Yellowstone Heart Song
Book 1
Yellowstone Romance Series
By Peggy L Henderson
Copyright © 2011 by Peggy Henderson
Smashwords Edition
Visit my blog: http://peggylhenderson.blogspot.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author.
Acknowledgment
First and foremost, I want to thank my wonderful critique partner and friend, Carol Spradling, for her wealth of comments, insights, and infinite patience with me while editing this book. Without her constant nudging and prodding, this story would not be where it is today, and would be collecting dust in a dark corner of my computer hard drive. Thank you, Carol, for believing in me, and giving me the courage to send my baby out into the world.
Also, thanks to my husband, Richard, for introducing me to the Great Outdoor so many years ago. I may not be at the point where I go backpacking, but you’ve got me hiking in the wilderness and actually enjoying it. And thank you for doing the laundry so I could write.
In the land of Fire and Ice, two worlds collide, and a love is born that transcends the test of time.
Daniel emerged from the river, and she swallowed hard. Her eyes roamed over his glistening wet body as he advanced. His feral virility stunned her. Several large jagged scars on his chest stood out against his olive skin. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed them the day before. She swallowed nervously as her gaze traveled lower, and sighed involuntarily in relief. He wasn’t completely nude.
In one lightning fast predatory move, Daniel grabbed her up and flung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and turned back to the water.
“What are you doing? Put me down!” Aimee shrieked. Her fists pounded his hard back, her feet kicking uselessly in the air. He waded into the water a few feet, and unceremoniously threw her into the river. Before she hit the water, her thought was one of disbelief that he carried the game this far. It seemed so uncharacteristic of him.
“You slimeball,” she yelled as her head emerged from the water. She was actually pleasantly surprised at this new, playful side of him. At least it solved her dilemma of wanting to go for a swim earlier.
“How dare you!” she squealed in mock anger. Daniel dove into the river after her and came up inches from her face. She splashed water at him to ward him off. Daniel’s hands shot up and encircled her wrists.
Flashing a devilish grin, he asked, “What is a slimeball?”
She couldn’t keep up her false anger any more. “A slippery snake,” she laughed. “Like you, who preys on helpless women.”
Daniel’s eyebrows shot up. “I thought you said you weren’t helpless.”
“You’re right, I’m not helpless,” she confirmed, flapping like a fish to try and free herself from his iron grip. Daniel released her wrists, but snaked his arms around her waist and reeled her in close to him, while the slow current carried them downriver. She braced her palms against his chest, and a jolt of electricity seared up her arms at the contact with his warm skin.
“I thought you told me not to go in the river again.” Her voice was slightly breathless. Daniel’s expression changed. His eyes darkened and any hint of a smile faded. Once again, intense desire registered in his dark eyes. Her heart rate accelerated, and she struggled to breathe. This game, she realized, was taking a turn in a very dangerous direction.
“Don’t go in the river unless I’m here to fish you out.” Daniel’s voice was low and husky. His hand came out of the water and wiped a strand of hair away from her face. His deep brown eyes fixed on hers. His fingers lingered, caressing her cheek. Aimee’s stomach tightened, and she groaned inwardly at the pure pleasure of that simple touch. His thumb traced along her cheek, and he cradled her face in his hand, his fingers raking through her hair.
Slowly, he lowered his face to hers. She swallowed nervously. Her thoughts earlier might have strayed in this direction, but this is not right, she reasoned. I can’t get involved with him. I’m not going to be here for long. It would do no good to give in to this temptation.
Chapter One
Aimee Donovan raised her head a few inches off the ground and squinted into the bright light. She blinked several times, hoping to bring the blurry images into focus. The world suddenly tilted precariously, and a wave of nausea hit her. Someone must have turned off the heart monitor in the room. Things were way too quiet all of a sudden. Her hands moved, brushing against a carpet of…grass?
She struggled for alertness, took a deep breath, and tried to clear her head. The smell of clean earth and sweet grass enveloped her senses. She bolted upright, nearly blacking out from the blood leaving her brain. Wide-eyed, she slowly turned her head to scan her surroundings. Two facts jolted her mind. First, she was definitely no longer in Zach’s hospital room. Second, this was Yellowstone! Absolutely no doubt about it! After all, she backpacked in this park every summer. Her parents had instilled a love of camping and the outdoors in her since early childhood.
Fully alert now, she ran her hand over tufts of lush green buffalo grass. Her senses became more attuned to the rhythmic sounds of crickets, chirping birds, and the tranquil gurgle of a creek. The noisy humming of car engines, or the loud roar of a motorcycle speeding down the highway were sounds distinctly absent. She inhaled deeply. Her lungs filled with crisp, clean mountain air infused with the scent of sage and pine. What a welcome contrast to the hot and pollution-laden air she breathed at home.
“This can’t be possible.” Her mind grappled for understanding. “There’s no way that crazy old man was telling the truth.” But as her eyes continued to peruse her surroundings, she couldn’t help but wonder if Zach hadn’t been honest with her all along.
“I travel through time.”
No. No way. She shook her head wildly. Time travel! Absolutely ridiculous!
