by Vella Munn
By the tone of True Hand’s voice, Kayla was certain she didn’t want to hear the rest. However, she’d gone too far to turn away.
“They came upon us while we were sleeping,” he continued tonelessly. “I lay next to my uncle because I’d fallen asleep while he was telling me and other boys about how Chief of the Sky Spirits made trees and turned snow into rivers. They shot. We shot. Modocs and soldiers died, including my uncle. The Modocs who were still alive jumped into their canoes and paddled down Lost River until they reached Mother Lake. They crossed it and came here.”
Taking in her surroundings, Kayla was struck by what a perfect natural fortress the lava beds made, how difficult it would be for soldiers and others to penetrate it. There were several high outcroppings about, and she had no doubt sentries kept watch from up there.
“As long as you stay here, you’ll be safe, won’t you?” she asked.
“Safe?” True Hand repeated. “No. We will never again feel that way.”
I’m sorry, so sorry.
****
Without explaining what he had in mind, True Hand ordered Kayla to mount the horse he provided for her. He would, he told her, show her what she needed to see. She protested that she was the farthest thing from a horsewoman and had never ridden bareback, but he only glared at her until she relented. It took two tries with his help before she got up and onto the reddish horse. At least there was a bridle, not that she knew what to do with the reins he placed in her hands. When the horse started walking, she grabbed the mane.
“Morning Song,” she begged. “I really, really don't need to do this.”
“Yes, she does.” True Hand seemed to be speaking to his sister, not her. “If she is who you believe she is, she must understand everything. And if she is nothing, once I have spent time with her, I will know.”
Nodding, Morning Song stepped aside. Feeling as if she was on some weird carnival ride without a safety harness, Kayla let her horse plod along behind True Hand's. After longer than she wanted to think about, she finally caught onto the horse's rhythm. True Hand kept at a slow pace, a good thing because the ground was so rugged and uneven she was afraid the horses might fall and injure themselves. Fortunately, they seemed experienced at what they were doing, and her horse only occasionally dropped his head to nibble at the dry grass and brush.
True Hand didn't seem interested in talking, leaving her to mentally replay what he'd told her. When and if she got back inside a classroom, she'd tell everyone not to take history for granted, to really think about what things had been like.
History. She really was living it, wasn't she? More than just a vivid lesson, she was beginning to understand that the Modocs’ emotions weren’t any different from hers. That True Hand remembered the last words his uncle had spoken served as proof. If there was time, and he agreed, she wanted to learn more about the Chief of the Sky Spirits. Maybe he wouldn’t because as he’d told his sister, he was determined to decide whether he could trust her. If she failed the test–
At length, True Hand stopped at the top of a rocky rise and pointed. Kayla almost let a sigh of relief escape because she no longer had to think about her balance, but forgot about that as she slowly made sense of what she was seeing. There was enough of a haze that it was like looking at a light fog, but there was no mistaking the gray tents lined up at the edge of the massive lake. She'd seen the lake as she was being driven to the lava beds. She was sure it had been less than half that size a couple of days ago, but like many other things that were beyond her comprehension, she shook off that indisputable proof that she was no longer in the present—whatever that was.
Because they were all jumbled together, she couldn't be sure of the exact number of tents, but estimated there had to be at least twenty. A corral filled with mostly sleeping horses was nearby, and she could make out a large number of men milling about.
“Soldiers,” she breathed.
“The army.”
“What are they doing there?”
“Waiting for us. Keeping us from the lake.”
A cautious and maybe reckless person could circumvent the encampment and reach the lake, but it would probably mean traveling at night. It would be next to impossible to hunt for ducks in the dark, and fishing probably wasn't much better, but at least whoever took the risk could get some water–unless the army had posted scouts.
“Kumookumts created this for the KaKlak, for us,” True Hand whispered.
“Your sister told me about Kumookumts.” To her surprise, she had no trouble pronouncing the word. “I didn't know.” She nearly admitted that she hadn't known what to make of the story. “It meant so much to her.”
“It does to all of us who call ourselves KaKlak.”
“What is that? Modoc?”
“Modoc is the name given us by outsiders,” he snapped. “I speak it only because you know the word. KaKlak means the People.”
“Oh.”
“We are people who were once blessed by Kumookumts and will be again.”
His tone told her that True Hand had his doubts. The knowledge chilled her, but how could it be otherwise? Taking courage in hand, she studied the military force in the distance. By modern standards it was nothing–at least as far as she knew it wasn’t, but how much of an army was needed to overcome a handful of Indians?
“How long have they been here?” she asked.
“Forever! More and more come every day.” He held up his hand, fingers widespread. “For every Modoc, there are five soldiers.”
“Five? Why so many?”
“I do not know. One Modoc man will not fight five soldiers. He is not foolish.” He stared at the camp. “They do not ride onto the lava fields looking for us because they know how vulnerable that will make them. We know this land as they never will, but they trap us here. Turn us into burrowing rodents.”
