A hand touched her forehead. “Get away!” Luvella screamed. “I have to sleep,” she heard herself mumble. Her eyes still closed, she turned to her side. Pain knifed both her legs and her left arm. Her head throbbed. “Unhhh,” she groaned as she returned to her back.
She heard a soft step at her side. Someone is here! I’m not dreaming! She opened her eyes slowly. A pair of moccasins was at her side, raw deer hide trousers rising up from them. She gasped. An Indian!
Luke squatted beside her, his hand pressed to her forehead. Tiny beads in black, white, yellow and red trimmed his fringed shirt. A small dark leather pouch dangled from his neck on a strand of rawhide. “Luke! Oh, my goodness. I thought you were an Indian,” she said and, even in her semi-stupor, realized her hurtful mistake. Mama’s right. Why don’t I think before I speak?
Luke’s jawbone flexed, and the look of concern in his eyes shifted to a wounded indifference. “I am an Indian. I’m a Muncee. You knew that,” he said, his lips in a thin line, “but I thought it didn’t matter to you.” He stood and looked around. “We’ve got to get your fever down.” He picked up the white material beside Luvella’s ankle.
“No!” she said. “That’s…”
Luke looked at her, then opened the folds of material to display Luvella’s drawers. He grinned at her embarrassment.
As Luke walked toward the creek, Luvella shouted, “Luke Raven! Bring them back here!” The shouting exhausted her; she lay back and closed her eyes.
Luke worked quickly. He placed the cold, wet drawers on Luvella’s head and stoked the fire. He made fresh poultice from her supply of snakeroot. He examined her broken ankle, touching it gently all around, just as Luvella had done. He nodded when he recognized where it was broken.
Then he took the drawers, turned them so the cold part was on the inside and wrapped them around her ankle. He filled her tin cup with water and set it on some hot coals. Opening the pouch hanging from his neck, he selected a tiny piece of lavender flower spike, rolled it back and forth between his hands until it formed a small pile of powder. He poured a drop of the warmed water from the tin cup into his palm and made a thick paste.
“This will heal that cut on your head.” Luke dabbed it on her forehead. He made her some snakeroot tea and hand fed her some bread and apple butter.
“Now.” He squatted in front of her. “We should get you home where you can get some real rest. But we already have a late start.” He looked up at the sun, noon high. “You’ll need some rest along the way. And”—he stood up—“we’ll have to ride Daisy together.”
Luvella looked at him, feeling a little more lucid. “Where’s your horse?”
“I’ll explain on the way. Right now, we have to break camp and get started to your Muncy Valley.” He looked at her. “It may be spelled differently, but don’t forget your village has the same name as my people.” He spread apart the campfire coals and poured creek water on them. “And my people were here first.”
“Oh, Luke, I’m sorry…” Luvella began.
Luke held up his hand. “Never mind, Luvella. Sometimes we show our true beliefs in simple mistakes.”
He cleaned the campsite, took the saddle and blanket from behind Luvella, and prepared Daisy for travel. When everything was ready, he came over to the tree where Luvella sat.
“This will hurt, Luvella, but you have to stand before I can lift you onto Daisy. Here, let me do most of the work.”
He bent down beside her and put an arm around her back and under her left arm. “Slowly now,” he said, lifting her up. “Don’t put any weight on your broken ankle. And just rest your other foot on the ground for balance. I’ve got you.”
They stood like that, the two of them together, letting Luvella recover from the movement. The warmth of his breath flitted across her forehead, and his arm felt strong around her. His arm is around me!
“Are you all right?” He looked down at her.
Her throbbing ankle brought her back to her senses. Luvella clenched her teeth. “I’m fine. You don’t have to treat me like a baby.”
Luke threw his head back and laughed. “Good,” he said. “Your old cantankerous self.”
His voice softened. “This is the hard part, Luvella. I’ve got to get you up on Daisy. I’ll try not to jar your ankle, but…” His voice trailed off as he lifted her onto the saddle. “Maybe you should ride side-saddle, and we can brace your leg out.”
