"It's alright, Crow." She glanced over her shoulder at the coyote standing beyond in the shadows. "He's a friend."
Chapter Three
Jack watched as Hannah scooted toward the coyote, crooning and extending her hand to the animal. Its gaze settled mostly on Jack. Finally, though, it crouched and approached Hannah, residing beside her.
"I call him Hok'ee," she said, stroking the beast's neck.
"Is he your pet?"
"No. He's only been with us since we began this journey."
"I've never known a coyote to willingly mingle with humans."
"This one is different," she said quietly.
"In what way?"
The animal lay down and placed his head on Hannah's lap, eyes still upon Jack. Jack's gaze drifted to the woman, serene and strong. He liked the color of her hair—a deep burgundy captured in a braid—and thought it would look lovely spread across her shoulders, covering the soft complexion of her creamy skin. She wore a duster that had seen better days, but he'd caught glimpses of her fine figure, despite it.
"You'll probably snicker when I say," she said, "but I'll say it anyway. Some of my pa's spirit is in Hok'ee. All the more reason to retrieve his cross and set him free."
Distracted by his thoughts of the woman beside him, he didn't register her admission at first. He frowned. "Shapeshifter?"
"No. Not the same thing."
"Why do you believe the coyote is possessed of your father's spirit?"
"Just a feeling. But I've not told Sani, so please don't say anything to her."
"Why?"
Hannah rubbed her forehead, clearly fatigued. "If she knew, she'd want nothing to do with Hok'ee. The Navajo consider it a misfortune to interact with the dead in any way, but I don't agree with this belief."
"You should get some rest. I'll keep an eye out for Sani."
She nodded, and spread her bedroll beside the fire. A chill settled in the late October night. Jack tugged his long coat against him, then retrieved a blanket from his gear. He brought it to Hannah and covered her, despite the sheepskin blanket she already possessed. Hok'ee watched intently from his spot curled against her.
Lucky scoundrel.
Startled, Hannah protested. "No, you need it," she said.
"You can return it later." He allowed himself the luxury of touching her a tad longer than necessary.
"Thank you."
Soon, she slept, and he fought the urge to lie down beside her. Something about Hannah Dobbin called to him, sparking a longing for connection, more than just the obvious physical yearning.
Hannah lived in a place between this world and the next, unafraid. Weary himself of chasing men who inflicted pain and suffering onto innocents, he felt a tangible pull to her, as if she were a clear stream flowing in a desert oasis and he was parched to his very soul.
What would it be like to love a woman like this, a woman filled with the life of the earth, the animals, and the sky above?
He never would've suspected he'd find such a woman in a remote area like this, walking among the Navajo as if one of them, chasing a madman in search of a relic that could save her pa's soul.
There was little doubt in his mind about what he would do next.
****
Hannah awoke with a start as the sky began to lighten. She tried to shake the dread tingling in her limbs. The presence of her pa pressed close, and she knew he'd been in her dreams, but she couldn't recall the images; the memories slipped away like smoke in the wind.
Sani slept nearby, having returned during the night, but Hok'ee was gone. That wasn't unusual, however, for him.
A swift scan confirmed what Hannah suspected—Jack was gone.
Perhaps he went to scout the perimeter, to keep them safe, but she wasn't fool enough to believe that.
He’d left them.
The disappointment cut sharp and deep, taking her by surprise.
Why did she care that he abandoned them? But he hadn't, not really. He had no obligation to her, no real reason to help except that maybe he wanted to. She’d offered aid in locating his fugitive, Lopez, but that had been a somewhat empty promise. She had no idea if Lopez was with Yazhe, but if she had to guess, the two would eventually cross paths.
She remembered the look in Jack’s dark eyes, filled with justice and compassion. And perhaps amusement? Had he simply tolerated her until he could extricate himself from two loco females slowing down his hunt for a Mexican criminal?
She was certain his gaze had held a hint of...something else, and it had sparked a place buried inside her.
She must've been wrong, since he'd run off during the night without even a goodbye.
