Treasured Dreams (The Rivers Brothers Book 3)

by Lynn Landes

  When he hears the rumbles a second time, he hurries to watch from the same spot as earlier. The sun has set, but he can see enough to read the word Army on the side of the train. After returning to camp, he eats and settles down next to her to sleep. Harris lays beside her and drags the blanket over the two of them. Kimani frowns and curls into his body, using his arm as a pillow she grabs his arms and pulls them tightly around her body.

  Harris sighs, content to hold her safely in his arms and kisses the back of her head. She fits his body as if carved just for him. He sleeps with a smile on his face.

  Two more times, during the night, he wakes to the rumble of a train. Each time, he expects Kimani to wake, but she rolls into his body and sleeps deep. He holds her tight and secure and waits for dawn.

  The wolf pads through camp stopping to look down at Harris holding her in his arms. His head drops low and his lip curls back in a low snarl. Harris jerks awake, and his eyes fly open wide in horror. It takes a second for his mind to register what he’s seeing.

  Death glares at him, with steam coming from his nostrils and drool dripping from his sharp canines. Harris edges his hand down, reaching for his pistol beneath the blanket.

  A loud snarling growl rips from the beast’s throat waking Kimani with a start. She gasps when she recognizes the wolf. “Harris don’t shoot him,” Kimani pleads, but when she attempts to move both man and beast snarl at her.

  Kimani huffs out a breath of frustration. “I’ve seen him before,” she explains softly. “He’s warning us of something.” The wolfs brown eyes dart to hers, he stops growling and backs up a step. “Lower the pistol and let me up,” she hisses at him.

  Harris is trembling with the urge to shoot and protect first, but the wolf sits down and cocks his head sideways, carefully watching him. Kimani slowly untangles herself from Harris’s protective embrace and stands up.

  “Hello again,” she murmurs and before she can take a step towards him, sounds of wood creaking, squeaking, plodding horses fill the air. “What’s that noise?”

  Harris rises slowly afraid to take his eyes off the six-foot beast and keeps the pistol trained in the animal’s direction. “Not a train, this time. That’s wagons,” he glances in the direction of the sound for a second.

  The wolf chuffs at them as if to say, “Of course,” and pads out of camp.

  Harris sighs in relief when the wolf retreats and pulls Kimani in for a quick hug.

  “Can you explain what just happened?”

  “I’m not sure you’d believe me,” she murmurs against his shoulder.

  The noise from the wagons grows louder as voices join in. “It’ll wait till later. I’ll go see what’s going on and you stay here,” Harris orders and hands her his second pistol. “Do you remember how to use this?”

  A flash of white teeth in the darkness, “Steele taught me well,” she teases and accepts the pistol.

  “Good. Shoot that beast if he shows up again,” Harris says with trembling breath.

  “We need to talk about him,” she tries to say, but he is already gone. Kimani closes her eyes annoyed at the way he orders her around and starts to count in Shoshone to calm down. When she reaches twenty, she opens her eyes and sees the wolfs tracks in the slush.

  “Harris saw him too! That means he’s real!” Confusion flickers as she stares at the paw prints. “He’s real, not a figment of my imagination.” Every time he’s shown up, he’s protected her from danger. From driving her across the river into the canyon to attacking the soldier who was after her and even helping with the tracker.

  “Why have you come this time?” she asks softly.

  Holding the pistol close, she follows the tracks out of camp. They lead her around the boulders and down away from the protection of the hill towards the plains. She’s so busy tracking the paw prints that she almost misses the boot prints.

  Dread fills her mind and her stomach drops. Harris didn’t walk this way, they stayed on the other side of the boulders, using the rock as a blind of sorts. Slushy prints circle a tree. Kimani glances back towards the camp, “I should’ve waited,” she whispers and turns to leave. She takes a step, and the blow to her legs sends her to the ground with a yelp of pain. The impact of her body hitting the ground sends her pistol flying from her hand. The rope wraps around her legs and the ball smacks above her thigh. Kimani loses her breath as the pain rolls through her body.