“I hate riding side-saddle,” she retorted. “Besides we can hold my leg out in front of me riding regular. And the trail is narrow in some spots so that might be safer. My ankle will be closer to Daisy.”
“Good thinking, Luvella. That tea must have really cleared your head.”
He walked over to an ash tree and pulled down a rolled pack hanging from it. Luvella hadn’t noticed it before. Thongs were tied around it and made a loop at one end. Luke poked his arm through the loop so the pack hung from his shoulder. He stopped at Daisy’s side.
“Aha!” he declared. “I have the perfect arrangement for you.”
He opened his pack—it was just a blanket wrapped around what looked like sticks. He arranged the blanket so it folded to about a very thick, soft foot square. The sticks turned out to be four short stakes, each the staff for an attached flag of material, and he placed them along her ankle for new braces. He wrapped the blanket around the braced ankle and used the untied thong to suspend her leg from around Daisy’s neck. “This will keep the ankle from dangling and swelling.” Luke arranged the saddlebags behind the saddle, and at last, he climbed onto the saddle behind Luvella.
His arms reached around her for the reins; she stiffened. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you, my pretty.” He chuckled into Luvella’s ear.
“Oh!” Luvella groaned her exasperation. “You are impossible.”
Luke chuckled, deep in his throat. “Tsch, tsch.” He nudged Daisy with his heels.
Daisy settled in to a slow, even gait. Luvella winced and closed her eyes against the pain. But as she adjusted to Daisy’s rhythm, the throbbing eased a little, and she relaxed. The blanket made an excellent cradle for her ankle and helped keep the braces tight.
“Now.” Luke announced. “I will explain why I do not have a horse with me. I will also keep talking to you as we ride. You will have time to rest later, but please listen to me for a while. Thinking will help you stay awake—and fight the brainsickness.”
He hesitated a minute. “First of all, the reason I am dressed like this—like an Indian,” he emphasized, “is because I am on a vision quest.”
“A vision quest?” Luvella echoed. Daisy’s ears twitched. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
Luke was silent a moment. Then he said, with a touch of sarcasm, “No, I’m sure you haven’t. It’s an Indian practice.”
Luvella tried to turn in the saddle, but pain grabbed her ankle. “I said I was sorry, Luke. If you’re going to keep punishing me for saying something I didn’t mean, when I wasn’t right in my head, you can just go off by yourself. I can get home—to Muncy Valley—perfectly well by myself.” She was glad Luke couldn’t see the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. She really wanted to be in her soft bed, sleeping, with Mama there to take care of her.
“All right, Luvella. Truce.” He adjusted his position, but his arms tightened to a firm hold on her. Her stomach grabbed.
“A vision quest is a…a search, a spiritual search. It is a tradition of all tribes, not just the Muncees. I have finished serving the white man by learning his ways all those years in that school. Now I must find my path in the world. I must learn the direction I should take for my future.”
Luvella nodded. “That sounds…good, I guess. But what does that have to do with your horse, with your not having your horse?”
“I’m getting to that,” he said. “Before you go on a vision quest, it’s important that you pray—a lot. Your mind and your heart have to be clear, ready for the spirits to enter and to tell you your destiny. I was doing tha
t before Aunt Hilda died.” He hesitated a moment. “Once you’ve prepared thoroughly, then you set out on your journey.” He shifted in the saddle slightly, and Luvella realized how uncomfortable he must be. He was giving her most of the saddle space.
He continued. “You select a place, deep in nature, where you feel close to the four directions. You set up your square, the place where you will stay until your vision comes to you. You use flags—those flags bracing your ankle—to mark the four directions around you. You shed your clothes and you stay there, naked, fasting and praying. It may be hours or, more likely, days before the spirits speak. So, you see, a horse would distract you and would not be happy fasting with you all that time.”
“Hmmm,” Luvella said. “Don’t you burn from the day’s sun and freeze at night without your clothes?” She could feel herself blush and wished she hadn’t mentioned his being without clothes.
