“Pop? Are you there?” When there was no answer, she began to move again. She touched the dank walls at the dead end. Time to go back. Her dream was as boxed off as the end of this tunnel where the last rockfall had taken place two years ago.
As she reached the main corridor, she heard another sound and started to turn. Something hit her out of nowhere. She saw a bright flash of stars, then darkness claimed her.
Jake bade farewell to the reporters then drove back out to the mine. He glowered at Cameron as he passed the other man in town. Cameron smiled back, a smirk that made Jake want to stop his SUV and pounce on him again. But he set his lips in a firm line and drove on. Cameron would lose the battle.
Once in the parking lot of the Turtle Mine, he grabbed his cell phone and fished out his address book from his satchel in the tent. Kimball Washington should be done with classes by now. He punched in the number and pressed Send.
Kimball’s gravelly voice answered. “Washington here.”
“Hey, Kimball, it’s Jake Baxter.”
“Jake! What are you up to these days? Great work you did on your last dig. I’ve been looking over your notes.”
“I have something even more important I need you to help me with.”
The African-American professor of paleontology had been Jake’s mentor ever since he took Kimball’s class his freshmen year at the University of Chicago. Jake relied on him in more ways than he could count. He explained the problem, and Kimball promised to come up to the island and have a look.
Jake clicked off his phone with a decisive punch of his index finger. Take that, Cameron Reynolds. The media wouldn’t be able to ignore his find once the highly respected Kimball Washington had his say.
If he could just find his missing eggs.
Jake scowled again at the thought of Cameron’s perfidy. Those eggs were priceless. Where could he have stashed them?
He went to his SUV, smiling as he noticed Skye’s truck. She was always so carefully put together, it seemed strange to think of her driving that dilapidated vehicle. She was a bundle of contradictions. Just like today when she’d jumped to his defense in spite of her own opposition to having the dig expanded.
He should thank her.
Jake paused at the door to his SUV, then shrugged and went to the mine entrance. The doorknob turned easily. She really should keep it locked when she was in there alone. While crime wasn’t a major problem on the island, she was a young, beautiful woman alone in a remote place.
He stepped into the mine. Lights had been strung up along the corridor, but the illumination didn’t push the gloom back very far. His throat closed. He didn’t like it here. It was too close, too tight.
He’d gotten lost in some caves when he was ten, and he still didn’t like them. Luckily, most of his digs didn’t involve caves. He’d get back under the stars once he did his duty. “Skye? Where are you?”
The steady drip of water nearby was the only sound in the shadowy corridor. It felt as if his nerves were on fire. Places like this made him clench his teeth and force himself not to run.
Beginning to sweat in spite of the dank cold inside the mine, he trod along the corridor to a place where it terminated in another hall. Another minute and he would bolt out of here.
The panic began to surge even more and he turned to leave. He almost didn’t see the form on the floor in the dim light from the lone bulb above his head.
“Skye?” He knelt beside her and touched her face. His own panic eased as he looked her over. A trickle of blood ran from a cut on her head. The pulse in her neck beat strongly against his fingers. Good. He rolled her gently on her back and checked for any broken bones. His cell phone was in his pocket fortunately, and he pulled it out. No signal underground. He’d have to go outside to place the call.
Did he dare to leave her alone? “Skye,” he said. “Wake up.” The canteen attached to his belt still held a bit of water. He unscrewed the cap and upended the container over Skye’s face. Splatters of water hit her face. She murmured and moved her head from side to side. Then she sputtered, and her eyes opened.
“What’d you do that for?” She tried to sit up, batting his helping hands away. “I’m fine.”
“At least you’ve still got your spunk,” he said dryly. He slipped his arm around her back in spite of her protest. “What happened?”
The walls felt like they were closing in on him. He had to get her on her feet and get out of here. His heart pounded against his chest as though it would beat him out of the mine.
She groaned and held her head. “Someone hit me.”
Jake caught his breath. “Did you see who it was?”
“No, it came from behind me.” She looked at the canteen in his hand. “Any water left?”
“Here.” He handed her the canteen, and she took a swig then grimaced. “Tastes like metal.”
“That critical spirit is going to get you in trouble.” He tried to smile, but the panic was building by the second.
Her lips turned up a bit. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it. Thanks for the water.” She handed him the canteen then groaned again when she tried to get up. “My head’s killing me.”
“We need to have a doctor look at you. You could have a concussion.”
“I’m fine.” But she didn’t shrug his arm away when he helped her to her feet. She swayed a bit then stood firmer.
He wished he could see better. “Are you feeling stronger?”
“I think so. My head still hurts though.” She touched her head. “Feels like a goose egg up there.”
“Let’s get out where I can see it.” He led her toward the door, but she stumbled. A light shone over head, so he made himself stop and probe her thick hair. “It’s cut a little, too. We need to get you to town.”
And get him out of this mine before he puked.
Skye shivered. “My mom will take care of me. Can you drive me?”
“That’s a dumb question.” He helped her outside, trying not to hurry her too much, though he wanted to bolt. The air never felt so good. Breathing in the fresh air greedily, he felt the tension ease from his shoulders.
