Valley of Stars (The Merriams Book 3)

by Ava Miles

  His dark, angular face was striking in profile as he gestured across the lands they were crossing. “Our tribe broke away from the clan of the hyena before the British came to Kenya. The chief’s son went out to kill his first lion like that one over there.”

  Clara followed the line of his finger to the grassy ridge a far distance off, and when she squinted, she could make out the lion sunning itself. Goodness, Sironka had remarkable eyesight. “They are beautiful, aren’t they?”

  He nodded. “Unfortunately for the chief, his son returned saying he’d found a wounded lion in a field of flowers and used the flower to restore the lion to health. He hadn’t seen the honor in killing a wounded beast.”

  Clara was enthralled. “What happened when the lion was restored to health?”

  Sironka smiled. “The story goes that the lion looked the man in the eyes. It’s said in that moment, he knew he was meant to be a healer and not a warrior. His father threw him and all his wives out of the clan, only his mother wouldn’t stand for it. The chief told her she could go as well. She practiced healing, although she had never been allowed to become a laibon, and when she accompanied her son, it’s said he gave her the station to honor her sacrifice. From then on, men and women could be laibon in the new tribe the chief’s son started if they had the gift for healing.”

  “How incredible,” Clara said, hanging onto the cab as they hit another bump. “But women still can’t be warriors?”

  Sironka laughed loudly. “My father says women are the greatest warriors. They give birth. That battle is enough to ask of them.”

  Clara had never faced that particular battle, and the new regret she’d been feeling rose within her. Arthur said it was a pointless regret, especially given the number of young people in their lives, but he didn’t understand. She now felt like she’d missed one of the most important aspects of being a woman.

  “Your father is a wise man, indeed,” Arthur said. “I couldn’t have said it better. What about these visions I heard Boyd mention? Something about a couple?”

  Joseph looked over his shoulder suddenly, and Clara almost called out that he should keep his eyes on the road given all the deep craters. But she wasn’t a backseat driver.

  She swatted Arthur on the shoulder instead. What was he doing? Trying to get a psychic prediction on whether Boyd and Michaela would end up together? As far as she was concerned, they didn’t need one. The way they’d kissed in the middle of camp earlier certainly suggested a reunion was in the works.

  “The couple that was to come,” Sironka said. “My mother and father both had visions of them.”

  “We’d be delighted to hear about such visions, Sironka.” Clara gave him a winning smile. “In our country, such things aren’t as common, so you’ll forgive my husband’s interest. He’s a journalist, and as such, loves to ask questions. With your permission, he might even write an article about our journey and such.”

  “Clara, I can tell him what I’m about,” Arthur said with a growl.

  “See, he even growls like a lion,” Clara said, patting Sironka on the arm. She hoped that was okay. It wasn’t every day one got to converse with a Maasai warrior. Oh, she couldn’t wait to fill Hargreaves in when they arrived at their destination.

  “I give up trying to get a word in edgewise,” Arthur said. “Hey, Sironka, do you separate the men and women at this celebration we’re having? I’ll be able to talk without interruption then.”

  “We do not as an official rule,” Sironka said with a laugh, “but men and women often congregate in groups. I imagine Mrs. Hale here will find many friends, as will you, Mr. Hale.”

  “And do you take more than one wife in your tribe as well, Sironka?” Arthur turned his head to look at her, a cheesy grin on his face.

  “Like you could handle another wife,” she said dryly.

  “That’s what my tribe says about taking more than one wife,” Sironka said with a chuckle. “Not every man can handle it.”

  “Can you?” Clara asked Sironka. “Maybe I’ll stay with Sironka here, Arthur, since you’re so upset about my loquaciousness.”

  “You two sound like my parents,” the warrior said. “They too have known each other for many seasons.”

  Seasons. Clara thought of all the seasons she’d gone without Arthur. It had been like living in perpetual winter. “I suppose there’s only one man I want, after all.”

  Arthur extended his hand to her behind his seat, and she took it.

  “You two make a beautiful couple,” Sironka said, his smile bright. “It is an honor to be with you.”

  She supposed they weren’t too bad.