“You keep a blanket with you for protection; mine is around your ankle,” Luke answered. “But when there is just you and the four directions and Mother Earth and the sun, you watch all the phases of nature. Often, your body isn’t even aware of the heat or cold. You’re fasting, so your mind becomes alert and focused. Then when you sleep, your dreams are very vivid and powerful. Usually, that’s how the spirits speak to you—in your dreams.”
He led Daisy off the trail toward a tree stump nearby. “This will make it easier for you to get off and back on Daisy.” After jumping off the horse, he lifted Luvella carefully onto the stump and on down to the ground. She sat, leaning back against the stump.
The movement had activated the blood thumping in her ankle. Luvella pursed her lips together and silenced the groan that wanted to escape. Instead, she said between clenched teeth, “That’s a beautiful ceremony. I’ve learned so much about the Muncee’s ways lately. I feel like I’m almost Muncee myself. My mountain—North Mountain—is like a part of me. I talk to it all the time. And it talks to me, I think. Sort of like your spirits.”
Luke looked at her quickly, his eyes a soft chestnut brown and questioning. But he said nothing. He took Daisy to the creek nearby to drink and brought water back for Luvella.
“Thank you,” she said. “So what did the spirits tell you to do with your life?” She sipped the water from the same tin cup she’d had her tea in earlier.
“I found you before I found my special place. I have not had my vision yet.”
Her head was beginning to ache, and she rubbed her forehead. Luke must have seen her motion and reached in a saddlebag for her drawers. This time Luvella let the groan slip. “You just love playing with my underdrawers, don’t you?”
He grinned, turned to walk to the creek, and brought back her wet drawers, sashaying them back and forth and guffawing at Luvella’s glare. She had never heard him laugh that hard before and was surprised at how deep it sounded. It reminded her of Uncle Isaac’s rich voice.
He settled down, wrung the water from the drawers, and held them on her head for a few moments; then he wrapped them around her ankle. He mixed a fresh snakeroot poultice and tied it on the snakebite.
“We’ll rest here for just a little longer,” he said, looking skyward. “I’m afraid it will be nightfall before we reach your home.”
Luvella rested against the stump and closed her eyes. Oh, if I could just sleep. Luke’s hand slid back and forth on her forehead. So gentle, it barely touched her. She leaned her head into his hand, and he held it there. She dreamed she was riding Daisy in an open meadow, fast. The wind was whipping her hair and her clothes. She heard a sound, and there was Luke, riding a white stallion, beside her. He was smiling and reached his hand out to her.
A buzzing invaded her head; Daisy and Luke and his horse were gone. She tried to run but felt like she was sinking into a deep, dark hole. Aunt Hilda’s grave! No! No! I’ve got to get out of here!
“Luvella!” Luke was shouting, his hand firmly grasping her shoulder.
She opened her eyes. She was sitting on the ground, on top of the ground. Luke let go of her shoulder and stood. “You were talking crazy,” he said. “At least you slept a little. But we should really go.” He frowned and stared down at her.
“Are you sure you can ride?” he asked. “We could camp here for the night and let you rest.”
“I’m fine,” she said, “and I’d really like to sleep in my own bed tonight.”
The trail was smoother and easier now. Daisy could travel a little faster, and Luvella could still keep her rhythm without a lot of severe jostling. But the constant up and down motion was aggravating her ankle, and even the snake bite on her other leg. Fighting the pain took all her energy; it was her whole focus.
The sun had dipped behind the timberline. A crimson glow outlined everything. Her head fell forward; her eyes closed against the dizzying forest slipping by them. A drone in the distance lulled her into a reverie. Luke’s arms tightened around her, pulling her upright. The drone was distinct now. Men’s voices pierced the forest stillness.
“Are you awake, Luvella?” Luke whispered in her ear.
“Yes,” she answered, although she wasn’t sure.
“Indian!” a man shouted.
Luke held her even more tightly. “We’re going to go a little faster, Luvella. Try to hang on.” He urged Daisy on.
But not soon enough. “Injun! Injun!” men shouted. Luvella realized they had reached the tenant houses; they had gone beyond the road alongside Daddy’s sawmill. A crowd of men had spilled into the yard from the tavern, located next to the houses. The smell of hard liquor hung in the warm evening air.
