The Soul Survivors Series Boxed Set

by Vella Munn

  "When you go to another place, they will give you another tent?"

  He didn't want to talk about going anywhere else, didn't want to think about not seeing her again. "It depends. If I'm on the move, I just take a bedroll and sleep on the ground."

  "Blankets on the ground? That is your life, Jed? As long as you are part of the army, you have no place to call your own?"

  "I haven't had anything else for so long I don't remember what it was like."

  "Once you were a boy, living with your parents in a fine home. You rode swift horses over rich land that gave your family great pride."

  "And you used to be able to climb a butte and watch the sun rise. Things change, Luash. We have to change with them."

  Despite the faint light, he saw the impact his words had had on her. Her eyes mirrored sadness and regret but also acceptance. He wondered if contemplating the turns his life had taken since childhood might make it easy for her to accept what was happening to her world. Maybe not accept but at least endure.

  "Why are you here?" he asked. "Mary speaks some English and Hooker Jim can hold his own; they don't really need you interpreting."

  "Kientpoos asked me to come. He wanted someone to study the army camp with honest eyes, not with eyes that see only what they want to."

  He nodded, wondering if General Canby or Lieutenant Gillem had any idea how formidable a foe they were up against in her uncle. "He also doesn't trust what Hooker and your shaman might tell him, does he?"

  "He knows them," she stated flatly. "I do not like it in here. I cannot breathe."

  Neither could he, not with her so close. Still, this was the only place he could think of where they would have any privacy. "You're going to be stared at."

  "You will be with me."

  You will be with me. Did she have any idea how much it meant to him to know she trusted him? How foreign it was to hear someone say that? "You kept an eye on me while I was in your camp. I guess it's time for me to do the same for you."

  She took a couple of steps toward the entrance, then stopped and turned toward him. "Your camp. Mine. There is so much standing between us, Jed Britton. If I was wise, I would not let you into my dreams."

  "I'm there?"

  Had she really said that, Luash asked herself, then faced reality. She wouldn't be standing inside Jed's tent—she wouldn't have agreed to her uncle's request—if she had not wanted to see this army man. "I should hate you, but I do not. I do not understand what I feel around you."

  He didn't say anything, and although the shadows hid much of what was in his eyes, she believed her words were echoing inside him. She wanted their words and thoughts and emotions to blend, yet was afraid that if that happened, she would never again be able to walk away from him.

  Yet she had to; they belonged to different worlds.

  "I was a fool to come here." She threw the words at him. "A fool to want to be alone with you again."

  "I'm not going to hurt you."

  He already had, although not in ways he might understand. Before she could think what she should say to him, he locked his hand around her wrist. A part of her said she should resist, but instead of trying to push him away, she flattened her hand over his chest and let his warmth and the beat of his heart seep into her.

  "I do not want to be here with you," she whispered.

  "I don't want you here."

  He was so close now that his features blurred. Only it was no easier talking to a shadow-man than it had been before. "We should have never met."

  "No. We shouldn't have."

  "I hate..."

  She was in his arms, his strong, living arms. Tilting her head upward, she waited as he brought his face closer—closer. His breath touched her nose and cheeks, brushed over her eyes and made her blink. She tried to keep her eyes open so she could study this man who should be her enemy, but it was easier to let her eyelids drift shut.

  Easier to ready herself for his kiss, easier to press her lips against his with an energy that equaled his, easier to clutch his neck with hungry arms.

  This moment was why she'd walked from the Land of Burned Out Fires to the army camp.

  And when the moment was over—

  No! She couldn't think about that!

  * * *

  "You've got folks wondering what the hell you're up to, you know that, don't you? Wondering where your loyalties are."

  Not acknowledging Wilfred's comment, Jed continued to watch Luash and the others slowly disappear from view. It was so late in the day that the Modocs couldn't possibly reach the lava beds before night. Still, he couldn't imagine them wanting to spend the night anywhere else.