She stood, and busied herself with camp chores.
Soon, Sani awoke and accepted Jack's absence with little commentary. After Hannah packed the horse and mule, they were on their way heading farther into Cañon de Chelly, the sheer sandstone walls towering over them.
Sani knew this place intimately, had lived here during her childhood. She'd been on the Long Walk in '63, and returned in '68. She didn't like to talk of it, except that she'd lost Luis during that time. The Navajo had taken him prisoner many years before, and Sani grew to love him.
Hannah trusted Sani's visions. To her, the elderly Navajo remained tuned to her instincts in a way that few white men understood. Hannah didn't completely grasp it either, but after spending months living amongst indigenous peoples in the area, she felt her soul entwined with nature, her senses acutely aware of the blue sky, the red dirt, and the crisp wind.
Was this how it was with Crow? All day, her thoughts slipped back to him.
As if a compass, Sani led them into the canyon's interior, but there was no denying their slow progress. This seemed not to distress Sani, so Hannah let go any sense of urgency.
They watered the animals late in the afternoon at a perennial spring, so didn't stop until gray hues mired the sky.
Sani paced while Hannah removed knapsacks tied to the mule.
"What is it?" Hannah asked.
Sani stopped. "There is no voice here."
Gooseflesh arose on Hannah's arms. She pulled the shotgun resting against the horse's hide and cracked the barrel to check if it was loaded, then aimed it into the nothingness surrounding them.
Gusts blew icy air into her face, making her eyes water. Scrub brush shook, setting her on edge.
Someone is there.
"Stand behind me, Sani," she said in a low voice.
Back to back, they kept watch for the threat so palpable in the air. The high canyon walls loomed high, effectively boxing them in. The horse whinnied in agitation and Hannah's eyes darted back and forth, her hands chilled as they gripped the weapon tightly.
"What color is the wind, Sani?" Hannah whispered.
In defeat, Sani answered, "It is red."
Hannah readied for a fight. Red was a bad wind, believed to be placed by Coyote, the great Trickster. Every year, a red wind took the lives of Navajo children.
Where was Hok'ee? Sani would believe the animal to be foe, but Hannah knew, in the marrow of her bones, that Hok'ee carried her pa's spirit in this place. It was the only way he'd been able to stay with them. Perhaps he sent the wind to help?
She'd never convince Sani to place trust in a coyote, but Hannah hoped for an otherworldly intervention nonetheless.
The mule moved, bumping them, and agitation gripped the horse. Distracted, Hannah tried to move away but the animals blocked her view. The man came from nowhere, and pushed them to the ground. Stunned, Hannah held tight to the shotgun but large hands wrested it from her. Screaming, she clawed at the assailant. A punch to the face sent her sprawling backward.
Panic jolted through her at the blast of gunfire.
Sani!
Scrambling to her feet, she launched herself at the large Mexican. He grabbed her by the neck, choking her and she clawed at his hands in desperation. His face contorted, framed by dark, greasy hair, and cold eyes filled with malevolence.<
br />
He meant to end her life. She fought, desperately, to make him stop but her lungs clawed for breath, frantic.
And then there was no more pain.
And no more struggle.
With no breath, her vision narrowed.
Then, she was gone.
Chapter Four
Jack slid from his horse with the animal still in motion and ran to Hannah. Sani’s unmoving body lay just beyond, but he came to Hannah first.
Dropping to his knees, her ashen pallor punched him in the gut, and he knew she breathed no more.
No!
He wouldn’t accept it. He left the women to protect them, not get them killed.
This can’t happen!
Gently lifting Hannah's head with one hand and her torso with the other, he brought his mouth to hers and exhaled. Bringing her more fully into his arms, he elevated her and filled her lungs with air.
"Come back to me,” he whispered, his voice ragged.
Carefully, he pushed her forward into a sitting position, then brought her back to recline, repeating this several times. He’d once seen a medicine man bring a man back in this manner. He continued to breathe into her.
