Valley of Stars (The Merriams Book 3)

by Ava Miles

  “But she’s sick!” Boyd said, gesturing to Michaela. “She can’t travel anywhere. She isn’t even moving. Why can’t I just go?”

  “Because it is not yours to do, Boyd,” Naserian said, folding her arms across her red robes. “If you had to choose between having the flower and having your woman, what would you choose?”

  “I’d choose Michaela every time,” he ground out. “No question. But I shouldn’t have to choose. I’m the other half of the couple in your vision. The one who’s good with snakes and wild animals. I’d have thought your gods would already have approved of me. There shouldn’t be a test.”

  “There is no test here.” Lemayian lifted a regal brow. “You are not the one in our visions, Boyd, only the one who brought the two.”

  “What in the hell—excuse me—are you talking about? Of course, Michaela and I are the couple. Joseph said so.”

  “Did he use your names?” Naserian asked, folding her hands. “No, only my husband, the chief, our elders, and our children knew the identity of the couple.”

  “Are you telling us we came here for nothing?” Boyd rose to his full height. “The woman I love almost died in the river yesterday coming to your village, and now she’s lying in here with a fever.”

  “There’s been no mistake,” Naserian said, her brown eyes looking straight into his. “The couple is here.”

  He flinched, done with their riddles. “Where?”

  “The one who loves snakes and wild animals is standing right beside you, Boyd.” Lemayian gestured to Clara.

  “Me?” Clara’s mouth gaped before snapping shut. “But that’s—”

  “You and Mr. Hale are the couple in our visions,” Naserian said with a soft smile. “Only the pure of heart can take the flower and use it, and the gods have said that is you. Why else do you think we gave you one of our children to hold and honored you both yesterday?”

  “Because Clara loves babies,” Arthur spat out, wiping his face with a handkerchief. “You can’t be serious about Clara and me being the couple you’ve been waiting for. The fact that we’re even on this trip is improbable. What you’re suggesting is impossible.”

  “And yet, you and Mrs. Hale are here,” Naserian said in that same calm tone. “According to our tradition, only the female healer knows the location of the valley. If you wish, Sironka and I will take you there to bring back the flower.”

  “Don’t you have any of the flower here?” Boyd asked. “I saw a dozen elders in your tribe yesterday. They must be using it.”

  “Our stock ran out a week before your arrival to our village,” Naserian said. “An auspicious omen. I was waiting for the couple to come with me. It is a two- or three-day journey.”

  “Two or three days!” Arthur gasped. “You expect me to walk two days?”

  “Arthur!” Clara came over and took his hand. “Michaela may need the medicine.”

  The man growled. “I deal in facts, dear. Fine. Naserian, does this flower really work?”

  “It does.” Naserian nodded. “As Dr. McClellan said, there are those who have seen many seasons who wouldn’t be here without it.”

  “Why can’t you go?” Arthur asked, flicking a hand toward the hide flap leading out of the hut. “I mean, do we really need to come?”

  “Yes. Our village has been waiting for the couple with incorruptible souls to help us share the flower with the world. That is you.”

  “Then we’ll go immediately,” Clara said, her voice strong and sure.

  Naserian folded her hands, her brown eyes direct. “But you must know… Once you take the flower, it is your responsibility to share it. My daughter has the title for the land, and we will make you co-owners.”

  “Co-owners?” So that was the “solution” Joseph had referenced. He never would have guessed.

  “But what would we do with the land and the flower?” Arthur asked. “Boyd and Michaela are the plant people. This is why they came.”

  “Are you and Mrs. Hale not both searching for a new purpose in your lives?” Naserian asked. “You both are on a new road together, are you not?”

  Boyd couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Wasn’t this supposed to be his find, his and Mickey’s? But it didn’t matter anymore. All he cared about was getting that flower to her.

  “We’ll deal with the future later,” Clara said, fisting her hands together. “This had better be some flower, Naserian.”

  “I would not lie to you, Mrs. Hale,” the woman said softly.

  “I didn’t mean to suggest you were,” Clara said. “It’s only a shock, is all.”

