Shadows Through Time

by Madeline Baker

  There was a moment when she thought he wouldn’t let her go, a moment when she hoped he would pull her into his arms and to heck with the consequences. But the moment passed.

  The fact that he let her go so easily convinced her that he was thinking along the same lines she was. They were literally from two different worlds, it would be foolish for the two of them to become romantically involved.

  But as she turned to walk back to Hantaywee’s lodge, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were fighting a battle that was already lost.

  Chapter Ten

  When Kelsey woke in the morning, Reese had already left the lodge.

  “Gone hunting,” Hantaywee told her.

  Kelsey nodded, wondering if he had actually gone hunting or if, after last night, it was just an excuse to put some distance between them.

  So, he would be gone for the day. Now was the perfect time to find out what Hantaywee knew about Reese. If anyone would know what was troubling him, she was sure it was the old woman.

  Kelsey waited until after they had eaten breakfast; then, taking her courage in hand, she asked the question uppermost in her mind.

  “What’s troubling Reese? Why is he so sad?”

  Hantaywee canted her head to one side, regarding Kelsey through all-knowing eyes. Then, as if making up her mind about whether to answer or not, she sat down and motioned for Kelsey to do the same.

  “It happened a long time ago,” Hantaywee began. “Tashunka Kangi was young and very much in love with Chumani. They had grown up together and everyone expected them to marry. But there was another young man, Wahchinksapa, who also had warm eyes for Chumani. Wahchinksapa and Tashunka Kangi had grown up together, like brothers. Their rivalry for Chumani changed that. Friends became enemies. Everyone in the village knew that Chumani’s parents favored Wahchinksapa. When Tashunka Kangi offered six fine horses to Chumani’s father, Wahchinksapa offered ten. Chumani wept when her father promised her to Wahchinksapa. On the night before she was to marry, Tashunka Kangi convinced her to run away with him. It had been done before. It has been done since. Chumani agreed to run away with Tashunka Kangi and they left the village.”

  Hantaywee paused a moment and then went on. “Chumani and Tashunka Kangi were returning to the village when they were set upon by three white men. Tashunka Kangi was captured and badly beaten. His back still wears the scars.”

  Was he ashamed of those scars, Kelsey wondered. Was that why he was so careful to make sure she never saw his back, why he hadn’t wanted to swim with her?

  “Chumani was killed trying to save his life. He cannot forget that, nor forgive himself for it. He killed the three white men and brought Chumani’s body home. When his wounds healed, he left the village.”

  It was a tragic story. She could see it all in her mind, feel Reese’s pain, his guilt at being unable to save Chumani. He carried the scars to this day and not just the ones on his back. Her death had scarred his soul, as well. Blinking back her tears, Kelsey thanked Hantaywee for sharing it with her and then left the lodge.

  She spent the day sitting in the sun, watching the people in the village as they went about their daily routine. She had never really known any Indians, though she had met one or two during the summers she had stayed at the cabin with her grandparents. The Lakota seemed like a warm and friendly people, nothing at all like the Indians portrayed in old Westerns. Her grandfather had scorned the old movies and their stereotypes of stone-faced Indians who spoke broken English and never laughed or smiled.

  She wondered what Reese had been like as a child. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she knew she was in trouble. Once a woman started wondering what a man had been like when he was a little boy, it was a sure sign that she was beginning to care! But she couldn’t help it.

  She watched a handful of young boys at play. Had Reese been one of the bold ones, like that little fellow over there, or one of the quiet ones? Smiling, she watched two of the boys wrestling on the ground, growling like young puppies while the others looked on. Later, she watched them shoot at targets with small bows and arrows. And still later, filled with energy and the exuberance of youth, she watched as they raced each other from one end of the village to the other and back again. Ah, to be young again and have that kind of unbridled energy. She wondered what the boys’ reaction would be if she had joined in the race.

