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Dear Reader
I hope you enjoyed Book 6 in the Yellowstone Romance Series, Yellowstone Origins. Book 7 is in development, and is titled Yellowstone Legacy. (Please enjoy the prologue at the end of this letter)
It’s been three years (September, 2012) since Yellowstone Deception was published. I honestly thought the series had come full circle with that book. Other than a few novellas to revisit some of the characters and see what’s going on in their lives, I didn’t think I’d be writing more books in the Yellowstone Series.
Well, it seems that you, the readers, had other ideas. You wanted more. When I wrote the novella, A Yellowstone Promise, I opened the door to really explore the backstory behind the series, stuff that I had in my author notes, but took out of the final versions of Heart Song and Redemption. I hinted at it in Deception, then brought it further into the story in Promise.
I still wasn’t sure, after finishing Promise, that I was going to write any more stories that deal with the time travel aspect of the series, but I had readers begging me to keep it going. I finally relented.
After a year of story mapping and planning, I’ve come up with three new stories in the Yellowstone Series, which will fully expand on all the backstory I have in my notes. Yellowstone Origins is the first of those three.
The Tukudeka - Eaters of Sheep - a group of Mountain Shoshone who inhabited regions of the greater Yellowstone area for thousands of years before the first white man laid eyes on the area, play a prominent part throughout the Yellowstone Romance Series. My idea for the time travel element as used in the series originated with the Sheepeaters’ beliefs in a hierarchy of spirits they called sky, earth, and water people.
The idea of the snakehead device, and that the “Sky People” are the guardians of the Yellowstone area and hold the power of time travel, is strictly from my imagination, and used purely for entertainment purposes in my books.
My main source of information about the Sheepeaters, their customs, beliefs, and way of life, comes from a book titled Mountain Spirit – The Sheepeater Indians of Yellowstone, written by Lawrence L. Loendorf and Nancy Medaris Stone.
Cameahwait was an actual historical figure, but in this story, I used the name fictitiously. It does translate to “He Who Never Walks,” but that’s as far as the comparison goes. Cameahwait was a Lemhi Shoshone chief ( Akaideka, or salmon eater), and he was the brother of Sacajawea.
As always, I couldn’t do it without the help of Barbara Ouradnik, my developmental, copy, and line editor
And my team of beta readers: Heather Belleguelle, Lisa Bynum, Sonja Carroll, Shirl Deems, Becky Fetzer, Cissie Patterson, Hillarie Smith, and Renee York
Cover by: Collin Henderson
Yellowstone Legacy Prologue
Matunaaga ran through the snow, as fast as anyone could run through deep powder. He sank in the drifts, calling out to the old man repeatedly. Why was he out in this weather? He would die.
Naatosi, dressed in a layer of ragged furs, labored through the deep snow. He stumbled several times, and it became harder for him to get back on his feet each time. Mat tried to close the distance between them to come to his aid, but it was futile. Naatosi remained just outside his reach.
The wind blew fiercely all around him, sending the snow blowing sideways. He leaned heavily into the gale, keeping his head down, and continued to move forward with each determined step.
Through the howling of the wind, a different sound echoed through the mountains. Mat’s hair whipped around his face. The old man had heard it, too, and glanced over his shoulder. He set his mouth in a determined line. His feeble hand reached for something around his neck, clutching it tightly. He stared off into the distance, squinting his eyes, and continued on his mission.
The howls grew louder, and he hastened his steps.
“You’re an old fool,” Mat called out to him. “You’re going to die.”
The drifts became deeper, and the elder’s frail body sank nearly to his waist in the white powder. He stumbled, his body sinking deeper into the frigid snow. A low moan escaped his lips, and he struggled to stand. The effort proved futile.
Mat cursed, and labored through the snow to reach him.
“What is so important that you have to be out in this weather?” he called, his voice full of anger.
The wind made his words impossible to hear. With every breath, the frigid air stung like the blades of a knife in his chest. Naatosi was dressed in far fewer layers than he. Surely, he felt the bite of the cold even more.
Ragged breaths escaped the elder’s mouth, and he gave in to the forces of the winter storm, dropping deeper to a certain death. He seemed to be determined that the snow would be his grave. He glanced up and over his shoulder again, as if he was expecting someone to be following him.
Mat reached for him, but he couldn’t get any closer. The old man moaned.
“I’ve failed what I’ve set out to do.”
