Charmed

by Catherine Hart

  Staring up at the sky above, she remarked reflectively, “This is really weird, to look up at the sky and know that, at this precise moment, these same stars are shining down on my home, another century and a half away. It just doesn’t seem feasible, reasonable, or otherwise sane. Do you realize that, in my time, I’ve passed this very spot dozens of times on my way from home to Dayton and back? Interstate 75 would be about a mile east of here; and if I were lying in this exact place in 1996, I’d be able to hear the hum of traffic and see the headlights of the trucks and cars on the highway. It’s enough to boggle one’s mind.”

  “You keep mentioning this car, but I cannot understand what it must be.”

  She shifted in his arms, burrowing her head against his shoulder. “A car,” she repeated, wondering how to explain it to him when practically nothing mechanical existed in his world. “It’s a vehicle, somewhat like a wagon or buggy with a cover on top. It has windows in the front and sides so you can ride in the snow or rain and not get wet, yet you can still see where you are going. In place of horses pulling it, it has a gasoline-powered engine. I suppose the best analogy would be to say that it’s pushed along by a metal team of horses and that it is capable of great speed, the likes of which you can only imagine. I can’t explain it any better than that. You’d simply have to see one to fully understand.”

  “One sits on it?” he asked.

  “In it,” she corrected. “Depending on the size and model, it can have one or more cushioned seats. The driver controls it by means of a steering wheel, a gas pedal, a brake, and other assorted devices.”

  “How fast does it travel?”

  “Well, just to give you a proper perspective, we could drive from here to Wapakoneta in half an hour or less and not really be hurrying.”

  Her head dropped from his shoulder with a thump as he rose partially and rolled toward her. “Surely you adorn the truth and think to make a fool of me,” he scoffed.

  “I am telling you the absolute truth,” she insisted. Rubbing the back of her head with one hand, she pushed him back down with the other and resumed her comfortable position. “You know, it strikes me that you might have been wiser to come to my time instead of summoning me to yours. Then you could have witnessed firsthand all the marvelous inventions and advancements of my day.”

  “Speak to me of these wonders, for other than your cars, all I have learned of the future are the misfortunes of my people and my land.”

  “Oh, Thorn!” she sighed. “I didn’t mean to paint such a bleak picture. The Shawnee did not fare as well as others, I grant you; but for Americans as a whole, life is much more convenient in the twentieth century. We have all types of modern technology that make our lives and our work easier and more pleasant. There are machines to wash and dry our clothing and to cook our meals. We have refrigerators and freezers to keep food from spoiling. We have electric power supplied directly to our homes and furnaces to heat them in winter and air conditioning to cool them in summer. You don’t have to go outdoors to go to the bathroom or to get water; the plumbing is indoors.”

  He turned to her with a disgusted grimace. “You relieve yourself inside your wigewa? Is this also where you sleep and eat and take shelter?”

  “Yes, but it’s not as unsanitary as it sounds. Our houses have many rooms, and the bathroom is just one of them. In it we wash and shower our bodies and brush our teeth. There are pipes that carry away the waste water and such to an outer location. And the kitchen, where food is prepared and eaten, is separate from the bathroom, though it, too, has indoor water and drains.”

  He shook his head in utter disbelief. “This still does not make good sense to me, Neeake, to cleanse your mouth and body in the same place you relieve yourself.” His comment, the way he voiced it, had Nikki wrinkling her own nose in revulsion. “You know, I’ve never really thought about it, but you’re absolutely right. Yuck! My toothbrush can’t hang half a foot from the toilet. When . . . if I get home, I’m going to start brushing my teeth in the kitchen. Speaking of which, the apples Mrs. Galloway sent with us sufficed as a satisfactory dentifrice today, but I really need something more adequate for cleaning my teeth on a daily basis.”

  “When next we pass a dogwood tree, we will gather a few tender twigs. When chewed and rubbed on your teeth and mouth, they serve the same purpose as your toothbrush.”

