by Vella Munn
How wise he was. “No, I can't,” she admitted. “But I feel so helpless.” She blinked as tears stung her eyes. “I hate what I know is going to happen to your people. The loss and heartbreak—being torn from this land.” More tears formed; this time she didn't try to stop them.
“Taken from here?” he whispered.
“Yes,” she managed.
He didn’t respond for a while. Then, “You are not Modoc. Why does it matter so to you?”
How could she answer something she barely understood? “Maybe it’s seeing you and the others here. This beautiful, rugged land is right for you. You understand it. I believe it understands you.”
“Our spirits are here.”
That’s what it all boiled down to, wasn’t it? She held onto her necklace and took comfort from its smooth, hard surface. “I feel as if I’m watching someone drown,” she told him. “But I can’t do anything about it.”
A faint sound caused her and True Hand to turn. His hand went to the knife at his waist, but only until he recognized his sister.
Watching Morning Song approach, Kayla realized she hadn’t really looked at her for a while. Earlier today while they waited for True Hand to return, she felt as if they’d become sisters. Now, although she carried her doll, Morning Song looked much older than her sixteen years. Of course she did. She was probably a widow, a mother without a child.
“I could not sit and wait,” Morning Song explained. “I had to know if you were safe.”
Kayla wasn’t sure which of them she was talking to, maybe both. “I’m sorry,” she said. “We should have come back, only...” She gestured toward the soldiers.
“Kientpoos did not believe you?” Morning Song asked.
“I cannot say. Maybe a little bit,” True Hand said. Then he filled his sister in on everything that had happened. Morning Song gasped when he described how the shaman had threatened Kayla.
“He is so full of himself,” she said. “He believes he is all-powerful.”
“Maybe he just hopes he is,” Kayla said, giving the shaman the benefit of the doubt. After all, Curly Headed Doctor was under incredible pressure to keep his people safe; she just hadn’t thought about that before.
“Are you hungry?” Morning Song asked Kayla. “I—I should have brought something, but I did not think of it until I was nearly here.”
“You have so much on your mind. I don’t expect you to concern yourself with me, too.”
She thought the young Modoc might protest, but Morning Song only held her doll with one hand and brushed her hair from her face with the other.
Morning Song, her friend, should be embracing her child, not reeds and rope.
****
The woman rancher's dress was too long and the high neckline felt tight around Kayla's throat. She gathered the skirt in her hands and lifted it, showing Morning Song her tennis shoes. “I can't let these show,” she said. “but my feet aren’t tough enough for moccasins. I feel every rock and sticker. Well, what do you think?”
“I have never been close to a rancher,” Morning Song explained. “I do not know what they look like.”
“Your skin is too smooth.” True Hand had sat nearby watching while his sister and Kayla piled her hair on her head in what Kayla hoped was a style that wouldn’t look too strange to the ranchers. Now he came closer and peered at Kayla. “The wind has not attacked your skin. You are not sunburned.”
“I feel sunburned.” Kayla wrinkled her nose.
“New burn, yes, but there is no deep tan.”
He had a point and after discussing it, they decided to do what they could with a little dirt. Kayla closed her eyes and tried not to think about what was happening as Morning Song rubbed dust over her exposed skin. She tried to remember whether she'd put on makeup this morning. Even if she had, sweat had probably put an end to that.
“It feels awful,” she admitted when Morning Song was done. “I'm filthy. My kingdom for a shower.”
“Kingdom?” True Hand said.
“Shower?” Morning Song asked.
“Never mind.” Kayla wrinkled her nose again. “But I think you two could get used to the shower business. All right. I'm ready.”
“You are sure?” True Hand asked.
No, I'm not sure. I'm scared to death. One look at Morning Song stopped her from admitting that. Darn it! Hadn’t she gotten past shaking in her shoes? Her friend's face was alive with emotions—hope and fear, dread and sorrow, most of all the desperate need to believe. “Yes,” she said. “Let's roll.”
“Roll?”
Despite her knotted stomach, she laughed at True Hand's confusion. “Never mind.”
She and True Hand had started toward the ladder when Morning Song stepped in front of her brother. “No.”
“No?” True Hand tried to move his sister aside, but she refused to budge.
“You will stay here,” Morning Song said. “You risked your life once today. I will not let it happen again.”
“Kayla cannot go after your child alone,” he pointed out through clenched teeth. “If there is a fight, she will need a warrior by her side.”
“No, not you. Listen to me!” Morning Song insisted. She sounded desperate. “Our parents grow old. They and the rest of our family need your strength and courage, your hunting skills. Your knowledge of the enemy. My life has less meaning.”
True Hand shook his head so adamantly that his hair flew about. His eyes darkened and glittered at the same time. “Your child needs you.”
“Brother, my arms are empty. You think you understand what it has been like for me, but you cannot! Until they are full again, I do not care whether my heart beats. You must let me do this thing. Me. No one else.”
“You are not a warrior,” True Hand repeated.
“I am a mother. My child needs to know that I took him back from the enemy. Me, no one else.” Morning Song grabbed Kayla's arm. “You have the courage to do this thing,” she said. “I can do nothing less than walk with you.”
