She guided him to her and wrapped her legs around his waist. As he slowly entered her warm body, he kissed her firm breasts. Spasms of pleasure radiated from his groin. His initial thrusts were slow and methodical but became deeper and more frequent as their hips gyrated in rhythm. She urged him on by clasping his buttocks and pulling him into her.
Their breathing and pulses quickened. Sweat glistened on their bodies despite the chilly air. When the crescendo came, Makawee arched her back to meet his final thrust. Graham felt a burst of sensual pleasure when he climaxed, followed by an immediate release of tension.
He remained inside of her for a moment, basking in the afterglow of their passionate sex. He slowly raised his chest from hers and kissed her again, turning his head left and right to taste the sweetness of her parted lips.
“I love you,” he whispered into her ear.
“And I love you,” she murmured.
Makawee surprised him by using her strong arms to push him upward and onto his back. She immediately straddled him at his waist and sat upright. Tiny beads of perspiration on her brown skin glistened in the faint light of the small fire. She leaned down and kissed him, then scooted back to sit on his thighs before gently massaging his manhood until he became hard.
When they made love again, she controlled the rhythm. This time their sex was less urgent. It was slow and deliberate lovemaking that carried a deeper meaning for both partners. They had consummated their relationship by sharing the innermost parts of themselves.
The lovers reclined on their sides with bent knees. Makawee faced away from Graham, who pressed his chest against her back. They were huddled in the same position as the stormy afternoon in the bear den, but tonight their embrace was sensual. He draped his arm over her waist and gently cupped her breast in his hand.
“Your smudging definitely brought love into this dwelling,” he whispered into her ear.
Graham could not imagine the passion they felt for each other would be any less if she had used dried buffalo chips in the smudging stick in place of meadow rue. But he didn’t want to question her belief in the power of smudging and kept this thought to himself.
When the fire dwindled from flickering flames to white ashes and cool night air seeped into the wickiup, he pulled a buffalo hide over their naked bodies to keep them warm. A lake breeze carried a cacophony of puffing and hissing from nearby Steamboat Springs to their campsite. It was another reminder they were visitors in the Land of Burning Ground, where magma from a giant volcanic caldera was the heat source for thousands of thermal features. His heart felt like a petite caldera. It was the source of his burning desire for Makawee and the catalyst for erotic eruptions when they made love.
Makawee was soon fast asleep. He felt her chest rise and fall. Graham had a sense of peace he had not experienced in a long time and drifted into a dreamworld, where time was irrelevant. There was no past. There was no future. There was no time travel. There was only the present. And the woman he loved was sleeping in his arms.
Chapter 25
August 21, 1871
Waxing crescent moon: 9 nights until the next full moon
Makawee was awakened at dawn by Zonta. Her horse was snorting and trumpeting in fear. She bolted upright, waking Graham with her sudden movement.
“Something is wrong!”
Graham sat up and tried to clear the fog from his sleepy brain. As he listened to the raucous noises from the distressed mustang, the ground began to shake violently. When the poles of the wickiup began clacking together, he understood what was happening.
“Earthquake!” he shouted. “Get out now!”
Makawee sprang to her feet and sprinted out the low opening. Graham snatched the buffalo hide they were sleeping on and quickly followed her. They scurried through the gray mist of early dawn toward an open area near the creek twenty yards from the pole lodge.
Graham stood directly behind Makawee. He wrapped the fur-covered hide like a cloak over his shoulders and enveloped their naked bodies to ward off the chilly morning air. They instinctively moved their feet farther apart in a wide stance to maintain their balance on the shaking ground.
Zonta rapidly flicked his ears and splayed his front legs. The mustang’s skin twitched as he quivered with fear. Strong high frequency vibrations jostled the wickiup deadfall logs. The tops of lodgepole pines on the adjacent hill swayed.
Thirty seconds after the quake started, it abruptly ceased.
