The Land of Burned Out Fires

by Vella Munn

  ****

  The Army had moved closer.

  Kayla's legs faltered. Forcing herself to start walking again, she shielded her eyes. When she'd climbed up to what had once been a lookout spot for the Modocs, she looked out at the world. She'd given up trying to identify just how and when the change from present to past took place. Instead, she put her energies into learning as much as she could.

  The other day, at least she thought it had been the day before yesterday, the military camp True Hand had shown her hadn't looked all that organized with horses wandering loose and two of the tents only part way up, but not only did all of them look ready for use now, but there had to be at least five more than earlier.

  How many more soldiers had arrived?

  She should have asked Carol about the details of the Army's advance, but she hadn't been able to absorb any more. Carol hadn't told her about all the battles, had she? Was she looking at preparation for an attack—one that might take place while she was there?

  Her legs turned to jelly, forcing her to plop to the ground.

  “You see them.”

  Stifling a scream, Kayla whirled around. Morning Song stood behind her.

  “You—I didn't know you were here,” Kayla stammered.

  “They have moved closer,” Morning Song said. Her sad eyes were on the too-near tents. “And there are more of them.”

  “When did that happen? When was the last time you saw me?”

  Morning Song stepped to her side and knelt. Together they stared down at what was too much like a sea of men and weapons.

  “Days.” Morning Song held up five fingers. “At least that many. When you left after giving my brother the dress—I did not know if I would see you again. He has been like a trapped animal.”

  Five days? That couldn't be right—could it? “I'm sorry,” Kayla whispered. “Did True Hand tell you what happened at that farm? We could have been killed.”

  Morning Song ran her hand over her hair. “He says little. Kayla, I am sorry. I did not want you in danger.”

  I still am. “It wasn't your fault. I'm the one who agreed. Have you seen your baby?”

  Morning Song's silence gave Kayla the answer she needed but didn't want.

  “Do you think the soldiers know we're watching them?” she asked. Right now, she couldn't put her mind to what had to be the only way her new friend was ever going to see her child again.

  “I hope so,” Morning Song said spiritedly. “Let them know we are here. Let them fear us.”

  Kayla couldn't imagine armed soldiers being afraid of a couple of girls–or women or whatever they were. “What if they come after us?”

  “They will not.”

  “You can't be sure.”

  “Some tried before, but our men shot at them, and they ran away.”

  “They will try when it's winter,” she said. “But they'll get lost in the fog.”

  Morning Song stared at her. “You cannot know that.”

  Yes, I can. “Morning Song, I need to talk to Cap—to your chief and the other leaders.”

  “You? Why?”

  “I can't go into that now. Please, please help me.”

  Chapter Twelve

  As she and Morning Song walked, Kayla took note of the distance between the three caves she could see. They were far enough apart to afford some privacy, and yet so close that they were like a small community. This morning, several children ran from one rock to another, playing something that resembled tag. Despite their obvious delight, they didn’t yell or laugh. Even the cooking sounds seemed muted.

  “Are you and the others afraid the soldiers will find you if you make too much noise?” she asked Morning Song. She’d been so focused on what she hoped to accomplish; watching the children at play brought things into perspective. They were why she’d returned.

  “They know where we live. We do not want them to know what we are doing, to believe they understand us.”

  That’s what had been missing from Carol’s explanation. Nothing had been said about the Modocs' reactions or emotions when they surrendered, or later as they were being forced into a train for the long journey east. If she read books or newspaper accounts of the war, she would probably find the same disinterest in the Modocs as human beings. Back then most people thought all Indians were savages. Well, they were wrong!

  She spotted True Hand near his family’s cave doing something to an arrow. His fingers looked strong and sure, reminding her of a musician. Not smiling, he watched her approach. It was all she could do not to drop her eyes from his stare. How could he not be disappointed in her? He looked tired.

  “You still have the dress?” she asked because she couldn’t think of anything else.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m back because—” She swallowed. “I need to talk to Captain—to Kientpoos.”

  He stared in obvious surprise. “He is not here.”

  “He isn’t?” That hadn’t occurred to her.

  “He went to be with his spirit. I do not know when he will return.”

  Kientpoos was the Modoc leader. She couldn’t do anything without him there, could she?

  Not sure what to do, she sat near True Hand and studied his hands as he used a sharp stone to smooth the arrow shaft. It seemed like such a natural thing for a young Indian man to be doing–necessary because a military force was close.

  “I don’t know if you can understand why I left before,” she finally said. “And I’m not sure I can explain everything. I was afraid. I’m not going to deny that.”

  He continued working.

  “Haven’t you ever been afraid?” she demanded.

  He grunted. Morning Song sat down across from her.

  “All right, don’t answer me, but maybe, sometime, we can talk about it,” Kayla said. “But there isn’t time today.”

  “Why did you return?”

  Thrown off-balance by True Hand’s harsh question, she again studied the children.

  “True Hand? Morning Song?” she said after a brief silence. “I have to talk to your leaders. I learned something last night—I think it was last night. They need to hear it.”

  Brother and sister exchanged a glance.