  “Really?” Nikki was surprised and impressed at his resourcefulness. “I suppose I’m so used to dashing down to the supermarket or drugstore for all these necessities that I’ve forgotten that the Indians and pioneers had all sorts of natural remedies and solutions at hand. Actually, I’ve heard that many of our modern medicines have their foundation in old-time herbs and roots.”

  “You have good medicine in your time?” he asked.

  “Yes. Children are now inoculated to prevent them from contracting chicken pox and measles and mumps. Scientists have found cures for many plagues and ailments and made great strides toward eliminating others. There are many lifesaving operations and machines. Unfortunately, for every cure, it seems there arises another new disease, more terrible and drug-resistant than the last.”

  “Such as this AIDS,” he assumed.

  She nodded. “That and cancer and Alzheimer’s. The list goes on and on.”

  “And still you claim your world is preferable?” he questioned.

  “Well, it’s a darned sight more convenient, at any rate,” she countered. “I don’t have to shoot my meat and skin it. Other people raise the animals and slaughter them. The average person simply hops in his car and drives to the supermarket to buy food already cut and packaged. Then there are marvelous inventions such as the telephone, with which a person can communicate with someone else who is miles away.”

  “That is nothing so new,” he informed her with a superior expression. “My people have done this for many lifetimes. One requires only a shiny object to reflect the sun, and a signal can be sent to another, who can then relay the message on, if need be.”

  “And what do you do on a cloudy day?” she mocked.

  “A signal can be sent by means of smoke or flaming arrow.”

  “And at night or if it rains?” she persisted.

  “A drum signal can be sent or a trained dove or falcon can deliver a vital message.”

  “But how can that work? I thought you didn’t have a written language.”

  “Words are not formed only with scribbled letters, Neeake. Since the beginning of all creation, man has used images and signs to convey his thoughts. On skins or walls or drawn in the dust, they have served him well enough. I know that you are an educated female. I, too, have learned your written language. But do not surmise any man witless simply because he cannot read or write your tongue. In his mind, he may be many times more clever than you; and if he be your enemy, it could prove fatal to dismiss him so lightly.”

  Nikki mulled this over. “Okay, Solomon, I concede the point to you, though reluctantly. Education is a major part of my life. I am a teacher, after all. However, I can see how I might appear a bit arrogant now and then.”

  His teeth flashed white in the darkness as he grinned at her. “It is a fault you must strive to overcome. A wife must never put herself above her husband.”

  “Hey! I thought you said Shawnee men and women are equals. I’m not about to walk ten paces behind you, Thorn, so you can just forget any ideas you have along those lines.”

  “So your shirt suggests. And I would not require that of you. Your place is beside me . . . or better still, under me,” he added, his smile radiating devilment.

  As he pulled her beneath him, covering her with his hard, warm body, she murmured, “Thorn! You’re insatiable!”

  Her comment was more compliment than complaint, and they both knew it. A long while later, relaxed and replete, she admitted drowsily, “I might mosey along behind you once in a while. You do have a cute set of buns back there. Much nicer than the guy on my shirt.”

  She missed the bright b
lush that flooded his face. She wouldn’t have believed it if she’d seen it.

  Chapter Nine

  “Good God, Thorn! They’re shooting at us!” Nikki screamed. Twisting around, she stared in shock at the two soldiers standing on the bank. Her stunned mind watched in disbelief as they hurried to reload their rifles. Behind them, more soldiers were streaming down the hill from Fort Loramie.

  “Neeake! Get down into the bottom of the canoe!” Silver Thorn commanded. The rhythm of his strokes increased as he applied to his paddle all the power and speed he could summon, hastening them away from their enemy.

  “A fat lot of good that would do!” she hollered back. Grabbing the other paddle, she thrust it into the water on the opposite side of the canoe and began to mimic Silver Thorn’s actions as best she could. Though clumsy, her strokes added extra impetus to their flight. Within seconds, though it seemed much longer to her, they rounded a slight bend in the river, and were out of sight of the soldiers.

  Still Silver Thorn did not slow his actions, but continued the rapid tempo. Thoroughly shaken, Nikki struggled to keep pace. What must have been a quarter hour later, Silver Thorn finally slowed. Nikki, her arms feeling like aching lead weights, followed suit.

