Shadows Through Time

by Madeline Baker

  She stared after Reese and the Indians. Then, resigned to her fate, she urged her horse after his.

  Out of the frying pan and into the fire, she thought hopelessly. But it was better than staying out there alone.

  * * * * *

  She lost track of time as they rode across the prairie. She kept waiting for the Indians to stop and take a break but they rode steadily onward. It gave her a lot of time to study the Indians, a lot of time to think. After a while, she decided that the Indians must be Reese’s friends. They hadn’t tried to kill him. They hadn’t tied him up. It occurred to her that maybe the reason they weren’t stopping was because they were as worried about him as she was. She only hoped they could help, though she didn’t know what they could do out here, where there were no doctors and no medical help and the wonders of modern medicine were far in the future.

  It was near dusk when she saw the village. It lay in a shallow green valley, looking for all the world like a scene straight out of Dances With Wolves. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see Kevin Costner stride into view with Mary McDonnell at his side. Conical lodges, blackened at the tops, were spread beside the slow moving river. Dogs and children ran along the shoreline. A large herd of horses grazed on the lush grass. A haze of blue-gray smoke drifted in the breeze. A woman clad in a buckskin dress shooed a dog away from a high wooden rack laden with strips of meat. Across the way, two women knelt on either side of what looked like a bear skin, painstakingly scraping the inside of the hide. Men moved through the village or sat in the shade, talking and smoking. Several tall young warriors strolled through the camp, pretending not to notice the young women who watched them.

  Filled with trepidation, Kelsey followed Reese and the warriors into the heart of the village. Their arrival brought all other activity to a halt. Warriors clustered around the returning men. Women came forward to take the horses. Children ran back and forth, their black eyes wide with curiosity as they stared at the newcomers.

  Kelsey stayed on her horse, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

  A short time later, an old woman with long gray braids emerged from the nearest tipi. She spoke to one of the warriors, then turned and went back into her lodge.

  The warrior who had conversed with the old woman helped Reese from the back of his horse and the two of them went into the tipi, with Reese leaning heavily on the other man.

  Kelsey sat there for a minute, wondering what she should do and then, not wanting to be separated from Reese, she slid off the back of her horse and ducked inside the tipi.

  It was gloomy inside. Reese was reclining on a fur robe, his eyes closed. Riding such a long distance hadn’t done him any good, she thought. Someone had removed his jacket and his gunbelt. Perspiration dotted his forehead and his chest. He looked pale, his face drawn and haggard.

  The warrior that had helped Reese into the tipi nodded at Kelsey, then stepped outside, leaving her alone with the old woman and Reese.

  The old woman stirred something in a small clay pot. Kelsey studied her a moment. The woman’s face was lined with the passage of many years. She wore a shapeless tunic and a pair of moccasins that were beaded in black and yellow. Tiny silver bells were sewn along the hem of her skirt. They made a pleasant tinkling sound when she moved.

  “How are you called?” the old woman asked, looking up at Kelsey.

  “You speak English!” Kelsey exclaimed.

  The old woman nodded. “I am Hantaywee.”

  “I’m Kelsey.”

  “Hohahe, Kel-sey.”

  “Are you a doctor?”

  “I am a medicine woman. Is Tashunka Kangi your man?”

  “Who’s Tashunka Kangi?”

  The old woman pointed at Reese. “Are you his woman?”

  “No, we’re just…friends.”

  “He is bad hurt,” the old woman remarked.

  “Yes, I know.” Kelsey looked at the concoction in the clay bowl, wondering what it was. Though she had little faith in the primitive medicine practiced by the Indians, she reminded herself that they had survived out here for hundreds of years. She just hoped the medicine woman knew what she was doing.

  The old woman placed a few sticks of wood on the fire, sprinkled a handful of what looked like dried grass into the flames and then picked up a long white feather. She murmured something in her own language as she passed the feather through the smoke, drawing it over Reese.

  She did that four times, murmuring what sounded to Kelsey like a prayer, and then she drew the feather through the fire four more times.