  “Our gods asked the first chief to keep the flower’s location secret from the tribe after he used it to heal a lion on his first hunt,” Lemayian said. “This happened many moons ago.”

  “Sironka told us that story,” Clara said, her eyes narrowing. “Remember, Arthur? He’s the one who started this tribe after his father exiled him for not killing the lion.”

  “I don’t care what the story is,” Boyd said, his jaw ticking. The last thing he wanted to hear was more stories. “Michaela is sick. That’s what we need to focus on!”

  “We’ll be back shortly,” Naserian said, bowing shortly. “Then we can depart for the Valley of Stars.”

  Boyd stalked to her bed, trying to shelve his anger. He felt duped. Worst of all, he was responsible for Michaela being here. She wouldn’t be ill if he hadn’t been so damn eager to believe he and Michaela were Joseph’s so-called couple. If Boyd hadn’t been so stupid and gree—

  Yes, he’d say it. He’d been greedy, just like those explorers in the old stories about the star-shaped flower. Why else had he been so eager to embark on this trip with Mickey? He’d seen this as their destiny, but he should have asked more questions. He should have…

  None of this was going to help Michaela. She needed him. Touching her forehead, he nearly flinched from the scorching heat coming off her skin. The fact that she still hadn’t roused worried him more than anything.

  “Boyd.” Clara came to sit on the other side of the bed, touching Michaela’s cheek. “We’ll find the flower and bring it back to help her.”

  “Thank you.” He took Michaela’s hand.

  “I know you’re angry and disappointed, but those feelings aren’t going to help her, Boyd,” Arthur said, emerging from behind Clara and putting his hand on her shoulder. “We all have to focus on getting her well.”

  Boyd shifted his focus to Michaela’s face. Her cheeks were flushed red. “I was just telling myself that.”

  “I know this sounds crazy, Boyd,” Clara said, “but I don’t see what other choice we have. Michaela can’t travel to a doctor, and the medical kit went into the river. If this medicine can help her, we need to get it.”

  He looked at Michaela on the bed, swallowing back a surge of emotion. “What if it doesn’t work?” he asked, his voice quavering.

  “It’s going to work, Boyd,” Clara said, slapping her hand on her thigh and rising. “You’ve lost your faith momentarily. Who can blame you? Michaela is sick, and that’s enough to make anyone scared. I know I am. But if Michaela believed in this flower, enough to face these odds, then Arthur and I will find it. I don’t know about the rest of it. Sharing it with the world and the like. We’ll have to see about that.”

  “No kidding, my dear,” Arthur said, shaking his head.

  “How could you?” Boyd asked, genuinely interested. “Share it with the world, I mean. It’s not your forte.”

  She crossed her arms and stared at him. “I’m a Merriam, aren’t I? My family’s company is global. And my husband here is one of the most famous journalists in the world, here to write a story about this find. If we are the ones destined to work with this tribe to share this flower with the world, then share it we will. Arthur, let’s go.”

  Clara stormed out of the tent with purpose in her every stride.

  “Well, you’ve lit a fire under her.” Arthur tsked. “I suppose it’s been a long time coming. Take care of
Michaela while we find this infernal flower.”

  Arthur left the hut with a renewed energy to his stride.

  As Boyd turned back to the woman he loved and took her hand, he was overwhelmed by helplessness. What if the journey was too hard for them? His stomach flipped as another thought rocked through him. What if they didn’t find it in time?

  “Come on, Mickey.” Boyd reached for the water basin and cloth, dipping it in the water and smoothing it over her brow. “I need you to fight this fever and wake up.”

  If Arthur and Clara didn’t find the flower soon, he didn’t care what the tribe thought the gods supposedly wanted. He’d tear apart this entire countryside with his bare hands until he found a cure.

  He was not losing her.

  Chapter 17

  Arthur knew bullshit when he smelled it. Always had. Always would.