  “Thank you, Lord! Thank you!” she panted. “I thought we were goners for sure, didn’t you, Thorn?”

  As he guided the craft toward shore, Silver Thorn issued only a grunt in reply.

  “What did those trigger-happy asses think they were doing?” she fumed. “We didn’t do anything to provoke them.”

  “Come. Hurry,” he told her. “We must hide.” In his haste, the usually agile Shawnee nearly fell from the canoe. Quickly, he grabbed the prow and began pulling it to shore.

  “You think they’ll come after us?” she asked, tumbling out after him and lending what little aid she could.

  “Yes. They, too, have canoes,” he supplied tersely. “Even now, they may be close.”

  This frightening thought kicked Nikki into overdrive. Fast on his heels, she thrashed through the underbrush lining the bank. Perhaps a hundred yards inland, surrounded by dense forest and out of sight of anyone cruising the river, Silver Thorn lowered the canoe and dropped to the ground.

  Nikki plopped down next to him, gasping for breath. “Are we safe now, do you suppose?” she wheezed.

  Again she received only a grunt for reply. Silver Thorn was tearing at a buckskin bag with his teeth, trying to open it. His face, dripping in perspiration, was twisted into a grimace.

  “Here, let me help,” Nikki offered.

  A leather thong attached the pouch to the waistband of his breechcloth. Intending to release it, she reached forward—then stopped and stared in mounting horror at the gaping red hole in Silver Thorn’s side. Blood gushed from it, streaking his belly, his legs, and pooling on the ground.

  “You’ve been shot!” she exclaimed faintly. “My God, Thorn! You’ve been shot!”

  “The medicine bag,” he groaned. “Inside. The white powder. Quickly.”

  The pain and urgency in his voice snapped her out of her stupor. Jerking the pouch open, she dug several packets out of it. “Which is it?” she blurted, thrusting them all in front of his face.

  He selected one and ripped it open, lapping at the contents with his tongue. Then he slumped down again, clutching at his side with both hands.

  Momentarily flustered, Nikki promptly recovered her wits. Yanking up her skirt, she tore a strip of material from her petticoat. Wadding it into a ball, she nudged Silver Thorn’s hands away, pressed the cloth to his wound, and placed his hands over it again. “Hold that tight, until I can get another piece to tie it in place.”

  Quickly, her hands trembling all the while, she ripped off another lengthy ribbon of fabric and bound it around his waist as gently and firmly as possible. That done, she sank back on her heels and gazed helplessly at him, at a loss for what more to do.

  His eyes were closed, his face pale and rigid and drenched with perspiration. His lips were drawn, his teeth tightly clenched, his labored breath hissing between them.

  “Tell me how to help you, Thorn,” she pleaded. “I don’t know what else to do.”

  His only response was to open his eyes and stare blankly at her, his pupils so dilated that she could scarcely see the silver outer rims. His lids drifted shut again.

  For several more minutes, Nikki sat watching him, grappling to keep the panic at bay. As was a long-established habit of hers in times of stress, she began to reason aloud. “Okay, we’ve bound the wound. Hopefully, the pressure will stop the bleeding. There is no antiseptic, so we can only pray that infection doesn’t set in, which it probably will, especially if the bullet is still in there. For that matter, I don’t even know if they use bullets in this day and age, but I suppose they load some sort of lead missile in those blasted guns. Either way, I don’t know the first thing about removing it and would probably do more harm than good if I tried.”

  Upon raising her hands to brush her hair from her brow, she noted the blood streaking them. Silver Thorn’s blood. His life’s essence, so much of it, staining her flesh as well as his. Tears sprang to her eyes.

  “Thorn?” she whimpered, her gaze seeking his face once more, fearful of what she might find. “You’re not going to die and leave me here alone, are you? You can’t do that. You hear me? You can’t just yank a girl from her century to yours, give her a child, and up and die. It’s just not right! Not to mention damned rude!”

  “I would not be that impolite, little bird,” he murmured.