He helped her to the SUV and got her into the passenger side, then got under the steering wheel. “Should I lock up the mine?”
She shook her head. “We never lock it.”
“So anyone can come in and tamper with the machinery?”
She bit her lip. “I never thought about it like that. We don’t even have a key for the place.” She shrugged. “I don’t guess it matters, since we’re going to shut it down.” Her face changed. “Oh, I forgot my box! Would you mind going back after it?”
He’d rather eat raw fish. He swallowed hard. “Where is it?”
“On the floor near where you found me.”
His manhood wouldn’t let him tell her he feared going back inside. Setting his jaw, he nodded. “Lock the doors while I’m gone.” He didn’t know if her attacker was still in the area, but he wasn’t about to take any chances.
She nodded and punched the power button to lock all the doors. His mouth went dry as he started back toward the mine. He took a deep breath, ducked inside and dashed to the spot where he’d found Skye. He scooped up the box and ran back to the exit as if a wildcat were on his tail.
As he reached the door, he thought he heard something. Hesitating in the corridor, he started in that direction, then stopped. He couldn’t make himself take another step. Besides, Skye needed medical attention, he told himself.
Relief made him feel light-headed as he went back outside into the falling twilight. He approached the SUV. Several steps from the vehicle, something zinged by his head and slammed into the driver’s window. It shattered.
“Hit the floor!” he shouted to Skye. He dove to the ground and crawled forward.
Two more rocks zipped by him. He needed to get to the SUV and get them both out of danger. As he neared the vehicle, the door swung open and he looked into Skye’s strained face where she lay on the seat.
> “Get in!” She crawled back to her own side and slid to the floor.
He got to his hands and knees and dove in, then slammed the door behind him. The vehicle was already running. Crouching as low as he could, he tromped on the accelerator.
Only when they were a mile down the road did he breathe easier. He glanced at Skye as she crawled back into her seat. “Got any idea who might be lobbing rocks at us?”
Skye shuddered. “I can’t imagine who it would be. Unless—” she broke off.
“Unless?” he prompted.
She hesitated again and pulled her long black braid over her shoulder, worrying it with her fingers. “There’s a disgruntled customer who tried to shake me off the ladder last week.”
“What? Did you call the sheriff?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t want to get her in trouble. She’s grieving her son. She came to the store for some herbs. When she explained what was wrong with him, I told her to take him to the doctor because I thought it might be appendicitis. She insisted on buying the herbs anyway. I guess she never took him and he died. She blames me for not giving her the right herbs now.”
“That’s crazy!”
“Yeah, well, Tallulah Levenger has always been a little different.”
“Where does she live? Maybe if I go put a little fear in her she’ll leave us alone.”
Skye’s eyes were shadowed. “She was probably just deranged with grief when she came to the shop last week.”
“So you think she trailed you to the mind, knocked you out, then lobbed rocks at you?” Skye was too soft and wanted to believe the best of people. He knew any person was capable of just about any action. It wouldn’t be wise to discount the woman.
“It wouldn’t hurt to have the sheriff check her out,” he told her.
“I suppose.” Skye rubbed her forehead.
“Your head still aching?”
“I don’t suppose you have any of the willow bark with you, do you?”
“As a matter of fact, it’s in my backpack.” He pulled to the side of the road in order to reach behind the seat with one hand. He grabbed it, then tossed it in her lap.
She rummaged through it and found the herb and swallowed it. “That should help.”
Jake suddenly realized he was feeling better himself. “You might have something there,” he said. “My muscle aches are much better even though it has to have worn off by now. It must have fixed me.”
“You sound surprised.” Her lips curved into a smile.
“I am. I thought it was a lot of hokum.”
“We all have prejudices to overcome,” she said, a full-fledged grin breaking forth.
Jake made a noncommittal sound. He grabbed his cell phone. “I about forgot to call the sheriff. I’ll have him meet us at your mom’s.”
“I hate all this.” She sounded near tears. “It’s sobering to think someone hates me enough to want to attack me like that.”
“Maybe I was the target and not you.”
“Tallulah wouldn’t have any beef with you,” she reminded him.
“Maybe it wasn’t Tallulah,” he said, thinking of Cameron.
But she didn’t hear him. Her head was back against the headrest, and her eyes were closed. She needed to be looked at. He dropped the SUV’s gear into Drive and took off toward town again.
It felt like a woodpecker had taken up residence inside her skull. Skye suppressed a groan and opened her eyes. Her vision seemed blurry, and she blinked to try to clear it.
“Almost there,” Jake said. He reached across the seat and touched her cheek.
The roughness of his fingers sharpened her senses, and almost without thinking, she leaned her face into the caress. His fingers stilled, then his thumb traced the curve of her cheek. The sweetness of the moment was almost more than she could bear. Who would have thought she and Jake Baxter would share some strange attraction between them?
Maybe she was concussed. She straightened up and pulled away. “Did you get the sheriff?”
“Yep. I told you, but you wouldn’t wake up.”