Graham was relieved to see the wickiup had not collapsed. If they had remained in the lodge and it had fallen, they would have been crushed under the weight of the logs. Ironically, the loose structure and inward leaning design of the crude lodge saved it from being destroyed by the shaking earth.
“Your horse provided an early warning for the earthquake,” Graham remarked with relief.
“Yes, he did. Remember Zonta’s name means trusted. I have always trusted him to take care of me.”
Makawee ducked under Graham’s arms and pushed through the opening of the shared buffalo hide. Ignoring the cold, she strode naked to the frightened horse and spoke calmly to him in her native tongue while stroking his neck. Graham kept the fur wrapped around his shoulders as he walked around the perimeter of the pole lodge. He pushed against the leaning logs to make sure they were stable and not in danger of falling. Satisfied, he nodded to Makawee, indicating it was safe to enter.
They quickly dressed. Graham gathered kindling while Makawee watered her horse. Soon they were sitting by a fire outside the lodge, warming their hands and feet.
“I want to spend as much time as possible with you, but I’m concerned how some may react when they learn about us,” Graham said, placing his hand on her arm.
She looked at him and nodded. “You are talking about my stepbrother, Rides Alone.”
“Yes, but not only him. Lieutenant Doane is unhappy with us. If he learns we are lovers, he might fabricate a reason for Hayden to expel me from the expedition. And he could do the same thing to you.”
“I understand.”
“I think it’s best to keep our relationship a secret—at least for now.”
“I agree.” After a brief pause, she asked, “What will happen when we return to Fort Ellis?”
Graham swallowed hard. It was a question he was not prepared to answer. A day of reckoning was fast approaching. From the moment he realized he had been transported back in time, he had schemed to get back to the Dragon’s Mouth so he could return to his world. But now he was not confident this was the right decision. Falling in love with Makawee had changed everything.
“We’ll talk about our future soon,” he promised.
He deferred this difficult conversation to another day. Graham knew it would be a choice between two vastly different futures. Would it be one in which he and Makawee grew old together? Or one in which they lived the rest of their lives a century apart?
“I’m looking forward to it,” she replied, kissing him on the cheek.
“I’d better get back to the main camp,” Graham sighed as they stood. He slung the backpack over his shoulder and leaned down. She stood on her toes to meet his lips. They embraced for a moment before Graham pulled away.
“Thank you for a beautiful evening,” he smiled as he turned and hiked over the hill toward camp.
Aurelio was standing outside their shared fly, shaking his head when Graham arrived. A pine tree had fallen and crushed the open-ended tent, snapping the support poles. The shallow, commingled roots of the felled tree were exposed to the air like hairy jellyfish tentacles.
“Wow!” Graham exclaimed. “I hope you weren’t sleeping when the tree fell.”
“Nope. I was fortunato. I had arisen early and was tending to the horses and mules when the earthquake started.”
Graham surveyed the flattened canvas structure and considered his luck. He was sleeping with Makawee in her wickiup when the tremor caused the tree to fall. If he had been in Aurelio’s fly, he would have been crushed. Was it luck
? Or had the eagle-bear claw necklace protected him again?
“Let’s get someone to help. Two men can lift the tree while someone removes the fly,” Aurelio suggested.
Five minutes later, Aurelio and Graham lifted the end of the tree long enough for Albert Peale to free the canvas.
“By the way, where were you last night?” Aurelio asked Graham as he checked the fly for damage.
Graham hesitated before responding. “Makawee is camped on the other side of the hill, and Rides Alone is on a buffalo hunt with Joe Clark. I wanted to sleep close by, since there wasn’t anyone nearby if she needed help.”
He noticed Aurelio winking at Albert Peale and realized they weren’t buying his story. He quickly changed the subject.
“Albert, right before the earthquake, Makawee’s horse started behaving oddly. He made loud noises and seemed agitated. Do you know why?”
“I noticed the same thing with the mules and horses this morning!” Aurelio interjected.