  "Did you hear me? Taking her in the tent like that—what the hell was that all about?"

  "I didn't want her to get raped."

  "Raped?" Wilfred nodded, accepting the truth of Jed's statement. "Yeah, you're right."

  "I know I am. Canby and Gillem were so busy trying to figure out what Hooker Jim and Curley Headed Doctor were up to that they probably wouldn't have noticed if someone grabbed her."

  "So you decided to be her protector."

  "Yeah." But that wasn't all, Jed knew.

  "What do you think about what happened today?" Wilfred asked.

  Sighing, Jed forced himself to face his friend. "I think nothing's changed. Those Modocs came here to see what kind of a deal they could work out. They didn't like what they heard, so they left."

  "As simple as that?"

  "No, not as simple as that." Thanks to the erratic wind, he caught a whiff of roasting beef. He didn't know whether Hooker Jim had been given anything to eat and didn't care. Right now he was too angry at Captain Jack for jeopardizing Luash's safety to be able to concentrate on anything else. "And don't ask me why those braves took a chance on coming in here."

  "It was stupid, that's what it was."

  "Was it?" he asked after a moment of thought. "They needed to find out for themselves what the chance was of getting out of this mess without having their necks stretched. I guess now they have the answer to that."

  Wilfred nodded but didn't bother to bring up the obvious, and for that Jed was grateful. Curley Headed Doctor had spouted some nonsense about his magic being so powerful that no one could kill him, nonsense that Colonel Gillem had listened to but hadn't accepted. After more than an hour of roundabout conversation, the shaman had finally gotten it through his thick head that escaping justice was going to be a lot harder than he'd thought.

  Colonel Gillem could have ordered them arrested then and there; almost to a man, the soldiers were muttering that that should have been done. However, Jed knew why the Modocs had been allowed to leave.

  It all came down to politics, to a peace commission that might never get its act together but insisted that no negotiations take place without them.

  In the meantime, the standoff continued.

  And he would spend the night thinking about the few minutes he'd had alone with Luash.

  Luash, who, one way or the other, was going to have to leave the land of her ancestors.

  "So we wait, is that it?" Wilfred asked.

  "No, that's not the only thing and you know it."

  "Yeah, I do. We squeeze them and keep on squeezing until something pops."

  Chapter 12

  Spring had begun to arrive, chasing snow from the mountains and waking small animals from their winter's sleep. Luash's days were no longer filled with trying to keep herself and others warm.

  Life returned to the winter gray sage and turned it into a pale blue cloud that took her back to her childhood. If she sat without moving, a shy sage grouse might slip out from under the cloud-plant to eat sagebrush buds and leaves. She had already pushed aside the woody old growth to study the delicate flowering vegetation that grew underneath, but if those tiny shoots had any aroma, they were overpowered by the sheltering sage. When there was little breeze, she could hear quail calling to each other as if delighted to be free to move about again. The bucks wer
e growing new antlers.

  Yesterday she'd ventured away from the stronghold and picked a couple of bitterbrush flowers, the first she'd seen this season. She'd given one to Whe-cha, who had tearfully confided that she'd once again begun her monthly bleeding and despaired of ever carrying Kientpoos's child. Maybe, Whe-cha had said, constant war talk had taken away her husband's ability to place his seed inside her.

  War talk! It never ended!

  Why, Luash wondered, was it so easy for the world to keep pace with the seasons when man continued to argue as if time meant nothing? More than two full moons had come and gone since she'd last spoken with Jed. Yes, they'd seen each other since then but because there were always others around, they'd done nothing except look at each other with eyes that didn't say nearly enough, that didn't trust.

  The peace commission! How she'd come to hate those words that meant little more than gatherings without end or resolution. She hated even more feeling as if she was a prisoner in land she used to love. Although she prayed to him daily, Eagle did not always come to her, and his absence chilled her soul. Maybe, she forced herself to admit, Eagle disapproved of Jed's hold on her thoughts and emotions. And maybe Eagle's message went far deeper.