But how the heck did I get here? Did she just land in an episode from The Twilight Zone? Any second now, she expected to hear the voice of Rod Serling telling her “you're on a through route to the land of the different, the bizarre, the unexplainable.” Perhaps she’d find herself waking from a wonderful dream, one she wasn’t sure she wanted to wake up from. Dreaming of Yellowstone was definitely good. Something she did a lot. Especially since her annual backpacking trip was only a few weeks away. She and Jana had been discussing possible itineraries for months already.
She shook her head again. This was too real. Her hand stroked the fine particles of soil where she sat. She ran her fingers up the long blades of sweet grass. It all felt real enough. She’d never had vivid dreams like this before. Her logical mind continued to struggle with the notion of how she could have traveled over a thousand miles in the blink of an eye. Did that mean everything else was true as well, and she’d traveled back in time by 200 years? She wasn’t sure if the sudden chill that crept down her spine was due to fear or excitement.
Do you have a better explanation? It’s either real, or it’s a dream. Pick one. Zach had told her the only way she’d finally be convinced he wasn’t lying that he came from the 19th century would be to experience time travel for herself. A moment ago she’d been standing at his hospital bed, playing along with his claims that he could send her to the Yellowstone of the past, and now she found herself actually here! Did you have to tell him you could survive a wilderness trip like this, Aimee? Unbelievable! How could this be possible?
She rose tentatively to her feet, anticipating another round of the floating-through-the-air feelings she experienced moments ago. A slow sigh escaped her lips. Her world didn’t tilt, and she stood firmly on the ground. In this endless sea of grass, she felt like an insignificant speck of dust, the only person in the world. The distant mountains stood like silent specters against the blue horizon, lending emphasis to the absolute solitude. She was on her own.
“Aimee Donovan, it would appear you’re alone in the wilderness,” she stated the obvious, the reality of her situation starting to sink in. A cold shiver ran down her spine, similar to what she’d felt five years ago when the police knocked on her door. The shocking news of her parents’ deaths had left her all alone then, as well. Closing her eyes for a moment to pinch off the sudden burning sensation at the back of her eyes, she inhaled deeply, and pushed the memory from her mind.
She raised her hands in the air and looked skyward as she pivoted in a circle. “Okay, Zach,” she called. “I’ll play your game. You sent me into the past. It’s 1810, not 2010.” Her own voice sounded out of place amongst the sounds of birds and insects, but talking out loud was comforting. “I guess I finally get to put all those wilderness survival courses to good use.”
Aimee lowered her hands. She spotted her backpack in the tall grass a few feet away and sighed in relief. Without it, she knew she’d be in some serious trouble. She turned her body in a circle and continued to scan the area, straining to identify familiar landscapes. Nothing but wide-open grassland in all directions. Forested mountains loomed in the distance to the north and south. A wide smile spread across her face. The snow-capped peak to the north beckoned her like icing on a cake. The mountain welcomed her like a friend to guide her way. Mt. Holmes! Her knees weakened with relief. You can do this, Aimee. You know this area. Even without a map, you’ve been here plenty of times.
“This has to be the Gibbon Meadows area or somewhere nearby.”
Think, Aimee, think. She was completely alone in the wilderness two centuries before her time. The vast Yellowstone wilderness of 1810 was precisely that. She couldn’t simply walk out of here. Heck, until she’d met Zach, she didn’t even know there were any white men in the Rocky Mountains in 1810. The fur trapper era didn’t get fully underway until the 1820’s, if she remembered her history correctly. Only a few Native American tribes migrated through here.
“I need to find the Gibbon River. If it hasn’t changed course much in 200 years, it’s going to be around here somewhere.”
Higher ground. She had to get to higher ground. Her survival depended on finding the Gibbon River and following it straight to the Madison River Valley. It’s where Zach had told her to go. He’d said he’d come for her in three months and meet her there. So far, everything he’d told her had turned out to be true, and she had no intention to disregard his advice now. She knew she could not survive three months without doing exactly what he’d suggested.
She gazed at the snowy mountain peak to the north one more time. “If I keep Mt. Holmes to my back, I should come up on the Gibbon River, and if I follow that, it will lead me right to the Madison.”
She beamed with satisfaction, her confidence renewed. So far, so good. The distant high-pitched barking of coyotes brought her back to attention. Her face sobered as she thought about the wild animals, especially the predators. Bears and wolves were abundant in the Rocky Mountains in the Nineteenth Century. Unsure of her course of action, Aimee settled herself back on the ground and opened her backpack. The tall grasses swallowed her up on all sides. She knew she had carelessly tossed a few things together at home to play along with Zach’s wild claims that he could send her on the wilderness survival trip of a lifetime. She probably hadn’t packed anything of real use to her now. She dug through her belongings to inventory what supplies she actually did have. She found nothing that she could use in her defense, should she encounter a wild animal.
“Damn! I didn’t even think to pack my multi-tool.” She fought off a new wave of apprehension. Did grizzlies in this time behave the same as the Yellowstone bears of the Twenty-first Century?
