Power of the Raven

by Aimée Thurlo

  “I want to watch for a bit. If anything’s out of place, that coyote will let me know.”

  She watched the animal watching them, its eyes gleaming in the low glow of the parking lights. Eventually it trotted off.

  Lori spotted movement in a nearby shrub. As she focused on it, a small creature, maybe a rat, came out of hiding. It turned around and began sniffing the ground, but before it could go far, a big bird swooped down, wings outstretched, and grabbed the animal in its talons. In a flash, it disappeared into the night.

  “The owl has taken a late supper,” he said. After a long while, he placed the Jeep in gear again. “Everything is as it should be out here. Let’s go on.”

  “I hope someday I can see your ranch, too,” she said, straining to catch a clear glimpse of what lay ahead.

  “Would you really like that?”

  “Very much so,” she said.

  His dark eyes focused intently on her. The power of that one look nearly took her breath away. It reminded her of the old saying, “still waters run deep.” The real measure of the man by her side lay well beyond what he allowed the world to see.

  “Someday I’ll take you there and show you around. Life has a different rhythm at Two Springs Ranch.”

  The road circled left, eventually reaching a low spot in the arroyo. As they dropped down inside, the Jeep fishtailed slightly in the sand. Soon they rose out of the depression onto more solid ground. A hundred yards ahead, across a small meadow, was a rectangular stucco frame house nestled near the opposite wall of the canyon. Moonlight shined down on its metal roof, giving it a soft, almost unearthly glow.

  Gene parked close to the front door. “Come on. Let’s get inside,” he said, then reached for her suitcase while she picked up her large tote.

  “The moonlight makes the house look enchanted, magical,” she said, as they walked to the raised front porch. “Somehow it fits you.”

  He shook his head. “I have no magic. That was solely Hosteen Silver’s thing.” He searched his pocket for the key to the dead bolt. “He could do things that defied logic at times.”

  “Like what?”

  “He’d often know things before they happened. At first I thought that he studied people, then predicted their behavior, but there was more to it than that.”

  He flicked on the light switch. “No one lives here now, but that’ll change when Kyle, one of my brothers who’s serving with NCIS overseas, comes home to stay.”

  “Where does the electricity come from? Is there a generator, and batteries?”

  “No, there’s a buried power line that runs out the back and to the highway along a very narrow footpath between the cliffs. It’s not wide enough for vehicles, though, and not too many people know about it.”

  She smiled. “Now it sounds even more like a magical place—with a secret path to the road and all.

  “There’s a real sense of peace here,” she added softly. “Maybe it’s the furnishings, or the beautiful Navajo blankets that are draped over the couch and hang on the wall. I don’t know why, really, but I feel…at home.”

  “People often say that,” he told her. “When Dan and I lived here with Hosteen Silver, friends were always dropping by. Patients, too, but they generally went to the six-sided log medicine hogan out in the back. It’s hidden by the house when you come in by road.”

  “All my Navajo friends in high school grew up in town and none of them had a hogan. You’ve certainly led an interesting life,” she said. “I’d love to hear more about your time here in Copper Canyon.”

  “Maybe tomorrow,” he said. “It’s past one in the morning and you’ll have to get up early to get to work on time. When, exactly, do you have to be there in the morning?”

  “We don’t take lunch because we close at noon, so if I don’t take a break, I don’t have to come in till nine-fifteen.”

  “Okay, then. Let’s go make up one of the beds and we’ll talk as we work.”

  He led her down the short central hall and into the first bedroom on his left. There were two twin beds inside. “I think you’ll find these beds comfortable. The mattresses are foam now, but originally they were filled with straw and wool from our sheep.”

  “You had sheep?”

  “Hosteen had a small flock, and we and the guys who came after us tended them. He used to say that the sheep and the land provided for us and that’s why we’d never go hungry.”

  “Did that ever happen to you?” she asked softly. “Go hungry, I mean.”

