Valley of Stars (The Merriams Book 3)

by Ava Miles

  “Not something I want to think about right now after the moment we just had,” she muttered, looking around for any telltale flashes of red. She didn’t see anything, so she handed his clothes to him.

  “Hell of a forethought to pack extras,” he said, starting to change as she did the same. “Maybe we need to bring a butler on our future treks.”

  She thought about those treks. Would they be doing them together? “Boyd,” she whispered. “Today really scared me.”

  He pulled the shirt over his head and then cupped her cheek. “Me too, Mickey. I’m still thinking about that villa in Bali after this. Ready to join me? It won’t be any fun without you.”

  She finished changing. “I’ll need a steady supply of girly cocktails.”

  That prompted a laugh from him. “After today, I might drink them with you.”

  “Ah…I have to ask. Did you lose your wallet?”

  He held it up as he shucked off his pants dramatically. “No, ma’am. Already checked. Your future merchandise is safe.”

  She’d wondered if her engagement ring was at the bottom of the river with everything else. The loss of it had been an ache in her heart, which had helped her see the truth.

  The first easy smile of the day touched her face. “Good.”

  Chapter 14

  Michaela’s firm grip on Boyd’s hand helped him work through his shock and grief. She was back in his life for good, and if there were an animal heaven—which Boyd secretly wished were the case—he hoped Marvin would know.

  Sironka had taken it upon himself to usher Clara through the final ascent to his village, and he still had his arm around her as they reached the outside fencing. Hargreaves had kept pace with the other warriors, but Boyd and Michaela had slowed down to keep Arthur company, using their shock as the reason. He’d been puffing from the elevation, although Boyd had been quick to assure him the Loita Hills were higher in elevation than his home in Dare Valley.

  Of course, Arthur hadn’t believed him, calling out for Hargreaves to confirm it. Apparently the man was as versed in trivia as he was in everything else. After Hargreaves’ confirmation, Arthur had muttered, “A man my age shouldn’t take on elevation bigger than he was used to,” but he’d kept going.

  “Arthur!” Clara called out. “You dear man. We made it.”

  He emitted a grumble, breathing hard. Boyd had thought to lend him a hand as they walked, but the man’s pride was strong. He had to respect that.

  Hundreds of people had gathered to greet them in the village, all dressed in the traditional red Maasai plaid, many of the women wearing beautiful braid-and-beadwork headdresses. But what almost stopped Boyd in his tracks was the smattering of elderly people in the crowd, their thickly shorn white hair stark against their dark skin. His skin broke into goose bumps. Life expectancy for the Maasai was in the low forties, and these folks looked to be in their seventies and eighties, if he were correct.

  He leaned close to Michaela’s ear. “Have you noticed—”

  “The old people?” she whispered, her eyes wide.

  “What are you two murmuring about?” Arthur asked.

  Boyd shut his mouth. They could investigate this later.

  A young woman came forward out of the crowd and placed a baby swaddled in red- and blue-checkered plaid in Clara’s arms. She beamed as she touched the sweet face.

  “Goodness, they’re giving that woman a baby,” Arthur said with gusty sigh. “I’m really starting to believe in the visions of these people. It’s like they knew…”

  Boyd nudged Michaela. “Don’t they only do that at marriage ceremonies? Joseph! Can you come here for a moment?”

  The man broke off from the warrior he was speaking with and crossed to him. “What’s the significance of giving Clara the child?” he asked.

  “I’ve never seen that happen before, Dr. Boyd. We must ask Sironka.”

  “Arthur!” Clara called over her shoulder. “Come! Sironka wants to introduce you to his parents and their chief.”

  “Perhaps they are giving my uncle and aunt special respect because they’re elders,” Michaela said. “They obviously have a number of them.”

  “Yes, it is unique to their village,” Joseph said, nodding with a mysterious smile. “Like Mr. and Mrs. Hale and Master Hargreaves, they have seen many seasons.”

