He gathered a few stalks of cane from the river’s edge, stripped them down, and cut them off to around three feet long. He turned to Moon, who had been silently watching. “Cane makes great arrows.”
“Too bad you don’t have a bow to shoot them with.”
He smiled and continued to work with the arrows. He pulled a short length of paracord from his bag, stripped it to the nylon center, and then pulled the nylon center into strands of string. Next, he placed a flat rock next to the fire. When it grew hot, he put a piece of dried pine sap on it. When it began to melt, he took a small stick and mixed ashes with it.
“Glue?” Moon said.
“Glue,” Luke said as he placed one of the stone points on a cane shaft. He had cut a slit in the end of it and dabbed a bit of pine pitch into it. The point fit perfectly—he knew it would, had done it hundreds of times. He straightened the point quickly before the glue could set. Then he took the nylon string and bound the head tightly to the shaft. When he was satisfied with the point, he put more glue over the string to hold it all in place. “All I need now are a few feathers.”
Moon pulled her pack to her and reached inside. “I have something here.” She pulled out a wad of colorful feathers.
“What do you have?” Luke said as he took the wad.
“They look like parrot feathers attached to a string. That last warrior you clubbed had them hanging from his wrist. I don’t know... Something told me to get it. I’m sorta ashamed now, but I guess it was a trophy.”
Luke untangled the little bundle. It was a type of bracelet made of bones and feathers. The feathers were not very strong, but they would do for now. Luke tied them on the shaft as best he could and dabbed a little glue on. But pine pitch was not the glue he needed for that—he needed hide glue. That would have to wait for another time when he could boil animal hides down to make the glue.
“All that is needed now is a bow.” Moon said as she took a nibble of the fish.
Luke picked up one of the spears. It was about six feet long. “My bow.”
“That thing won’t bend.”
He put his knife to work shaving on one side of the spear.
“That will take all night,” Moon said as she placed a piece of fish into Luke’s mouth.
He swallowed the fish. “It’s hard for sure—hickory.” Luke sharpened his knife on a flat piece of novaculite and began shaving wood.
“While you are whittling on that, I’m going to bathe.” She stood. “I trust you won’t look.”
Luke immediately turned red. He hated himself for it.
“That is so cute.”
He turned redder and scraped harder and faster, wished she would just go bathe. He heard her behind him taking her clothes off. He was tempted to look, but he was too embarrassed to say anything, much less turn around.
She stepped into the stream. “This is cold!”
He thought, Of course it is; it’s the middle of October.
“But it feels so good to get some of this filth off me.”
Luke kept his eyes on the bow as she splashed around in the stream, but his mind was more on the splashing now than the bow.
Soon she got out of the water. “Luke, close your eyes. I have to stand by the fire to put my clothes on. I’m freezing.”
Luke did as he was told, wishing he had the nerve to look. No one could say Luke was not a first rate gentleman—or chicken.
“Luke.”
Luke still had his eyes closed. “What?” He could hear her pulling on her cloths.
“I think you are a good constable. Okay, you can look now.”
Luke opened his eyes. She was putting her jacket on. Her red hair was wild as she fluffed it. He believed he was actually falling in love with her. Yet, he had never even touched her.
“But you don’t look the lawman type,” she said as she sat by the fire.
“You don’t look the government agent type.”
“Fair enough,” she said as she pulled at her wet hair.
Luke placed the center of the bow over his knee and pulled on both ends. “This is coming along nicely.”
“I have to tell you, I’m impressed.”
Luke scraped on it for about another thirty minutes, flexing it over his knee often. Then he pulled another length of paracord from his pack. He bent the bow and tied it on. He pulled the string back. “Lucky day. I’d say it’s about fifty pounds. Plenty enough strength to kill anything. Well, maybe not a mammoth.”
He looked across the fire. Moon was asleep. He had been so busy with the bow, he didn’t even know she had lain down. He was tempted to lie beside her, but he didn’t have the nerve.
He gathered his arrows and placed them by the bow and a tomahawk he had fashioned to replace the ax. He looked at Moon and thought about her great ability with the pistol. Tomorrow she would see what he could do.
Chapter 6
The ground was like a stone mattress, but Luke somehow managed to fall asleep with the sounds of coyotes yipping across the prairie—the sounds of home, a little familiarity and comfort. He even dreamed all night—weird dreams. Now he was hunting dinosaurs—dreams are funny that way. In the dream a herd of Gallimimuses was charging toward him like the scene in Jurassic Park. He had his homemade bow ready, but he doubted his arrows would penetrate their hard skin. As they grew closer, the ground quaked. He staggered like a drunk trying to keep his balance, and it was almost impossible to draw his bow.
“Luke!”
Moon called, but he couldn’t find her. All he could see were dinosaurs as they darted around him like speeding cars.
“Luke!” He awoke from the dream with Moon shaking him and yelling. It was breaking daylight, the ground still shaking. “Get up! Buffalo!”
He shot to his feet. Bison appeared to be everywhere. He was immediately afraid he would be trampled, but at the same time, he felt the adrenaline—the rush of being alive. He grabbed his pack and his weapons. “Climb the ridge!” he yelled above the stampede.
