He knew not the name of the warrior whose arrow had pierced his friend's heart. His inability to find the one responsible lay heavily on his shoulders. He blamed Blue Eyes, but had no right to. His brother’s death had not been her fault, only he had been too angry at the time to see that. Two Moons tucked the scalp under the band of his breechclout, then swung himself up onto Anpo Wie's back.
Men swung lances and guns in all directions around him. Horses neighed and ran into each other; some fell, then rolled. Panic-stricken men struggled from beneath the heavy animals in fear of being crushed, while others tried to find cover beneath them. Flying dust and gun smoke as thick as fog darkened the sky, making it difficult to see. Two Moons lost track of all time and feeling as he wielded his club and buried his hatchet. He would not “count coup” today. He had not the need to prove his courage by striking his enemy with his “coup stick”. He did not want to leave his enemy alive just for the honor of it. No. He wanted nothing but revenge; revenge for that part of his spirit, which had died beside his brother and could never be replaced. Today, many Upsaroka warriors would feel the sting of his arrows.
****
The battle raged around him. Gunfire roared. Smoke wafted in his eyes, making it difficult to see.
Roy's arms flailed about him as he fought off his opponent. They struggled back and forth strength against strength. The screams of the dying, the clashing of metal bayonets against metal musket barrels and the buzz of flying arrows filled his head. He looked down at his hands. They were covered in blood. He reached out…
… And gripped the sides of the hammock. Awake and visibly shaken, Roy stared up at the patch of blue sky peeking at him through the thick pines. He swung his legs over the hammock's side and sat up.
What a nightmare. He wiped the sweat from his brow and took a deep calming breath. He rotated his stiff neck. At one point in his dream, he’d felt Gabrielle’s presence in his thoughts. Hell, lately she was always in his thoughts.
The hinges on the back door squeaked. John Raven Wing stepped from the house. Roy stood as the old man ambled over.
“I had the most vivid dream.”
“The old ones say that dreams are visions into other worlds. So I trust you had a good journey.”
Roy rubbed at his chin. Why had he opened his mouth? He didn’t want to hear this, not now. For over an hour he'd lay awake debating the question of reincarnation-questions that could only be answered with more questions, nothing factual, nothing proven. And nothing he wanted to believe.
He glanced at his watch. “Look at the time. It’s five o'clock! I can't believe I slept the whole day away.” Roy glanced back at his host. “Please forgive my rudeness.”
John waved his hand before his face. “No need for apologizing, but you have missed your ride. My friend has come and gone.”
“What? When? Why didn't you wake me? It’s imperative I get into town.”
“Tomorrow is another day. So besides, tonight we will have a fire, we will smoke and talk.”
The taste of annoyance tipped Roy's tongue. He clenched his jaw. “Look, you've been a gracious host,” he said, his words calm, though exasperation splintered his thoughts. “But I'm in the middle of a story. I can't just sit around doing nothing. My boss is expecting a phone call. My lead could be miles away and-”
“Your lead is that woman, yes? So I have seen her.”
Bingo! A moment of triumph brightened his mood. He'd been right all along. He knew the old man had recognized her picture earlier. What else did he know, but wasn't saying?
“You are right, the miles that separate you are many, unless you listen to my words.”
Oh, he was going to listen all right. He was going to find Gabrielle and go after her. “You know where she is then?”
“I have known all along.”
Roy’s chest tightened. With a level stare, he studied John's weather-bronzed face. “OK,” He clasped his hand on John's shoulder. “You talk and I'll listen.”
John paused a moment, pulled out his pipe and lit it. “You are comfortable behind a camera. I sense you are really good at what you do.”
“I love my work.”
“Yes, you have a fine eye. You get so totally absorbed in your picture you forget all that goes on around you. Is that not so?”
“Concentrating is a big part of taking pictures”
John grinned that knowing smirk that made Roy's mind spin. “So you become a small part of the bird you are photographing, or that sunset. So you traveled to a different plane of reality for that moment. Mind projection can be strong medicine.”
“Mind projection. Sort of like when you get involved in a good movie, or book and tune everything else out?”
John nodded. Deja vu. Has that ever happened to you?
“Yes.”
“Why would a man be afraid of the water if he never waded in it? Could it be he drowned in a past life? Why the feeling that you know someone from somewhere, but you were just meeting them for the first time? So perhaps it is because you knew each other from before this place, this plane of reality.”
He took a puff on his pipe. “So by learning from the past you get to do it over, so you can get it right the next time. Only by resolving the past can you move onto your future. So you are a stronger person now?”
“Yeah.” He'd been liquor free for years now and more determined than ever to make something out of himself.
“Good. Then you will be ready to meet your soul mate.”
“Soul mate?” Roy ran his thumb across his chin. “As in destined to be together, forever?” That was an interesting thought. “I guess I don't get a choice in who that may be, right?” His vote went to Gabrielle.
“Since her life and yours have been joined together in the past, you will know her when you meet her. You will feel the connection. So you will know.”
A heavy, hot wind blew, fingering Roy’s hair as he recalled the strong chemical attraction he’d felt surging between the two of them. Gabrielle had felt it too. Gabrielle, with those crystal blue topaz eyes and skin like cream. Gabrielle, his soul mate, what a delicious thought.