“Hannah Dobbin, please come back to me.”
Her body shuddered.
He pushed her upright as her lungs sucked in air, bracing himself behind her. Tenderly, he stroked her neck.
Still wheezing, she turned to him. “You came back.”
“I’m sorry I left.” Burying his hand into her hair, he kissed her cheek.
“Sani.” Her voice broke, and she struggled to stand. He held her arm as she stumbled to the Navajo woman. They dropped on either side of Sani.
“She’s been shot,” Hannah said in a panic.
Jack pulled away bloodied clothing from Sani’s shoulder. “Buckshot. She’s been grazed. It’s not bad.”
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
As they tended to Sani’s wound, Jack asked, “Who was it?”
“A Mexican.” Hannah's focus remained on extracting pellets from Sani's skin.
“Lopez.” But how? Jack would’ve seen him slip past to get to the women. He stood. “I’ll be back.”
Hannah’s head shot up. “What? You’re leaving again?”
He knelt and brought a hand to her cheek. “No.” He couldn’t keep the emotion from his words. Hannah Dobbin had hold of him. “I’m just gonna check the area. You won’t be out of my sight.”
She nodded, not shying from his touch. “Be careful,” she said.
In her gaze he saw tenderness, and need.
He made a fast perusal of the surroundings. In the dark it was difficult to see tracks, but as near as he could tell, Lopez had come upon the women from behind, possibly from a rocky outcropping. Maybe he’d been hiding there all along, and Jack had ridden right past him.
Why hadn’t Lopez taken him out?
Nothing from Sani and Hannah had been taken, not even their weapon. In fact, he was fairly certain Sani had been shot by her own gun.
Further inspection revealed a smattering of confused prints and smears in the dirt.
Hok’ee?
Although Jack couldn’t be certain, he had a strong feeling Lopez had fought with the coyote. Footprints led into the dark, but Jack didn’t dare follow. He wouldn’t leave Hannah unprotected again.
But Lopez was likely not far, and possibly injured. Maybe fatally. Jack could only hope.
He returned to Hannah’s side.
“No fire tonight,” he said quietly, crouching beside her. “I don’t suppose Sani could be moved?”
“Not far. Where is he?”
“I’m guessing he could be near.”
“Are we safe here?”
Jack shook his head. “You haven’t been safe since you entered this canyon. Will you let me escort you out?”
“No,” Sani said, startling them both.
Hannah leaned close to the woman’s face. “Thank goodness you’re all right, Sani. Are you in any pain?”
“I will manage. We must find Hastin.”
“I’ll take both of you out of here,” Jack said, “and then I’ll find Hastin and Lopez. I give you my word.”
Sani shook her head slightly. “You cannot do this without us.”
Hannah turned to Jack. “We can help you, just as we originally agreed.”
Helplessness hit Jack, an unaccustomed sensation. But Hannah Dobbin didn’t belong to him, in any way; he had no say in her life. When this was over, if they made it out of here alive, he would have to change that.
“If that’s what you wish, Hannah,” he said.
“We’ll watch over you, Crow,” she said, the timbre of her voice reminding him of warm whiskey and steamy nights. “When I was dead, I saw it.”
“What else did you see?”
Amusement filled her eyes. “I saw us.” She glanced down, as an embarrassed smile briefly graced her mouth.
He watched her and grinned. Despite the danger they faced, hope started to grow in his heart that they’d make it out of this canyon in one piece.
Chapter Five
Hannah made Sani as comfortable as possible without any light. She gave her water to drink, and a flour cake that had been made that morning. Hannah also insisted on a bit of laudanum—she’d always carried some since her pa’s aching joints had become more troublesome in the months before he was killed.
For the first time, thinking of him didn’t squeeze her throat with grief and fill her chest with longing.
I saw him.
During her brief death—Jack insisted she couldn’t have been gone long, but refused to elaborate more when asked—she'd been with her pa. He was still close to this world, hovering near. He told her she’d been right about Hok’ee, that there were times when he could share the coyote’s spirit and move once again in this place.
