by Vella Munn
“And when a Modoc dies, he or she goes to live with the ancestors,” True Hand added.
“Oh.” Aware of how lame her response sounded, she struggled to find something more intelligent to say. True Hand still intimated her in part because he seemed so mature, but she was grateful for this time alone with him. “But—well, I was thinking about an accident my mom and I were in a couple of years ago. The road was icy. This truck driver lost control, and it slid right at us. Everything happened slow, but my mom couldn't get out of the way because her car fishtailed when she put on the brakes. I knew what was going to happen. It was like—there's no getting out of this mess so why don't we just get it over with. I don't think I've ever been so scared. And yet I was calm.”
“Truck? Car?”
Oh boy. Where do I start? “Kind of like wagons,” she explained. “Only a lot faster. What I'm trying to say is, we were going so slow I knew it wasn't going to put us in the hospital. At least it shouldn't. I was terrified but—“
“Hospital?”
Oh, man.“ Where in my time people go when they're hurt. True Hand, I’d love to show you my world just as I’ve been given some insight into yours, but right now that doesn't matter. What I'm trying to get at—I think—is that no one wants to get hurt. No one likes pain. You don't, do you?”
He glanced back at her. “A man does not discuss that with a woman. The woman knows not to ask.”
Well, excuse me. Frustrated because the conversation wasn't going where she needed it to, she just about stuck her tongue out at him. Instead, determined not to give him any reason to think of her as a child, she shifted position on the pinto's hard back. “Well I'm not afraid to admit I'm afraid. And if you ask me, anyone who says he's never been scared is a liar. You don't lie, do you?”
“I do not know the meaning of the word.”
That stopped her. As she stared at him, her heart skittered and skipped, shocking her.
“I have been told why there is untruthfulness. The army lies,” he continued. “But I do not understand why anyone would do such a thing.”
“You never told your parents something that wasn't the way it really happened or not told them something you should have? Not to fool them, but because you wanted to protect them.”
“If I kept something from them, it was because I needed to face it myself, not because I sought to hide that thing from them.”
What a beautiful, mature thing to say. Someday he’d make a wonderful and responsible husband for some lucky woman. “I hope I can do that from now on,” she admitted.
“It has not always been like that for you?”
“No,” she admitted. His eyes narrowed.
Much as she needed to explain, maybe they’d never bridge the gaps between their worlds. Besides, she needed to talk about finding the courage to face what was ahead of them.
“I meant to say this to you before,” he said after they'd been riding silently for several minutes. “I let other matters come in the way.”
Like the bow and arrows and old rifle he carried, the extra bullets. “Oh?”
“You did a courageous thing. To walk into a room that held the enemy and pick up my sister's child—“
Thank you. I needed a compliment from you. “They aren't the enemy, True Hand. Not really. That man took the baby from your mother because he was afraid he'd never have his own grandchild. He didn't want his daughter's arms to be empty.”
“So he took another woman's child?”
“I know it doesn't make sense. You'll never approve of what he did. I don't either, and yet I have some understanding of what he was going through. I guess that's what makes everything so hard.” When they'd started out, she'd been so tired she wasn't sure she had it in her to see this through, but talking to True Hand made it possible for her to think of something other than herself–mostly him. “That man doesn't know you and your people the way I do. He didn't know so many hearts would break.”
“Maybe he does not care.”
Kayla was still thinking about what True Hand had said when they neared the ranch. She supposed it didn't really matter what Raymond thought about the Modocs, and yet would things have turned out different if he'd realized a Modoc woman loved her child as much as a white woman did?
The question she knew she'd never be able to answer distracted her from paying close attention to what they were doing—that and being so tired and sore she wasn't sure which was up or down anymore. If this had been some kind of time-travel date, she’d have already told him she wanted to go home.
“Stop. Listen,” True Hand warned.
As Kayla pulled on the reins, everything come into focus. There were two additional horses around the farm house.
Horses with soldiers on their backs.
Chapter Eighteen
True Hand tied their horses to a tree. Then he told her to remain with the animals while he slipped closer to try to determine what the soldiers were up to. As he spoke, he pulled an arrow from his quiver and fitted it in his bow.
“No,” Kayla insisted. “That’s the last thing I want you to do.”
“I have no choice.”
“You don’t know that. True Hand, there’s a baby girl in there, a woman and an old man. Whatever you do, I'm going with you.”
“You are not a warrior.”
“I've been to the ranch,” she reminded him because the thought of violence still appalled her. “I know where rocks and stuff to hide behind are. Besides—“ She'd never touched his weapons before. The arrow point was even sharper than it looked. On TV and the movies, danger never felt so frightening. “Besides,” she forced herself to go on. “I don't want you to use this.” She indicated the rifle.
“My sister's life may depend on it.”
What about your life? If anything happened to you– “You're right. I'm just not used to thinking the way you have to, seeing everything as life and death. But I'm afraid that if you use your weapons, it'll make things worse.”