  Boyd’s palms started to sweat, but he reached for Michaela’s hand at the same instant she reached for him. Linking hands, they stared into each other’s eyes. The excitement in hers was contagious. Yeah, they were thinking the same thing. The elders’ condition suggested the flower was more than simply healing. It was the fountain of youth.

  They’d found their Holy Grail at last.

  Boyd continued watching as Sironka led Arthur and Clara around, introducing them to a line of villagers. “I imagine Sironka will call us forward when it’s time to present us.”

  When Clara ushered Hargreaves forward, Boyd took his eyes off the elders and looked around the village. There were at least five large traditional loaf-like dwellings in view, constructed with timber poles, mud, and thatch. He wondered what their accommodations looked like. When he and Michaela finally were alone, he planned to celebrate them being alive and finding the flower.

  “I plan to tell Sironka you’re joining me in the hut tonight,” he whispered to Michaela.

  “After what happened in the forest,” she whispered back, taking his hand, “I hoped you would. We have a lot to celebrate.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing.” Tonight, he’d have her laid out before him naked, and he planned to sup on her skin like a man starved.

  “Michaela! Boyd!” Clara gestured with a free hand to beckon them forward. “Come meet everyone.”

  “Your aunt appears to be in charge,” Boyd said softly as they made their way toward the welcoming party.

  “She is a Merriam, after all,” Michaela said, smiling.

  “Come see this beautiful child,” Clara said, turning around with a radiant smile on her face, the baby tucked snugly against her chest. “Her name is Natanna.”

  “She’s beautiful, Aunt,” Michaela said, joining Clara in what Boyd could only call a baby glow.

  Sironka gestured to him and Michaela and introduced them, and Boyd smiled at their hosts. They’d be working with these people, and he couldn’t wait to get started. But he knew all about introductions and the proper order of things.

  “This is Chief Mingati,” Sironka said, pointing to the man with the most elaborate headdress.

  He bowed, noting that while the chief wasn’t the oldest elder, his head was shot with white. “Dr. Merriam and I are honored to be here, Chief Mingati.”

  “We welcome you to our village,” the chief said in English. “You bring us great honor.”

  Well, Sironka had said a group of them had learned English. That was going to make things a lot easier. Sometimes language was as big an obstacle as culture.

  “We look forward to returning many times for your hospitality,” Michaela added.

  Sironka gestured to the man and woman beside the chief. “These are my parents. They are both aptly named for this meeting. She is Naserian, the one who initiates peace in her community out of love. He is Lemayian, the blessed one.”

  From their appearance, they looked to be in their late thirties or early forties. In most Maasai cultures, they’d have been at the end of their life, but not here. Boyd wanted to grin but tried to keep cool. “Your names do you great honor. We are pleased to meet you.”

  The chief raised his hands to the sky. “The couple promised to us has finally come to help us share the flower with the world. We are grateful for this auspicious meeting. Now, let us feast.”

  Excitement kindled in Boyd’s chest. The path here had been brutal, but he was with Michaela again, and they would soon be taken to the Valley of Stars. He squeezed her hand as the drums sounded and people started to dance. Still jumpy from their earlier scare, she jolted. He put his arm around her in com
fort, and she leaned in. Part of him wanted to join the party of dancers.

  His Mickey was back with him, and they were staying with the fabled protectors of the secret flower! Pinch him.

  Sironka led their party through the crowd, and Boyd knew he was grinning at people as they walked by. So much for keeping it cool. They emerged to find wooden stools arranged in a U-shape in front of a large hut. Makeshift firepits surrounded it with people turning roasted meat on spits. From the smell of it, Boyd knew they were going to have some good beef tonight.

  Sironka showed them to their seats, and sure enough, there had to be some elders thing going on, because after someone retrieved the baby, Arthur and Clara were seated directly next to the chief, Hargreaves next to them. Boyd and Michaela sat next to Hargreaves, and Joseph sat beside Michaela. A young woman handed Boyd a dried gourd full of milk, and he drank it without wincing. He wasn’t a big fan of milk, but it was an insult to turn anything down.

