by B. J. McMinn
OUT OF THE DARKNESS
THE PRESCOTT SERIES
BOOK ONE
by
B. J. McMINN
COPYRIGHT
OUT OF THE DARKNESS
Copyright 2011 by B. J. McMinn
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead is coincidental.
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Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
OUT OF THE DARKNESS
Early fall somewhere in Eastern Kansas Territory 1856
CHAPTER 1
The Indian camp lay sleeping peacefully in the hours after midnight. Campfires, died to ashes, emitted whiffs of smoke to drift on the still night air. A dog barked. A baby whimpered; then hushed, soothed by a mother’s soft croon. Sounds of the night stilled to a tense silence as if the night creatures knew death had drawn near. The old woman lay dead on a fur and straw pallet, her eyes staring blankly into the netherworld of her ancestors. Her spirit gone, leaving Jade alone. Alone as the day she’d walked into the encampment, starved, injured, afraid, and worst of all with no memory and silent.
The day she stumbled into the village, the chief called a meeting to determine her fate. The village elders wanted her killed. Three Feathers, the chief’s son, saw no reason to kill her when she could serve Bird Song, his wife’s mother.
Bird Song had been helping her daughter, Morning Dove, during her pregnancy. But when Bird Song became ill, the responsibility fell to Jade to care for her and Three Feather’s wife. She’d toiled from early daylight until after sunset.
Morning Dove delivered a strong baby boy last week and Bird Song lay dead. Jade served no useful purpose now.
It was no longer safe for her in the village. Recently the People had grumbled that troops might come and destroy their shelters while searching for a white woman. The clan felt vulnerable.
Someday she’d planned to escape. So without being obvious, she’d observed while the young boys learned the skills of tracking and covering a trail. Little did she realize she would require the information long before she felt qualified to use it. She prayed what she’d memorized so far, would be enough to secure her escape.
Leaving was her only option. Birds Song’s death left her no choice. The best time to slip away was while the village people grieved for their dead. She’d have at least one-day’s head start.
After Bird Song’s relatives mourned her passing, they would pick over her belongings like a pack of ravenous wolves–the People left nothing to ruin in the vast wilderness, especially with winter closing in.
Then they would come for her.
After stuffing as much food as she could in a small leather pouch she hurried to gather what she could before anyone woke. The tattered brown dress she’d worn since coming to the Indian village, she tossed aside and slipped into Bird Song’s leather dress and soft doeskin leggings. She peered out the small opening used for a door and scanned the village for movement. No one stirred.
The horses were too well guarded to sneak one out of camp, undetected; not only that, if she stole a horse, she’d tarnish some warrior’s pride. He’d not give up until he’d regained his property, and her scalp along with it.
Panic welled in her throat as she edged quietly into the night, praying her escape would go unnoticed. A light fog danced playfully on the ground and swirled around her feet as she tiptoed around twigs and loose rocks. She maneuvered her way through the trees and emerged into a clearing. She lifted her gaze to the stars to determine the direction she’d take. North? No, northeast.
Heart jumping in her chest, she paused to glance over her shoulder at the place she’d called home for the last five months. Her stay in the Indian village had given her body time to heal. Now it was time to go home. Wherever, home was. All she had left of her memory was the name Jade, and a man’s voice imploring, “Come out of the darkness my children. Come into the light of His love.”
She must find the voice. Find the man.
Crouched over, she darted across the clearing and ran into the forest, weaving between trees until she’d gained enough distance to set a moderate pace.
In the distance, lightning flashed and the sound of thunder rolled over the land. With luck, rain would wash away her tracks. By mid-afternoon, the storm had evaporated. The tempest had blessed the land further north with its life saving deluge.
On her third day of travel, she sensed pursuit. The silence in the forest had turned ominous. That evening, after dark, she saw the faint glow of a campfire. Fear soared along her spine. Huddled under a rock overhang, she tried to rest. From now on, she’d have to move faster, sleep less. All that thrummed through her head was she had to put distance between herself and the hunters. She could no longer take time to cover the signs of her passing.
The next morning, she rose early and traveled fast. She felt weary, drained, lifeless, as she rested against a giant oak lying on the forest floor, its majestic presence in the wilderness brought low by a bolt of lightning from the night’s intense storm. A white tailed deer munched on the tender, slightly wilted leaves swaying in the soft breeze.
A squirrel sat in the now crushed limbs, chattering at other forest creatures bewailing the outcome of his now homeless state. A grimace etched her weary features. She must smell worse than she realized if her human scent didn’t give the wild animals a reason for concern.