He told her she needed Crow, and Crow needed her.
Sani rested now. Hannah knew giving her the medicine wouldn’t help if they had to flee unexpectedly, but the old woman was clearly in pain. There was no reason to make her suffer.
Movement caught Hannah’s eye.
Hok’ee’s eyes glowed in the dark.
Hannah’s body relaxed. She moved past the ground-tied horses and mule to where Jack sat on a large rock. He insisted they move from the center of the canyon to a more protected side-area; this way, he could keep a lone watch.
She sat beside him. He shifted his rifle to cradle in his left arm.
“Hok’ee is here,” she said. “He’ll watch, too.”
“I think you may be right about that.”
“This place is restless.” The chilled air caused her to shiver.
He put an arm around her, and she accepted his touch, leaning into him. “Why do you think that is?” he asked.
“Before the Long Walk, the army hunted the Navajo within these walls. They chopped hundreds of peach trees down, killed livestock, and destroyed homes. The people were left to starve or freeze to death. Surrender became the only option. The pain in the Diné is still raw. It was an incredible blessing that they were allowed to return, but the wounds are deep. Hastin is one who was changed by it. Now, with army rations likely to end soon, many are at odds with one another. My pa wanted to preserve what the Diné are, but in the end, some became as evil as the Anglo men who began this struggle.”
“You sound like you’re forgiving Hastin for being what he is.”
“I saw my pa,” she said quietly, glancing up at Jack. “When I was dead. It’s not the end. He isn’t suffering. The only one who will suffer is me, because I’ll miss him so much.” Her voice caught and tears welled.
Jack shifted the rifle cross-wise on his lap and brought a hand to her cheek, brushing at the wetness with his thumb. His lips came to hers, gently, demanding nothing. His restraint and tenderness surprised her, for he seemed a man unaccustomed to it.
He leaned his forehead to hers, running a hand to her neck, the touch full o
f promise.
"You're bruised," he said softly.
She didn't want to admit just how sore her throat felt, but any type of movement set off waves of pain.
"I'm sorry once again that I left you and Sani," he continued. "I meant to ride ahead and deal with the situation before either of you got near it."
"Then how did you know to return?" She let Jack fold his arms around her, bringing her close, keeping her safe within his embrace.
"My grandparents came from Scotland; my seanmhair—my granny—from the Highlands. She had...gifts, some of which she tried to teach me when I was young. She was known as a taibhsear. She had visions, sometimes of spirits, and she could see fetches, or doubles."
"You strike me as a man who doesn't concern himself with such things."
"It's not something I share with most." He tucked her closer. "As I rode away from you today, the wind picked up, and I looked to the sky. A pattern emerged in the clouds."
When he stopped, she nudged him. "Tell me."
With a low laugh, he shook his head. "I saw you, there in the clouds. I saw your face. And then, a bad feeling came over me, so strong I turned around immediately."
"You practice the sight through clouds?" Hannah smiled. "I've not heard that one."
"If you tell anyone, I'll deny it."
"Your secret is safe with me. You saved my life, Jack." She leaned back slightly to look up at him. "Thank you."
His gaze met hers. "I think you've bewitched me."
"It would be fitting, if I did possess such powers, since it is Hallowtide."
"This was Granny's favorite time. She would light candles and leave spice cakes for the spirits, for all three days."
"You don't look Scottish, Jack."
"I'm Comanche and Mexican on my mama's side."
"You must have interesting customs at home."
"I suppose you want to come and study us. My mama was the product of a Comanche warrior and a Mexican slave. She was called Topsanna while she lived in the tribe, but when she married my pa, she adopted the name of Mary. He met her at a trading post in North Texas, and bargained quite aggressively for her. Now, my folks live in Springfield, Missouri. They raised me and my younger brothers, Callum and Kit, under fairly normal circumstances, away from the taint of our heathen blood."
The Crow and the Coyote (The Crow Series Book 1) Page 2
