lady, don’t be melodramatic.”

  Suppressing a smile, Joe tried to translate, stumbling over the meaning of ‘melodramatic’.”

  As they left the kitchen, Larry leaned into Joe. “I think Alta has transformed that old fart into an admirer.” Joe chuckled as he looked back toward the kitchen.

  Potts stood in the doorway, hand rubbing his chin, frowning at Alta’s back.

  ><><

  “You took her fucking where?” Kristi stood, inches from Joe, glaring up at him.

  “Just a short ride part way up Red Wash.” Joe stepped back a foot. Then another. Why was she so angry?

  They were on the dimly lit porch in front of Alta’s quarters. Larry and Brent sat on the edge of the porch, intently watching the bats flitting in the moonlight. Alta stood in the doorway, shifting her weight from one foot to another.

  “You could have warned us or something.” Kristi’s eyes rolled up toward the rough planking roof over the porch. She shook herself and switched to Alta’s language. “What if you hadn’t returned?”

  “I wanted to see if I could go home.” Alta’s voice, barely a whisper, cut through the silence of the late evening. She stared at the floorboards, chewing her lip. She looked even younger in the dim light, a stranger in a strange land.

  “Sorry, it was a spur of the moment decision,” Joe said.

  Kristi deflated. She moved to Alta and put one arm around her. Alta stiffened then leaned into her.

  “Apologies,” Kristi said, her face pale in the light of the single light bulb. “I’m just worried about Alta. CFSD is going to be here in a few days.”

  “I’m not sure more strangers will be best for Alta.” Joe collapsed onto one end of the porch’s rough bench.

  “I’m thinking of asking CFSD about being appointed as guardian for Alta,” Kristi said in English as she sat at the other end of the bench. A bit hesitantly, Alta took a seat between them.

  Larry jerked his head around at this statement. Brent continued staring into the darkness.

  For several minutes, the only sounds were the hooting of a nearby owl and the distant whinny of a horse from the stables.

  “That would be good. I’ve been concerned about Alta fitting in.” That solution would get him off the hook. Joe turned to face Alta. “What do you think? Would you like to stay in this land with Kristi?”

  Alta’s face was stone in the dim moonlight. Then she collapsed against Kristi’s shoulder. “I’m worried about Mother and Father,” she said between muffled sobs.

  Joe sat back against the wall and stared out into the darkness.

  Chapter 10. Sunday

  He was running through the forest, heedless of the snapping of twigs or the whipping of branches. He had to warn them.

  His breath was ragged, eyes blinded with sweat, feet bleeding. They would die if he didn’t warn them.

  He broke from the trees, and then tripped and fell into the low brush at the edge of the open fields. He rolled over and froze to listen. The forest behind him was dead quiet. Too quiet. Before him, the village lay peaceful; several c
hildren played.

  He rose and screamed.

  ><><

  Joe woke in a sweat. His heart pounded. Ropes bound his legs and torso.

  No, not ropes. Sheets. He lay in his bed. He blinked and struggled to gather his thoughts. The green numbers of the clock radio on his nightstand indicated the time was a little after three. He sat up and held his head. His fingers touched something thin and rough. A leaf.

  He put the leaf on the clock radio, stumbled to the small bathroom, and splashed himself back to reality with cold water. After washing and treating his scratched feet, he returned to bed.

  When the first glimmer of light appeared in his window, Joe gave up on sleep. He rose and dressed. Outside his door, he watched the sun break over the mountains. Light mist dissipated with the sun. Except in the valley of Red Wash.

  The Ranch was stirring. Joe collected his dreamed up leaf and walked over a couple of cabins to rap on Brent’s door.

  He heard some rustling from within. He looked back at the mountains as he waited for Brent. The view wasn’t quite as good, but he could see part of the misted Red Wash valley.

  The door opened. Kristi appeared. Her face fell.

  Heat singed Joe’s cheeks. After a few embarrassed seconds, Joe got his voice back. “Ah...is Brent in?” His face burned even more as he realized how inane that question sounded.

  “Yes, just a second,” Kristi said. Then she closed the door.

  After another long stretch of seconds, Brent came out, closing the door behind him. “Hey Joe,” Brent said, “you’re up early.” He looked about as sheepish as Joe had ever seen him.

  “I’m sorry,” Joe said. “I didn’t mean to embarrass anyone.”

  Brent cleared his throat. “Kristi had a fight with her father last night and stopped by to talk. And kind of never left.”

  “Look...” Joe met Brent’s gaze. “I had another dream last night. Strong. Disturbing. When it woke me, I found this in my hair.” Joe held out the leaf. “It doesn’t look familiar. What is it?”

  Brent picked up the leaf. “Are you trying to pull some sort of joke on me? Now is not exactly a good time.”