Jade glanced around. The green canopy overhead fought to withhold the sunlight from penetrating its shadowy depths. Nevertheless, stray sunbeams wormed their way past leaves and darkened limbs and tossed their light indiscriminately upon the damp ground at her feet.
All at once, the deer’s ears pricked, nose lifted. The animal had caught the scent of danger. A danger it felt, rather than heard; sensed, more than saw.
The sound of hushed voices drifted closer. She paused to gauge from what direction the threat came.
The white tailed deer was the first to react. With its ears pricked and tail lifted in the air, it charged into the underbrush. Birds took to the air in a blast of raucous twitter. At last, the squirrel dashed up a neighboring tree.
Jade tried to control her labored brea
thing. The tree, though hollow, offered no respite from what followed her. She stood and swung her head one direction then the other trying to decide which way to go. If she went the wrong direction, she could come face to face with the Indians. Her decision had to be the right one, she had too much to lose, her freedom. And more to fear, death.
Without thought, she darted in the direction the deer had taken. Then hearing the trickle of water, she changed directions, hoping the animal path would lead to a stream. Water would cover her tracks.
Looking through the dense foliage, she recognized the three shadowy figures in the distance. They were silent, deadly hunters. They walked at a steady pace, examining the ground for signs.
They weren’t hunting game. Today, she was their prey. During the last few months, she had seen these same hunters work together with great success. The summer had been dry and hard, making game scarce. The hunters behind her always came back with food when other hunting parties returned empty handed.
Jade’s body convulsed in fear. She quickened her pace along the path. Hoping to lose her footprints among the various animal tracks, she moved toward the sound of splashing water. There might be somewhere to hide along its banks.
Frightened, alone, and tired, she felt near collapse. Two days and three nights of little rest had exacted a great toll on her strength. The braves would thoroughly scrutinize the trail she left behind. Slight as they were, she had to have left her mark upon the soil, or amid the brambles lining the path, and these hunters missed nothing.
Fear, stark and vivid raced through her mind. She couldn’t go back. Determined not to let her one chance to escape slip away, she scrambled over a fallen log and fled down the path. She didn’t know where she was going, or in what direction this small animal trail led, she only knew that it led her away from the warriors who tracked her.
How could she hope to lose the natives who had lived here for centuries? They knew this land. It was their home.
Sounds of pursuit drew closer. Her captors were gaining ground.
Jade marked her direction by the sun’s location. Thrust into this unrelenting and unfamiliar land, she didn’t know where the nearest settlement lay. They had traveled from the east and were going west when it all happened. A shudder rippled over her. There was no way she was going back in that direction. She didn’t know what she might find.
Too terrified to think about the incident, she had blotted it from her mind. She’d held herself together by shutting it out, acting as if nothing had ever happened. If she dwelled on the past, she would shatter into a thousand pieces and she had no one to pick up the pieces.
The distant chatter of the squirrel stopped. Had it grown silent from fear? Were the hunters that close?
She picked up the pace, running in her haste. If caught, it would not be like before. Her owner had died. Her future, if she had one, would not be as good as it had been with Bird Song. Fear drove her. The kind of fear she had known only one other time.
No don’t think, run.
There it was. The sound of water trickling over rocks. The water pouch she’d grabbed from the teepee’s floor in her hurried escape had been nearly empty. The sound of water reminded her of how thirsty she was.
Sounds of pursuit grew louder, closer. Could she make it to the water, or should she change direction again in hopes of losing the warriors in the dense forest? No, water was her best chance.
Jade slowed her headlong flight. She had to be careful not to leave any more than the minimum of signs for them to follow. Oh, if only she could run and run, without fear of discovery, until she was out of sight. Her heart raced in excitement at the thought. But such haste would leave a path even the children of the village could follow.
The first day, she’d crept through the forest watching each place she set her foot or leaned against a tree when she rested. It made her pace slower, but safer. Now she regretted the time spent covering her tracks. They had found her despite all her efforts.
She glanced behind her. They were still out of sight, but she could sense them. Her heart pulsated in her chest. Would she ever be free of the fear she lived with daily? Horrible images of what they would do to her tormented her.
Her fear had nearly turned to panic when she stepped into the water and slipped on moss-covered rocks. Rocks, large and small, lay scattered on the pebbled bed of the stream. The swift water played a risqué tune against the rocks as sunlight danced on the white caps. Fretting, she looked downstream, then upstream. Which would be the safest route?
She started upstream. This direction would take her further from her trackers, and the most unlikely way they thought she would go. She had taken a few steps when she realized this must be the same stream that passed by the Indian village. She stopped and looked behind her. If the village lay upstream, downstream would take her further away, not back to where she’d began.