  White smoke drifted over Reese. As Kelsey watched, the smoke took on the shape of a wolf. Kelsey closed her eyes and opened them again, certain she was seeing things. But the wolf remained. Fascinated, she stared at the hazy figure. It had to be some kind of hallucination, she thought, and wondered what the old woman had added to the fire.

  Twice more, the medicine woman murmured softly and drew the feather through the smoke. Then, setting the feather aside, she picked up a narrow, wicked looking knife, which she passed through the flames four times.

  The smoky wolf hovering over Reese threw back its head and howled. The sound sent a shiver down Kelsey’s spine.

  Chanting softly, Hantaywee passed the knife through the flames again.

  Kelsey was afraid she knew what was coming. She looked down at Reese. His eyes were open now and he was looking up at her.

  “Whatever happens,” he said, his voice raw with pain, “don’t be afraid. My people won’t hurt you.”

  “I think she’s about to hurt you,” Kelsey said, jerking her chin toward the knife in the old woman’s fist.

  “Yea. The wound’s infected. She’s gonna drain it.”

  “Oh.” Her voice was no more than a squeak. Feeling a sudden need to console him in some small way, Kelsey knelt beside him and reached for his hand. She meant to comfort him, but she had a feeling she was more afraid than he was.

  Reese squeezed her hand. “If I don’t make it…”

  “Don’t say that!” She couldn’t help it, she had always been superstitious when it came to talking about death.

  “If anything happens to me, Wehinahpay will take you back to Grant’s Crossing.”

  “All right, just hush.”

  Kelsey kept her gaze on Reese’s face. Nevertheless, she knew the exact moment when the woman began to drain the wound. Reese’s fingers tightened around her hand, tighter, tighter, until it was all she could do not to cry out. She told herself she was nothing but a coward. If he could endure what he was going through without so much as a whimper, she should be able to endure a little discomfort.

  Eyes closed, his breath coming in harsh gasps, he clung to her hand. She wondered if he was even aware of what he was doing.

  Kelsey risked a glance at the old woman, felt her stomach churn when she saw the dark red blood oozing from the wound, dripping down Reese’s side, pooling on the cloth Hantaywee had spread beneath him. Hantaywee let the wound bleed until the blood was bright red and then she smeared a thick yellow paste over the wound.

  An oath escaped Reese’s lips. His hand squeezed Kelsey’s so tightly, she was certain he was going to break a few bones.

  And then, with a sigh, his body went limp and his hand fell away from hers.

  Kelsey looked up at the wolf. Even as she watched, it grew fainter, smaller, until it was gone.

  Kelsey looked at Hantaywee. “Is he all right?”

  Hantaywee nodded. “Do not worry about your man. He is strong. Tomorrow, he will be better.”

  “He’s not my…”

  The medicine woman’s hand sliced through the air, cutting her off. “You may not have accepted it here,” she said, pointing at Kelsey’s heart, “but he is your man and you will be his woman.”

  Startled by the conviction in the old woman’s voice, Kelsey didn’t argue and as she thought about it, she discovered that she rather liked the idea of being Reese’s woman, but it was impossible. She didn’t belong here, in
this time, would never belong here, nor did she want to stay in this wild, untamed land. She just wanted to go home.

  Hantaywee examined the wound in Reese’s arm then, apparently deciding there was nothing more to be done, she bandaged it with a strip of clean cloth.

  “You will sleep here tonight,” Hantaywee said. “Tomorrow, you will see. He will be better.”

  Kelsey nodded, grateful that she would be allowed to stay there, with Reese. Grateful that she would have a place to spend the night.

  Later, Hantaywee offered Kelsey a bowl of what appeared to be some kind of soup. Kelsey took a small taste, surprised to find that it was quite good, or maybe she was just really hungry. In either case, she ate it all and accepted more.

  Shortly after that, Hantaywee spread a furry robe along the back wall of the tipi. “Sleep now, Kel-sey,” she said, handing her a blanket. “Tomorrow will be better.”

  “Thank you.” Removing her shoes, Kelsey stretched out on the robe and pulled the blanket over her. She glanced at Reese, reassured by his presence.