  Chapter 12

  Six well-muscled warriors had been waiting for them at the edge of the river in front of three hand-carved boats. Good news, they had two warriors in each boat to row them to their destination. Boyd hated rowing, and while Michaela could do it in a pinch, it wasn’t her forte. Bad news, the boats weren’t going to hold much of their supplies.

  The other warriors didn’t speak English, but Clara and Arthur were talking with them via Sironka. To Boyd’s amusement, the tall, fit warrior was showing his friends the red yarn Clara was going to use to knit him something. Hargreaves stood amongst the group, inquiring about some of the warrior’s spears and other jewelry, with Joseph translating. Boyd gestured to Michaela to step aside so they could huddle.

  “How is your family going to feel about leaving behind more of their possessions?” he asked her. “Certainly, we won’t be able to bring our full stock of food. You and I are used to eating on the trail, but your relatives might not be up to Maasai cuisine.”

  She dragged her hand across her forehead. Yeah, he was sweating too. The farther they climbed into the hills, the steamier it had become, the vegetation changing radically different everywhere they turned, from lush green to dry and back again. He’d caught sight of several plants he recognized: juniperus trees used for hut construction and fencing, crassulaceae for aches and pains, and acokanthera schimperi to make the poison the warriors sometimes dip their arrows in. Still, he wished they could take more time to study the plant life. Maybe on the way back.

  “My aunt seems to be bosom buddies with Sironka,” Michaela said, “so she’ll be game. It’s Uncle Arthur I’m concerned about. After driving four hours over those ruts, he’s walking stiffer. Now we’re climbing into boats for a few hours, according to Sironka. I’m a spring chicken in comparison, and even I’m a little achy.”

  He put his arm around her shoulders and rubbed. “You’re doing great, but I’ll rub your butt if it would help.”

  “Tempting, but I’ll pass for now.”

  “I’d say you don’t know what you’re missing, but you do.” He gave her a wicked grin. “And you’re not wearing a bra today, which is driving me nuts. Come on.”

  She shook her head in annoyance. “If I wear one, it drives you nuts. If I don’t, you’re still obsessed. Boyd, focus! Hargreaves seems to be managing well. He pumped Sironka’s warrior friends’ hands with extra enthusiasm, I thought.”

  “Hargreaves is game like your aunt,” Boyd said. “But I’m still concerned about leaving behind the equipment. Does your family really understand the kind of hut they’ll be sleeping in tonight?”

  “Perhaps we should ask Hargreaves,” Michaela said. “Jaali seems content to stay behind with Simon. Sironka promised no one would bother our cars or supplies.” To ensure it was so, one of his warrior friends was staying behind as well, a tall, brawny one named Kasaine. Boyd knew he would also help protect Simon and Jaali.

  “He also says we’ll only be gone a few days,” Boyd said. “That suggests the valley is close.”

  “You’re assuming a few days means the same thing we think it means,” Michaela said.

  “Right. Hargreaves! Can you come here for a moment? Joseph, you too!”

  Both men excused themselves and came over.

  “Hargreaves,” Boyd said, “I wondered if you had thoughts about Arthur and
Clara’s fitness for the next leg of the journey. We won’t be able to bring our tents or food, being guests of the tribe, which will mean sleeping in mud huts and eating Maasai cuisine.”

  Hargreaves thought on that for a moment, then said, “Madam is especially eager to visit the village, and Mr. Hale seems to be keen from what I can tell. If you’d like, I would be happy to ask them personally. Sironka told Madam that while he’d be honored to have us stay with their tribe forever, he expected it would be for three or four days at most.”

  Boyd glanced at Michaela, raising his brow. Clara seemed to have all the relevant information.

  “He understands we all have things to get back to,” Hargreaves said.

  “Yes, please ask them,” Boyd said.

  “Joseph, what kind of food can we expect at the village?” Hargreaves asked, his tan shirt still looking shockingly crisp. Maybe butlers didn’t sweat.

  Joseph wiped his brow. “Meat from cattle. Milk. Honey. Corn. Cabbage. Potatoes. Sironka joked in the Rover with Mrs. Hale that he and his tribe didn’t expect them to drink the ceremonial cow’s blood mixed with milk after she asked about tonight’s ceremony.”