Sounds of the hunters grew louder. Her head throbbed with every fearful beat of her heart. She quickly turned around and headed downstream.
The water became deeper as she waded into the middle of the stream, the current stronger. Suddenly, she lost her footing on a slime-encrusted rock. She gasped a quick breath before the water sucked her under. She surfaced a few yards away as the swift current pulled her downstream. She relaxed and let it carry her.
Jade realized she could swim. With strong, even strokes she controlled the waters efforts to drag her under, even hampered by the buckskin dress and leggings. Floating in the middle of the stream, she felt exposed. A frisson of fear crawled over her chilled skin.
A large oak tree lay horizontal against the bank, its limbs stretched out into the water. To her, the equivalent of a beckoning hand. The branches had an abundance of dry, brown, leaves rustling in the light breeze, as if they were a haven, waiting to give her protection.
Numb arms stroked the water to bring her closer to the large tree. Her hand grasp a branch, just as she was about to be swept away. Pulling herself closer into the tree’s top branches, she wedged herself into its waiting arms.
Peering through the leaves and branches, she saw an overhang of ground had created a cave-like area. She could work her way through the limbs, to the small open space, and elude her would-be captors.
Her relief was short lived. She heard the splash of feet hitting the water in hard, relentless pursuit. It would not take them long before they saw her hanging onto the tree branches. Hurry, her mind screamed. Panting in terror, she dove beneath the water and wormed her way through the branches. Limbs scraped her arms, snagged her clothing, trying desperately to prevent the intrusion of its peaceful slumber.
She burst from underneath the water into the opening. Praying she was unexposed to the sharp, well-trained eyes of her pursuers, Jade held her breath, not daring to make a sound. Even the smallest ripple in the water could betray her position.
Grass roots overhead made Jade aware her hiding place was not far from the surface. If someone stepped on the area above her head, it could easily give way.
Cautiously, she turned her head to check downstream. To listen, watch, and wait. Now that she no longer moved, she could better discern their movements. Then she saw them. Her heart nearly ruptured with fear. Her lungs labored for each breath. The warriors stood on the opposite side of the stream, searching the bank, speaking in their own language. Over the months, she had picked up several words and phrases. They argued about what had happened to their query.
Three Feathers spoke and gestured wildly with his hands. It surprised her that he’d left his wife to grieve for her mother alone, or left his newborn child. But here he was, leading the pack to capture her, and only the Good Lord knew what else they had in mind. She didn’t dare imagine what that something else might be if the hanks of hair hanging from their lances were anything to judge by.
Who would claim her long tresses?
Time crawled as they went up and down the stream, looking for signs. Each would go from bank to bank searching then converge again
on the shore directly in her line of vision. Why, oh why, wouldn’t they just give up and go home. Why couldn’t they leave her alone to find her way to whatever lay ahead of her.
Her throat constricted when Black Hawk lifted his head and sniffed the air as if he sensed something. He stared across the bank directly at the tree she hid in. Could he see her? Fear paralyzed her. She didn’t dare take a breath. How could she? Fear had taken away her ability to breathe. Her lungs ached from the lack of air. She couldn’t risk any movement.
She despised Black Hawk. He had a sadistic streak and was relentless in his cruelty toward her. He would give her orders then poke her with a long stick as if he were afraid to get too close to her. To touch her. If she failed to understand, or didn’t follow his orders fast enough, he poked her harder until she accomplished whatever task he’d set for her. Under his harsh treatment, she could feel his hatred bubble up from the black cauldron he called a heart.
He had taken two steps toward the water when Three Feathers grabbed his arm. Black Hawk gave Three Feathers’ hand a hostile stare but made no move to enter the stream. Even at this distance, she understood the words they spoke in anger.
Three Feathers stated, unequivocally, that he was leader. That it was his family who had lost a valuable slave, and he should be the one to discover if Jade was hiding in the branches of the downed oak.
She watched in horror as Three Feathers yanked his leather shirt over his head. Fear snatched what little inner strength she had left as he stepped out of his leather leggings to leave only a breechclout to cover his sleek, bronze body. Throwing his moccasins on the bank, he dove into the deep, water.
Fear washed over her, clawing at her like some living organism, burrowing deep inside her, taking root in the marrow of her bone. The trembling of her body sent tiny ripples skimming across the water’s surface to be captured in the limbs of her discovered sanctuary.
Three Feathers’ powerful strokes sliced through the water toward her safe haven. The branches, which moments ago beckoned to her, now held her prisoner. She had no other place to hide, no place to run.