“Some geologists think animals can sense certain kinds of seismic waves. That could explain their strange behavior. No one has been able to prove this, but I think it’s a solid theory,” said Peale. “By the way, I advise setting up your fly away from large trees if possible. There will likely be aftershocks for the next few days.”
* * *
Graham had just returned from brushing his teeth in the lake when James Stevenson and Rides Alone walked into his camp.
“Graham, I have a job for you,” the expedition manager stated as he approached the fire.
“Yes, sir.”
“Rides Alone killed a buffalo this morning, and he needs help bringing it to camp. Joe Clark is still hunting, so I’m asking you to assist with field dressing the animal and packing sections of the bison onto a mule.”
“Sure,” Graham replied. “How far away is it?”
“Thirty minutes’ ride,” said the Crow warrior, pointing in the direction of a small sage-covered hill behind camp. “Leave in ten minutes.”
As Rides Alone turned and walked away, Graham wondered if the Crow held a grudge from their brief encounter two weeks ago at their Geyser Hill camp near Old Faithful. Graham had avoided visiting Makawee any time her stepbrother was in camp, but he sensed Rides Alone still perceived him as a potential threat. If he discovered a baashchiile had been secretly seeing Makawee, he would certainly be angry. Graham felt a twinge of guilt for his clandestine meetings. He could not imagine if or how he would confess his love for Makawee to her avowed protector.
Graham retrieved Lindy from the area where the horses and mules were picketed. He quickly saddled her, slid the Spencer carbine into the scabbard, and led the molly mule back to camp. When he arrived, Rides Alone was sitting on his bay roan holding the lead rope for a mule fitted with a sawbuck packsaddle. The warrior handed the rope to Graham and immediately urged his horse forward. Without saying a word, he sent a clear message. Rides Alone was a warrior on a horse. Graham was a baashchiile on a mule; therefore, it was his responsibility to lead the pack mule.
Rides Alone set a course northeast of the lake. The pair rode in silence, the only sounds coming from occasional snorting and blowing of the horse and mules. The stoic Crow warrior led them up over a knoll and down the other side, where they emerged into a lowland basin split by a slow, meandering creek. Graham recognized the waterway as Pelican Creek, the accumulating stream for runoff from the Absaroka Mountains.
The horse and two mules plodded upstream in the soft earth for ten minutes until they came upon the slain bison. The massive bovid was lying on its side, a black tongue hanging from the side of its mouth. Blood darkened the sedge grass where the bull had fallen from a gunshot wound to the head.
The men dismounted, and Rides Alone handed the reins of his horse to Graham.
“Need to remove guts to cool meat,” Rides Alone said as he slipped a nine-inch knife with an elk-antler handle from a sheath affixed to his narrow belt.
Graham nodded. He had helped his brother Frank field dress a deer, and he had assisted his father when he butchered hogs raised on the farm. Even though this was a much larger animal, he knew the basic technique for gutting and quartering.
“Would you like me to help?”
“Hold ichilay,” he said, handing the reins of his horse to Graham.
Rides Alone dropped on his knees beside the carcass, tilted his head back, and raised his arms skyward. He spoke for a minute in Apsáalooke. Even though Graham could not understand the warrior, it was clear he was thanking the spirits for providing the animal for food. He appreciated the reverence Crow people placed on anything produced by Mother Earth for their benefit. Most white people took such natural endowments for granted.
The warrior placed his knife between the hide and stomach of the bull and made a long slit from the tail to the chest cavity. He dragged the guts partway out of the animal, then reached up to his elbows inside the carcass and severed the remaining connections of the internal organs near the backbone. He grunted as he rolled the heavy jumble of organs out of the animal’s cavity onto the ground, where they steamed in the chilly morning air. His arms were covered in bison blood.
“Help me,” Rides Alone ordered.
Graham quickly looped the reins of the equines around the branches of a nearby mountain alder and followed the hunter’s instructions. Working together, they grabbed the animal’s legs and flipped it onto its opposite side, then dragged it away from the steaming gut pile.