  “I live in the future.” How insane that sounded! “I know things that you can’t. I’m looking back at what you’re experiencing right now, if that makes sense. That’s what I have to talk to your chief and the others about.”

  Morning Song slumped forward and wrapped her arms around her middle. Kayla thought she moaned, but she couldn’t be sure. Where was the doll?

  “No,” True Hand said.

  “No?" she repeated. You know what I’m going to say. At least you can guess. “You can’t—you can’t stop me.” The truth was, she wanted nothing more than to be forbidden to say a word. That way she wouldn’t have to tell them things that would break their hearts—and hers.

  “Kientpoos and the other leaders cannot hear your words, Kayla.” True Hand still held his arrow, but he seemed to have forgotten it.

  “Because I’m a girl? That’s crazy! I’m as smart as any man.”

  True Hand's look said he had no idea what she was talking about. “After you were here the first time, Kientpoos asked about you.”

  “He did?”

  “I told him you were from another time. That you say a spirit walks by your side.”

  “I explained about your stone,” Morning Song added. Then she dropped her gaze. “My belief that you are my only hope to get my child back. Our chief knows that you and my brother went to a ranch, and why you took the dress.”

  The dress and the mission she'd stolen it to accomplish hung over Kayla like speeding ticket—only much more important.

  “What did Kientpoos say?” she asked.

  True Hand and Morning Song exchanged another look. “He does not understand,” Morning Song said.

  “It is not that,” True Hand corrected. “A little, yes, but that is because his mind is full of what he must do to keep us f
rom being taken back to the reservation. Finding food and making sure we have water. Gathering wood, hoping a child’s cough doesn’t turn into white man’s illness.”

  The Modocs never returned to the reservation. Instead, they were torn from their homeland.

  “Kayla?” True Hand said. “It is not the Modoc way to question our world, or the world of our spirits. We know of Kumush, the Old Man of the Ancients, who went with his daughter to the spirits' underground world. While there, he saw as many spirits as there are stars in the sky and hairs on all the animals in the world.”

  Kayla's mouth fell open; she couldn't speak.

  “When night came, the spirits gathered in a great plain where they sang and danced. At dawn, they returned to the underground and lay down and became dry bones.”

  What would Joel or Rory, or even Carol and Robert Palmer think if she told them that? What would any of the people who'd written about the Modocs think?

  “I tell you this,” True Hand continued. “Because you need to understand that the world of the Modocs is like a great lake. Many, many things come and become part of it. Those things also change the lake, sometimes in ways no one can explain.”

  True Hand was confusing her, but she didn't tell him that.

  “Sacred Stone has made you part of my sister and me, but that does not mean you are part of Kientpoos.”

  “Oh.”

  True Hand put down his arrow and picked up a handful of pebbles. “My chief's world—mine too—is one of hunting and soldiers and bullets, not sacred stones.”

  “But Kientpoos can see me. Why can't he hear me out?”

  True Hand rolled the pebbles around in his palm. “These are nothing, small pieces of rock that are of no use to anyone.” He shook his head as if trying to clear his thoughts. “But sometimes stones carry magic.”

  Kayla barely reacted as her necklace became warmer.

  “While we are at war, we men cannot concern ourselves with rocks, not even sacred ones. But our shaman can.”

  According to what Carol had told her, the Modoc shaman, Curly Headed Doctor, had pressured Kientpoos into killing General Canby. Before that, he'd convinced the Modocs that the soldiers couldn't step over the red rope he'd put around the Stronghold. Apparently he'd been successful, not because the rope was magic, but because the soldiers had gotten lost in the fog. Just the same, the Modocs had put their faith in him, which had a lot to do with why they still resisted. She couldn’t blame them. After all if someone told her that she had no need to worry about something serious, that it would all be all right, she’d want to believe that person, too. But if they'd given up early in the hostilities, maybe they would have been allowed to remain on the reservation not far from the land that had always been theirs, not be forcefully shipped off to another state.

  “I know about him,” she admitted. “Last night, when I was learning...I don't know how to explain everything. If I had one of the history books—you don't read, do you?”

  Morning Song shook her head. True Hand put down the pebbles, picked up a stick and traced the capital letter A in the dirt. “One of the ranchers' religious leaders—a reverend he called himself—started to teach me. That was before things changed.”

  “If you have a chance to learn to read, please do. You too, Morning Song. It'll make things so much easier for you.”

  “Back then I had a child's curiosity, nothing else.” He sounded terribly sad. “And the reverend was patient. He did not speak of need.”

  “Maybe he had no idea what was going to happen.” She loved encouraging them to get an education. If only there was more time to tell them about the worlds that would open. “I don't want to have to talk to anyone,” she admitted, showing them her trembling hands. “But I know things your people need to. Things that might save their lives.”

  “They may not believe you,” Morning Song said.

  “It's a chance I have to take.”

  True Hand stood up, followed by Morning Song. Kayla did the same. A faint hint of wood smoke hung in the air, but she couldn't tell whether it came from the Stronghold or the army camp. From where they were, it was almost as if they could see forever. More than a hundred years from now, very little would have changed about the land but everything else would have for the Modocs. If only she could be like them, still hopeful, still believing their gods had given them this land for all time.