  Needing distraction, she walked over to the rocks the sentries had piled up as fortification against stray army bullets. Because the sky was' as clear as a fast-moving creek, she easily saw where army men had moved over the past few days. Some were now so close that she could make out their wagons and horses, saw that the army too had piled up rocks as protection.

  Although the main camp remained where it had always been, small groups were coming closer, shifting from one place to another, always moving and making her feel choked. Frightening her.

  They made endless demands upon Kientpoos, and no matter what he requested of the white peace commission members, they said no. Why couldn't they return to Lost River, their home, Kientpoos kept asking. But the white man's president and his advisors wanted the Modocs sent elsewhere—only where that might be kept changing.

  These days, whenever someone weary of living like foxes in a trap said they would prefer any reservation to having to spend any more time in a cave, Kientpoos would point to the mountains, a wistful look in his eyes. "Soon all the snow will be gone," he'd say. "Then we will scatter into them where no one can find us."

  In the meantime, General Canby who, along with Jed and several others, was a member of the peace commission, was pressuring her uncle to meet once again in the flimsy peace-talking tent that had been set up not far enough away from where the army waited. Maybe he would once again have to sit down with the general and the other white men, her uncle had complained. Otherwise they might guess his true plans.

  Weary of her thoughts, her fears, she pushed herself off the chunk of lava on which she'd been sitting. Absentminded, she started toward the lake before she remembered there'd been soldiers out there earlier today. How she longed to be at Lost River!

  But Jed. She needed to see him even more than she needed to stand beside the river she'd once called home.

  Instead—instead she watched warriors build even more rock walls while Kientpoos and Cho-ocks and Ha-kar-Jim argued and tension took on a taste and feel of its own.

  Not sure what she intended, she turned her steps toward Cho-Cho's cave. Earlier, she'd clambered to high ground and had been looking to see if Spirit Butte was visible when she spotted her uncle in earnest conversation with Cho-Cho, who had steadfastly remained by Kientpoos's side. Now, as she approached them, Luash sensed she was being watched. Turning, she saw Ha-kar-Jim near the dance ring. After a moment, his attention shifted from her to her uncle. Even from this distance, Luash sensed the young warrior's hostility.

  Drawing near her chief and his friend, she observed, "Ha-kar-Jim is an angry man. Maybe he wants to become chief."

  "Not angry, afraid." Kientpoos patted the rock to his right, indicating she could join them. "Despite his boastful words, he fears he will be hung."

  "It is a rightful fear," Cho-Cho admitted. He rubbed his hand over his scarred cheek. "The white man's law says murder must be avenged."

  "White man's law!" Kientpoos spat. "They say there is no longer Indian law and that we have no right to ask that the ponies the army stole from us be returned, that Aga's death be avenged, that we be given back our land. When I talk about that, they speak of when eighteen whites were killed at Bloody Point. That was before I was born!"

  Cho-Cho nodded agreement. "The wrongs between Modoc and white go back a long time."

  Luash looked for Ha-kar-Jim, but he was no longer in sight. If her uncle didn't want her to be part of this warrior talk, she'd understand, but neither man seemed to mind her presence. "Now we are rabbits who will be attacked by wolves if we leave our dens," she observed.

  "That is what I told Meacham." Kientpoos sighed and stared at the ground. "I placed my hand on his shoulder and asked him what I should do. Yes, our braves were wrong to have killed, but the soldiers should not have burned us out. Meacham talks too much like the others. All he would say was that we must come out of the rocks and that they will find a new home for us. I am to trust! Turn my weapons over to men who touch our wickiups with fire! I said I was born on Modoc land. My father was buried in the Smiles of God. I would go nowhere else."

  There was no other place, at least not in her heart. She would rather be blind than never see Modoc Lake and the country around it again.

