by C. D. Hersh
“We’re on after the puppets. Do you want to practice?”
Melody’s hand shot into the air. “I do.”
“Rose? River?” Dakota asked.
“I’m good,” Rose said. “I can jam without practice. No problem for me.”
“Me, too. So can Dakota.”
Melody harrumphed and dropped her hand.
“Majority rules,” River said. “No practice.”
Even though she couldn’t see his face, she heard the smile in River’s voice. She twisted toward him and murmured, “Now who’s jabbing?”
“As a kid, I attended a church where we handled snakes as a matter of faith,” he whispered.
She searched his face and saw the twinkle in his eyes. “Liar.”
“Cross my heart,” he promised. Then he added, “After that, messing with this one is no big deal. Fun, in fact.”
The sparkle in his eyes made her only believe the latter part of his statement. “I think I’d better watch out for you, mister.”
“Maybe.” His joviality shifted to something darker as desire wafted from him. She moved away from the intensity of his gaze, concentrating on the puppet show.
After the puppeteers came out from behind their stage and accepted the applause, they took their places and started playing. The two guys and Melody did a decent job of singing the Peter, Paul, and Mary songs, fitting a close harmony that filled in the chords of the guitars. Her flute notes danced around them in a lyrical fashion, giving the harmonies an ethereal essence.
More than once, Dakota glanced her way with a big smile. River, too. Even Melody seemed to forget her animosity when the audience burst out in enthusiastic praise.
After their set, a number of the audience members approached them, exclaiming about their unique sound.
“Does your group have a name?” someone asked.
“No,” Rose replied. “This is our first time performing together.”
Melody hooked her arm in Dakota’s and beamed at him. “The two of us have been making music together for a while now.”
He rolled his eyes skyward, loosening her grip on him.
So much for basking in the moment. Melody went straight to man-grabbing mode as soon as the last note sounded.
Rose fit her flute into the case, tucked it into her backpack, then faced River. “You promised to show me backstage. Is now a good time?”
He slid his arm around her waist. “Never better.”
“Wait,” Dakota interjected. “I can show you—”
Melody yanked on his arm, halting his speech. Dakota frowned at her.
Good-looking and claimed. Rose sighed. “Thanks, but I think I’ll go with River.” She nodded at Melody. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for singing with us. It was groovy. I’ll remember the experience for a long time.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it.” Melody hugged Dakota’s arm. “Peace, and enjoy your time backstage with River.” She deuced Rose, holding up her index finger and middle finger in a V. Then her index finger bent backward, changing the peace sign to something else.
Ignoring the flipping-the-bird action and the sentiment, Rose looped her arm through River’s. Then she turned her back on the couple, tugging the blond hippie toward the main stage.
Dakota slapped Melody’s offending digits down. “What the freak is wrong with you?”
“She digs you. And I don’t like her.” She clapped her hands on her hips. “What was all the crap about showing her around backstage? River’s got it under control.”
“She’s a nice girl. He’s not a nice dude. First chance he gets, he’ll haul her to his van and screw her.”
“So? Half the people here are getting laid. Why should she be any different?”
“Because I don’t think she’s into that scene.”
Cocking her head, Melody studied him, a motion he’d seen her do often. It never ended well.
“I thought you just met her. Or is that a lie?”
“No.”
“Then what makes you sure she’s not into free love?”
“Just a feeling. He’s been drawing designs on Rose from the second he saw her. I don’t like it. He’s not one to hold back when he sets his sights on a fox. Even if she’s not into him.”
Her demeanor softened, becoming concerned. “You think he might try to force her?”
“Maybe.”
“Then we should follow them. I’m not crazy about her, but I wouldn’t wish rape on my worst enemy.”
Dakota breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, something from Melody besides concern for herself. Her compassion for Rose’s possible predicament ticked her up a notch in his assessment. She might be a stuck-up, jealous chick, yet somewhere deep inside she had a heart.
He hoisted his guitar case from the ground. “We’ll keep a respectable distance between us. I wouldn’t want River to know we were tailing him.”
River led Rose through the crowd to the back edge of the chain link fence surrounding the mainstage area. As they entered the fenced-in space, unfamiliar music rang out from the sound system.
“Who’s playing?” she asked a tattooed, male hippie passing by.
“Santana,” he replied.
“What’s he playing?”
“Some psychedelic, Latin-rock thing. I think he calls it ‘Soul Sacrifice.’” The man pushed his granny glasses low on his nose, peering at her over the rims. “You dig it?”
She listened to the driving beat, a cross between rock ‘n’ roll, Spanish music, and something else she couldn’t identify. Something wild and untamed. The bum, bum, bum, de bum of the drums, the five-note guitar riffs, the out-of-control screaming wobble of the guitar amps, and the shaking maracas created an exciting sound she’d never heard before.
“Yes! Can we go on stage?”
The man glanced at her, then at River. “I don’t know you two.”