  “I don't know if you're going to believe this,” she told Morning Song and her brother. “But I have to say it. The time's going to come when your shaman forces Kientpoos to do something everyone will regret.” Looking down, she noticed that her hands no longer shook. She took it as a sign that she’d made the only decision she could. “As a result, the Modocs were hunted down, captured, punished.”

  Not responding, True Hand and Morning Song began walking in an easterly direction. Kayla fell in line behind them. Her stone felt warm on her skin, and she stroked it. “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “To find the man your people call Curly Headed Doctor.”

  Although she'd been sure that's what he'd say, Kayla had to force herself to keep going. Her throat felt tight. Still she knew she wouldn’t run this time.

  “You say you have been touched by the spirits,” True Hand said over his shoulder. “I cannot deny that something brought you to us. Our shaman guides us in the ways of our spirits. He will know what to do with your words.”

  If he uses them the way he should. “I hope he does,” she admitted. “If he doesn’t–“

  True Hand started to turn around, but at that instant, someone shouted in Modoc. Kayla's heart skipped a beat, and she looked wildly around. A rifle shot silenced the birds; a child cried out.

  The first gunshot was followed by another.

  “Soldiers!” True Hand yelled. Morning Song had already taken off running. Kayla started to follow but tripped and fell to her knees.

  True Hand hauled her to her feet. He said something she couldn't hear because the air was suddenly full of yelling and bullets ricocheting off rocks.

  “Follow my sister!” True Hand ordered. “Run to the caves. Hide.”

  “What about you?”

  “Go! Hide! I fight.”

  She reached for him, insanely trying to protect him, but he easily evaded her.

  “No! You could be killed,” he said.

  “So could you.”

  “I am a man.” Something struck a boulder to his left. He jumped back. “Go! Now!”

  What else could she do? Fight the army with her fists and feet? Caught between terror for herself and equal fear for True Hand, she stumbled in the direction Morning Song had gone. True Hand was running up a rise, his arrows clutched in his fists. Where was his rifle?

  A child's cry distracted her. She spotted a girl who looked eight or nine years old trying to carry a smaller child. The baby was crying and fighting to get free. Kayla ran over to the two and pulled the baby out of the girl's arms.

  “I have her,” she said. “Run, please run!”

  Her expression and tone must have gotten through because after squeezing the little one's arm, the girl took off as fast as her short, thin legs could carry her. Kayla shifted the squalling baby to her right hip and followed as quickly as she dared.

  “This isn't real,” she muttered. “Not real at all.”

  Her instep throbbed, and she was drenched in sweat. Neither of those things felt the slightest bit like a dream. Still, how could this be happening?

  She heard but didn’t see the bullet that struck the rock ahead of her. When a shard of lava slammed into the side of her neck, she thought she'd been stung by a bee, only no bee sting had ever hurt like this.

  Thank goodness! There was the cave!

  If she could keep going for another minute, she and the squirming baby would be safe.

  Something was running down her neck. She shifted the baby and tried to wipe it away, only then realizing it was sticky. She looked at her hand. Blood. Blood was definitely real!
>
  “Kayla!' Morning Song called out. “Give her to me.”

  Kayla looked down into the cave. Morning Song was near the bottom of the ladder, her arms stretched upward. Kayla dropped to her knees and leaned in. She took hold of the child's wrists and lowered her into the cave, not letting go until she was sure Morning Song had the little one. Her new friend held the baby as if she intended to protect it forever.

  “How did the soldiers get so close?” she asked Morning Song when she joined her. “I thought our guards—“

  “Our?”

  “You know what I mean. What are we going to do?”

  “Nothing.”

  That stopped Kayla. Her mouth hanging open, she watched Morning Song kiss the baby repeatedly before putting it down. The little one immediately toddled over to her older sister who was with several women. The women were listening to what was going on outside, but no one looked terrified.

  “Where are the men?” she asked.

  “Watching,” Morning Song said. Before Kayla could ask for an explanation, Morning Song told her that this wasn't the first time the soldiers had fired on the Stronghold. Today there'd been a measure of danger because Modocs had gone closer than usual to the soldiers.

  “Why did they do that? They should be more careful.”

  “We cannot spend all our time in the caves. There are nuts and seeds to gather.”

  How could she argue with that? “What about the men?”

  “They know to keep hidden. They will watch the soldiers and make sure they do not try to attack.”

  “What if they do?”

  “Then our men will go to war! It is what they want to do.”

  “Of course they do. I have seen how your brother is. But the soldiers have so many more weapons, powerful ones.”

  Morning Song briefly shut her eyes; Kayla saw her shudder. Then the young Modoc straightened. “It will do them no good,” she said. “Magic protects us.”

  The shaman's lack of magic had put children in danger. Couldn't the Modocs see that? And yet—as it possible that the shaman was using all this talk about magic to keep the warriors from taking too many chances, risking their lives?