The sun set low behind the jagged top of the mountain. Shadows crept along the broken ridges, softening the landscape, kissing the cliffs with burning violets, oranges and blues.
Soon darkness would settle in over those woods and without the lights of the city all would be black. Jet black like the color of her hair. He wished Gabrielle would give him a chance. All he really wanted was for her to get to know him better. He wasn't the playboy everyone thought he was. Not anymore. At thirty-two he had finally grown up. Maybe it was time to make room in his life for a soul mate, someone he could spend the rest of his life with. Besides, somehow it just felt right when she was near.
“Where can I find this woman?”
“So love, like a person's soul, is not limited to the physical boundaries of time or space. If a person dies, does your love for them die with them? To love someone else, you must know yourself. So you will open up your eyes and see beyond what is your nose and you will learn to listen to the secrets within you. That is where you will find her.”
****
The sun sat low in the sky as Two Moons stood on the mountain and prayed. Oranges and yellows spilled over the valley below covering mother earth in a robe of warmth.
The feathers dangling from his lance fluttered in the wind as he raised his arms to the sky and gave thanks to the spirits for another battle won, for the chance to take in their breath one more day. He lowered his arms and placed his lance to the ground. Tonight the victory fires would burn high. The drums would sing, the ground would quake with the pounding of feet and he would be ready.
He strode over to Anpo Wie, reached inside the cylinder rawhide case and pulled out the small buckskin pouch that held his paints. He would cover his face with the black grease of the buffalo and charred ashes, for the fires of revenge, no longer burned in his heart. He clutched the bag in his palm, walked
into the shadow of a large pine and began preparing himself for his journey home.
Blue Eyes would be there waiting. He knew now that she hadn't run away. Knew Shadow Elk’s death was not her fault. But the emptiness he had felt seared his gut. The pain had been so strong, he had let anger cloud his judgment.
Two Moons smeared his face with grease, then wiped the black from his hands. He striped his upper arms with the yellow earth he had found beside the yellow-stoned river. Eleven stripes, one for every horse he was bringing back to his lodge. Perhaps he would save the gentle white mare for Blue Eyes. He could carve her a horn-framed saddle from a cottonwood tree. Covered with cloth and softened with the wool from the buffalo, her “seat” would find more comfort. He smiled. A vision of soft round buttocks entered his mind.
He dipped his finger into the crimson-colored paint and dragged it across his forearm.
Blue Eyes had been hot with anger…
He drew in a ragged breath and closed his eyes. The fresh, earthy smell of green moss and pine needles filled him. A gentle breeze tickled the leaves.
Like warm honey, he would soften Blue Eyes until she melted beneath the fires that inflamed his body.
The touch of his fingers, upon his skin as he blazed a trail of wavy red lines across his chest- down his stomach, down past his hips-made his blood heat. His finger froze above his groin. He wanted her. Wanted her more than any woman he had known.
Again a heavy, hot wind blew, fingering his hair, caressing his lips. Desire built like the gathering storm, engulfing his body, engulfing his mind.
He looked to the sky as a ray of sunlight broke through the clouds. A tremor, a hot ache of longing surged through him igniting his soul.
Two Moons could hear Shadow Elk’s words drifting through the humid air: Only she can bring the sunshine...
He encircled his one nipple with blue, the other with red. He did not care if Blue Eyes was or was not of the spirit world. He slipped two fingers into the blue paint, then the red. He did not care if she thought like the white man...
The colors mingled, engulfed his tips like warm wet sap. He would teach her his ways.
He brought his hand to his chest, feeling the liquid drip down his fingers as he drew a connecting line between his circled nipples.
“Oh, Great Spirit who lives in the sky-forgive my weakness. I am of this earth. I am but a man of flesh and blood. Blood that runs hot for the one with the blue eyes. Forgive the weakness of this warrior, for no longer do I seek the woman of my vision. It is of the blue-eyed one I seek.”
His eyes and ears to the sky, Two Moons listened for their word, waited for the wrath of the great spirits. All was still, but the creaking of the tall pines overhead and the swishing of Anpo Wie's tail as the animal fought off an occasional fly.
So be it. Two Moons wiped his hands on the grass, then stood. With, or without a blessing, fury, or silent, nothing would stop him from claiming her.
****
The mounted warriors rode into camp like a group of proud peacocks strutting their stuff. Gabrielle stood up on tipped toes, watching, waiting. She chewed her lip. Anxiety flipped somersaults in her stomach. Her head bobbed back and forth as she stretched and swayed, trying to see over the heads of the warriors at the front of the line, trying to catch a glimpse of Two Moons.
One by one, horses adorned with brightly beaded and quilled saddle blankets, carried their owner back into the waiting arms of their loved ones. And there was still no sign of him.
The line seemed endless. The waiting… torturous.
She dug her fingernails into her palms. Her bottom lip burned from constant chewing.