River shouldered his way in front of her. “River Vanders.” He pointed at someone behind the man. “Pete will vouch for me.”
“Hey, Pete! You know this cat?”
“Yo, Vanders!” shouted the man whom River identified. “He’s cool. Let him through.”
Tattoo Man stepped aside. River waved his thanks to Pete. Then she ran up the ramp leading to the stage, with River trailing behind her.
The crowd on the stage rocked to the beat. She made her way to the side of the platform where she could see the performers. The music rumbled through the soles of her feet, transmitted by the amplifiers sitting on the stage platform. She wiggled her toes as her feet tingled from the pulsations.
The lead guitarist grooved to the five-note riffs screaming from the strings. His mouth puckered in rhythm to the cadence, his nose twitching like a crazed bunny rabbit.
River put his arm around her waist and squeezed. Excited about the music and the scene, she didn’t back away.
“This is so cool! What a turn on!”
“Glad you dig it.” His fingertips walked up her side toward her breast.
She swiveled in his grasp, forcing his hand to her back. “Do you know Santana? I want to meet him. Ask him what kind of music this is.”
“No, but I saw some people I know hanging around on the grounds behind the stage. I can introduce you to them when the set is over.”
“I want to get closer.” She stepped forward, out of his reach. Then she whirled around and faced him. “Do you feel that? The pounding rhythm against your chest?”
“I feel pounding, but it’s got nothing to do with the music.”
The leer on his face frightened her. She pony-danced away, pretending to groove to the music so he couldn’t touch her. For the rest of Santana’s set, she swayed and bounced, moving away from River each time he came close. His scowl told
her he didn’t dig her evasive movements, but no way would she stand still and let him cop a feel.
When the set finished, River hustled her along the ramp backstage where he introduced her to a few acquaintances, but no headliners. Then the rain increased, changing from a mist to a steady drizzle.
“I need to get my instrument out of this,” River said.
“Okay, I’ll catch up with you later.” She turned to leave, and he grabbed her arm.
“No. Come with me. We’ll find something to eat. I heard someone say the Hog Farmers are serving beans and rice. You hungry?”
She yanked her arm out of his grip. “I’m hungry, but if I come we need some ground rules.”
“Rules?” he echoed. “What kind of rules?”
“Stop touching me.”
“I thought you liked it. You let me put my arm around you earlier, walking to the free stage.”
“I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have done that.”
His face darkened. She prepared to bolt. Then his features softened.
“Sure, Rose. If that’s what you want.”
A sigh of relief eased from her throat. She didn’t really want to spend the rest of the weekend alone, surrounded by thousands of people. But she wasn’t on the hunt for what she thought River wanted . . . free sex.
“Okay. I’ll get something to eat with you.”
“Great.” He moved to hook her elbow, but backed off, his hands in the air, palms out. “Sorry.” He sidestepped around her. “Follow me.”
She trailed him to a white, panel van painted with peace slogans and the words “Free Love” emblazoned across the side. He opened the rear door. Then he opened the side door. Blue haze rolled from the interior. Sticking his head inside, he hollered, “Scram!”
A half-dressed couple tumbled out. “Don’t have a cow, man.” The guy zipped his bell-bottoms. “I just wanted some privacy for the chick. It’s her first time.”
River shoved his guitar case inside and jumped in the vehicle. The back doors slammed shut. The van shifted as he moved around.
Without warning, the rain grew heavier, the wind slanting the droplets across the van roof. She flattened herself against the opening to avoid the diagonal onslaught of water coming at her.
Suddenly, someone hauled her into the vehicle and slammed the side door shut. The light coming in through the front windshield illuminated River’s leering features. In a flash, he jumped on top of her, hands groping. Screaming, she kicked and punched him. He pinned her to the carpet, his knee braced on her thigh. He tried to kiss her. She turned her face sideways. The smell of weed and stale bodies embedded in the carpeting gagged her.
Shoving his chest, she screamed, “Stop!”
Yanking her hands over her head, he pressed them against the van floor. “Quit fighting.”
She tried to knee him in the groin without success.
He sneered down at her. “You think you can just tempt us and we won’t respond. It’s why all you bitches are here.” He groped her breasts. “No bra. Flaunting yourselves. You know you want this.”
“I don’t want it, and I sure don’t want you.” She raised her head from the carpet and head butted him. Cursing, he jerked his head back. Light flooded the interior as the side door flew open.
“Get off her!” a male voice bellowed.
The van tipped as someone entered and yanked River away. Rose rolled to the side and scrambled to the back of the van. The rear doors opened and Melody pulled her out, giving her a hug.
“You okay? Did we get here in time?”
She collapsed into the welcome embrace. “Yes. Thank you.”
The crunch of knuckles hitting bone sounded. Then a loud thump as something hit the van. A second later, Dakota appeared around the quarter panel of the vehicle.
“You all right?” Concern filled his voice and a frown creased his handsome face.