“Way to go, Aimee,” she said aloud. She counted three granola bars and a chocolate bar as her only sources of food. Her wool sweater, a couple of changes of clothing and underwear, her compass, flint, medical kit, a few toiletries, and her journal rounded out what she had thrown together in haste. She’d only gone back to visit Zach after her shift in the emergency room to indulge him in his mad fantasies. Apparently, he hadn’t turned out so crazy after all. Letting out a long sigh, she stared at her meager supplies splayed out before her. Hardly what she would ordinarily bring on a survival trip. Irritated, she shoved everything back into the pack.
Eager to get on her way, Aimee shouldered her backpack. Holding the compass in her right hand, she glanced at Mt. Holmes one more time. The mountain guided her way like a signal beacon. For assurance, she glanced at her compass, setting a course south. She squared her shoulders and adjusted the pack on her back and started walking. The forested mountains ahead would be her first destination.
The bright sun shone directly overhead, casting almost no shadows. And if this was June, as it had been back home, she would have daylight for many hours yet. Right now, her main objective, aside from locating the Gibbon River, was finding a place to make shelter for the night. She was confident she could hike the distance to the Madison River in less than two days.
It didn’t take long before she reached the banks of a shallow stream that meandered lazily through the grass. Should I follow the stream, or keep going directly south? Aimee wished she had a coin to toss in the air. Following the stream might lead her to the river she sought. This was most likely a tributary. But if it wasn’t, her hike might just get longer. The stream did flow more or less in a southerly direction. Her mind made up, she followed along its banks for nearly an hour. Gazing into the distance, the forest appeared no closer than before, but something else caught her attention. The green grass disappeared underneath the largest bison herd she’d ever seen. The distinct smell of cow permeated the air.
“Okay, Aimee, decision time.” She had no intention of a close encounter with those huge beasts. It could prove to be as deadly as meeting up with a grizzly. Two summers ago, she’d been one of many helpless people standing by to witness a woman gored by a bison. She shuddered at the memory. The woman had merely stepped on a stick while trying to photograph the beast. That was all it took to set the animal off. True, she’d been closer than she should have been, but the bison had charged without mercy, tossing her in the air like a ragdoll. Aimee never found out what had happened to the woman after she’d been airlifted to the nearest hospital.
Her eyes roamed the vast herd. She’d never seen so many bison before, and she stood in awe of their sheer numbers. If she had to venture a guess, this herd had to be at least two or three times larger than the entire modern day bison population put together. She couldn’t even begin to count them all to get an estimate. She watched the hulking beasts from afar, their snorting and bellowing carried on the slight breeze. Most lumbered along lazily, plucking at the lush grasses in the meadow, while others laid in wallows, chewing their mid-day cud. Several orange-colored calves loped around their mothers, bucking and rearing in play.
Aimee observed the herd for a moment, then set off again at a brisk pace along the stream. She must have walked for at least two hours before individual trees of the forest ahead finally took shape. The stream led her directly into the deeply wooded area. Tall lodgepole pines closed in around her, allowing only a few golden ribbons of light to penetrate the canopies and reach the forest floor. She rubbed at the goose bumps on her arms, trying to brush away her sudden apprehension. It’s just because it’s colder here than out in the open, Aimee.
The forest seemed to go on forever. Deadfall lay around everywhere. Her backpack grew heavier with each successive log she scrambled over. Time for a short break. Her thighs burned, and her pulse drummed loudly i
n her ears. She considered herself to be in excellent physical condition, but trudging over logs all day proved to be more exhausting than the longest Stairmasters workout she’d ever done. A quick glance at her compass reassured her that she was still heading south. She reluctantly pushed off from the tree trunk she leaned up against, and forced her weary legs to move again.
She had no idea how long she’d scrambled on when the forest opened to a sunny clearing. “Oh thank goodness! I’m stopping here for the night.” She held back a triumphant cheer. Shrugging the pack off her back, she rotated her shoulders and neck to ease her aching muscles. Without the burden of the pack, she suddenly felt light as air. She cupped her hands in the cool creek, splashing water on her face and neck. The sun’s rays shone on the rippling current, giving the illusion of thousands of shimmering diamonds, and Aimee shielded her eyes from the sparkling reflections. The icy liquid tasted better than anything she’d ever drank from a bottle, and it soothed her parched throat like ice cream on a hot summer day.
Refreshed and hydrated, she set to work constructing a simple shelter. Dead trees and branches lay around in abundance. After dragging branches of various sizes to her selected campsite, she leaned them in a row against a large downed trunk, creating a v-shaped tunnel big enough for her to crawl into. She covered these with smaller branches to give extra protection in case of rain. It was a simple shelter she’d learned to make in one of her outdoor survival courses. Finished, she rummaged through her pack for her flint, and set fire to a pile of kindling just outside her temporary home, adding larger sticks to feed the growing flames.
Her stomach growled and churned, a reminder that she hadn’t eaten all day. “If I only had something to cook, that would be great.” There were no fish in the stream, and besides, she had nothing to catch them with. She hadn’t seen any berry bushes either. Too tired to explore the area further for something easily edible, she settled for a granola bar from her pack.
Yellowstone Heart Song Page 1