  Her gaze drifted to a little girl who sat beside her mother. Had Chumani looked like that, all big dark eyes and long black hair? She felt an unexpected twinge of jealousy as she imagined Reese courting Chumani, begging her to run away with him. No wonder he was so torn with guilt. He had defied her father’s wishes and taken Chumani away from her home and she had died because of it. And yet, it wasn’t really his fault. He wasn’t responsible for the actions of the men who had killed her. It had just been bad luck that those men had found them. Still, putting herself in his place, she knew that, under the circumstances, she would probably feel the same way he did.

  She looked up when Hantaywee emerged from the lodge. What was it Reese had said? She knows things. Maybe Hantaywee could tell her how to get home again.

  With that thought in mind, Kelsey followed the old woman into the woods.

  “Hantaywee?”

  The old woman turned at the sound of Kelsey’s voice.

  “Do you mind if I walk with you?”

  Hantaywee shook her head. “I came here to gather wood.”

  Kelsey glanced around, only then noticing the fallen branches and sticks that littered the ground beneath the trees. “Oh, let me help.”

  “Pilamaya.”

  Not certain how to broach the subject she wished to discuss, Kelsey concentrated on gathering wood and then she recalled that Reese said Hantaywee had told him that she, Kelsey, was from the future, so maybe the subject wouldn’t come as a shock after all.

  “You wish to ask me something,” Hantaywee said.

  “Yes.” Kelsey stopped walking, the wood she had gathered cradled in her arms. “Do you know how I can get home?”

  Hantaywee turned, her arms also filled with wood. “Do you wish to go home?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Perhaps you should think on it before you answer so quickly.”

  Kelsey frowned. What was there to think about? Of course she wanted to go home…didn’t she?

  Reese won’t be there.

  Did Hantaywee say the words aloud, Kelsey wondered, or had she only heard them in her mind?

  “Sometimes the path we follow is not the one we meant to take,” Hantaywee said quietly. “But in the end, we find that it is the path that leads us to where we want to go.”

  “Are you saying that my coming here was meant to be?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Well, that’s an interesting theory, but I don’t think it’s true in my case. I don’t fit in here.”

  Hantaywee shrugged. “Only time will tell.”

  And with that, the old woman went back to collecting firewood. When her arms were full, she walked back to her lodge.

  Kelsey trailed after the old woman, her mind replaying their conversation. Surely it wasn’t her fate to spend the rest of her life here in the nineteenth century! Reese or no Reese, she didn’t want to stay here. She wanted to go home, back to electric lights and computers and television, back to pizza delivered to your door and online shopping and dark chocolate ice cream. She wanted to see Gerard Butler’s upcoming movie and read her favorite author’s next book and spend Christmas at the cabin with her family and…

  Her thoughts scattered like dandelion fluff in the wind when she looked up and saw Reese striding toward them from the direction of the village. Her heart did a happy little joy-joy dance while butterflies fluttered in the pit of her stomach. How was it possible that this man, who was little more than a stranger, could make her feel as if she had just won the lottery?

  He smiled at her, a slow, sexy smile, and then he took the wood from Hantaywee’s arms and carried it the r
est of the way to the village.

  Kelsey followed him, her gaze moving over his broad shoulders, his tight butt, his long, long legs. His hair glistened blue-black in the late afternoon sunlight, the smooth copper color of his skin tempted her touch. She didn’t want to stay here indefinitely but, for now, there was no place on earth she would rather be.

  Inside the lodge, she piled the wood she had gathered next to the door, then ducked back outside.

  Reese emerged from the lodge on her heels.

  “I thought you went hunting,” Kelsey said.

  He jerked a thumb over his shoulder to where Hantaywee was already busy at work skinning a deer.

  Grimacing, Kelsey looked away. She knew cows and chickens were killed so that she could eat, but when your meat came in neat little cellophane-wrapped packages, it was easy to forget how it got there.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve ever butchered a deer,” Reese remarked.