  He nodded slowly. “My mom and dad were alcoholics. Buying booze was their priority, so often there was nothing in the fridge. When I couldn’t beg food from the neighbors I’d go to bed early, because once I fell asleep my empty stomach wouldn’t bother me so much.”

  The reality of what his life had been like at one time stunned her. She reached for his hand and covered it with hers. She wanted to say something deep, or something wise that would make it all better, but couldn’t find the right words.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she found herself saying, meaning every word, and wishing it didn’t sound so lame.

  “Everything has two sides, remember?” he said. “Those days taught me to appreciate the good times.”

  As she looked at Gene, she saw a man whose courage had been forged by adversity. After seeing the darkest spot in hell, nothing much could frighten him.

  “You’re all set now,” Gene said, as he finished tucking in the sheet. “I’ll start a fire in the fireplace. The house will stay warm till morning, then.” Seeing her yawn, he smiled. “Get some rest. One good thing about Copper Canyon is how quickly sleep comes to everyone out here.”

  “I didn’t bring an alarm clock. Do you have one?” she asked as he started to leave.

  “No, but it’s not necessary. I always wake up before daybreak. It’s an old habit. It doesn’t matter what time I go to bed.”

  “Will you wake me up?”

  “Before daybreak?”

  “Yeah. I’d like to look around and see Copper Canyon by daylight,” she said.

  “Okay. I’ll give you a tour first thing tomorrow morning. There’s a lot to see. It’s a completely different place when the sun’s out.”

  “And, Gene?”

  He turned his head as he reached the doorway.

  “Thanks for sticking with me.”

  Electricity charged the air between them as he met her gaze and held it. She didn’t want him to leave—and he didn’t want to go.

  “I won’t be far. If you need me, call,” he said in a rough voice, and closed the door.

  She needed him—in every possible way. Yet that was one line she didn’t dare cross. If she did, instinct told her she might never find her way back again.

  Chapter Nine

  Gene felt the blood thundering through him. The idea of Lori lying in his old bed just out of his reach was making him crazy inside. She was all softness and gentle curves, a woman practically made to be loved. His body hardened thinking about her.

  Though it defied logic, since he scarcely knew her, the crazy attraction between them was real. Lori had touched him in a way he couldn’t—or maybe didn’t want—to fight. He loved her smiles, her spirit, and just being near her was a constant reminder that he was a man, and she, a woman.

  Swearing softly, he got busy building a fire in the large cast-iron fireplace insert, a design Hosteen Silver had carefully selected because it would provide effective heat for hours.

  Looking at the bright flames behind the glass and feeling the heat now flowing into the room, he remembered his foster father’s teachings. A man and a woman needed each other to be complete. That, too, was part of the pattern.

  After making sure he had a clear view of the front door, Gene lay down on the couch. The stillness in the house and warmth of the fire made him drift quickly to sleep, but even there, her arms found him.

  LORI OPENED HER EYES SLOWLY. The cool, crisp air filtering through the narrow opening in the
window nudged her awake gently. As she sat up she heard a soft rustling in the leaves outside. Maybe it was a cottontail or quail searching for seeds.

  The peaceful smile on her face disappeared in a flash as a deep, menacing growl sounded outside, somewhere close by. Cold with dread, she crept out of bed and across the room.

  Afraid to see what was outside, she didn’t watch where she was going and smashed her toe on the edge of her suitcase, still on the floor where she’d left it. Covering her mouth with one hand, she muffled a yelp and breathed in and out till the pain passed.

  Lori inched over to the window and peered out. The first thing she saw was Gene, standing completely still. Then, following his gaze, Lori saw a huge black bear about ten feet from him.

  She drew in a sharp breath and stared in horror as the bear slowly walked up to Gene and dropped what it had in its mouth like some giant retriever. It then growled again, a softer sound this time, but still terrifying.

  To her surprise, Gene seemed calm. “The kill is yours. Eat it in peace and live, my brother,” she heard him say.

