At sunrise, Tocho looked down the path towards the cabin and Sahkyo. He tugged his reins and followed the warriors into the wheat. Like the other warriors, his face was blank. He kept his emotionless, proud stare fixed ahead for signs of the travelers. They spotted the small tent, and kept their horses still while they waited.
Bobby woke first, and he decided to sneak out to get high before the others got up. His grandmother ignored him, but Tommy gave him either disgusted looks or, worse, he looked as though he pitied him. At least he was not all caught up with the tribal crap like Tommy was.
Bobby crawled out, and stared at the wheat. He was still on his hands and knees when he looked up to see Indians sitting on horses. What the fuck? He stood up and looked around. Shit, I know I was stoned, but I’m damn sure I went to sleep on the stupid Indian mound. The Indians stared at him. “What the fuck is your problem?” he asked Nashoba.
Hehewuti woke up to Bobby’s voice. She looked around the tent for changes and tried to remember any dreams. Nothing. Maybe she would see their gifts when she left the mound. She expected some grand acknowledgement or wisdom, but she felt no different than when she had gone to sleep. She sighed and left the tent to see what Bobby was up to.
Unlike her grandson, as soon as Hehewuti stood, surveyed the wheat and the silent group of Indians, she knew exactly what had happened. Why? Why do they need me in this world? Perhaps they need my guidance here? For some reason, she always considered the shamans of the spirit world to be superior. Could she really have impressed them so much that they brought her here? Why would they want my grandsons?
Tommy crawled out a moment later, and he turned in a wide circle to study the wheat. His eyes focused on the Indian with the three feathers, and he smiled.
Nashoba turned to Tocho, and he nodded towards the traveler in the breeches. Tocho walked his horse forward and held out the reins of the mount he was leading. Tommy walked to him, and swung up onto the animal’s back.
Ahiga and Kohana dismounted and they walked up to the old woman. Kohana held out his hand and they led her back to a small pony. They helped her up on its back while she prattled on about what an honor it was to have a receiving party of warriors sent to her by the spirits.
“Where the fuck are we?” Bobby demanded.
Nashoba kept his face blank. Ahiga glanced over at him. This is a warrior? He accuses my raven? The man looked weak, and his eyes were strained as if he had too many nights with sleeping juice.
“Bobby, quiet. They have sent a greeting party for me and I will not have you disrupting my ceremony,” Hehewuti admonished.
He stared at her, and he began to feel queasy. “Where the fuck are we?” he demanded again.
Tommy answered, “Do not speak to our grandmother that way. I think you know exactly where we are.”
Ironically, it began to dawn on Bobby first. He looked at Hehewuti, who was still contemplating her grandeur. Shit. He turned slowly back towards his brother. “You? You did this to us, Tommy?”
“Bobby, don’t you know by now that it is the spirits?”
“He had nothing to do with this,” Hehewuti interrupted. “It was the spirits, guided by me. Now, get on the damn horse or you can walk. I will not insult them by being late to my reception.”
Nashoba listened to all their queer statements. It had been three years since an Indian crossed over. He was an older man, and he seemed much more like the warrior traveler. Even if the man on the ground was an Indian, he was no warrior. Nashoba could sense Ahiga getting impatient. He lifted one hand and turned his horse, leading them out of the wheat field.
“What the hell? Are you just leaving me here?” Bobby called. No one turned around… not even his grandmother or Tommy. Bobby scrambled to catch up. Kohana stopped and stared at the man, sweeping his eyes towards the horse he was leading. Bobby mumbled and managed to pull himself up onto the animal.
They rode until sunset for two days, leaving at dawn. Bobby complained, finally not caring if he smoked in front of them. Hehewuti was tired, and disappointed the Indians did not speak their language. They talked between each other, ignoring their guests. By the end of the second day, Hehewuti was becoming angry. She was tired, had no idea how long this trip would be, and the Indians were not treating her with the respect due a spirit guide.
Tommy enjoyed the unspoiled scenery. Back home, he felt lost after his grandfather died. He used to go fishing and hunting with him, and he had been a great storyteller. He made Tommy feel proud to be an Indian, and when he was gone, Tommy slowly made his way to the Indian land. It was better than trying to live in town, but he still felt incomplete. When he discovered what his brother and grandmother had done to Rebecca… solely for their own benefit but using him as an excuse… he cut off his ties with them. Now, he had the chance to make things right.
The following morning, they climbed a hill. Tommy stopped at the top, looking around with tears in his eyes. One of their escorts stopped next to him.
Kohana looked at the sadness and passion in the traveler’s eyes. “Welcome home, warrior.”
“I never imagined it could be so perfect,” Tommy answered. “Thank you. It is good to finally be here.”
Wacasa and Wyonet were just walking towards the fuel field when they heard the excited voices of the children. They ran to toss their leather sacks back into their teepees, and joined the tribe by the stream. Wacasa waved at Nashoba. He looked so fierce and proud, leading the travelers to the village. Her body ached for him, and it was all she could do to stand still.
“God, Wacasa. Ahiga is leading Bobby,” Wyonet laughed. “Unfortunately, it looks like his journey here was still easier than ours.