“Look at what that Injun done to that poor little girl,” one man said.
A roar swelled. Men rushed toward them. What’s happening? Why are they angry at us? She held onto Daisy’s mane, waiting to speed forward. But the men were all around them.
“Get him!” one said.
Then she felt Luke being yanked off the saddle. She winced as he slammed against the ground. The men were hitting him.
“Luvella! Go!” he yelled.
Chapter Twelve
Daisy whinnied and pranced nervously. Luvella grabbed the reins and glided her hand soothingly over Daisy’s chest. She squinted and forced her head into focus. She quickly searched the crowd—about eight or ten there. Who are these men?
A movement behind the crowd caught her attention. She saw a tall man, distinctive because of his natty clothes. Red hair peeked out from under his derby. As he moved, she saw his goatee. Mr. Bocke. That was his voice that first shouted Indian.
“Unnhhh.” One of the men near her fell to the ground. Luke was fighting back. The sounds of knuckles hitting flesh made her head reel again. Concentrate, Luvella. She saw one of the men kick Luke. A rush of anger displaced her lightheadedness.
Then she remembered Daddy’s words about her protection. She reached behind her into her saddlebag and pulled out the Colt. She pulled back the hammer on the gun and aimed it upward.
Kabam! The gunshot echoed from the mountain and filled the tavern yard with the sound of its explosion. The powder smell clung to the air and mingled with the rancid odor of spirits. The men stood still, suddenly silent. All eyes snapped to Luvella.
She aimed the gun just above their heads. “I have five shots left. If I hear even one gun cock, I’ll shoot. If anyone moves, I’ll shoot.” The men still stood, still silent.
“Luke, get on.” She nodded toward herself and the horse.
Luke sprung around from where he stood. For a few seconds, he glared at each of the four men surrounding him. Luvella noticed he was taller than two of the men. The sleeve of his deer hide shirt was torn from its shoulder seam. He turned his back to the men in a statement of defiance, and in an instant, he had jumped up on the horse.
Luvella clucked Daisy to turn around, clenching her teeth against the pain in her ankle. She kept the gun pointed at the men.
“Here,” Luke said quietly to her. “I’ll take the reins. You keep them at bay with the gun. But don’
t shoot.”
Luvella smiled in spite of their situation. “I don’t think I’ll have to,” she whispered. “I’m a crack shot, but they don’t know that.” She held the gun in a threatening aim, and the men stepped backward. “Our home is back a ways,” she whispered to Luke. “Then turn right on the first road.”
“Hold the thong to support your ankle, Luvella,” Luke spoke softly, although his voice still had a deep timbre. “We are going to ride.” He slapped the reins lightly against Daisy’s side, and the horse sprung forward, as if even she knew the danger there.
They galloped down the road. Luvella clamped her lips together and closed her eyes, trying to think of anything other than the pounding throbs in her ankle. She felt Luke twist in his half of the saddle to look backward.
“They’re getting on their horses.” He urged Daisy to go even faster.
Luvella opened her eyes. “Oh! Take this road to Main Street. On that street, to the left a little, there’s a short cut we can take to our house. Turn left there and then right.
“This is shorter and ends up right next to our property. It’s an old log sluice and is pretty steep, though.
“There it is.” She pointed to a barely discernible footpath from the road. “If we hurry up into the woods, they won’t see us, and they’ll go all the way to the mountain road.”
Luke glanced backward again and led Daisy across the dried creek bed. On the other side, the trees greeted them. Luke slipped off the horse. “I’ll catch up to you, Luvella, but you keep going. I want to make sure no one follows us here.” He patted Daisy’s rump firmly.
Luvella took the reins again, quietly urging Daisy up the steep incline. She was sure Luke had jumped off so Daisy could move more easily with just one rider. Poor Daisy. You’ve had a hard day, too, haven’t you? The sluice had accumulated some rocks and ruts through the years of disuse, and the rough upward ride jolted Luvella’s leg. She could feel her foot puff up, like Mama’s bread rising. But the terror of the attack drove her onward. She pictured those men, hitting and kicking Luke.
The Heartbeat of the Mountain Page 9