The Dove

by Sharon Sala

“Toward water, wherever that is,” Yuma said.

  “I will see,” she said, then walked a few steps away and closed her eyes.

  At first all she could see was more land like this, then she looked farther and saw a river. She didn’t know how far away it was, but she knew which direction to take.

  “This way,” she said, pointing north.

  ***

  Yaluk was angry. They were almost an hour away from camp and still no sign of the scouts. After another half hour of walk, he stopped at a small watering hole in Chollo Pass that came from a natural spring up in the rocks. He then sent four of his men out in different directions to try and pick up a trail while the rest of them settled in to wait.

  One man saw a covey of birds hiding beneath some brush and shooed them out. As they took flight, a half-dozen of the other warriors were ready with arrows and shot them down. A full belly always shifted the mood. Before long the birds were cooking over open fires.

  The scent drew a pair of rangy coyotes who didn’t linger once they saw the men associated with the scent, and time moved slowly as they waited for the birds to cook and the scouts to return.

  One of the guards Yaluk had stationed up on a ridge gave a whistle and then pointed.

  Yaluk stood up and turned around. Even from here, he could see the dust cloud. Many people were on the move, but a long distance away. It reminded him of the time when he was young and his people had lost their water source. They had packed everybody up and moved and he had walked among the dust, choking and so thirsty he believed that he would die. But then they found the Rio Yaqui and settled. It had been a hard life, but there had been enough to be happy and live comfortably. Only Yaluk had never figured out how to be happy with what he had. He’d always wanted more.

  By the size of the dust cloud, it had to be the witch woman and her people. He had many more warriors, but not with him. Now was not a wise time to attack.

  Then he heard another whistle. The same guard was pointing in yet another direction. He turned to see one of his scouts returning. It was Yoji, the one he’d sent south.

  A few minutes later, Yoji reached the spring and fell belly down onto the edge to drink and then got to his feet.

  “Did you find them?” Yaluk asked.

  “One dead with an arrow in his belly. I do not know this tribe,” Yoji said, as he showed it to Yaluk.

  “What about the others?” Yaluk asked.

  “Found them a long distance away. All dead. No open wounds. No arrows in them. No spears, no knives had cut their bodies. Just broken.

  Yaluk frowned as the other warriors began muttering to themselves.

  “Did you see the witch?”

  “No, but many people are coming from the South and they will not reach this place before dark.”

  Yaluk frowned. He didn’t like knowing nine of his best trackers were dead. He liked it even less that they were dead without an obvious reason as to how that happened. It sounded like witchcraft to him.

  He turned to the other warriors. “Bring the food with us and put out the fires. We go back to camp now.”

  Within a few minutes they had abandoned the spring, buried the offal from cleaning the birds, scattered the ashes, and brushed away their tracks.

  ***

  The mood was somber as the New Ones made dry camp that night. Montford was feverish and in serious pain. Johnston feared the wound had an infection. Knowing one of their own was in peril made for uneasy sleep for everyone. Only the children were quiet, exhausted by the day’s events.

  Yuma and Tyhen had gone into their little tent early, but after a first sleep, they woke and made love with quiet passion. Having this physical bond was what kept Tyhen focused during the day. As long as she had Yuma to cool the fever in her blood and hold her when she slept, she could fight whatever lay in their way.

  Still basking in the afterglow, Yuma lay spooned against her back with his hand cupped against her breast.

  Tyhen could feel his joy. It was a heady thing to know she’d been loved by him since she’d taken her first breath, and even when she wouldn’t admit it, knew she would love him forever.

  Tell them to find a Yucca plant.

  Tyhen jumped as if someone had just stuck a knife in her back, which put Yuma on alert.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Adam just sent me a message for Montford. I need to get up.”

  Yuma scooted out of the tent feet first and then helped her out.

  Tyhen was scrambling, trying to pull the shift back over her head as Yuma fastened his loincloth.

  “Poison snakes here. No bare feet,” Yuma cautioned.

  “Oh yes. I forgot.”

  A few moments later they were off. It was easy to find the Nantays’ tents because they were the only ones up with a fire still burning.

  Montford was lying face up on a sleeping mat, surrounded by some of the elders who were burning sage and saying healing prayers.

  When Johnston saw them coming, he stood.

  “He has a fever.”

  Tyhen grabbed his forearm. “Adam sent a message. I’m not sure what it meant, but he said find the Yucca plant.”

  Johnston turned around. “Who here knows the Yucca?”

  One of the women sitting with Shirley stood up. “Luz Reyes. She’s Apache. She said today this place looks like where she was from.”

  “Do you know where she sleeps?” Shirley asked.

  The woman nodded.

  “Show me,” Shirley said and took off through the camp behind her.

  Tyhen could tell Johnston was scared and it showed on his face.

  “I do not want to lose my brother,” he said.

  Tell them he will not die.

  “Adam said to tell you he is not going to die,” Tyhen said.

  Johnston wiped a hand across his face, unashamed of his tears.

  “Get a torch and take Yuma. I will show you where it grows.”