His arms encircled her, sandwiching her between him and Melody. Rose wanted to lean into him. However, Melody’s tight grip reminded her the girl claimed Dakota for herself. He might have saved her today, but that didn’t mean anything romantic, just heroic.
“Yes. You arrived in the nick of time.” His hug eased. She concentrated on Melody. “How did you know?”
“Dakota. He suspected River might try something, so we followed you.” Releasing her, Melody wiggled between her and Dakota. “My knight in shining armor, saving damsels in distress.”
Pushed from Dakota’s embrace, she said, “Thank you, Sir Galahad. You, too, Melody.”
Rose skirted around to the side of the van, followed by her rescuers. River leaned against the vehicle cautiously testing movement in his jaw. His head rested in the center of the O in the phrase “Free Love.” She suppressed a grin as she watched the rain wash the blood under his nose down his chin. Free love wasn’t free today, thanks to Dakota.
Circling around River, she scooped her backpack from the ground where it had fallen when he’d hauled her inside the vehicle.
“You should come with us.” Dakota motioned her toward them.
She studied him. Melody did the boa constrictor thing on him. This time she had stars in her eyes, not daggers aimed at her.
She glanced at River. Clearly, he didn’t think the issue settled.
“Sure. I’d love to hang with you two.” If River thought she was with someone who’d defend her, maybe he’d think twice about trying again.
As soon as they were away from her attacker, she’d ditch them. Spending the next two days with the man she’d thought might be her soul mate, and his obsessive girlfriend, would be a drag. Watching Jake and Starr go at it, in a full, embarrassing view of the whole Woodstock crowd, would be more fun.
But first she’d go to the lean-to, get her sleeping gear, and hunt for the stupid tree that started all this nonsense.
When she found it, she had a few choice words to say.
Chapter 6
The tree proved to be elusive. If not for the leaves in her headband, which were as fresh as the moment they fell in her lap, Rose would have been convinced she hallucinated the whole thing.
For the rest of Saturday afternoon, she wandered on the hilltop where festivalgoers camped and the crowd was much thinner than in front of the bands. At about six o’clock she ventured close enough to hear the Incredible String Band play, staking out a spot on the upper slope of the hill.
Their psychedelic folk sounds, filled with rambling song arrangements; peculiar, unsophisticated lyrics; and dissonant melodies didn’t sit well with the crowd who’d been listening to harder rock sounds all day. She, however, enjoyed the different musical styles from the Gregorian chant-like sound of ‘Invocation,’ to the twangy Scottish country sound of ‘Gather Round’ topped with pitchy, high-soprano voices. After all, music came in all forms. As a future music teacher, she wanted to absorb it all and pass a love of the sounds on to her students.
Saturday night she headed to her friends’ tent. No one else appeared, so she spent the night alone.
Sunday morning dawned sunny and breezy. Around three, Rose ventured to the tree line and tucked under the lean-to where she’d first seen Dakota, hoping he’d come by so she could thank him again for rescuing her.
She didn’t have to wait long.
“Finally,” Dakota exclaimed. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you.” He dropped to the ground and sat crossed-legged. “Where have you been? Are you doing okay?” Relief flashed over his face, and she thought his questions genuine.
She laughed. “Nice to see you, too. I’ve been wandering around on the outskirts, taking in everything. There are people everywhere.”
“I heard five hundred thousand.”
Her chest constricted. “That many?”
“You look terrified. Your claustro
phobia?” His face softened in concern.
She appreciated the sincerity she saw there. He really was a good guy. “Yeah. It’s kept me on the perimeter.”
“Then you’re not hearing the musicians?”
“Sometimes. But that’s okay. I’ve been making my own music with the folks I meet at the camps, where it’s less crowded. There are jam sessions going on everywhere.”
“Still, gotta be a drag. You came for the music. To hear the performers.”
“We all did, didn’t we?”
His lip curled upward. “Some of us came to harass people.”
“You mean River? Thanks for being there.”
“I’m glad I was.”
“I hate to think about what might have happened if you hadn’t come.” A shudder ran over her as she remembered her close call.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up. When I mentioned harassing, I was thinking of someone else.” He swiveled on the ground so his whole body faced her. “Rose . . .”
She mirrored him. Her breath caught expectantly at the tender expression on his face.
“There’s something I need to tell you.” He leaned forward, reaching his hand out to hers.
A screeching, female voice shattered the moment. “Dakota! What are you doing all the way up here? You know I hate climbing hills.”
“Melody.” His hand jerked away. He closed his eyes, shuttering the tenderness Rose had seen. When they opened again, his expression was flat and emotionless. “How did you find me?”
“Your friend River. When I suggested you might be with her, he ratted you out.” Melody sighed, then continued in a slightly more civil tone, “But she’s not why I’m here. They need you backstage. They sent me to find you.” She gave Rose a curt nod. “Since she doesn’t seem to be in danger, I’d suggest you hurry backstage before they pay someone else to do your job.”