Mat strained his ears to hear. Despair was evident in the old man’s eyes. A shadow passed above him, and Mat straightened. He strung his bow in defense. A man, dressed in thick layers of furs and hides, leaned over Naatosi.
The man knelt beside him, staring down at him. A faint smile passed over Naatosi’s face.
“All is not lost,” he whispered. “I may yet complete my mission.”
Mat shook his head. Why could he hear him so well, even over the howling wind? The other man’s gloved hands hastily swiped away the layer of snow that had fallen on the elder. He was able to do what Mat couldn’t.
“Help me,” Naatosi rasped in the language of the Tukudeka.
“I will do what I can for you, Grandfather,” the other man said, lifting the old man’s body out of the snow.
His rescuer bent over him, and hoisted him onto his shoulder. The old man clung to him while his helper trudged through the snow, following along the banks of a nearly-frozen river. Mat followed on their heels. Neither the white man nor Naatosi had seen him. After what seemed like an eternity, a small cabin came into view.
When they reached the cabin, the door swung open almost immediately, and a woman’s relieved voice greeted the man. A long, dark braid dangled down her back, and her belly was swollen heavy with child. Her face lit up at the sight of the man, and her arms reached out to give him a welcoming embrace.
Mat followed them inside. Naatosi was gently lowered to the ground next to a fire, and it seemed to slowly thaw his frozen body. Mat glanced at the man and his wife. The man spoke to her, his voice filled with concern. She lay on the only bunk in the cabin, her face flushed with sweat, and her swollen abdomen rising and falling with each rapid breath she took.
Naatosi struggled to a sitting position, and looked at the couple. He smiled. Mat tilted his head. Naatosi spoke, but his lips didn’t move.
Yes, I am not too late. I will finish what I set out to do, and all will be as it should. My role to save the sacred mountains will be complete.
Mat frowned. “What are you talking about, Naatosi?”
“You have saved this old man’s life,” Naatosi croaked, this time talking to the man who’d come to his aid. He fumbled with the pouch hanging around his neck. “This holds the key to saving your child. If you do what I tell you, perhaps one life can be saved.”
The man looked incredulously at Naatosi. “What help can you give me that will save my wife and child,” he asked in disbelief. Naatosi removed an object from the pouch. Mat eyed the object in Naatosi’s hand, the sacred vessel. The elder held it out to the younger man.
“This is one of the Sky People’s most powerful magical objects,” Naatosi spoke slowly. “It must be kept secret. It may save your child’s life.”
“How is a snake head going to save my wife and child?” the man wondered again. “The freezing temperature must have affected your head.”
“This snake has magical powers.” Naatosi stared at the object in his hand. “It has the ability to transport you to another time and place. It can only take you forward in time and bring you back to your own time. It will not change your past unless it is the will of the Sky People, but it can help you with your future. Touch the snake’s right eye, and you will travel forward in time by two-hundred years. When you want to return to this time, touch the left eye. It is very simple.”
The woman cried out in agony at that moment. Naatosi slowly stood and hobbled to her side. Her husband gently wiped her sweat-soaked face with a damp cloth.
“She has but little time left, I fear,” Naatosi said quietly. “Listen to me, my son, and listen carefully. I know you do not believe me, and I understand. It is not an easy thing to comprehend unless you have experienced it yourself. The future holds nothing good for my people. I have seen what the coming of the white man will do. The sacred mountains of the Tukudeka must be protected. Your child is the key to saving our lands. I have seen some of the miraculous things that the white man has accomplished. The white man’s medicine in the future is very powerful. It will help your child be born safely into this world. You must believe this and have faith in this old man.”
He handed the object to the younger man, careful not to touch the red eyes.
“Why don’t you use it yourself then, and get healed?” The younger man sounded skeptical.
“I am an old man, and my life is coming to an end. Even the white man’s medicine in the future cannot cure that. Your son must be born into this world.”
“What do I need to do?” He reached for the object, his voice filled with despair. He undoubtedly knew, that his wife was dying.
“Remember, the right eye moves you forward in time, the left eye brings you back. Hold on to your wife, and she will travel with you. It will take but only a moment. When you get to the future, the people will know what to do. Do not let anyone know this secret. You do not believe me, and no one in the future will believe you. Go now, your wife cannot hold out much longer. “
The man gathered his wife into his arms, and touched the snakehead as he’d been told. They vanished instantly, leaving Naatosi behind. He lay on the ground, a faint smile on his face, and stared at the ceiling. Not a moment later, the door to the cabin burst open, sending in a cold blast of air, along with a dusting of snow.