  “No.”

  “City girl,” he scoffed but his eyes were kind.

  She nodded. “Shouldn’t you be helping Hantaywee?”

  He looked aghast. “Skinning and butchering are woman’s work.”

  “Why is that?”

  “It just is.”

  “Well, we have a saying where I come from. If you catch it, you clean it.”

  He chuckled. “Our way is better. Tell me more about what it’s like where you come from.”

  He started walking away from the village and she fell in beside him.

  “Well, it’s very different from what it is here. Better in some ways, worse in others. There have been many wars, some of them involving other countries. There are some people who have more than they need while others don’t have enough. Life is more hectic. Divorce is common and no longer frowned upon…” She looked up at Reese. “Do Indians ever get divorced?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Is it complicated?”

  “No, it’s a simple thing with us. When a man wants to divorce his wife, he waits until his society has a dance. Sometime during the night, he asks for a drumstick and then he beats the drum once and announces that he no longer wants his wife.”

  “What if the wife wants a divorce?”

  “Then she leaves him and goes back home.”

  “Who gets the children?”

  “The woman, usually. Tell me more of your time.”

  “Gosh, there’s so much. We have cars now…carriages with engines that can go much faster than a horse.”

  “You don’t have horses?”

  Kelsey grinned. For a Lakota not to have a horse would be beyond comprehension. The acquisition of the horse had given the Lakota a freedom they had never known before. “Of course we still have horses, but now they’re ridden for pleasure.”

  He grunted softly. “Go on.”

  “I don’t know how to explain things to you,” Kelsey said. “There have been so many innovations in the last hundred years. Airplanes and computers, iPods and cell phones, moving pictures. We have machines that wash your clothes for you and others that dry them and machines that wash dishes and vacuum the carpets and…”

  “Enough,” he said.

  She grinned at him. “Like I said, a lot of changes.”

  “The words on your shirt, you never told me what they mean.”

  “Oh, that,” she said. “PMS means pre-menstrual syndrome.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It’s a term to describe the cranky, out-of-sorts feeling a lot of women get before they start their…” What on earth did women in the Old West call it when they had their period? “You know, their monthly…”

  “Ah,” he said, “I think I understand.”

  She smiled up at him, pleased to see that the dark, haunted look was gone from his eyes. Maybe going out and killing something had been good for him.

  * * * * *

  Reese had said they would leave the village in a few days, but a week went by and then two. Living with the Indians was different from anything Kelsey had ever known. The Lakota had no clocks, kept no time. They ate when they were hungry and slept when they were tired. The men hunted when they needed meat. When they weren’t hunting, they strolled through the village, repaired old weapons, or fashioned new ones. The women were always busy cooking or cleaning or just looking after their children. All in all, it seemed a pleasant way to live, not at all like life in the twenty-first century, where everyone was always in a hurry and there was never enough time to just sit and relax.

  Her thoughts scattered as Hantaywee emerged from her lodge. A few minutes later, a dozen children were gathered in front of the old woman’s tipi.

  She was wondering what was going on when Reese came up beside her.

  “It’s story time,” he explained.

  “Like at the library?” Kelsey wondered aloud, and then realized he probably had no idea what story time at the library was all about.

  “She’s telling them about the pipestone quarry,” Reese said. “It’s located to the northeast. The People go there to cut pipestone, which is a soft red rock the men use to make pipes. Legend has it that the stone was formed from the flesh of our ancestors who were destroyed in a great flood. The Lakota ran to the quarry to escape, but they were all drowned except for one maiden. She was caught by an eagle and carried to safety. We come from her descendents.”

  “Interesting,” Kelsey remarked. She remembered reading somewhere that almost every race of people had a story about a great flood that had covered the earth. “She must have been pregnant when she was saved.”