  He caught Michaela trying to disguise her wince. Yeah, both of them would have tried it if asked, but he was relieved. “Pertinent information, Joseph. Thank you.”

  “I suspect Madam and Mr. Hale might already be aware of what they can expect, Dr. McClellan, but I will confirm it. Excuse me a moment.”

  They watched as he made his way back to the group and politely drew Arthur and Clara away. They listened intently to him, and then Clara waved dismissively in their direction. Arthur was shaking his head as Clara led him back to Sironka and the warriors.

  “Your aunt makes a lot of hand gestures like you do, Mickey,” Boyd said, laughing. “Do you Merriams have Italians in your family tree?”

  “I don’t know actually.” But she seemed tickled by the realization that she and Clara had something in common.

  Hargreaves crossed the grassy knoll to join them. “Madam says they’re on board.”

  “Wonderful,” Boyd said, somehow not surprised. “Michaela, do you want to help me throw the essentials into a couple of bags?”

  “I will handle Madam and Mr. Hale’s packing,” Hargreaves said.

  He fought a curse. “Hargreaves, I don’t mean to be rude, but how do you know what they’ll need? Have you ever been to a remote village?”

  The man looked down his nose at him. “It’s my job to know, Dr. McClellan. If you’ll excuse me, I will make the proper inquiries and see to my duties. Joseph, I will need you for translating.”

  Joseph’s mouth was twitching. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  Moments later, Hargreaves was conferring with a warrior, Joseph by his side.

  “Never let it be said anyone can catch Hargreaves flat-footed,” Boyd said, shaking his head. He couldn’t help but respect the man for it.

  “I can’t wait to tell my siblings how unflappable he is,” Michaela said. “He’s been on point for some pretty impressive things, but this… Did you know he plays the flamenco guitar? He gave Caitlyn’s fiancé lessons.”

  “I’ll remember that if I need to serenade a crocodile,” Boyd said. “Speaking of, did you see the monsters lurking on the far side of the river?”

  “Yes,” she said with a shiver. “Where there are crocs, there’ll be hippos. The thought of going through a crowd of hippos in one of those boats makes my gut churn. The dead-eyed crocodile is bad enough.” She reached out to touch him. “Something about this feels…wrong. I might need some distracting as we travel upriver.”

  He covered her hand, his heart soaring in his chest. Although he knew what she meant—it felt like they’d been too lucky so far—his mind was stuck on the fact that she’d finally reached out to him. “I promise to regale you with my good humor the whole way. Don’t worry, Mickey. We have two warriors in each boat. We’ll be fine. Come on.”

  They did their best to repack only the necessities. An hour later, they bid Simon and Jaali goodbye and settled into the boats—Michaela with Boyd, Hargreaves with Joseph, and Arthur and Clara with Sironka.

  As they pushed off, Boyd steeled himself for an uncomfortable few hours. He’d traveled in life-threatening waters before. At least they weren’t on the Amazon. That river was no picnic, the brown river water disguising any number of dangers like the electric eels or piranhas. And yet, Michaela was right. He had a bad feeling about this.

  But it was the only way they’d get to the Valley of Stars.

  Maybe that was part of the reason no one else had gotten to the valley. When he’d counted at least twenty hippos, and an equal number of crocs, he decided to stop tallying them. They were in dangerous waters. Literally.

  “You good, Marvin?” he asked. His buddy’s travel terrarium was zipped closed and tucked between his legs. Tokays were nocturnal, so he’d likely be asleep, but that had never stopped Boyd from talking to him.

  Boyd had positioned Michaela in front of him, and when he noticed a little tremor in her shoulders, he reached out and rubbed them. “How about you, babe?”

  “Getting into a Zen place,” she said in an uneasy voice. “I could use a joke.”

  So could he. “How about this one? A biologist, a paleontologist, and a herpetologist all walk into a bar…”

  The fact that she didn’t groan told him just how unsettled she was as the boat began gliding through the water. It struck him that the boats looked like a line of ducks, but he doubted Michaela would be amused if he compared them to sitting ducks just now, so he continued his litany of corny one-liners, most of which didn’t make Michaela laugh, as he watched the warriors’ paddles cut through the water. It felt like his mouth was operating separately from his body, which was on high alert.