  “That right there is what you call a Bola,” the male voice chuckles. “But you know that don’t you.” Craig points her fallen pistol at her face and glares at her. “Move, and I’ll put a hole in that pretty face of yours,” he sneers, leaning down over her, he shakes his head as if trying to clear it.

  “I know, brother, I know!” he hisses spraying her with spittle. “The boss was very clear,” he steps on her hand, and she screams out in pain. “Kill, Dr. Harris and bring him both scalps, but first we play.” He grins at her look of horror mixed with pain.

  Harris is staring through his binoculars at the army soldiers unloading a Gatling gun from the back of a wagon. Soldiers, sixteen at his count, are armed and preparing for something, but what?

  A growl from behind has him rolling over and raising his pistol with a glare. The wolf is back and holding something in his mouth. With a flick of his head the animal tosses the item at Harris’s feet. A canvas pouch stamped with the Army logo. Recognition flashes through his mind, and he glances up in shock at the animal.

  The Wolf glances over his shoulder, growling low and starts to trot away. The animal pauses and chuffs at him. Kimani’s short scream of pain causes them both to jump. Harris runs with his gun ready, no longer concerned with the wagons.

  Kimani’s scream is short lived when she realizes what his plan is. “Please,” she pleads, “He’s not involved. Don’t hurt him…” he presses down on her hand harder sinking it even further into the soft muddy ground.

  “So that’s the way of it then? You care for this Doctor? Maybe even love him!” He grins and evil grin. “Perfect! You can watch him die the way I watched my brother…” the ear-piercing howl of a wolf causes Craig to stop and turn in surprise, looking for the threat. Again, the wolf wails, this time from behind him.

  Craig whirls around with a crazed look and Kimani desperately fights with the leather strap and ball, trying to untangle her legs as quickly as she can. The third bay from another direction has Craig shouting, “Stop it! No brother! We are surrounded!”

  He leaps backward, grabbing for Kimani, and jerking her up by her arm. The loosened leather falls to the ground freeing her legs, but Craig shoves the pistol against her temple and whirls in the direction of the next howl.

  “Craig, I can help you!” Kimani pleads.

  “Shut up! I can’t hear Evan!”

  Evan? That was the brother she shot! A flash of movement has her wondering why the wolf doesn’t attack. Instead, he is circling the camp. Harris will come, buy time, Kimani tells herself.

  “What do I do, Evan?” Craig whispers.

  “The wolf is a soul eater, Craig, and he’s hungry,” she laughs, taunting him.

  “You shut up!” Craig throws her to the ground and kicks her in the stomach.

  Kimani rolls over coughing and struggling to catch her breath. “Do you hear the drums?” She croaks out at Craig, and his eyes grow wide as the sound of a drum beat fills the air.

  “What’s that!” he hisses.

  The wolf howls again, filling the night with the sounds of the tribe. A drum-beat followed by a haunting melody of the flute. Kimani’s rises up to her knees and taunts him, “It’s the soul eaters, Craig. They’ve come for your brother!” Kimani keeps him talking and begins to drum on the ground in front of her.

  “Stop!” He raises the trembling pistol, “Make it stop! Or you…” Craig’s eyes grow wide with shock and the pistol falls from his numb hand. He topples forward with a bowie knife sticking out between his shoulder blades.

  Kimani covers her mouth with a silent scream and
crumples to the ground. Harris quickly grabs the pistol and tucks it in his belt.

  “Harris!” she weeps, and gags looking away from the still breathing man. Harris leaves the knife buried in his spine and rushes to gather her in his arms.

  “Are you hurt?” he demands and runs his hands over her body, looking for gunshot or knife wounds.

  “Just my leg and hand. Harris how did you know?” she asks as he checks her hand.

  “The wolf,” he says glancing away from her. “Did you hear the drums?”

  “He came to you?” Kimani stares at him in shock.

  “Yes.” Harris pulls her to her feet and walks her a few feet from the body. “Kimani, I have to clean this up. Can you go back to camp and pack up? We have to get out of here,” he asks.

  “What about him?”

  “He shouldn’t have come after you,” Harris says firmly and walks her to the trail leading back to the camp. “Take this pistol, keep low and quiet. I won’t be long.”