“Worse than what?”
“I don't know,” she admitted. They were far enough away that they couldn't hear anyone talking and only an occasional faint whinny. Her necklace heated slightly. Instead of wanting to rip it off, she was reminded of another kind of warmth. “True Hand, I returned your nephew to his family. Carried his wonderfully soft body and fell in love with him. But—” She took a deep breath, “—I haven't finished what I came here to accomplish.”
“I do not want you in more danger. I do not want you here.”
“I know that, but along with everything else, I love your sister.” She didn't add that she felt responsible for what had happened to Morning Song. Or that she'd never be able to face herself if she quit now.
Or that she needed him to be proud of her.
True Hand kept reminding her to remain close to him. Any other time she would have resented being ordered around by someone only a few years older than herself, but what did she think she was, a rescue expert? He was the one who’d grown up having to think of soldiers as the enemy and preparing for that kind of life. Strong, sure, wise in ways she was still comprehending, but deeply admired. At the same time, she had a task she was determined to accomplish, no matter how dangerous.
Because she’d removed the dress and changed into the jeans she’d brought with her, it was relatively easy to crawl on hands and feet. She tried to think of something offhand to say about what she was doing, but their mission was much too serious for that. She’d been afraid the soldiers and ranchers would be on the alert for danger, but from the outbursts of laughter she heard once they’d gotten closer, she decided that wasn’t the first thing on their minds.
Kayla caught her breath, and True Hand gripped her wrist when the door opened and Morning Song, her hands tied behind her, stepped outside. Raymond had hold of her, but what concerned Kayla the most was the way her friend’s head hung down.
“She’s given up,” she whispered to True Hand. “She doesn’t care what happens to her.”
“No wonder she’s depressed,” she said. “To come so close to having her baby back, only to have this happen…”
“I kill.”
“No!” She’d never put so much force behind a whispered word. The four men were talking, even laughing occasionally. Morning Song paid them no attention, and Elizabeth hadn’t made an appearance. “I—we have to plan...”
“Plan what?” he prompted.
What could she say? It wasn’t like she was a military or rescue operation expert. He was the expert in such things. One thing she did know. Getting Morning Song, True Hand, and herself out of here alive without creating an international incident mattered a great deal.
“If we try anything right now, we’ll be up against four men, two soldiers, and the ranchers,” she pointed out although of course he’d already thought of that. “If William or Raymond see me, who knows what they might do. They must hate me for taking the baby.”
True Hand nodded. His gaze ever left his sister.
“Why are the soldiers here?” she asked.
“Maybe they had been sent to check on ranchers in the area. It has happened before. Then when they saw my sister...” As one of the soldiers dismounted and started toward the horse corral with William, True Hand clenched his jaw. He looked so distant and focused on what was happening, vulnerable and brave at the same time.
Kayla and he watched silently as William entered the corral and slipped a rope around a horse’s neck. “They will take my sister with them,” True Hand said, his voice tight with emotion. “To the fort.”
Kayla clamped her hand over her mouth. After glancing at her, True Hand started inching forward. Alarmed, she grabbed his wrist. “No!”
“She will die in that place. I will not let that happen.”
“I—listen to me, please. Maybe I don’t know what I’m saying or thinking. If this sounds crazy, tell me, but if we wait until the soldiers leave with Morning Song, we’ll only have to deal with them, right?”
He studied her for several seconds, touched his fist first to his chest and then to hers. “You have a warrior’s heart.”
She prayed he was right. Prayed she was worthy of his praise.
****
Morning Song hadn't fought them as the two soldiers lifted her onto the extra horse, and although Elizabeth stood in the doorway as the military men rode away with their captive, Morning Song hadn't looked back at the other woman. Her downcast and defeated appearance was almost more than Kayla could stand to watch, and she could only guess at how Morning Song’s appearance affected her brother, but she reminded herself that the soldiers might relax if they thought they had an easy task ahead of them. True Hand had been right about their destination because they immediately headed in the direction of the fort.
Because they didn't dare risk drawing attention to themselves by riding their own horses, she and True Hand had hurried after the trio on foot. Fortunately, the soldiers didn't seem to be in any hurry. Kayla was grateful for the time she'd spent as a member of the track team, and True Hand handled himself as if he could walk or run for hours.
Come back to my world with me, please!
The area was pretty open with only a few widely-spaced trees. Although she trusted True Hand to stay at a higher elevation with brush and rocks providing protection, that wasn't getting them close to his sister. Just the same, she didn't say anything until she believed they were far enough away from the ranch that the sound of a rifle shot wouldn't carry. Every time the question of what in the world she thought she was doing surfaced, she forced it down. Neither did she allow herself to think about her own life. Sweat beaded on her forehead.
“Do you—do you think this is going to work?” she asked, trying to keep from sounding breathless. “I know it's what I said we should do, but—“
“You were right. Two are easier to fight than four.”