Finally, she saw him and her heart seemed to leap from her chest. She'd recognize that blackened face anywhere. He wore an eagle feather, like a regal crown upon his head. Straight-backed, he sat tall in his saddle and held his shoulders high. His muscular arms and chest, now striped with paint, bulged as he held his war shield and lance up at his side.
His gaze swept over her face, and an uneasiness swept over her mind. What if he was still angry at her? The composed expression did little to tell her of his feelings. Did he still blame her for his friend's death? How the hell was she supposed to help him understand the white world when the blood of their soldiers was still warm upon his hands?
Two Moons got down off his horse, strutted over to Standing Bear and She Who Sings and handed them a fist full of scalps.
Gabrielle cringed. The practice of taking scalps had been a part of the Native American culture as well as the white culture for the era, but she couldn't stop the disgust welling in her throat at the sight of those bloody locks.
She watched him approach her. Had he forgiven her? The question stabbed her heart and tipped her tongue.
“I see you came back in one piece,” Gabrielle said, breaking the silence. His firm chest greased and painted, had a sheen to it. Her hands itched to touch his smoothness, to feel his warmth.
He glanced down. A smile tipped his lips. When he looked up, amusement glimmered in his eyes. “One piece? Yes.”
“Well, you're lucky.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it. I am a warrior. I am the best. My medicine is strong. Luck.” He shook his head. “No.”
“You sound like a puffed-up rooster, with all your self-praise.” And he looked magnificent. Her heart fluttered. The smell of paint and grease brought back memories of her paints and brushes, her work and her home. She could be dropped back there anytime. All desire faded. She was crazy to love him.
“It was a stupid thing for you to go and fight. You could have gotten yourself killed.” She turned her face from his glance, not wishing to see the anger she knew would ignite in his eyes.
He grabbed her arm. His hold, like an iron clamp, got the message across. He was clearly annoyed and with good reason. He would think her a coward.
“What foolishness is this? Do not look away when I speak. Look at me.”
She lazily turned her head.
Anger threaded the lines of his chiseled lips. “Would you have me dishonor my people, my family? If not to fight and earn respect, what then? Your talk is that of a coward.”
“I am not a coward. You tell me where it is written that a friend has to die for another. Or that a friend has to suffer for another.”
All her anxiety over Shadow Elk's death, Chahanpi's loss and her fear for Two Moons' life, came rushing forth like the uncontrollable waves of an angry sea. “I don't see it written anywhere! All the scalps in the world aren't going to bring Shadow Elk back. All those men killed. What of their families?”
What about hers? Grandpa Jackson had one more week to live. Thanks to Two Moons' interference, she hadn't been at the fort long enough to talk him out of fighting.
Two Moons jerked his hand away and pounded on his chest. “It is written here. It is our way-the way of the people. A man protects the ones he loves, no matter that his life is in danger. The ones with the pale faces rape and steal what is ours. Always there will be hatred between us. But you, with your white thinking and talk of cowardice will never understand. I should have left you at the fort.”
“You're right. You should have. I didn't ask to leave,” she snapped.
“Yes and with good reason. Had I not come when I did, you would be right now sharing his pallet.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Do not play games with me. I am only sorry I did not find your lover on the battlefield today with the rest of your precious Blue Coats.”
Lover? She stared. What lover?
“It would have been an easy fight for me to win, no contest,” he boasted. “Old men belong protecting the women and children, not on the battlefield.”
He was talking about Grandfather Jackson and he was jealous. It was almost comical. “He's not that old and he's a good soldier.” Stew on that for a while, why don't you?
“Next time I see him we will see who is stronger.”
“If you kill him, I
will never forgive you.” What if Two Moons’ arrow had caused her grandfather's death? Could she still love him? Could she forgive him? Anxiety churned in her abdomen. It couldn't happen, that would place Two Moons and his people at Custer's Battle Field and there was no talk of going there. She pushed the thought from her head.
Her grandfather, however, was still in danger; she had some unfinished business back at the fort. “If you think me difficult now, just wait. Your life will be a living hell. Take me back. You don't want me here.”
“Would you have me risk my life? Was not the death of one man enough?” he spat.
She cringed. What could she say? He was right. She wouldn't let him take that chance. But Grandfather Jackson…
Two Moons slammed out his arm in a dismissing gesture. “Go. Go back to that old man you call your lover. I want nothing more to do with you.”
“Fine! I will.” She turned away not waiting for an answer, but got one anyway.
“Fine.” The word hit her back as she stomped away.
Chapter Fifteen
The edgy wind roared, gushing softly, then angry as Gabrielle stomped away from the village. Leaves swirled around her, rattling against the parched ground as she tread her way through a dense cluster of pine and cottonwood trees. It was getting dark. Already steel gray clouds hung heavy in the sky.
She paused to catch her breath, then closed her eyes. The wind fanned her hair, blew harshly against her cheeks, cooling her anger. For what seemed like over a half-hour she had walked aimlessly through the forest, trying to gather her thoughts; trying to compose herself.
She hadn't meant for it to be this way. The last thing she wanted was to fight. Hell, what she really had wanted to do was run to Two Moons with open arms. He had been jealous. The thought brought a smile to her lips. He thought Jackson was her lover. Good. Let him stew in his jealously.
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