Moon shimmied up the little ridge like a bear cub and then reached down and helped him up.
There were thousands of them. They thundered across the prairie like a story from the Old West. They crashed across the creek and trampled the ground where Luke and Moon had just slept. The smell was immediate and strong. On and on they came, kicking up dust and grass.
Moon squeezed Luke’s arm. “What a sight.”
Luke held his breath until he remembered to breathe. He knew the history of the American bison before the hunters had slaughtered the great herds. He smiled and shook his head—what a sight! In his mind’s eye, he could see the Indians on horseback pursuing the great herd. He could see the village where the buffalo would be processed, every bit of the animal used. There would be a great celebration. “Unbelievable!”
“Believe it,” Moon said. “They still exist here in abundance, not like back in your world.” She smiled as she took in the magnificent scene.
Luke’s smile dropped. She was right. This was another place and not the American West. There were no Indians here. That time in his country’s history was gone, never to return. His kind had been cruel and wasteful. For the next twenty minutes, the herd stampeded by, but Luke’s smile was gone.
When the last animals thundered past, Luke and Moon slid down from the ridge, dusted themselves, and headed across the prairie, wading bison manure. The ground was rutted and hard to walk on. A great dirt swath, like a wide snake, slithered across the prairie as far as they could see. No one would have a difficult task following a large herd of bison.
As they walked along, Luke took his mind off home as he practiced with his bow. He shot at grass stalks, grasshoppers, bison turds, anything, just to get the feel of the new bow. They had found a dead crow, and Luke collected the wing feathers for his arrows. Now living off the land was real, not just a hobby as it had been back home in the Ozarks. He now knew he would have to collect or make everything he needed to survive—or kill what he needed. He was now a
real hunter-gatherer.
The large, golden prairie slowly changed to a savanna. A few miles farther, and they were in a forest again, where Luke found a pecan grove. “We better fill our pockets with these,” Luke said. “We shouldn’t pass up food.” He began stuffing his pack with the pecans. He was made for this. He had played this game for years. Back home he collected pecans, hickory nuts, persimmons, and all other manner of nuts and fruits from the wild. But, it was only play. He could always go to the store in his truck any time he wanted—not now.
Moon picked up a few, then stopped and looked at Luke. “I have to tell you something.”
Luke stopped picking up the nuts and turned to her. Her beautiful auburn hair floated with the wind. He couldn’t help himself from swallowing hard. “What is it?”
Before Moon said another word, a spear flew from the sky and stabbed in the dirt between them. Moon went for her pistol, but another spear sliced her arm, sending the gun careening to the ground.
Luke spotted a Scrain in the pecan tree. He put an arrow in the man’s chest in an instant. It was automatic. The man tumbled from the tree like a stunt man in an action movie. Luke crammed another arrow on the bow and wheeled around in time to see another charging. He shot him in the face. The man’s feet ran out from under him, and he slammed on his back, dead.
“Look out!” Moon yelled.
Luke turned just as another Scrain lunged his spear at him. Luke deflected it with his bow. The man grabbed Luke around the neck and drove him to the ground. Luke’s face hit the dirt hard, and he saw flashes in his head. The man grabbed Luke’s hair and slammed his face into the dirt. Luke elbowed the man in the side, pulled his new tomahawk from his belt, and drove it into the man’s throat. The man gurgled and fell dead.
Luke turned in time to see Moon kick a Scrain in the face with her boot. He heard the dull crunch and knew the man was dead when he hit the ground.
Moon picked the pistol up from the ground, was ready for the next one. But, there were no more.
It happened fast—too fast. They had been careless, but they had been lucky. They had not seen them on the prairie and mistakenly thought they were safe—they were wrong. Luke could not know back then that all of those years of practicing and shooting running rabbits with primitive weapons would some day save his life. Now it had, and he was sure he would need that training again.
He looked around and saw Moon holding her arm, her sleeve soaked with blood. “Moon!” He ran to her. “How bad is it?”
“Help me get my jacket off,” she said.
Luke eased the bloody jacket off, and she removed her shirt—she wore nothing under it. The spear had scraped a large gash in her forearm.
“I’ve got a first-aid kit in my pack.” Luke fumbled around in his pack and pulled it out. He had to slow down and take a breath. He knew he had to be cool. Getting in a panic would help nothing. He slowly wrapped a bandage around her arm. He felt her looking at him.
“You did well, Constable.” She dabbed at Luke’s bleeding lip—luckily, the only sign of the pounding he had just taken.
He finished taping the bandage and slowly raised his eyes to hers. In his peripheral vision, he could see her naked body. His heart raced and it wasn’t from the fight.
“Thank you, Luke.” She smiled.
“You’re welcome.” His eyes stayed locked on hers. They were perfect eyes.
“But now I’m getting cold,” she said.