“I hope you're right. True Hand, I'm white.. What if I get close to them, walk up to them the way I did with the ranchers? Maybe I can catch them off-guard and free Morning Song before they know what's going on.” And how do you think you're going to do that?
“The ranchers will have told the soldiers about you. They will not trust you.”
Not trust? She, who'd never been late with a library book or cheated on a test? Her head pounded.
“They're more likely to let me get close than you,” she pointed out. “I have to try. Don’t you see? Violence has to be the last resort.”
He'd been leading the way so when he abruptly stopped, she ran into him. He grabbed her shoulders and stared at her. She wondered what he saw, what he thought.
“They will stop to rest before they reach the fort,” he told her. “There is a creek where soldiers water their horses. I will do what I must to free my sister. Whatever that is, you will not try to stop me. I have spoken.”
True Hand's words continued to repeat themselves inside Kayla as she concentrated on keeping pace with him and not losing her footing. The intensity in his eyes had scared her, and yet how could she argue with a man determined to save his sister's life? After all, she'd risked her own life when she rescued the baby. If only she'd managed to get away from the ranch without Morning Song having to get involved!
Being captured.
****
She was wondering how much longer she could keep up the pace True Hand had set when she spotted a clump of what she thought were willow trees. Not only that, unless her eyes were going bad, the grass and bushes near the trees were actually green.
“The creek?” she asked. As out of breath as she was, that was all she could get out.
He nodded. “We must listen. There may be other soldiers.”
She hadn't thought about that, yet more proof of how much more competent he was. No matter how many ways she turned it around in her mind, she couldn't think of a way to get Morning Song away from the soldiers. Of course if those men were dead—
Was that why True Hand had ordered her not to try to stop him? Because despite her argument about needing to find a peaceful solution, he was going to kill the soldiers? But what if they killed him first?
Was this really happening?
A look at True Hand supplied the answer. They were in this together.
Because of the noise the horses made, she couldn't tell if the creek made any sound. It was just as well, because if she heard it gurgling, thirst might get the better of her. Crawling closer and closer with True Hand, she was half angry at him because he didn't seem at all bothered by the fact that they hadn't had anything to drink for hours. If only she had enough water that she could stop thinking about that how dirty and sweaty she was.
“No wonder people stop to rest here,” she whispered when he indicated they'd gone far enough. “It's a beautiful spot.”
“Once my people brought mares here to foal,” he replied. He sounded gentler, perhaps because he’d embraced peaceful memories. “We stayed with them to protect the babies from cougars and wolves, but it is a good place for newborns to grow strong.”
But the Modocs couldn't do that anymore because people who didn't belong had claimed the slow-moving creek and well-nourished grasses that grew around it. The willow trees danced in the wind; the silvery leaves made a peaceful rustling sound. She'd give anything to have a camera, especially if Modocs and their horses were here. Studying True Hand, she admitted that her first shot would be of him.
True Hand had been looking around a thick bush as the soldiers dismounted and then one pulled Morning Song off her horse, but when Morning Song stood where they'd left her, he sank to his knees. Not sure what had happened to him, Kayla started to ask if he was all right. He didn’t answer but only muttered something she couldn’t catch. It slowly dawned on her that he was praying. Not wanting to disturb him, she concentrated on keeping her own bush between her and t
he army men. Thank goodness, there weren't any others around. Just the same, who knows when someone might show up.
“Hear my song, my spirit,” she heard True Hand say. “Look into my heart and see that I am one of the People. My faith is strong. Eagle walks beside me because I humbly came to him. Long have I been grateful for Eagle's protection, but today...today I need it as never before.”
He fell silent, his head bowed, and his hands resting on his knees. He'd put down his rifle and bow and arrows. He looked so peaceful at this moment, a man accepting his world. She couldn't say she felt the same way, and yet her nervousness had subsided a little.
A few moments later he stood up, grabbing his weapons as he did. He slung the bow and arrows to his back. So much for peacefulness.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. He didn't answer.
“True Hand, what are you going to do?”
“Stay here.”
“No, I—”
“I go to bring my sister home.” He squared his shoulders and briefly studied the horizon.
When he walked away from her, several seconds passed before she fully comprehended what he'd done. She hurried after him, unable to see anything except the rifle.
Catching up to him, she didn't make the mistake of trying to stop him again. Instead, she kept pace behind him.
Mom, Dad, I love you.
Chapter Nineteen
True Hand dropped back onto his hands and knees, a glance telling her to do the same. By his expression, she could tell he didn't want her here, but at least he wasn't ordering her to leave. She'd give anything to feel as calm as he looked, but that wasn't possible.
They crawled so close that she could hear the horses chewing and every word the two soldiers said to each other. She was surprised the men hadn't sensed their presence, but maybe if she was a member of an army that outnumbered their enemy by ten to one, she'd feel pretty safe herself. Unfortunately, she was one of the outnumbered enemy and didn’t want it any other way.