  Tyhen frowned. Is it far?

  “Does it matter?”

  There is not much moon. I asked to make sure I had a torch big enough not to burn out.

  “Oh. Sorry. It is not far.”

  Tyhen rolled her eyes and turned to Yuma.

  “We need a torch. Adam will show me where it grows.”

  Yuma took off to get greasewood they’d cut earlier. It burned bright and would make a good light.

  “You two do not go alone,” Johnston said. “After what happened today, we go nowhere in small numbers.”

  Tyhen wouldn’t argue. She wasn’t afraid of the dark, but she didn’t know this land or the inhabitants.

  By the time Yuma came back with a torch, Johnston had gathered up almost a dozen armed men, half of which were also carrying torches.

  We’re ready. Which way do we go?

  “Do you see the big bear? Ursa Major?”

  She looked up at the sky, searching for that specific gathering of stars.

  Yes, I see the bear.

  “Walk toward it. I am with you as you go.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  They took off into the darkness with Yuma and Tyhen in the lead, walking in groups of three and four.

  I can see you. You look very thin.

  Montford is sick. Stop looking at my belly and look for this Yucca.

  She heard a chuckle and then nothing.

  Yuma walked beside her, but he’d given the torch to her to carry and stayed a couple of steps ahead. He didn’t want to be night blinded by the torches if something came at them from out of the dark.

  And it was a wise decision. They hadn’t gone far from camp when he heard a sudden and deadly rattle.

  “Stop! Don’t anyone move!” he said as he grabbed Tyhen by the arm.

  Everyone froze, and as they did, the warning rattle was easier to
hear.

  “What is that?” Tyhen asked.

  “Rattlesnake,” Yuma said, pointing just a few yards ahead of them.

  Johnston ran up with his torch and held it low to the ground toward the snake. Instead of striking out, the heat from the fire sent it slithering off into the night.

  “It wasn’t very big,” Tyhen said, mentally comparing it to the big jungle snakes she’d grown up seeing.

  “It was big enough. One bite of his fangs and you die,” Yuma muttered, then added. “Maybe not you, but we would.”

  She punched his arm.

  He grinned, trying to lighten the mood, and it worked. As soon as the danger had passed, they moved on.

  They’d walked almost a mile when Adam’s voice was, once again, in her ear.

  Just off to your left. Tall, spiny plant with long, thick leaves.

  “He said just to our left,” Tyhen said, pointing.

  They hastened their steps, and within a few moments Yuma saw it. “I know this plant!” he said. “My grandmother had it growing in her garden back home. It didn’t like Oklahoma weather, but she managed to keep it alive.”

  “Take the leaves, not the root, and take all you can carry. It has many uses, not the least of which is fighting fever and infections.”

  Thank you, Adam. I will tell Montford.

  “You are welcome. We miss you, but tell Yuma that Boomerang is growing.”

  I will. Tell my mother... no, tell her nothing. It would only make her sad again.

  “Safe travels, little sister.”

  And he was gone.

  “We take the leaves,” Tyhen said. “Take as many as we can carry. They have other uses.”

  They harvested them quickly then hurried back to find Shirley sitting with an older woman. Her hair was thick but short. She wore it parted in the middle and cut in a straight line across; about the length of her chin. She wore a shift similar to the others, but looser, and knee-high, lace-up moccasins

  Johnston recognized her as a woman named Luz Reyes.

  “Luz. You know this plant and how to use it for medicine?”

  She nodded. “It has many uses but the Apache use it for fever and infections. Give it to me. This won’t take long. Montford will be better by morning.”

  Tyhen knelt next to Montford and felt his forehead, as she did, he opened his eyes.

  “Little Dove, you have come to flap your wings and cool my fever?”

  She smiled. He was talking out of his head. “We brought medicine. You will feel better soon.”

  “Get some rest, my friend,” Yuma said.

  Johnston stopped them as they started to leave. “Thank you.”

  “You are most welcome,” Tyhen said. “I am grateful for wiser people than me.”

  They knew she was talking about Adam.

  “Yes, but he is there and you are here, and I am grateful for that, too,” Johnston said.

  Yuma laughed. “Agreed. Good night, my brother. Here’s hoping we don’t have to run any more foot races again soon.”

  Tyhen frowned. She had already come to the realization that the arrow that hit Montford could just as easily hit any one of the three. As sorry as she was about Montford, she was equally grateful it hadn’t been Yuma.

  Yuma held her hand as they walked back.

  Tyhen looked up at the heavens again, absently eyeing the Bear. She had known the stars long before her mother had taught her how to read. It was strange to think that sky was the same, no matter where you were when you looked up, then remembered she hadn’t delivered Adam’s message.

  “Adam said to tell you Boomerang is growing.”

  Yuma grinned. “They really used the name I suggested to name the new city? I like that! You know, the countries we all came from will no longer be called North or South America, because those are the names white men gave them.”

  She frowned. “I don’t care about the names. I just want what I’m supposed to do work.”

  “It will,” he said, and as they reached their tent, he put out the torch and laid it near the banked coals of their fire.