He turned the corner onto Houghton Street and stopped in front of her mother’s house. A four-square brick home, it had been built at the turn of the century by one of the Welsh fishermen who’d immigrated to the United States and settled along Superior’s shores. When this part of the island had been deeded to the Ojibwa tribe, her great-grandfather had taken possession of this property and everyone in town called it the Blackbird house.
Someday it would be hers.
But not for many years, she prayed. Jake opened his door and came around to assist her. She felt dizzy as she stood and leaned on his arm. He helped her to the house and pressed the doorbell.
The sensation of his muscular arm around her waist was more disconcerting than she would have liked. Skye held herself stiffly, afraid of the way her pulse raced and her mouth felt as dry as the arid Windigo spring.
Her mother opened the door. “Skye, what on earth?” She grabbed her daughter and helped her inside.
Peter came through the door from the garage. He hurried to help and swung Skye into his arms. She leaned her head against his chest. He’d been the best father he knew how to be. She shouldn’t be comparing him to her own father so much. “I’m okay now,” she said, smiling up at him.
“Good thing I just got here from the bank,” he said. “I thought you were going to faint for a minute. What did you do to her?” he asked, looking at Jake.
“He saved me, that’s what he did,” she said. “Someone knocked me out at the mine. Then when we came out, someone tried to stone us.”
Peter’s eyes widened. His gaze darted to Jake again. “It appears I owe you my thanks. This girl is special to all of us.” His eyes misted with tears. “We’d better call the sheriff.”
“Jake already did.” Skye eased to the sofa and leaned her head against the back. “Mother, could you take a look at the cut on my head and see if it needs a butterfly?”
“Don’t you think we’d better call a doctor?” Jake’s voice sounded worried.
“I shall tend to my own daughter.” Her mother moved to Skye’s side and began to probe her head.
Jake backed away. A knock came at the door. “That’s probably the sheriff,” he said.
“I’ll let him in.” Peter hurried to the door and ushered the sheriff to the living room.
Sheriff Mitchell frowned as he saw Skye. “What’s going on out at that mine?”
“I wish we knew,” Jake said, his mouth a grim line.
“Wait, where’s the box?” Skye asked. When Jake brought it to her, she opened it and scanned the contents. “His eagle feather is gone!”
“Eagle feather?” Jake asked.
“It was his most prized possession,” her mother said. “He won it in a Grass Dance. I never understood why he didn’t take it with him.”
“It’s gone now,” Skye said, closing the box. “It has to be Tallulah. She asked to buy it from me several times last year. She told me she wanted the power from it. She probably threw the stones to drive us off so we would leave the box.” She told Mitchell about Tallulah’s behavior since her son’s death.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” the sheriff said. “I’ll talk to her.”
Skye nodded. “Just get my eagle feather back.”
Chapter Six
Skye found her wariness around Jake lightening up, and the sensation was somewhat akin to being adrift on Superior in her father’s old boat, now lying scuttled in the barn. The holes in her armor were not of her own making, and she managed to summon resentment toward him for that. He was in her thoughts often over the next few days, no matter how she tried to fill her time with making dreamcatchers.
“Skye, I’m running out of some of our herbs,” her mother told her on Wednesday morning.
“I’ll search for more,” Skye said. Maybe a trek in the forest would keep her thoughts from wandering to the way Jake had tried to protect her from the assailant. She’d
never had anyone show such sacrifice for her.
She took her canvas sack and drove out to Windigo forest, a vast tract with native trees that had never seen the lumberjack’s axe. She parked along the side of the road and entered the woods.
This was her favorite part of her job. Secrets lay in the forest, meadows with herbs and roots that could help her people. The cool rush of shadow and the fecund scent of wildflowers and decaying leaves lifted her spirits.
She walked along a path her people had used for decades, then plunged through brush along a new trajectory, stopping to check her compass occasionally. By noon her bag was bulging with herbs and roots, and she felt cleansed, reborn by the forest.
She had turned to head back to the road when she heard the rhythmic chop-chop of an axe. She followed the sound. No one was supposed to chop wood in this forest.
Pushing past a tangle of forsythia, she stepped into a clearing and found a lean-to. Drying animal skins hung on a rack beside the structure, and a curl of smoke rose from a firepit that held a spit with a rabbit cooking over the low flame.
She should probably leave. Whoever was living here was doing so illegally and might not take kindly to being discovered. She could tell the park ranger to check it out. The chopping had stopped, and only the drone of insects disturbed the quiet of the deep woods.
A frisson of panic assailed her for no real reason, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Skye winced as her retreating footsteps crunched dead leaves.
A form materialized from the shadows in front of her. “I know you,” the man said.
Skye nearly screamed. She took a step back. “Wilson, you scared me. What are you doing out here?” She felt almost giddy with relief.
“I live here.”
She hadn’t seen Wilson New Moon in nearly two months, she realized. The forty-year-old mentally challenged man often stopped by her shop to talk about his hobby of balsam airplanes. She sold them in her shop, and he eked out an existence on the income.
“I wondered why you hadn’t been in the shop lately. I have some money for you,” she told him.
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