  Lori remained rooted to the spot, watching. The bear calmly picked up the animal it had caught, holding it in its powerful jaws, but didn’t move away.

  Gene began to chant, his voice strong and compelling. Even though she didn’t understand the words, she felt the power of the song. It rose into the air and danced through the pines, and as it did, everything stilled. It was as if nature itself was holding its breath, listening.

  Man and bear continued to stand face-to-face, but neither seemed afraid. Then the massive animal turned around slowly and walked away.

  Lori stumbled back from the window. Her hands were shaking and her body felt ice-cold. Shivers ran up her spine, but that had nothing to do with the breeze coming from the open window. While she struggled to even her heart rate, she heard a soft knock at her door.

  “Time to get up,” Gene said from the hall.

  Without even thinking, Lori opened her door and launched herself into his arms.

  “I heard the growl, went to the window and saw you and that bear! I’m so glad you’re okay.” She was trembling and couldn’t make herself stop. “How did you keep from running?”

  “That would have been a fatal mistake. Prey runs,” he said, wrapping his arms tightly around her. “More importantly, I was never in any danger. On some level, I know you sensed that, too.”

  She nodded slowly. “What made you so sure he wouldn’t attack? Your gift with animals?”

  “Partly, yes, but in this case, that’s not the whole story. Bear medicine, ritual items I carry in my medicine bag, link me to the animal and make him my spiritual brother. Neither one of us would harm the other. I also carry the fetish of a bear with me. It was a gift from Hosteen Silver. He chose it especially for me.”

  “Why a bear?” Lori’s childhood friends had taught her about some of their tribal beliefs, and fetishes were common.

  “Hosteen Silver saw me as a loner, despite my closeness to my brothers. He told me that Bear’s power was made strong in solitude, and though Bear had a dark side, he also stood for confidence and inner stillness.” He looked into her eyes. “I’m sorry you were scared, but you never have to be when I’m near.”

  As desire shimmered to life between them, he tilted her face upward. Gene took her mouth slowly, filling her senses with a sweet fire.

  His arms tightened around her until she could feel his heart beating against hers. Lori sighed softly, and almost instantly, he deepened the kiss.

  Following her heart, she surrendered to the sensations rippling through her. Nothing else mattered right now but him. As she melted against him, his kiss became hotter, wetter and more demanding.

  The warmth inside her soon became a raging fire that started at the center of her being and spread outward. Lori clung to his shoulders, drinking in his taste, loving his roughness.

  He broke the kiss with a groan and looked into her eyes. “In another minute I won’t be able to stop, and you won’t want me to. Decide now, Lori.”

  His body was pressed intimately against hers, and she knew he was ready. All she’d have to do was kiss him again. Yet fear held her back. Her feelings for him were so intense they were nearly overwhelming. In his arms, she’d turned into someone she scarcely recognized.

  She took a step back. “I…can’t.” Unable to look into the fire that still burned in his eyes, she turned away and walked to her suitcase. It took her a moment to be able to say anything else, but hearing him start to leave, she glanced back at him with a shaky smile. “You promised to show me Copper Canyon this morning, remember?” she said. “Once you’re sure the bear’s long gone, maybe we can walk around?”

  “Bear won’t hurt you.”

  For a moment she was sure his words had more than one meaning. Looking away, she forced her tone to stay light. “The bear likes you but it might see me as an early lunch. I’m better tasting than that poor creature it was carrying.”

  He smiled slowly. “You’re right about that, but Bear won’t take what’s not his.”

  Lori took an unsteady breath. “Let me put some shoes on,” she said, tearing her gaze away. The way he was looking at her made it impossible for her to think.

  “If you have boots, wear them. The sun’s coming over the ridge right now, and snakes might be coming out to lie on the rocks to warm up.”

  “I have shooties—low boots,” she said. “Give me a chance to wash up and I’ll join you in a sec.”