  "Before I left," Kientpoos continued, "I told them I expect to be killed, but my body would not fall on the rocks of the Land of Burned Out Fires. Instead it would cover the bodies of my enemies whom I have killed."

  "Uncle! You did not!"

  "Do not speak with a woman's heart," he warned. "When I die, I will die a man."

  "No." She swallowed so that when she spoke again, it wouldn't sound like a whimper. "I will not let this happen."

  "What can you do that my braves have not been able to?"

  When she had no answer for him, he grunted, then continued telling Cho-Cho of the Modoc woman, Kaitchkana, who had married a white man. Kaitchkana had been to the stronghold several times, carrying messages. The last time, she'd said that the army promised protection for any Modocs who wanted to surrender, but were afraid of Ha-kar-Jim and his followers. When he'd heard that, Ha-kar-Jim had ordered Kaitchkana to be quiet. He said that he and his friends would kill anyone who turned on him. Despite her fear, Kaitchkana relayed the rest of General Canby's message. The army would never leave. The Modocs would leave the stronghold either as prisoners or dead.

  Luash, listening, felt her heart skip a beat. Kientpoos dead! No!

  Gentle young Whe-cha dead? Please, no!

  Before she could tell her uncle that the Modocs would scatter like feathers in the wind without him to hold them together, she spotted Ha-kar-Jim and the shaman walking toward them. Kientpoos and Cho-Cho immediately jumped to their feet. Luash stood more slowly, her heart drumming in dread.

  "We will meet tonight," Ha-kar-Jim announced. "Everyone. Once it is dark, we will gather at the council grounds and decide what must be done."

  "You cannot kill all the soldiers," Kientpoos insisted. "There are too many of them."

  "Maybe," Ha-kar-Jim said slowly, "that will not be necessary."

  * * *

  As soon as the short confrontation between her uncle and Ha-kar-Jim was over, Luash hurried off by herself. She wanted to go to the lake, where it had always been so easy for her and Eagle to meet, but she didn't dare expose herself with the soldiers so close. Instead, praying that Eagle still heard her thoughts, her prayers, she left the Modoc stronghold, walking slowly over the stone-hard and nearly lifeless ground.

  Lifting her head so the warm spring breeze could catch it, she searched the clean and endless sky. At dusk the air often filled with bats leaving their underground homes, but today only a few hawks and smaller birds were about. She loved the feel of the sun on her cheek, wondered briefly whether Jed was outside staring
up at the same sky, thinking about her.

  Asking himself how this would all end.

  "Eagle!" she called. "Eagle. Hear me. I need your wisdom, your comfort. Speak to me; protect me and those I love. Take us—take us back to what once was. If I must be sacrificed so they may live, so be it."

  No response.

  "I have thought on this. Searched my heart. You protect me; I am grateful for the gift. But it is better that I join my ancestors so my people can live."

  Still nothing.

  "Please. I have thought endlessly about why you do not always come to me these days, asked myself if you are telling me that the end has come for us. But if—if I can take the place of my people, I will do it."

  She saw him now, a dark dot in the distance. As he came closer, the smaller birds fled. His dark feathers shone so brightly in the sunlight that he looked wet. Arms outstretched, she sent out a silent prayer of gratitude for his appearance. Standing on a rocky outcropping, she almost believed she was on top of the world, nearly believed she could sense her grandfather waiting for her. Her end? Was that what Eagle willed?

  Eagle's wings stretched over her, but he was so far overhead that she couldn't feel the wind they created. "Please. I need your touch. What must the Modocs do? What do you want of me?"

  At her question, Eagle dipped his head until she found herself looking up into his red eyes. For an instant, her heart raced and she felt like singing. But instead of blessing her with his touch as he'd done so many times, Eagle angled his body upward and caught a wind current. Wing feathers fluttering from the breeze, he nevertheless managed to hover directly overhead until she thought her neck would break from the strain of looking up at him. Then, with a shrill cry, Eagle surrendered to the wind and flew away.