  “Oh, this is delicious,” Clara announced, holding out her gourd. “What is it?”

  Leaning forward around his parents and the chief, Sironka said, “It’s mead made from honey—a treat for elders.”

  “We certainly are that, I suppose, but thankfully we’re not the only ones in the village,” she said, laughing. “Arthur, how are you faring?”

  “Fine, my dear,” he said, pushing aside the white hair covering his forehead, damp with sweat. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to be sitting down with these fine people.”

  “You’re a trooper, Arthur,” Boyd called. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone tougher than you three.”

  “Thank you, Boyd,” Clara said. “Oh, are we to have some entertainment?”

  A group of people entered the open area between the seats and began to sing and dance, the percussive drums making Boyd tap his feet on the ground. Michaela smiled as another woman brought them new drinks, which smelled like some kind of fermented beer, and plates piled with beef, fried potatoes, and a stew of greens.

  His stomach grumbled, and Boyd dug in. “Eat up,” he said to Michaela, who was uncharacteristically picking at her food.

  “I don’t have much of an appetite,” she said in an undertone, “but I’m doing my best. I know it’s rude not to finish your plate.”

  “Don’t worry, Dr. Michaela,” Joseph said, lifting his gourd. “Everyone knows of your ordeal today. It won’t be considered bad form.”

  A lack of appetite was a symptom of shock for some people. He clearly wasn’t one of them. “That’s nice to hear, Joseph. Still, I’ll finish what Michaela can’t to save face.” He’d done it before.

  She put her hand on his back and rubbed it. “Thanks, Boyd.”

  “I got you,” he said, concerned about her color. She looked ashen, and her earlier excitement seemed to be waning, but he told himself it was the close call that had affected her. Hell, he had a feeling they’d both have nightmares for a while, but for now, he was going to focus on the positives.

  Clara’s laughter boomed out, and he turned his head to watch her gesture to the chief. Arthur’s shoulders were shaking as he took another drink of mead.

  “Do you think they know the mead is alcoholic?” he asked, noting the red flush on Arthur’s cheeks.

  “I don’t know,” she said, sipping her beer, “but you don’t need to worry about Aunt Clara. She’s like Trevor. They both have that gene where they can drink anything.”

  Yeah, he’d heard the family stories about Trevor. “How is your brother, by the way?”

  “He just got married to a wonderful woman in Ireland,” she said, a wide smile covering her face. “I’ve never seen him happier.”

  “Glad to hear it,” he said, wondering if he’d be meeting her family again soon. In the past, he’d been included at family occasions and the like, and he’d mostly enjoyed them despite the difference in their social status, which had made him feel self-conscious. Her family meant everything to her, and because of that, they were important to Boyd.

  His family was so different. With his mom working so much, they didn’t spend a lot of time together. They loved each other. They just didn’t understand each other, but she’d always done everything she could to give him a better life, and he wanted to do the same for her.

  “Aunt Clara seems to have everyone hanging on her every word,” Michaela said, pressing her hand to her stomach and emitting a slight belch. “Oh, excuse me.”

  He chuckled. “It’s good manners to belch at a Maasai celebration, right, Joseph?”

  “Right, Dr. Boyd,” the man said with a smile.

  He thought about asking Joseph more about the flower and the presence of elders in the village, but the feast didn’t seem like the right place. But he was curious about a couple sitting at the end of the head table.

  “Joseph, who are the man and woman sitting on the other side of Sironka?” he asked. “They weren’t introduced earlier.” But he remembered seeing them because Sironka had greeted the woman warmly.

  “That’s Leshan, Sironka’s sister, and her husband,” Joseph said. “Like her brother, she was well named. Leshan means one who defends the course of justice. They sent her to Nairobi for schooling to become a lawyer, so the tribe could lawfully own their lands.”

  “They own it?” Michaela said, brows raised. “And they sent a woman to make the arrangements? I really admire the equality in this clan.”

  “It’s unique to this tribe,” Joseph said, gesturing with his hand. “My wives often joke about wanting to move here to be the wives of a warrior. I tell them they break my heart with such teasing.” He let out a laugh.