“I skin buffalo. You water horses.”
Graham wished he could observe how a buffalo was skinned. Rides Alone was planning to keep the hide, not just harvest the meat.
Graham had read about the cavalier approach most white men had taken when hunting these magnificent beasts, often killing hundreds at once and taking only the tongue. They were slaughtered because their numbers seemed limitless. Often, the carcasses were left to rot. This careless attitude was a stark contrast to how Crow and other Plains Indians used almost every part of a bison to sustain their lifestyle.
He led the horse and two mules to the creek fifty yards away. The equines waded into the shallow stream and contentedly drank the cool, clear water.
Lindy suddenly raised her head from the creek, pricked her ears, and bellowed. The pack mule widened his eyes and snorted loudly. The Appaloosa became fidgety, his ears moving in several directions and his nostrils flaring. When Graham looked back toward the buffalo carcass, he immediately saw the reason for their peculiar behaviors.
A sow grizzly had her ears pointed back and was loping toward the fallen bison. Two cubs were tagging close behind their mother. Rides Alone was stooped over the carcass with his back to the pending threat, using his knife to cut through the skin’s underlying connective tissue while peeling back the hide.
“Bear! Bear!” Graham shouted as he pushed the frightened horse out of the way so he could reach Lindy. He yanked the Spencer carbine out of the scabbard and sprinted toward the slain bison.
Rides Alone was startled by Graham’s shout and stood. For a few seconds he was confused. When he pivoted to look behind him, the charging grizzly was nearly upon him.
The bear reared onto her hind legs and crashed into Rides Alone, who fell onto his back beneath the bear. He instinctively raised his right arm and extended the knife to protect himself. He managed to slice the bear’s front leg before her sharp canine teeth sank into his forearm. The painful bite caused him to loosen his grip on the knife, and it fell to the ground.
Meanwhile, Graham stopped twenty yards from the scene of the attack. As he cocked the weapon and chambered a round, he realized Rides Alone was in the line of fire. Lt. Grugan’s words of advice on using the carbine echoed in his head:
“. . . for an amateur like you, get as close as you can before pullin’ the trigger.”
He didn’t have time to get closer. He aimed at one of the bear’s massive shoulders looming above the fallen warrior, exhaled, and squeezed the trigger.
Crack!
The enraged animal opened her jaws and let out a terrifying roar when the .56-50 caliber bullet tore into the pectoralis muscle and shattered the humerus bone in her right front leg. Rides Alone quickly rolled away from the screaming bear and clamped his arm to stanch the bleeding. He scrambled to his feet but slipped on the greasy gut pile and fell beside the bison carcass.
Graham lowered and cocked the carbine. He expected the severely wounded bear to retreat. To his horror, the delirious bear turned and charged him on three legs, her shattered right leg dangling from her front shoulder.
The sow grizzly was on him quickly, clacking her teeth and using her healthy leg to swipe at him with three-inch claws. Graham stepped back but tripped and landed on his back. He swiftly lowered the trigger guard and raised it again, pushing a fresh cartridge into the firing chamber. When the bear pounced, Graham jammed the barrel of the carbine into her open mouth and pulled the trigger.
Bone fragments and brain matter spewed from the top of the bear’s skull. Blood splattered onto Graham’s face as the four-hundred-pound bear lurched and collapsed on his legs.
Graham tossed the carbine aside and pulled himself from under the dead bear. His heart was pounding as he sat with his hands on his knees and tried to regain his composure. When he glanced up a moment later, he saw Rides Alone standing near him gripping the skinning knife in his left hand. Blood dripped from the fingers of his right hand.
“You hurt?” the Crow warrior asked calmly.
“No. I don’t think so,” Graham answered dazedly. He started trembling uncontrollably as the reality of the near-fatal encounter with the grizzly sank into his consciousness.
Fifty yards away, the cubs wandered aimlessly and squawked, sensing their mother was in danger.
Burning Ground Page 39