  Closing her eyes, she tried to sleep, but to no avail. Strange odors assaulted her nostrils. From outside, she heard the murmur of voices speaking in a strange tongue. The robe beneath her, while soft, did little to cushion the hard ground. The dying fire cast dancing shadows on the hide walls of the tipi.

  The old woman sat near Reese, chanting softly as she rocked back and forth. Oddly, Kelsey found the sound comforting, almost like a lullaby.

  Opening her eyes, she glanced at Reese one more time and then she followed the lullaby to sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  Reese woke slowly. For a moment he lay there with his eyes closed, unmoving as he waited for the pain of the night before to make itself known, but there was none to speak of, only a mild ache in his arm and along his side.

  Opening his eyes, he saw that he was alone in the tipi. Hantaywee’s lodge looked just as he remembered it. Two willow backrests sat on either side of the firepit. Parfleches and soft leather storage bags that held food, utensils, clothing and other goods were stacked along the side walls, firewood was stacked near the door. As in all Lakota lodges, the fire pit was located under the smoke hole, a small altar was located behind the pit. The floor was carpeted with buffalo robes with the hair side up, making the floor soft to walk on.

  Overhead, a bit of clear blue sky was visible through the smoke hole. It had been years since he had been inside a Lakota lodge, yet the furs beneath him felt familiar, the scent of the sweet grass Hantaywee had burned in the fire the night before lingered in the air.

  He had known Hantaywee could heal him but he was still surprised that he felt so much better and that so little pain remained. She really did work miracles.

  Where was she? And where the devil was Kelsey?

  Moving like an old, old man, he sat up, one hand pressed to his side. A strip of soft cloth was wrapped around his middle. A blanket covered his nakedness from the waist down.

  His stomach growled.

  He was thinking of getting up and going in search of food when the tipi’s door flap opened and Hantaywee stepped inside, followed by Kelsey. At least he thought it was Kelsey.

  Her green dress had been replaced by an ankle-length doeskin tunic with a beaded yoke and ties at the shoulders, she wore a pair of moccasins instead of her strange-looking shoes. Her hair fell down her back in rippling waves save for two skinny braids that framed her face. Both the dress and the moccasins looked like they had been made for her and perhaps they had. He had no doubt that Hantaywee had forseen his arrival in a vision; perhaps she had seen Kelsey, as well.

  Kelsey smiled shyly at him. “You’re looking much better!”

  “I’m feeling much better.”

  “You are hungry,” Hantaywee said.

  Reese grinned. “You got that right.”

  Hantaywee motioned for Kelsey to sit down.

  She sat beside Reese, all too aware of the fact that he was very nearly naked. Her gaze moved over him. “Are you really all right?”

  “Yea.”

  It was amazing, Kelsey thought. Last night, he had seemed to be at death’s door. This morning, his eyes were clear and his color was back to normal. She looked at Hantaywee with new respect.

  The old woman handed them each a bowl of soup that was heavily flavored with sage and spoons that looked like they had been made from the horn of an animal.

  Reese ate quickly and asked for more. Kelsey ate more slowly, hoping she might be able to identify just what it was she was eating.

  After his third helping, Reese put his bowl aside. “Hantaywee, where are my clothes?”

  “Drying outside with Kel-sey’s.”

  “I need something to wear.”

  Hantaywee grunted softly. Reaching into a nearby parfleche that was hanging from one of the lodge poles, she pulled out a buckskin clout and a sleeveless vest and handed them to him.

  Reese wasn’t the least bit surprised that the old woman had something for him to wear. Hantaywee might call herself a medicine woman, but Reese thought she was a witch, a very old witch. As near as he could figure, she had to be at least a hundred years old.

  Reese murmured his thanks. It had been years since he had spent any time with his mother’s people. He wasn’t sure why he had let Yahto bring him here. He must not have been thinking clearly, that was the only explanation. He had avoided this place for years; under normal circumstances, he would never have come here. It had been home once, now it held only memories he had spent the last nine years trying to forget. Memories of Chumani…

  He would not think of her. She had loved him and she had died because of it. With a shake of his head, he put her out of his mind.