  “I’m assuming the Valley of Stars is included in the land they own,” Boyd asked casually. “I’d been wondering about that.”

  “Yes. The tribe feared the government might take away their lands. Sell them to a timber company. You know how much corruption there is in Kenya, especially with the Ministry of Lands. Maasai land rights mean nothing in this country. Some tribes have gone through the process of acquiring a title only for officials to later use the same law against them to dispossess them of their land. It’s atrocious.”

  Boyd had read up on the Group Representative Land Act and the current status of land rights, wanting to be prepared in case they did find the flower. Working with traditional groups around the world, he’d faced serious land issues before when a superfood or unique plant medicine was found. So had Michaela. This village’s flower was going to make those other cases look like a piece of cake in comparison. He’d already looked up the best land rights lawyer in Kenya, wanting to be prepared.

  “So the village having the title is no guarantee they’ll be able to keep the Valley of Stars,” Michaela said, shaking her head. “That’s horrible. We’ll have to— Perhaps this isn’t the time for such talk.”

  Joseph picked up his drink. “No, but the chief and the leaders are well aware of the situation and think they’ve found a way to mitigate the problem. But I leave such talk to them.”

  Boyd’s palms were sweating again, but for a different reason this time. The leaders’ plan likely involved him and Michaela. He couldn’t wait to hear what they had in mind.

  “Tell us more about Leshan and how she was chosen,” Michaela asked as a group of female dancers appeared in front of them, stomping on the ground with their bare feet, their beads tinkling as they danced.

  “When Naserian became pregnant, she had a vision of her daughter being the one to secure the land. As you might expect, giving a girl such an honor was rare. It caused much discussion, but in the end, Chief Mingati agreed she would go. When the gods tell you to do something, you do it.”

  The gods again. But if it worked, it worked, and clearly this tribe had been preparing to share the flower with the world for decades. Not every tribe he worked with had such forethought.

  “We all know times are changing, and we must change with them,” Joseph said, spearing another piece of meat and raising it to his mouth. “But I pray our bee
f will never change. We Maasai must always be one with our cattle.”

  “Michaela and I will do everything possible to help preserve your ways, Joseph.” It was part of the mandate of his new company, and very dear to his heart. Plant diversity was as important as people diversity, to his mind.

  “We know that, Dr. Boyd, and thank you for it. Everyone needs allies in this world.”

  “I can’t wait to meet Leshan,” Michaela said, passing Boyd her mostly full plate.

  Boyd couldn’t wait to get down to business. “Do you expect we’ll go to the Valley of Stars tomorrow, Joseph?”

  The man slapped him on the back. “I imagine so, Dr. Boyd. Now, aren’t you happy you survived the hippos and the crocs today? The gods favored you.”

  “I’m just happy that we all made it here safely, Joseph.”

  “Me too,” Michaela echoed, leaning her head briefly against his shoulder.

  She was tired. For her sake, he hoped the celebration wouldn’t last too much longer.

  “It looks like everything is back on track, as your people say,” Joseph said.

  Putting his arm around Michaela, watching the festivities, he had to agree.

  Perhaps the gods did favor them, after all.

  * * *

  Clara couldn’t help but think she’d somehow found a new home.

  The Maasai people were more welcoming than she’d ever imagined for a people known for being wary of strangers. Clearly, they weren’t strangers. My God, they’d put the cutest, sweetest baby in her arms. Sironka’s beautiful mother had said, “These are all your children now.” Tears had popped into her eyes, and for a moment, she’d started to believe Sironka’s mother might have seen a vision of her. How else could she have known Clara regretted her lack of children?

  Chief Mingati had a surprisingly good sense of humor, and he’d been all too happy to tell her about his first lion kill. According to the chief, it had been an even struggle for survival, the account of which had been so riveting, Clara had perched literally on the edge of her seat. Arthur had listened just as intently, his posture tense, and she’d taken note of his flushed cheeks.