  Kimani stops and looks at him, seeing him in a different light. “I should’ve listened to you. I’m sorry, Harris,” a tear streaks down her dirty cheek, and he cups her face gently.

  “Yes, you should have.” He captures her huff of outrage with a hot kiss. Gently, he soothes her, tasting and savoring her until they both pull back in astonishment.

  “Go,” he pushes, and Kimani nods, limping back to the camp.

  Harris turns on the downed man and stalks over to him with a sense of urgency. Kimani doesn’t need to know that he dealt Craig a death blow. She’s seen enough death. He will draw his last breath soon.

  Harris jerks the 8-inch knife from his body ignoring the crunching and sucking sound. He wipes the blood in the slush and drags it across the back of Craig’s jeans.

  “There are some perks to being a doctor. I know exactly where to strike to kill a man instantly, or, in your case, paralyze. I’d shoot you, but I don’t think I’ll offer you that courtesy,” Harris says as he flips him over to look him in the eyes.

  Craig’s eyes are wide open, frozen in fear and his breathing is slow and shallow.

  “You shouldn’t have come after her. If you’re lucky, you won’t be alive when the animals start feeding on you.” Harris holds up the pouch of trophies that the wolf gave him and drops it on Craig’s chest. “Were they alive when you started carving them up?” Harris realizes his hands are shaking when he thinks about the tribe. Images of the smiling faces and babies he’s delivered flash through his memory, and it is like a festering wound. Without even realizing it his pistol is pressed against Craig’s forehead. “They were my friends,” he hisses.

  A wolf’s huff has him jerking back to reality. A slow grin spreads across Harris’s face, Craig’s breathing increases rapidly, and Harris laughs. “Retribution is mine,” Harris whispers as he stands and strides away without looking back.

  A puff of hot breath is his only warning before the growl has him loosening his bowls. Craig stares up at the sky unable to move, or speak, or even swallow. A shadow appears, blocking out the stars and it takes a fraction of a second for him to recognize the face of the wolf.

  He stands over top Craig and straddles his body, so he can look down into his eyes. Craig stares in horror, and when he blinks, he sees the face of an Indian. Ahote disappears leaving only the snarling wolf.

  Chapter 22

  Harris hurries back to camp and shakes his head when he thinks about how close he came to shooting Craig. If he feels this way, he can only imagine the rage inside Kimani. Once again, he prays for guidance.

  Kimani is sitting struggling to bandage her leg with one hand when Harris returns. He skids to a stop and stares at her in shock. Her skirt is up, and she’s tending to her leg. A massive purple bruise is spreading across the thigh from the bolo, and her hand is swollen. Tears are streaming down her cheeks which she quickly scrubs away and attempts to cover her leg.

  “Damn,” he strides quickly to his horse, noting that she doused the fire, and packed up just as asked. He grabs his brown leather doctors’ case that carries his medical supplies and turns to her.

  “I’m okay, we should go. The sun is starting to rise, and the soldiers are setting up camp.” She sniffs and limps to her horse.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that you were hurt? Your health comes first, Kimani.” He guides her to a log and sits down beside her, taking her hand in his. “It’s swollen, but I don’t think anything is broken.” He prods the bones in her hand and wrist and up her forearm until satisfied.

  Kimani doesn’t flinch, she just watches quietly, savoring the feel of his warm hands. “He stepped on it, but the ground was muddy,” she laughs a soft semi-hysterical laugh. “I’m sure you can tell.”

  Harris looks up at her swiftly and stares at her mud-covered dress, filthy hair and tear-filled eyes and grins, “You’ve never looked prettier.”

  She stares at him but doesn’t trust herself to speak. “Show me your leg,” he demands.

  Kimani lifts her skirt, and he hisses in shock at the large purple bruise and knot forming. “That needs rest and elevation.” He drops to his knee to get a closer look and prods around, ignoring her hiss of pain. When he presses directly on the knot, she grips his hair in a fist and jerks his head back.

  “Harris, that hurts.” Desire flares in his eyes when he glares back at her.