True Hand hadn’t given up easily. He’d still been arguing that two young, untested women couldn’t possibly succeed in a rescue mission in enemy territory when his and Morning Song’s mother had joined them. Because she’d insisted on speaking privately with her children, Kayla didn’t know what the older woman had told them, although it was clear that he was still concerned about his sister’s safety, True Hand had given Morning Song his knife and selected another for Kayla.
“Take my strength with you,” he said as Kayla tried to get used to the weight and purpose of what she was holding. “And my warrior’s spirit.”
Once they were on their way, Morning Song explained that their mother had gotten through to True Hand by telling him that her daughter had been without her child for a long time and was full of courage that came from that loss. Because she’d lost her husband, without her child, Morning Song had little reason to go on living.
“Is she right?” Kayla asked. “You aren’t afraid?”
“I cannot think of fear. Only holding my son matters.” Morning Song pressed her hand over her heart. “My brother gave me a gift,” she whispered.
“A gift?”
“His spirit.”
Once again Kayla felt on the brink of tears and wished there was some way she could thank True Hand for putting his sister’s need to prove her love for her child above his own need to protect and defend those he loved. Stepping aside must have been so hard for him. Try as she did, she couldn’t come up with a scenario that would call for that kind of understanding between herself and her brother.
Kayla softly repeated what Morning Song had said about not allowing herself to acknowledge fear as they headed to the ranch where the baby was being kept. She hoped True Hand had been right about his warrior spirit accompanying them; right or wrong, she half believed him. The unaccustomed skirt drove Kayla crazy, but it wasn’t enough of a distraction.
What was she doing here? She belonged in front of a camera dressed in the latest
fashions, remembering what it had felt like to care about what she wore. Time had to be passing in today’s world. Somehow she’d have to explain her absence—if she ever got back. And how would her parents cope if she didn’t?
More than a little scared despite the pep talk she’d given herself, she snuck a glance at Morning Song. Occasionally, like when she was playing with children, her Modoc friend looked about ten years old, but most of the time, her eyes had a haunted look as if she’d been forced into a nightmare. So much for the stoic Indian stereotype. Beneath the surface, they weren’t different from anyone else.
How would it feel to have a baby, and then have that baby ripped from her arms? All right, so the baby hadn’t been literally pulled out of Morning Song’s embrace but just about. Not only that, Morning Song didn’t know whether her husband was dead or alive—and might never know what had happened to him.
It was all too much!
Only, Kayla angrily reminded herself, it wasn’t. This was no horror movie. These incomprehensible things were happening to Morning Song and her people. Fortunately, or unfortunately, they didn’t fully know what the outcome would be. But she did and that made it even worse.
“I do not want to speak of this, but I must,” Morning Song said. “For too long I could not think beyond myself. You entered my life, and I prayed you would be the answer to my prayers. But you risk your life.”
“I’m pretty tough.” Kayla deliberately didn’t meet Morning Song’s eyes. “I used to be on the track team. I’m a fast runner.”
“You were injured today.”
“In—oh, this.” She touched her neck. The scratch had scabbed over. “Shoot, I got hurt worse than this rough-housing with my brother. I never did learn. I kept thinking I could pin him, even though he’s four years older. Now I tell him he’s going to get old before me, and when he does, I’ll grab his cane and beat him up with it.”
“Do not do that.”
About to ask for an explanation, Kayla wound up nodding. Morning Song was right; this was no time to joke.
“I don’t like having to say this,” Kayla admitted. At the moment, the terrain was level enough that they could walk side by side. Although they were far from the army camp, they kept their voices low. “It isn’t easy to admit it, but I’m scared.”
“A spirit does not know fear.”
“I’m not a spirit. Don’t you understand that? I don’t understand what happened with the necklace and all. Maybe I never will. What I do know is that I’m an ordinary, everyday teenager who’s somehow been sucked back in time.”
“No, you are not.”
“What am I then?”
“I am not sure. You have changed since I first saw you, become stronger. When you left the last time, I told myself you would not return, but my heart did not believe that. I remembered the look in your eyes, the courage. My brother carries the same courage.”
Kayla had become almost accustomed to having her looks complimented. Although she tried not to let it go to her head, she liked hearing those compliments. And it made her feel more than a little good when a teacher commented favorably on her grades, but her courage had never been singled out. It felt wonderful! Scary but wonderful.
Let’s roll.
Like she had a choice.
****
The sun was setting by the time they reached the rise that overlooked the not particularly well-built house where Morning Song's baby had been taken. Kayla's stomach had started growling, and she thought she heard Morning Song's doing the same. Just the same, loud hunger pains could work to her advantage when it came to convincing those people to let her in.
“I wish it wasn't so late,” she admitted.
“Perhaps it is not where you came from. Perhaps time has stopped and is waiting for you.”
“That's not what I was talking about. I don't like the idea of having to make our way back to your people in the dark.”
“You do not like the dark?”
“It's not my favorite thing. When True Hand and I were separated, having to wait for him to find me was pretty awful. It doesn't bother you?”
“I cannot think of the bad spirits that sometimes wander at night. I must think only of getting my child back.”