  Following Sironka and his mother up the hill outside the village, he couldn’t ignore one fact: the smell of bullshit wasn’t anywhere near them. These people believed he and Clara were the couple they’d been waiting for to help them share this flower with the world. Bully for them. But they weren’t crazy. He could spot crazy at ten paces.

  The fact that they believed it didn’t mean he believed it, but right now, that flower was his niece’s best bet, and he’d be damned if he’d let her suffer. He and Clara had left immediately. Hargreaves had offered to come with them, but Clara had wisely left him behind with Boyd.

  Although Arthur had planned on writing about the find all along, it had never occurred to him that he might be part of the story. He was too old to make the news anymore, or so he’d thought before he met Clara.

  “Clara, my dear,” Arthur said, already puffing, “it’s a good thing you’ve been doing all that walking and yoga stuff. If I can’t make it, you’ll have to go the rest of the way.”

  She took his arm. “They said we both must make it, Arthur, and so you shall.”

  He didn’t pull away, telling himself she was flirting rather than trying to help him up the infernal hill. The ground wasn’t rocky, thank God, and after they left this glade, it looked like they’d be heading into dense, shaded forest. Determination had a new friend, it seemed, and her name was Clara Merriam Hale.

  God, he loved this stubborn, beautiful woman.

  “Fine. I can probably make it to this Valley of Stars, but I can’t guarantee a return trip.” Two or three days of walking? At his age? Hell, by the end, he’d be like the tired, worn-out antelope they’d seen taken down by a cheetah the other day. In truth, he was more worried about lions. Hadn’t Sironka said their first chief had found a lion? That meant lions roamed these hills, a thought that scared the bejesus out of him. He was already worked up enough about Michaela. He didn’t need to worry a lion might make a meal out of his beloved before he could kill it, which he would. Nothing was touching Clara. Of course, he’d be happy to leave that task to Sironka. Young men liked to beat their chests. At his age, he was happy to have a pulse.

  Naserian looked over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mr. Hale. Both my husband and I had visions of you and Clara making it to the valley and back. Many times, in fact.”

  He supposed he should be relieved to hear that.

  Maybe he would be if he believed in visions.

  His life had been built on facts. He reported facts. But he couldn’t deny it was strange that Naserian and Lemayian had seen them in their dreams or whatever. This wasn’t the first time he’d had reason to question his world view. He remembered reading an article about a psychic who’d helped the police find both a victim and her murderer.

  Perhaps there truly was a gift of sight. He sure as hell couldn’t explain it, but he wasn’t going to say it wasn’t legit.

  “Good thing we live at a similar elevation, Arthur,” Clara said, trying to be conversational. “We don’t need to worry about altitude sickness or shortness of breath.”

  Didn’t she hear him gasping? “Says you. I’m eighty, woman.”

  “And in the prime of life,” she said, tucking him closer to her side. “We’re doing this for Michaela. When you get tired, remember that.”

  He sucked in more air. “You forget what a stubborn old cuss I can be, Clara. I’ll make it. Nothing like family to put steel in a man’s bones.”

  “Well said, Mr. Hale,” Sironka said, leading the way, spear in hand.

  They walked for a few hours, surrounded by trees. A few times, he heard wild calls from the trees, but Sironka said they were only monkeys. At one point, he caught sight of one of the white-and-black primates. His response was, “I can handle monkeys. It’s the lions I’m worried about.” He wouldn’t ask about other dangers. They had enough to contend with.

  Clara laughed, not even breathing hard, God love her. “That’s why we have Sironka. How much farther until we reach the valley?”

  Naserian said, “Around nightfall, I imagine. We should rest a bit.”

  Arthur was afraid his feet might not move again. “We should keep going.”

  “Have some water and take a moment,” the healer said, indicating a downed tree. “Sironka, check to make sure it’s safe to sit.”

  “What could be dangerous about a tree?” he asked. None of the trees in the Rocky Mountains where he lived posed a threat.

  “It may hold things that bite,” Sironka said, walking its length. He used the tip of his spear to lift up the bark.

  Clara cried out as hundreds of ants scurried around the bark.

  “Fire ants,” Sironka said. “Nasty bites.”