Mat spun around, his bow ready. Naatosi sat up, and faced the intruder.
“You are too late, Mukua. It is done, and you cannot stop it from happening.”
The other man’s eyes blazed with anger. He rushed at the old man, his teeth bared. Mat sprang between them, but it was as if he hadn’t moved.
“You will not stop me forever, Naatosi. There will come a time when I will gain the upper hand, and you and Naatoyita will fail.”
“As long as we live, Mukua, we will undo whatever evil you create. You cannot stop me.”
“Then perhaps it is time that you die.” Hatred spewed from the man’s eyes, and he raised his arm, the blade of a knife gleaming in the firelight. With one swift stroke, he brought the knife down, and thrust it deep into the other man’s heart.
Wide-eyed, Naatosi stared at Mukua. “You will not win. You will never win,” he rasped. He collapsed to the ground, and moved no more.
“No,” Mat cried out, reaching out his hand, trying to reach the dying man. Sweat covered his face and his clothes clung to his body. His breathing came fast, as if he’d already exerted himself. He swallowed, but his mouth was dry.
Mukua had killed Naatosi. He’d broken one of the most sacred laws of the Sky People. One elder could not directly do harm to another person, especially another elder.
Mat glared at Mukua, ready to lunge himself at the old man, but Mukua didn’t see him. Mat ran, trying to reach Naatosi to see if he was still alive. The faster his legs moved, the further away the cabin became, until it disappeared altogether. Suddenly, the scene in front of him changed.
Bright lights blinded him momentarily, and the loud noises everywhere were deafening. People moved frantically all around him. Mat moved aside and twisted on his heels to stay out of their way. He glanced up. The man Naatosi had sent to the future stood in the middle of the chaos, looking lost and scared. His eyes darted around, until someone, dressed completely in blue clothing, led him away and to a quiet corner.
Mat looked at the man dressed in furs. He seemed completely out of place in this environment. A faint memory lingered in his head of places and objects like this. He’d been in a place such as this before. It was a hospital, something that could only be in the future.
After what seemed like an eternity, the loud wails of a baby mixed with all the other unnatural noises. The man looked up in the direction of the sound. He sprang up from the chair where he’d been sitting, and rushed toward the sound. Mat followed close behind, but no one saw him.
A woman emerged from behind the curtain that separated the mountain man from his wife. She held a bundle wrapped in white cloth in her arms, and stopped in front of the man. Mat stared at the woman. Her soft smile held him mesmerized. Her dark hair, the color of a beaver pelt, shone under the bright lights. He moved closer, to hear her speak.
“You have a beautiful baby boy,” she said with a big smile on her face, and held the bundle out for the man to see. A red-faced, black-haired infant was swaddled in a white and blue-striped blanket.
The man looked at his little son, his eyes filled with wonder. Tears pooled in his eyes. Suddenly, the beeping noises behind the curtain changed to a steady drawn-out beep. The woman quickly turned her head in the direction of the curtain. Mat strained his ear to hear her quiet words.
“Oh, no.” Sadness clouded her pretty face.
“Time of death, 12:33 pm," someone said from behind the curtain.
The man stood motionless, staring. His eyes moved to his son cradled in the woman’s arms.
“I wish to see my wife.”
The young woman turned sad eyes from him to the curtain behind her.
"They'll let you see her in a moment," she said softly, offering a faint smile.
“Can I hold my son?” he asked, his voice cracking.
“Of course,” the young woman said solemnly, and gently placed the bundle in his arms.
He gazed at the infant, and whispered, “You will be called Daniel, for your mother’s name was Marie Daniella. You will grow up to be a mighty hunter and trapper someday, this I swear to you. It is what your mother would have wanted.”
The pretty young woman remained by his side when several people emerged from behind the curtain, surrounding the man. Mat moved when someone obstructed his view of her. He pushed his way between two other women to get to her. She turned, and walked away.
“No, come back,” Mat shouted.
She disappeared completely, and the sounds faded away.
Mat bolted to a sitting position. He blinked, wiping away sweat that dripped down his forehead and into his eyes. An eagle’s screech echoed above him. He moved to stand, his limbs weak and shaky.
A fire crackled close by, and an old Indian sat on the ground, feeding more logs to the hungry flames.
“Naatosi,” Mat whispered. He stumbled toward the elder.
The old man smiled. “I see that you have received a vision, Matunaaga.”
Yellowstone Origins: Yellowstone Romance Series, Book 6 Page 30