Don't say that, she wanted to scream at him. You and the rest of your people are brave and resourceful. This is your land. You can't give up. You can't!
But did they have any choice?
“You always have someone watching them?”
“Yes.”
She wanted to look around to see if she could spot the KaKlak sentry, but the mass of men, horses and equipment held her spellbound. She could now make out a couple of cannons and a large collection of rifles propped against each other just beyond the tents. There were wagons she supposed were used to bring in whatever supplies the soldiers needed. About the only things they lacked were flush toilets and cell phones, maybe airplanes.
It wasn't fair! The Modocs should have more of a chance than this!
“Do you understand now?” True Hand asked. “Why I made you come here.”
Yes. “I guess so.”
“My sister believes you have been sent to return her baby to her. I want to believe the same because she and I cry the same tears for the little one, and I fear her grief will kill her. But ask yourself this: what will the soldiers do if you succeed?”
“Retaliate.” Although it came without thinking, she struggled to get the word out. “Come after me.”
He stared at her; she thought she saw admiration in his gaze. “What will you do when that happens?” he challenged. “Can you outrun their horses? Their bullets?”
“Are you trying to scare me?”
“I must look at that every day.” He jabbed a finger at the camp. “And when I do, fear tries to crawl inside me. I do not let it because I know what I must do to stay strong, but can you say the same?”
Charging horses. Bullets.
Terror clamped around Kayla's heart and squeezed it so she couldn't breathe. Despite that, her legs remained strong. The rigors of the ride here forgotten, she turned her back on the camp and desperately looked for a way out—-any way!
Not caring whether she'd found the trail they'd used or not, Kayla started running. She'd done the same thing the first time she'd met Morning Song, only it hadn't done any good; she hadn't been able to get away.
&
nbsp; It would be different this time! She'd run as she never had before, escape this nightmare!
Instead, she tripped over something and started to fall. True Hand grabbed her, then held her tight when she tried to free herself.
“Let me go!” she hissed. Despite everything, she knew enough not to yell. “You can't make me—“
“It is beyond you, Kayla.” Turning her so she was looking square at him, he took hold of her necklace.
“It's just a dumb rock!” she blurted. “Some piece of junk my brother found.”
“No, it is not.”
You're wrong! Wrong! “You wanted me to leave,” she protested. “Why else would you have shown me this awful sight?”
“I did that so you would know the truth.” He'd looked angry a moment ago, almost as if he hated her, but now some of the fierceness left him. “And so I would learn the truth about you,” he whispered.
“Have you?” she asked.
Instead of answering, he said, “Do you think I want to hide like some small animal, that any Modoc man does? But only someone who does not care whether he lives or dies turns his back on the enemy's greater strength.”
“Are you telling me I don't stand a chance of freeing the baby?”
“No.” He shook his head. “That is not my thought. What you need to understand is that although I would give my life for my nephew, that is all it would be—a useless sacrifice.”
“Why?”
“Because the moment the ranchers see me, they will kill me because I am Modoc.”
How awful for him to feel so helpless. “But I'm not. And you think I stand a better chance?”
“I do not want you to do a man's job. I look at you with your soft hands and believe you do not have the skill or courage for what my sister asks of you.”
Because he’d expressed her fears, she nodded.
“But neither do I want my family to shed more tears because I put pride before caution.”
I–I understand.”
“Think on this, Kayla. If you walk away, my sister's child will never know his mother's arms. Her tears will always flow.”
“Stop it. Let me go.”
“I am not holding you.”
He wasn't. Only his words and intense eyes were stronger than any rope, or were they?
“I have to think. What you're asking of me, none of this makes sense. It isn't real. It can't be!”
Chapter Seven
This time, True Hand didn't try to stop her. But although she wanted to run, she didn't dare. Walking as rapidly as she could, she headed toward where she thought she'd left the bicycle this morning. She hadn't been able to find it before and didn't try to fool herself into believing it would be different this time, but what alternative was there? If she rejected whatever time warp she’d been pulled into, she could return to where she belonged, couldn’t she?
The world I know, the real world is somewhere! I have to—please let me...
After a while, she came across a different trail. She took it without first considering why, but eventually the smoother journey made enough of an impact that it captured her attention. This trail wasn’t just another dirt and rock ribbon cut out of the landscape. Someone had marked its edges with nearly uniform lava chunks which kept the weeds from intruding on the graveled surface.
Gravel?
Hearing a sound, she looked up to see a plane overhead. It was too small to be a commercial plane, but above it, almost lost in the blue sky, was a jet trail.
Feeling giddy, she picked up the pace. She was on a gentle downhill slope, exactly the opposite of what she’d experienced when she and Morning Song were going to the cave. She felt dust on her arms and legs and was so thirsty it was impossible to ignore her dry mouth and throat. How long had she spent in the past?
There it was! The road, paved and striped! And on its side a few feet from the road, was the bike!