  Kimani releases him quickly and stammers, “I’m sorry.”

  “What the hell did he hit you with and how did it get through the layers…” his voice fades when he realizes she’s naked beneath the dress.

  “My ribs couldn’t take it. They were confining, I took them off,” she murmurs.

  Beautiful muscular, battered, legs, streaked in mud, and Harris grips her leg a little too tightly as images of bathing her clean and tracing his mouth all over her body, cloud his mind.

  “I don’t think it’s broken.” He says hoarsely, “It will just hurt like hell for a while.” He covers her quickly and returns to get her settled on the log. Her leg needs to be elevated, and she needs time to heal.

  “I have a back-up plan, thanks to Sutton. If we can make it to the mountains, there’s a trappers cabin they keep stocked for emergencies. We could stay there until you are well enough to travel. Now that Craig is dead, we should have time to figure out our next move. For now, you need to keep that leg still. Stretch your leg across the log.” Kimani does as she is told and pushes the skirt over her leg. Harris drapes a blanket around her shoulders and is thinking about staying put for a few days when they hear a low rumble.

  “Damn, I forgot about them. Stay put,” he orders.

  “Okay,” she replies, deciding to listen this time.

  Harris pauses and glances at her worriedly. She is never agreeable. He grabs his binoculars and walks swiftly from the camp. Determined to get her to safety.

  Kimani is sitting on the log when the noise grows louder, and she can hear the chugging steam engine. “That’s a train,” she swings her leg down slowly and limps from the camp after Harris.

  “Oh, my God…” Harris starts to say but stops when he sees movement to his left.

  She’s only a few yards from Harris when she hears the familiar rapid repeating bangs of a Gatling Gun. The bullets make a different sound when striking metal instead of flesh. Kimani’s drops to the ground in terror and covers her head with her hands.

  Harris runs to her and tries to pull her up, “We need to go.” Kimani is shaking violently and whimpering on the ground. “I’ve got you.” He gathers her in his arms and sits against the hill.

  Kimani buries her face in his shirt and holds on tightly as he whispers in her ear. Voiceless words, but the timbre of his speech soothes her. He strokes her hair and rocks gently.

  Loud voices, screaming, and gunshots echo, causing Kimani to jump. “I need to check this out. Are you okay?” Kimani nods and crawls from his lap.

  “I’m going with you,” she grabs his hand, and he doesn’t argue.

  Together th
ey crawl to the top of the ridge and stare down at the scene in front of them. The train is stopped and riddled with holes. The conductor and engineer, along with ten passengers are on their knees with their hands above their heads.

  Angry words they can’t hear are spoken, as the train is unloaded by the soldiers. A soldier cracks a wooden case open and grins, lifting out a rifle. Wagons are pulled up, and they begin to transfer the supplies. The engineer stands up and shakes hands with the Captain in charge of the Army soldiers and points to a certain railcar.

  “Why steal your own weapons?” Harris murmurs. This train is a seven car, supply train. Not passengers. One squad of soldier’s searches through the two cars shouting with success when they find another Gatling gun.

  A squad of soldier’s steps forward with native Indian bows. The prisoners are swiftly shot with arrows and those that die too slowly have their throats slit. The Engineer mounts up and accepts a payment before riding out. When they begin carving the humans up and tossing Indian weapons on the ground, Harris has seen enough.

  “They are blaming the Indians for the raids, but why?” Kimani asks in horror.

  “It doesn’t matter. We have to get away from here.” Harris stays low as he pulls her from the hill and back towards camp.

  Kimani doesn’t speak as they rush back down the path to the clearing.

  “It does matter.” Kimani stops walking and stares at him. “Harris,” she walks close to him and looks up. “We have to figure out what is happening here and help.”

  “Do you really think the two of us can stop the U.S. Army. They have sent trackers after you, and they will not stop. This is bigger than two people.”

  “Why steal your own weapons. Where are they taking them? Don’t you want to know, why?” Kimani demands, ignoring him.

  “I know why. They are making it look like the Indians are raiding and massacring to get approval to go to War, Kimani.”