  “Reese, are you okay?”

  He glanced at Kelsey, wondering what she would think when she saw him wearing nothing but a buckskin clout and vest.

  “I’m gonna get dressed now,” he said, holding the blanket around his waist. “You’re welcome to stay and watch if you’ve a mind to.”

  Kelsey was sorely tempted to do just that until she got a glimpse of the knowing look on Hantaywee’s face.

  “Maybe another time,” Kelsey muttered, and ducked out of the lodge as fast as her feet would carry her.

  As soon as she stepped out of the tipi, she came to an abrupt halt. For a moment, she had forgotten where she was. She stared at the scene before her, a scene totally alien to everything with which she was familiar. There were hide tipis instead of houses. The people wore animal skins instead of spun cloth. The children were virtually naked. The boys played with small bows and arrows instead of Hot Wheels and Game Boys, the girls played with homemade dolls, but in no way did they resemble the dolls Kelsey had played with as a little girl. The women, clad in tunics much like the one Kelsey wore, cooked outside over open fires. Dogs of all sizes ran underfoot, barking and chasing each other and generally getting in the way. The horse herd grazed in the distance, a shifting mass of color. The men, most of them wearing little more than a strip of cloth for modesty’s sake, strolled through the village, talking and laughing, while the women cooked. That, at least, was familiar.

  It was unbelievable that she should be here, in this time and place. Totally unbelievable. She wondered again if she was dreaming, but no dream had ever been this realistic. Once again she wondered if she was lying in a hospital bed somewhere while her family hovered around her, waiting for her to regain consciousness. Or maybe she was just out of her mind. Any of those options seemed far more likely than believing she had traveled backward through time.

  She glanced over her shoulder as Reese stepped out of the tipi, her eyes widening at what she saw. She was no stranger to scantily clad men. In her world, naked and nearly naked men could be seen on magazine covers, in movies, on television, in advertisements for practically anything and everything. But she had never seen anything the equal of T. K. Reese. He was tall and lean, with broad shoulders, a washboard stomach and well-muscled arms and legs. The white b
andages wrapped around his middle and his left arm looked incredibly white against his copper-hued skin. His hair fell past his shoulders, thick and inky black. Odd that she hadn’t realized sooner that he was an Indian when it was so obvious now and not just because of what he was wearing. Her heart skipped a beat. He was a man to make a woman think of warm nights and cool satin sheets and she had a sudden image of herself wrapped in his arms, his dusky skin sheened with sweat.

  She couldn’t stop staring at him. Couldn’t believe it when he actually blushed.

  “Quit that,” he muttered.

  “Quit what?”

  “Staring at me like I’m the last cookie in the jar.”

  Now she was blushing. Murmuring, “sorry,” she tore her gaze away, grateful that he didn’t know what she had been thinking. She smiled inwardly, thinking that his image had been forever imprinted on her mind.

  With a shake of his head, he turned and walked away from the tipi.

  Kelsey hurried after him. “Reese, wait! Where are you going?”

  “I just had three bowls of soup and I haven’t been out of bed since yesterday,” he called over his shoulder. “Where do you think I’m going?"

  “Oh.” She skidded to a halt, her cheeks flaming, but she couldn’t help noticing how good he looked walking away.

  Reese swore under his breath. He could feel Kelsey’s gaze on his back as he walked into the woods behind the lodge. He hadn’t missed the look in her eyes when she had first seen him emerge from Hantaywee’s tipi. He’d had women stare at him before, but never quite like that. He swore softly. He couldn’t remember a time when a woman had made him blush, but that hungry look in Kelsey’s pretty green eyes had done the trick.

  He took his time walking back to the village. He had come here for Hantaywee’s help, had planned to leave as soon as he felt up to it, but now… He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of sage and earth and wood smoke. Timbered mountains loomed in the distance. A red-tailed hawk soared effortlessly overhead.

  Home, he thought. No matter where else he went, no matter how long he stayed away, no matter that being here stirred a host of bittersweet memories, this would always be home.