  They took off their moccasins, shed their clothes, and crawled back into the tent.

  Tyhen curled up on her side.

  Yuma curled up behind her.

  He heard her sigh and closed his eyes. Tomorrow would come too soon.

  ***

  Little Mouse’s heart was healing. The burns on her body had begun to grow new skin and hair was beginning to sprout on her head like new grass.

  She had cut down and re-sewn two of the dead woman’s dresses to fit her body and even had a pair of moccasins for her feet. She ate two good meals a day, had all the fresh water she needed, and slept without dreaming, happy to wake to another day of calmness.

  It had taken some time to go through the drying herbs hanging from the rafter as well as the crushed ones Nelli had stored in little pots. She didn’t know their names, but she was learning how they tasted when added to food.

  On the third day after her arrival, Chiiwi came calling. He brought her a big fish he’d caught in the river and some corn from his garden.

  “This is for me?” Little Mouse asked.

  Chiiwi nodded.

  “What do I give you in return?” she asked.

  “I asked for nothing,” he said shortly and started to walk away when she stopped him.

  “I have a question!”

  He turned around. “Then ask.”

  “I am a healer, but I don’t know your healing plants or where they grow. Meecha said you might show me.”

  He nodded. “I will show.”

  “When?”

  He hid a quick smile. “When your feet are no longer sore.”

  She frowned. “I have not spoken of my feet.”

  “I am the one who took out the thorns. It takes longer than three sleeps to make them well.”

  She sniffed. “So when you know my feet are healed, will you come take me to the plants?”

  “I will take.”

  “When?”

  He laughed, and when he did she saw his white teeth once again. “For a Little Mouse, you make a very big noise. I will be back when it is time.”

  He walked away.

  She took her wonderful fish outside and gutted it, then sliced half of it up to smoke and laid it on a flat rock near the hottest side of her fire, wrapped the other half in wet corn husks and put it in the coals to cook. She peeled back the husks on her new corn, cleaned away the silks and then pulled the green husks back up and laid them near the fire, as well.

  She would have a fine meal today and the smoked meat for another meal tomorrow.

  Afterward, she sat down and pulled off her moccasins then eyed her feet. Chiiwi was right. Her feet were not well. But they would be, and then she would go hunting for medicines with him. The idea of a trip with him made her heart skip just enough to accept that it was an interesting thought.

  She did not smell bad anymore and one day she would have hair again, and Chiiwi had fine white teeth. He did not have a woman. She did not have a man, and her teeth were still in her mouth.

  She sat down outside her dugout to watch the fire, making sure it kept an even heat to cook her fish, thinking about how far she had come from Naaki Chava and how hard she had tried to die. She was beginning to see why the Old Ones had not taken her with them. This was a different life, but it might become a better life. Only time would tell.

  ***

  The new city of Boomerang:

  Cayetano settled the city’s new name as if it had been his idea. The Twins had urged him to lay this city out in a manner similar to Naaki Chava so that when strangers came, they would see it as more than a bunch of huts scattered about the jungle in which half-naked savages lived.

  They began by clearing one long path
way and then people picking sites on either side of it where they wanted to build. As the huts went up, more paths were cleared; keeping them running either north and south, or east and west, intersecting when necessary to give it an orderly appearance.

  The chief’s new home would not be made of hand-hewn rock as had been in Naaki Chava because it was not readily available. But with the New Ones tools, they were able to saw down large trees and build substantial dwellings, the kind that would withstand strong winds and were far enough from the shore to be safe from the big waves that came with them.

  They built the chief’s residence in the shape of a long house and then built another one less grand for the warriors. The sound of construction was a constant, along with the concern of hunting and gathering enough food to keep everyone fed until they had the first harvest from the new crops being planted.

  Singing Bird had some of their better craftsmen building looms for her weavers. One trader had already found their location, promising next time he came to bring back raw wool cut from their animals and to bring them some seeds of the cotton plant to start their own fields. Clothing would not last forever and going back to curing skins did not appeal to her. She had sacrificed a lot to take her people into a better future, not throw them back into living in caves.

  The mountainous region was beautiful, but subject to ocean winds they had not coped with inland, and so life was altogether a learning experience every day. But the day Adam and Evan came in with a gift for the long house, it stunned her.

  Before Firewalker, they had never lived anywhere but on Bimini Island with Landan Prince, and yet they had devoured entire sets of encyclopedias, scanned the internet for constant sources of new learning, and above their psychic skills, she guessed their IQs were off the charts. She wouldn’t have been wrong.

  Singing Bird was inside the long house weaving mats for the floors when Adam and Evan walked in.

  She looked up smiling while eyeing Evan’s new scar and checking out Adam’s attitude. They were smiling too, which told her all was well, and they were carrying something with them.

  “What is this you carry?” she asked, eying what looked like a framed picture, which was something she hadn’t since before Firewalker.

  “It is a gift for your new home and it should be hanging in Cayetano’s throne room. When strangers come to have an audience with him, they will see the scope of what the native people own and where they live.”