  It took her longer than she’d said, but by the time she met him in the living room her pulse was beating at a normal rate again. “When I pictured myself living a rural life, I’d see dogs, horses, cattle and even sheep—but I never factored in the wild part of nature. Now that I’ve seen it up close, I’m absolutely certain that I can do without bears the size of tanks, and snakes,” she said and smiled.

  “Everything, including bears and snakes, are part of the pattern. The challenge is to find your place within that.”

  His confidence seemed so unshakable. An instinct she didn’t quite understand assured her she would be safe with him no matter where they went.

  They soon left the house, taking a trail that led upward from the canyon floor toward the steep mesa to the east.

  “Hosteen Silver would take this same trail every morning,” he said. “Then, as the sun rose, he’d take a pinch of pollen from his medicine pouch and throw it up into the air as an offering to Dawn.”

  “Do you do that, too?” she asked.

  “When I’m at the ranch, yes, but that doesn’t make me a Traditionalist like he was. I’m what some call a Modernist. I respect the old ways and honor the beliefs of my people, the Diné, but not at the exclusion of modern conveniences or technology. Like most Navajos, I go to the doctor if I need to, but I don’t necessarily exclude a hataalii from that picture.”

  “You walk between two cultures,” she said with a nod.

  He nodded. “There’s balance in being a Modernist, too.”

  When they reached the cliff, she followed him up the steep trail. A colorful wall of sandstone rose to their right at a near vertical angle. The tilted layers of ancient sedimentary rock, weathered at different rates, provided a shelf of rock, a natural path up the canyon wall.

  She concentrated on where she placed her feet, aware of the steep drop-off to her left, and wondered just how high they were going. The only times she’d risk a look down into the canyon was during breaks when they were standing still. Otherwise, it would make her feel disoriented.

  She concentrated on the path before her until Gene stopped at a wide spot in the trail.

  “Look around us,” he said. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful? This is Copper Canyon at its best.”

  Illuminated by the early-morning sun, the canyon wall to the west was streaked in reds, oranges and earthy tans. Farther down, still in the shadow, those same walls became a palette of dark blues, purples and deep browns.

  “And
look up,” he said.

  As the sun continued to rise in the east, the trees above them seemed to glow in brilliant blue-greens.

  “When I was a kid, if Wind was still, or blowing just right, we’d hear Hosteen’s prayer to the dawn drifting down the canyon. We’d make out the words ‘Hozhone nas clee,’ now all is well, and, somehow, we knew it would be because he was part of this land and it was a part of him.”

  “This place is part of you, too,” she said. “It taught you to be hardy and resilient, the same qualities that enable the desert to survive.”

  Gene nodded slowly. “All that’s true, but Hosteen Silver gave me an even greater gift. He taught me that if I believe in myself, I’d never know failure, because I’d see each setback as just another stumbling block I’d need to overcome.”

  As he watched the desert below, she watched him. It was impossible not to be drawn to Gene, this man who was as strong as he was gentle. She remembered how it had felt to be pressed against his hard chest, and how she’d clung to his shoulders for the strength to stand. Everything in her had yearned to give in.

  Afraid that he’d somehow guess the turn her thoughts had taken, she leaned against the cold rock face, her feet spread out in front of her.

  As she took a breath, she heard a dry shaking rattle. The distinctive sound reverberated with deadly intent. The only time she’d ever heard a rattlesnake had been on a nature show on TV, but listening to it up close was far, far worse. If death had a sound, that was it.

  “Don’t move,” Gene said softly. “I see it.” He pointed to a recess on a flat rock just behind her. “Its body has a bulge, and it’s still sluggish from the cold. It caught something last night, probably a mouse, so it’s not interested in you. It’s looking for a warm spot to lie in while it digests its food. Take a slow step to your right. You’ll free its path so it can move out into the sun.”

  As she edged away, Gene began chanting, the cadence and rhythm making it sound like a prayer and song all in one.