Luke grinned, and this time he didn’t turn red. He helped her get her shirt back on, being careful around the wound. “It’s a good gash, but you’ll be fine.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Luke looked the dead men over, seeing if he could find anything of use. The men were young, twenty or so. The Scrains’ faces were not painted solid like the Chooners, but they wore painted stripes and swirls. To Luke they looked like blond Vikings. Some had bones pierced through their skins. Others had scars on their faces that resembled birds.
“Let’s head out,” Moon said.
“We had better be more careful. There may be more ahead,” Luke said.
“No. We are getting out of their territory.”
Luke picked up his bow. “How can you possibly know that?” He reached down and wiped the blood from his tomahawk onto a clump of grass.
A horn echoed through the woods; it sounded like a bull’s horn he had heard coon hunters use to call in the dogs.
Moon stood. “Yes!”
“What is it?” Luke said.
“Come on, let’s go,” Moon said as she took off toward the sound.
“Moon, wait!” It was no use.
They jogged through the forest and soon stepped out into a large opening. It was a village. There were long huts made of logs and sticks. There were also round houses made from all types of stones. They looked like igloos. In the center of the village was a large flat-topped pyramid made of stones with steps ascending all four sides, sort of like what the Mayans had, but on a much smaller and cruder scale.
Moreover, there were people—a lot of them. They were all looking at Luke and Moon. They were not moving, just staring. There was something strange about them. They were white people, but they reminded him of American Indians. Then Luke realized what was so strange—they all had red hair.
Luke slowly turned to Moon. She was smiling with tears running down her cheeks..
“These are my people, Luke. We are safe.” She stepped forward and spoke words that sounded like some sort of American Indian language and in a loud voice with exaggerated hand gestures. The people cheered and a man in a buffalo robe with a strange, skinned hat walked toward them.
“What did you say, Moon?” Luke took her arm. “What do you mean, these are your people?”
The man walked to within ten feet of them. He looked to be around sixty or so; tears were running down his face, too. “Sha-She?” the man said softly.
Luke laid his hand on his tomahawk.
“Sha-She?” the man said again, but a little louder.
Moon nodded. “Da.” She ran to the man, and they embraced for a long spell.
The man turned, raised Moon’s hand high in the air, and yelled, “Sha-She!”
The horns suddenly sounded out in every direction. The people all descended on Moon in high jubilee. They pulled at her clothes and laughed. They jabbered in that strange language. Moon laughed with them. She hugged many of them in turn. Yes, she knew them.
They started toward the center of the village, but Moon stopped as she remembered Luke. She said something to the older man and walked back to Luke. “Luke, you stand right here. Don’t move.”
“Stay here?”
“I will be back soon.”
“I’m not gonna stand right here.” Luke took a step forward. “What do you mean—”
Moon put her hand up. “Stop, Luke!”
Luke stopped as if he had been slapped. He was confused.
“I’m going to ask you to trust me again.” She lowered her hand. “Now, I will come back shortly and explain everything. But right now you have to stand right there and not move.”
Luke didn’t have too many choices. He looked around. Nope—not too many choices at all.
He watched Moon disappear into the crowd with the rest of the red-haired people as they went toward the center of the village and into a long hut. Luke reckoned it was some kind of meeting hall.
All at once he was alone again. As he took stock of his situation and looked around, he realized he was wrong—he was definitely not alone. There were lookouts in the trees and they were watching him. They had long pointy sticks just like the Scrains. No wonder Moon didn’t want him to move. Luke backed up to a tree and sat down. He sat there for hours. He finally fell asleep leaning on the tree.
“Who are you?”
Luke awoke with a start. He looked up to see a tall young man.
“Why you here?” the man said.
Luke scrambled to his feet. At first, he thought he was dream
ing again; then he realized where he was.
“Talk!” the man said as he hit the butt of his spear on the ground.
Luke reached for his tomahawk, but the man was faster and quickly had the point of his spear inches from Luke’s face.
Luke dropped his hand away from the tomahawk. With a sigh he said, “My name is Luke.” He looked at the man. He was just as primitive looking as the rest. “How do you know English?”
The man lowered the spear. “Don’t know English.”
Luke realized he wasn’t being understood. “How can you speak to me in my words?”
The man ignored the question. “Where you come from?” He pointed his finger at Luke. “You come from Orion’s place?”
Luke had read somewhere that some ancient cultures worshiped the star constellation Orion. He wondered how this man knew the name. How the hell could he speak English? Who were these people? Who was Moon and how did she know these people?
The man reached down and picked up Luke’s pack. “From Orion’s place?”
Luke pulled the pack from the man. “I come from Arkansas. You ever heard of that? You know, the Razorbacks. Wooo Pig Sooie.”
The man tugged at Luke’s shirt. “Orion?”
“No, Red. Not Orion. I come from Arkansas, the United States of America.”
“We go to Orion,” the man said and pulled at Luke’s shirt.
Luke pulled back. “You got a rocket-ship?” He threw his pack onto his back. “Just drop me off in the Ozark Mountains on your way.”
The horns sounded again and Luke turned to see Moon coming alone. She had colorful feathers arranged on her head like a laurel wreath an Ancient Roman or Greek might wear. She still had on her hiking clothes, but she also had a spotted, fawn skin cape over her shoulders.
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