  Weak with relief at hearing his voice, though he had yet to open his eyes again, she sobbed out, “You’d better not. This baby is going to need a father. I’m not into the single-parent scene, you know.”

  “Fear not, Neeake. Today is not my time to die or I would have foreseen it, as my father and eldest brother did before me.”

  “Sure, but what about tomorrow or the next day? You’ve lost an awful lot of blood, Thorn, and infection could set in. We’ve got to get you some help, quickly. If we were in my world, I could flag down a motorist or boater, have them call 911, and rush you to a hospital. Here, I don’t know how to help you.”

  “You have done well by binding my wound,” he told her. “The powder is calming the pain. Soon we can go on, but it would be wise to cover our tracks from the river and the trail of blood I have left. Can you do that, little one?”

  “Yes.”

  He instructed her how to go about it. “Select a leafy branch from amid a thick bush. Remove it well back to the main stem from a spot where the adjoining branches will spring back to hide its absence. Use it to brush away our footprints. Also, attempt to repair the most obvious damage we have made to the plants and spread loose leaves and pine needles over any evidence of our passing which you cannot brush away. Above all, use speed and caution and abandon your efforts if you see or hear any sign of soldiers.”

  She nodded. “Got it. Is there anything you need before I start?”

  “My bow and quiver, and a sip from the water flask. If it is safe, you can refill the flask at the river. If not, we will use what remains sparingly until more can be obtained.”

  She located a suitable branch a few yards away and snipped it off with Silver Thorn’s knife. As she started to backtrack, he called after her. “If the soldiers come, you must flee for your life. Run as fast and as far as you can. Save yourself and our child first, and worry not about me.”

  She turned and fixed him with a level, if tear-blotched, look. “I will not save my own hide at the expense of yours. We’re in this together, sink or swim, as you have reminded me time and again.” She waved the frond at him in a jaunty salute. “So, as Schwarzenegger so aptly put it, ‘I’ll be back.’ ”

  Her appointed task wasn’t nearly as fast or easy as it always looked in the movies. By the time she was done, her dress clung to her in sweaty patches, and where it didn’t, she was a mass of fresh scratches and welts. Dirt was ground into her knees and beneath
her fingernails, and her hair was a snarled mess.

  “If my friends could see me now, they wouldn’t believe it!” she puffed, throwing herself down beside Silver Thorn. “I seriously doubt my own mother would recognize me.” While she’d been gone, Silver Thorn had propped himself into a sitting position against a tree trunk. His hand rose to stroke the damp hair from her temple. “You are beautiful to me, my pet,” he assured her.

  His compliment went a long way toward restoring her flagging energy. “How are you feeling?” she inquired. She peered at the make-shift bandage. Though spotted, it was not soaked through with blood. “Has the bleeding stopped?”

  “For now, I believe. Rest for a moment, then we must seek more adequate cover. We are too near the river and the fort.”

  “Then we’d better find someplace to stash the canoe,” she added. “You’ll be lucky if you can walk, let alone lug that puppy through the woods.”

  His smile eased her fears, reassuring her that his demise was not immediately imminent. “What would you suggest, my sassy goose?”

  “Well, at the risk of sounding even more impertinent, it would be lovely if you could make it, and us, invisible. Heck, if you can transport someone from the future and make pigs fly, invisibility should be a snap.”

  His answering chuckle ended in a moan. “Please, do not make me laugh. The powder is powerful, but it has not yet taken full effect.”

  “What’s in that potion, anyway? What is its purpose?”

  “Extracted from the fruit of a tree, it suspends pain. Though a wound be deep or a limb removed, with it a man will not suffer.”

  “But he can still bleed to death,” she surmised.

  “Yes, but he will not die in agony.”

  “I’ve heard similar stories about people who are so hopped up on drugs that they can be shot several times and not appear to feel it. This one guy on the evening news actually kept coming, literally charging the police, until he fell dead at their feet. The coroner later claimed he couldn’t have had two drops of blood left in his body, but he was still moving. Apparently the opiate he took was comparable to what you’re describing, but it’s still hard for me to fathom.”