Laughing, Kayla ran. She’d grabbed hold of the bike and was preparing to lift it when the sense that she was doing something terribly wrong came over her. Her efforts to close her mind failed, and she was forced to relive the things Morning Song had told her, as well as the entire family’s fear and grief over the loss of one of its youngest members. Then something else struck her. Yes, True Hand had expressed doubt about his sister’s belief. He’d criticized her soft hands and hinted that he considered her useless. Despite that, True Hand had showed her the army, not because he believed she wasn’t the right person for the challenge after all, but because he wanted her to know what she’d be up against. Because, maybe, he believed she was his only hope of ever seeing his nephew again.
“I needed to see what you showed me,” she said aloud. “Thank you for understanding. And I’m sorry if I can’t do what you want, but I’m only sixteen. I’m in high school. I just got my driver’s license. I’m not...” She’d been about to add that she wasn’t an adult, but Morning Song was the same age and she’d assumed responsibilities Kayla could only admire. Morning Song was a wife, maybe a widow. Most of all she had a baby.
“I live in a different world,” she went on although no one was here to hear her excuse. “Today’s kids aren’t expected to do the things you do. I wish it was different.” Or did she? “But it isn’t. You have to understand. You have to!”
About to add that although she no longer considered herself a kid, she wasn’t yet old enough to vote, she fell silent. The sound had been so faint that she hadn’t paid any attention to it at first, but it was growing, coming closer. Although she’d heard car engines all her life, it took her too long to identify the humming motor—further proof that she’d indeed been caught in the past.
The van and trailer it was pulling came into view. Feeling disoriented, she could only stand and watch. How long had she been with the Modocs? It had to have been hours because she’d felt the sun growing hotter and hotter. Learning something about their life had taken a fair amount of time, and she’d ridden with True Hand for at least—how long?
Was he out there somewhere? Could he, too, time travel? If so, what did he think of what he was seeing? The real question was, was he disappointed in her?
He had to be.
The van pulled over to the side of the road, kicking up dust as it came to a stop. In an effort to keep from breathing in the stuff, she scrambled backward. As she did, she noticed that the sun was low on the eastern horizon, and the air felt cold.
An agitated looking Ms. Blush was the first to get out. “Really, Kayla, this is most unprofessional,” she announced. “No one knew where you were. If you hadn’t spoken to that woman, we would have no idea—what in the world are you doing?”
Kayla glanced down. Her bare legs were dirty and scratched in several places. Her tennis shoes had weeds clinging to them; her face felt gritty. She didn’t want to think about her hair, let alone touch it.
“I, uh—” She hated lying, but she couldn’t tell Ms. Blush or the others the truth. They’d never believe her. “I woke up early. I thought I’d ride out here and be waiting when you arrived.”
“And it didn’t occur to you that you’d get filthy?” Ms. Blush planted her hands with their perfectly manicured false nails on her hips. “You are I are going to have a talk about what’s expected of a model.”
“Yes ma-am.”
“I would have thought that after your performance yesterday you’d have learned your lesson. One thing you’re going to have to comprehend about the fashion world, young lady, is that irresponsible behavior will get you fired. Do you understand?”
“Yes ma-am.”
“I hope so,” Ms. Blush huffed as the others gathered around. “This is the opportunity of a lifetime, Kayla. Most girls would be bending over backwards doing what’s expected of them.”
It wasn’t fair! Ms. Blush could have lectured to her in private. The others, especially Joel, didn’t need to hear this.
Feeling all those eyes on her, she lifted her head and met Ms. Blush’s gaze. “It won’t happen again. I
promise.” She thought about adding that she was fascinated about her surroundings and letting that fascination get away from her, but Ms. Blush might find something to criticize about that, too. Although she wasn’t intimidated, neither did she want to continue this topic.
“No, I’m certain it won’t.” Eager to dismiss Kayla from her mind, Ms. Blush started ordering Brad and Joel to unload the props they’d be using. Instead of trusting them to handle the task on their own, she went with them. The two girls huddled together, occasionally sneaking glances at Kayla. She didn’t blame them for distancing themselves from her. After all, they didn’t want any of her disgrace to rub off on them.
Disgrace? Next to turning tail and running instead of doing everything she could to rescue a baby, this was nothing.
“She’ll get over it,” Rory said. He’d been rummaging around in the back of the van but now had all his equipment together and was preparing to carry it over to a large juniper bush that she guessed would serve as the background for the first shoot. “There’s a lot of pressure on her. She’s looking for someone to blame in case this gig doesn’t turn out the way she promised.”
“I didn’t think about that,” Kayla admitted. She liked Rory because nothing seemed to rattle him and wished she dared tell him that in the greater scheme of things, how a modeling assignment came out could matter less. “But I am making things hard for her.”
“Yeah, you are. Hey, don’t let it get to you. You’re a teenager. That alone explains all kinds of behavior. No one expects kids to be one hundred percent responsible, even fifty percent.”
But True Hand, who had to still be in his teens, helped feed his family and understood what it meant to be at war.
“I got carried away,” she told Rory. “The lava beds fascinate me and...”