  When a crocodile emerged from some greenery on the opposite shore and slithered into the water, Michaela’s shoulders tensed. He raised his hands to rub them, and she jumped and let out a yawp.

  “Easy there, babe. I was only trying to help relax you.”

  “I won’t relax until we’re off this river,” she said, her muscles like boulders.

  Still, he continued to rub them, if only for the pleasure of touching her. “You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”

  She turned slowly, careful not to rock the boat. “You always say that, and while it’s sweet, we both know something out of your control could happen.” As if she’d just issued a dare, something big bumped the boat, and she gasped and grabbed his hand.

  “Easy,” he breathed out, his stomach clenching. “You know what I missed about you while we were apart?” The jokes weren’t working. Maybe this situation called for a healthy dose of truth.

  “What?”

  “The little freckles under the knuckles on your fingers. I think that might make me super weird, but I don’t care. I love them.”

  “You are weird, Boyd,” she said, her voice breathless. “But I like that about you.”

  “I like that you’re weird too,” he said, hearing the bump again under their feet. His gut seized up. “The warrior at the helm seems pretty calm, doesn’t he? I mean, if there’s a hippo or croc under us, he’d look more tense, right?”

  “Shut up, Boyd,” she said, shaking her hair back when a fly buzzed close to her. “Uncle Arthur just took Aunt Clara’s hand.”

  “I’ll take your hand,” he said, reaching out to her. “I’d find it comforting, if you need a reason.”

  “I know you hate this part of the trip as much as I do,” she whispered. “How long did he say it would take? A couple hours, right? How long has it been?”

  “I never wear a watch, remember?” Boyd said, wishing he could laugh. “Sironka has a surprisingly good sense of humor. I didn’t know warriors laughed that much.”

  Marvin croaked then, and the warrior at the helm turned sharply in his seat. He motioned with his free hand at the gecko’s travel carrier. “Easy, buddy,” Boyd said, patting the nylon.
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  “He always gets agitated when he feels a threat,” Michaela said. “Based on the look our guide just gave you, he doesn’t seem too pleased to have him on board.”

  “I wasn’t about to leave him behind; no one handles him like me. Or you.”

  “He’s a sweetheart,” Michaela said. “Just has trust issues like other Tokays. Oh!”

  Marvin croaked again as another bump sounded beneath them. The whole boat shuddered. Boyd looked to the right. It felt like something had hit them on the side this time.

  “I really don’t like this, Boyd,” Michaela said, clenching his hand. “It doesn’t feel right.”

  Acid churned in his stomach. He put his hand on Marvin’s carrier, his mouth going dry. “Easy, boy! We’re all okay here. Mickey, focus on a happy place. How about we take off to a private villa in Bali after this trip? Just you and me?”

  “I like the villa part,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’m still considering the second part.”

  That sounded promising, but he didn’t have an opportunity to question her. Another bump shook the entire boat, causing the warrior in front to reach for his spear. That couldn’t be good. “Consider faster, Mickey. By the way, this seems like a good moment to tell you I love you. Always have. Always will.”

  “Shut up, Boyd.” She squeezed his hand so hard the bones seemed to rub together. “Focus on that villa.” She lowered her voice. “I’m waiting for you to come out of the water, and I’m not wearing anything.”

  Shock rolled through him, pulling his mouth into a grin that slipped as the boat shuddered again. “You give me that visual. My brain can’t focus on anything right now, Mickey, but—”

  The boat shuddered again. The warrior at the helm stood slowly, spear in hand. Boyd looked over his shoulder, and his heart skipped a beat. The warrior at the back was in the same position. Well, at least they hadn’t rocked the boat.

  A wild part of him wanted to laugh at that thought, but they were slowing down. He turned around to see the boat behind them do the same. Joseph had his knife out. Jesus! Usually he was the soul of peace. Boyd couldn’t see Hargreaves, who was sitting directly behind him. One of the warriors shouted something. Sironka stood slowly in the lead boat and spun around, calling out something in response. The other warrior with him stopped rowing. All three boats had come to a rolling stop in the river. Okay, now they were sitting ducks. Surely they knew what they were doing.