  Reese laughed. “Maybe so. Another legend says that Wakan Tanka called all the Indian nations to the quarry at a time when all the tribes were at war. Wakan Tanka made a great pipe from the red rock. He smoked it and commanded the people to be at peace. Still another legend says the quarry is where mankind was created.”

  “What’s she telling them now?” Kelsey asked as a hush fell over the children.

  Reese listened a moment, then smiled. “She’s telling them about Wakinyan, the Thunder Beings.”

  “Thunder Beings?”

  “They are creatures of power, like the thunder birds. The Wakinyan bring rain and hail, thunder and lightning. They bring new life to the earth after the winter. Long ago, the Wakinyan used their powers to fight the Unktehila. The Unktehila were evil water monsters with scaly skin and horns.”

  “Like lizards?”

  “Yes, but bigger and more deadly. And they weren’t particular about what they killed, or what they ate. So Wakan Tanka sent the Thunder Beings to kill the Unktehila. The Wakinyan struck the water with their lightning and made it boil, so that the rivers and lakes dried up and the Unktehila died.”

  “Kind of a scary story for kids, don’t you think?” But even as Kelsey posed the question, she saw that the Lakota children were enthralled by the tale. When Hantaywee started another story, Reese took Kelsey aside.

  “I was about to go for a walk,” he said. “Do you want to come along?”

  “Are we going anyplace in particular?” she asked.

  “No. I just need to stretch my legs.”

  “Sure, I’ll tag along.”

  They had almost reached the edge of the camp circle when a tall warrior emerged from one of the lodges.

  Reese came to an abrupt halt as the tall warrior stepped into his path. He hadn’t seen Wahchinksapa since Chumani’s death but the years had not diminished the tension between them.

  A woman stepped out of the lodge behind Wahchinksapa, a baby in her arms, a toddler at her heels. Reese recognized Takchawee. When they were growing up, it had been no secret that Takchawee was in love with Wahchinksapa, just as it had been no secret that Wahchinksapa had been in love with Chumani.

  Reese clenched his hands at his sides. It was hard to see Takchawee and her children, to know Wahchinksapa and Takchawee had gone on with their lives. But for him, Chumani would be alive today, perhaps with children of her own.

  Wahchinksapa fo
lded his arms across his chest. He was a few inches shorter than Reese, a little meatier around the middle. “Why have you come back here?” he asked in curt Lakota.

  “This is my home.”

  “You are not wanted here.”

  Reese gestured at Wahchinksapa’s shirt. “You are an important man here now. Are you going to run me off?”

  Wahchinksapa’s gaze slid toward Hantaywee’s lodge.

  Reese grinned inwardly. He might not be welcome here, but not even a Shirt Wearer had the guts to throw him out, not when he was staying here with Hantaywee’s blessing.

  Wahchinksapa looked past Reese to where Kelsey was standing quietly. “A white woman,” he said, his voice thick with scorn. “But then, no Lakota woman would have you now.”

  It was the wrong thing to say. Rage boiled up inside Reese. His first instinct was to plant his fist in Wahchinksapa’s face, but for once in his life, he took a deep breath and kept a tight rein on his temper. Brawling with Wahchinksapa would only shame Hantaywee.

  Head high and back straight, Reese walked past Wahchinksapa with as much dignity as he could muster.

  Kelsey hurried to catch up with him. “What was that all about? Who was he? What did he say that made you so angry?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Reese retorted. He walked briskly for a few minutes, then slowed. “His name is Wahchinksapa.”

  Kelsey’s eyes widened. Wahchinksapa was the other man in the Chumani triangle.

  Kelsey looked up at Reese, thinking how difficult it must be for him to be here, to be constantly reminded of the woman he had loved and lost.

  Reese stopped at the river’s edge. Stooping, he picked up a handful of rocks and tossed them, one by one, into the water.

  Kelsey watched the ripples spread as each rock hit the water. Life was like that, she thought. A man loved a woman and that simple act spread in ever-widening circles, touching other lives for better or worse.