  Arthur swallowed thickly. Couldn’t they eat a man alive? “I’ve changed my mind. I think I’d rather a lion snack on me. Be quicker surely.”

  “This is not the time to be flip, Arthur,” Clara said, her color waning.

  Sironka tested another downed tree. “This one is safe.”

  “That’s a relief,” Clara said, easing onto the tree and taking a canteen of water Sironka held out to her.

  Thank God the man was carrying the pack for everyone. Arthur couldn’t have handled the weight. “Anything else you want to tell us about all this, Naserian? I know I speak for Clara when I say we’re both shocked by everything that’s happened today. Why exactly do you think we’re the best people to help you share the flower with the world?”

  He was here for Michaela and no other reason, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask more questions.

  Naserian sat on the forest floor, cushioned by the plants they’d been treading over.

  “You both have incorruptible souls. Neither of you will be swayed by bribes or hefty commercial offers. Also, Mrs. Hale is a woman of means and has the power to fight for what she knows is right. Your power, Mr. Hale, comes from your words. Your articles about the flower and our work together will be read by many. People listen to you. It is your gift.”

  Clara sent him a knowing look. Okay, Naserian had gotten the gift part right. “But we’re outsiders.”

  “Perhaps that’s the problem,” Naserian said. “It is time to go beyond you as outsiders and us as Maasai and simply look at us all as people sharing this big land with all the oceans. Unfortunately, our people historically haven’t been treated well by outsiders, which is why we fear strangers. That time must end. The flower is too important, and people need its medicine.”

  “If the flower heals as you say, you’re right to want help sharing it,” Clara said, leaning forward, ever alert. “Your people have been treated abominably if you ask me.”

  That was an understatement to Arthur’s way of thinking.

  “What else do we need to know about your visions?” Clara asked.

  She was starting to sound like she believed in all this stuff. They’d be talking later for sure.

  “Only one aspect I have not shared yet. A man with darkness around him will come and try and take the flower, and you will have to decide what to do.”

  Arthur and Clara shared a look. This tale was getting wilder by the minute.

  Unless… His mind shifted to
Iggie. If Customs had finally released him, he’d be able to reach Simon and Jaali. Perhaps he’d insist that the men head upriver, thinking they could find the village. If anyone was going to try and take the flower, it would be him.

  Arthur harrumphed. He’d taken one look at the man and known he was a jerk. “What do you see us doing, Naserian?”

  She drank some water before responding. “Handling it, but doing so will cause you much sadness. In the end, it will be a good thing for this man, although the truth will not become clear for some time. He does not walk an easy path.”

  “Happen to know his name?” Arthur asked, making Clara give him a bemused look before she drank more.

  “Are you testing me, Mr. Hale?” she asked, laughing. “The gods told me not to share more with you. When the moment comes, you must decide what to do. Any further information will rob the moment of reckoning of its urgency.”

  Did that mean she didn’t have a clear picture of this man of darkness, or was she being sincere?

  “Good thing reckoning is my middle name,” he blustered.

  Clara snorted. “News to me, dear. We should get going. Michaela might be worsening.”

  “She will worsen before she gets better,” Naserian said, her face lined with worry. “Come, you are right. We should continue on. We have a few hours to the next watering hole.” She and Sironka started walking again, and Arthur helped Clara off the tree. He wanted to believe Michaela would be all right, but he didn’t want to put his trust in such matters. Of course, the woman didn’t say whether she improved because of the flower.

  “Clara, did you hear—”

  “Oh, Arthur, we have enough on our hands. I’m trying not to worry about Michaela. I don’t need to start fretting over a ‘man with darkness around him.’ Good God, it’s bad enough.”

  He reached for her hand. “You’re right, my love. Let’s go get this damn flower. Hey, Naserian. Does this flower even have a name?”

  The woman didn’t turn as they walked through another dense copse of trees, the ground dappled with sunlight. “Our first chief instructed us not to name the flower. Easier to keep it secret that way. You and Mrs. Hale can do so if you’d like.”