“Hehewuti looks put away wet. Look at her, chin held up like we’re supposed kiss her feet, or something,” Wacasa said. She shielded her eyes. “Who’s the other one… in the back with Kohana?”
“I think it’s Tommy, the brother. Let’s get over by the stone pit and get a good spot,” Wyonet suggested. “I don’t want to miss this.”
Hehewuti was a little surprised when the tribe followed silently behind them. She looked around the village, and it did not look like they were preparing a celebration. She wondered if the shaman in this world was as inept as the Indian on the reservation back home. Her mind spun with ways to increase her standing among a group of obviously primitive savages. In all these generations, they had done nothing to move towards the future. Then again, she might be able to use that to her benefit.
Bobby looked at the pretty Indian girls, but those that looked at them at all seemed to turn towards Tommy. Bobby thought of himself in the breeches with a bare chest, and winced. He had no illusions about how pale and skinny he had become.
The horses stopped and the riders dismounted. Hehewuti walked towards the shaman… much more powerful than the chief, in her mind. She held out a hand, and her mouth dropped open when he walked past her. Turning, she was outraged to see him stop before Tommy.
“Welcome home to the Wehali, Cheveyo,” the shaman announced. Murmurs rumbled through the tribe that they had been gifted a spirit warrior.
“Thank you. I look forward to learning from you,” Tommy replied. The old man took his arm and led him to stand between himself and the chief.
Tocho took Hehewuti’s arm. She straightened, and tried to keep a proud, controlling look on her face, not wavering her eyes from the shaman. Tocho announced, “Hehewuti.”
She waited for pleased murmurs that another warrior spirit guide had been gifted. Instead, an old Indian with a familiar face, climbed out from the teepee behind the shaman. “No. No, it can’t be,” she gasped.
“The arrow was true, Hehewuti. It is merely my resting place that was changed. I kept you safe from your treachery for many years, yet as soon as I was gone you plied the spirits for your own gain.”
Hehewuti stared at her husband. She could tell by his eyes that he knew she had paid someone to hide in a blind in the woods. If Tommy had not discovered him so quickl
y, he may have decayed up there. A sinking feeling spread through her. It was a dangerous feeling of dread. She looked into the shaman’s eyes. “You tricked me. You made me believe I would be honored in this place.”
“I did not trick you, woman. It is your own greed and desire for power that has brought you here. It is balance, Hehewuti. Destiny and balance. Your grandson sacrificed his strong standing with your tribe to bring you here. He expected nothing in return. His desire was to right the wrongs you have done and restore the spirit worlds,” the shaman answered.
Hehewuti glared at Tommy. “I should have had them kill both of you,” she sneered. There a steady twitch in her eye, and she looked like a trapped animal.
Her husband walked forward and gripped her arm, pulling her towards him. His fist wrapped around the spirit world medallion and he jerked it free. He handed it to Tommy. “This belongs to you now. Take care the power does not consume you.”
“I will be careful, grandfather.” Tommy watched him lead the old woman away. His grandmother stumbled beside him, towards horses being held by three warriors. “Where is he taking her?”
“He belongs to the southernmost tribe, but he stays in a remote cabin and cares for animals that are injured. He said he was tired of hunting, and he needed to make it right because it was unnecessary to kill them in his old world. Hehewuti will not be able to harm anyone,” the shaman answered.
Ahiga led Bobby forward. He looked sickly and pale, and his eyes darted around until they did a doubletake on Kayla. Ahiga spat out, “This is the raven’s warrior.” There were disagreeable comments whispered through the tribe, and Ahiga released his arm and walked to Wyonet.
Bobby was still staring at her. She looked beautiful… healthy and somehow fresh from her time with the tribe. The Indian shift and moccasins suited her, and he felt a jolt of jealousy when she threw her arms around Ahiga’s neck and kissed him. “She was supposed to be punished for dumping me,” he screamed at the shaman.
“She was punished, but Hehewuti could not twist the sign of the casting. You were never in the raven’s sign… only the Fighter. You lied from your anger and jealousy, to send her here. The raven suffered greatly with her cleansing because of your treachery,” the shaman replied. “And now you will suffer for the wrong you caused against her.” The shaman nodded to Kohana and Tocho. “Take him to the cleansing poles and prepare him.”
Bobby was dragged away, kicking and screaming. Wyonet was tempted to follow with Ahiga, but there was a loud keening coming from the back of the crowd.
Waka was close to distraction. Ganali woke up and ran to be milked at dawn, waking Awi to help her. She did not even wait for warriors to show up. Tala worked quickly on Waka so she could make it to the stream with Ganali. After they bathed, Ganali lumbered around the teepee, dressing and checking her shift and moccasins for signs of wear or dirt.
After pleading mercilessly, Waka finally handed her a blue bead to put on the fringe in the center of her shift. She insisted it matched her eyes. Waka combed out her hair, finally pulling the mass of curls into a ponytail that hung over her shoulder.