Bad night spirits? What was that about?
Throwing off the question, Kayla tried pressing her hand against her stomach. Unfortunately, that did nothing to satisfy it. At least they'd brought water.
“I've been thinking about what I should do,” she admitted. “How I should approach those people, and what I can say to convince them to let me inside.”
“I go with you.”
“No, you can't!”
“I must,” Morning Song protested. “This is my child.”
Kayla reached out and squeezed her friend's knee. If—no, when they got back—she'd tell True Hand that she'd had a dose of his sister's stubborn streak. “I know,” she said. “Believe me, I haven't for a moment forgotten that. And I understand why you’re thinking the way you are. I just wish you’d mentioned it before. If you show up on their doorstep, do you think they'll trust either of us?”
Morning Song didn't say anything.
“No, they won't. They'll grab us and take us to the soldiers.” She paused. “They might even kill you.”
“I am as dead now.”
“No, you aren't! Your heart is breaking, but as long as your child is alive, you have the most important reason in the world to go on living.” She waited a moment so hopefully the words would sink in. “You know that's why True Hand didn't insist on coming. He knows how much this means to you.”
Morning Song buried her face in her hands.
“I'm sorry. That's why I'm here. To do what I can to take away that pain. You have to stay here. When I return with your child, I'll hand him to you, and we'll take off like a couple of scared rabbits.”
“Run in the dark?”
“You bet we'll run in the dark.” I'll be too scared to walk. “All right, what I think has the best chance of working is if I walk right up and knock on the door, like I have every right to. I've learned a little about acting during my short and unremarkable modeling career.” She chuckled. “I'll lay it on, convince them I'm exhausted and lost. Ask them to take me to the soldiers so they can help me find my family.”
“You cannot go to the soldiers!”
“Of course not, but they don't know that. They’ll expect me to want to be where I feel the safest. But it's night. They're not going to saddle up their horses or hook up a buckboard or whatever they have until morning. They'll give me something to eat—I'll look so pathetic they'll take pity on me.” She patted her hair. No doubt about it, the style she and Morning Song had come up with gave new meaning to the word disheveled. “Then I'll wait until whoever lives there falls asleep and sneak your baby out of there.”
“What if you fall asleep?”
“I won't.”
“What if they try to stop you?”
Chapter Fifteen
Kayla lifted her hand to knock on the rough-finished door. Instead, feeling overwhelmed, she let it drop to her side. What made her think she could convince anyone that she'd gotten lost from her family, that total strangers should take her in, or that she belonged in the 1870s? Anyone with half a brain would throw her out on her ears or haul her off to the authorities, namely the army. How could she expect anything different?
Because, she angrily reminded herself, if she didn't do everything she possibly could, Morning Song might never see her child again. She'd promised, darn it! She'd promised! For the first time in her life she'd do something dangerous and courageous. She loved Morning Song and wanted mother and child to be together.
Strengthened by the simple, yet powerful thought, Kayla stroked her stone, then tapped on the door. A moment later she heard footsteps. She stepped back and to the side so whoever was opening the door could easily see her. Light from the lantern she spotted on a table behind the older man standing in the doorway spilled o
ver her. He looked old and tired.
I'm not Kayla Stephens, she told herself. I've become who I must be.
“Yes?” the man said.
“Please sir, I beg you, please help me.” She took a step, then staggered.
“What are you doing out here?” the man asked, sounding concerned.
“I'm lost. I saw your place from—“—” She pointed vaguely. “I was so afraid I would have to spend the night outside. And with the Indians...” She shuddered.
“Papa, what is it?” a woman asked from inside.
“A girl. Where are my manners?” The man opened the door as wide as it would go. “Come in my child,” he said gently. “Come in.”
Thrown off balance, Kayla could only stare at him. She'd expected to have to cry and beg. After all, in her world, people didn't invite other people they didn't know into their homes, and this man didn’t look strong enough to fight off anyone.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Sure?”
“Certain,” she amended, worried that her modern speech would give her away. “It is all right?” She remembered to act as if she was on the edge of exhaustion, which she was getting close to. “I mean you no harm.”
“Of course you do not, child.”
A tall woman had come to stand behind the man. Now she pushed past him. She held a lantern, making made it possible for Kayla to see her face. She looked to be in her mid-thirties, rather plain with long, straight hair that hung down and needed washing.“Where is your family?” the woman asked. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?”
“I pray they are all right.” Kayla let her head sag.
“Papa, help me get her inside.” The woman took Kayla's elbow. Her grip was strong.
A minute later, Kayla was sitting in a rough-finished wooden rocker near a small rock fireplace. From what she could tell, the house had two bedrooms in addition to this small living room, and an adjacent kitchen that was so small she doubted that more than one person could work in it. She couldn't tell if there was a bathroom. Most likely they used what she'd assumed was an outhouse behind the main building. The wooden floor looked fairly smooth, but she wouldn't want to walk barefoot on it. Several oval rag rugs covered it in places. There were two uncomfortable looking straight-backed chairs which were also close to the fireplace. A man about the woman's age sat in another rocking chair.