After all the preparation, Soquila and Waka missed the entire offering, trying to convince Ganali she looked beautiful. Waka finally managed to drift her mind to a fantasy by telling her she was the most desirable Indian princess. She could tell by Ganali’s eyes and the way she straightened with confidence, the exact moment she absorbed the new story.
Ganali became nervous when she watched the women in the crowd. What if he wants one of them? No, he wants me. She straightened an arm, moving people aside, with Waka and Soquila following her. Naturally, the people moved for their beloved cows.
Ganali was still three rows back when she saw him, standing proudly between the shaman and the chief, and dressed as a warrior, just for her. “Tommy,” she shrieked, and barreled through the crowd. Her face lit up when he smiled back at her and opened his arms.
“Rebecca,” he said into her hair. He pulled her close and could feel her crying. “What’s wrong?”
“Tokala said you were not real. He told me you would not come for me,” she cried.
“He was wrong, Rebecca. I did come for you. I wanted to bring you back, and when I learned I couldn’t, I spent years trying to get to you to make things right.” Tommy had become obsessed with her, and the thoughts of guilt over what his grandmother and brother had done turned to a determination that he would find her. It had been a sign in the shaman’s casting, so he knew that he was meant to come to this world.
She ran her fingers down his face, to make sure that he was real. “You are Cheveyo here, and I am Ganali, but when we are together, you are my Tommy.”
The handsome man smiled at her. “Yes, Rebecca, I am your Tommy,” he agreed.
Wacasa and Wyonet stared at her. Ditzy Ganali, lost in her dreams, had known the meaning of the casting all along. She believed that he would come for her. The strangest thing was the way the warrior looked at her. There was no question he adored her.
“Remember in school when I would ask you what you like? You used to tell stories like my grandfather, and I could see myself as a pirate or prince, always trying to save you.” He smiled when she laughed. “I even had a dream that I was a riverboat gambler, and you were sitting across the table, trying to cheat me.”
Awi and Waka exchanged nervous glances.
Ganali said, “You were trying to cheat me. A straight beats a full house.”
Tommy looked surprised, and Waka stepped forward. “That’s exactly what I told Awi, Ganali.” She introduced herself and Soquila to Tommy. “Ganali stays with Soquila and me, and you are welcome to join us until we can settle you into a place of your own.”
The crowd slowly dispersed, most heading towards the cleansing poles. Nashoba walked over and hugged Wacasa. “Do you want to watch?”
“I would rather welcome you home,” she smiled up at him.
“Well, I sure as hell want to see that jerk get some of his own medicine.” Wyonet looked up at Ahiga. “Consider it foreplay.” She tugged him away towards the cleansing poles, where Bobby was already screaming and pleading.
Wacasa ducked down into the tent, with Nashoba following her. “I missed you so badly.” The heat in her eyes traveled through her body.
Nashoba smiled, and began untying the laces to his breeches. He kicked off his moccasins and stood before her, wearing only the breechclout. Wacasa was already naked, lying back on the furs with her hair spread around her like sunbeams. He knelt by her, and his fingertips ran through the silken strands.
Wacasa reached under the leather apron and captured his cock in a curling fist. He was hard and ready for her, and his sack was stretched tight. She untied the lacings to the breechclout and tossed it to the side. She stared at his thickened cock, licking her lips.
Wacasa sat up and began to push him back onto the furs. She leaned over to kiss him, and whispered, “I think I will torture my warrior.” Wacasa slithered down his body, swiping across his chest and belly with the softness of her long hair.
She lapped his shaft, gently stroking his balls and enjoying the quivering motion of his anticipation. Her tongue searched the ridge of his shaft, and then she lapped lower, gently sucking the side of his column until he began to moan.
Wacasa raised herself and opened her lips to take him into her mouth. She loved the taste of him, the smell and the feel of him. In slowly increasing rhythm, she sucked him deep into her mouth, sliding her lips up and down his shaft.
Nashoba wanted to be inside her. It was quite a task to get her to release his cock, and he looked into her half opened green eyes, knowing she enjoyed tasting him but needing to feel her walls squeezing his cock with her passion.
Wacasa smiled and straddled his hips, lowering down onto his shaft with excruciating slowness, while her hand continued to brush his balls. He gripped her waist and turned her, laying her beneath him. “Your torture takes too long,” he murmured. “I need to feel you surrounding me.
”
He plunged slowly at first, until he saw the same building torment in her eyes. Wacasa lifted her hips against him and he began plunging faster, deeper inside her, filling every secret place. Her nails dug into his shoulders and her head swept back and forth across the furs.
Her passion excited him, and he felt his desire unleashed as his seed shot through his shaft, spewing and jetting deep inside her while her walls gripped him in the convulsive climax of her orgasm. The two of them curled together in passionate exhaustion, and Nashoba ran his fingers down her back until she fell asleep.
After his cleansing, Bobby was sent to work at the ranch with the white men. He was not given the status to lead, like the other Indians. Instead, he was forced to work from daybreak to sunset. The shaman said that he would know when his punishment was over and he could return to the tribe.
Ganali and Waka were made members of the tribe and married their warriors. The shaman explained that Tommy’s arrival with Hehewuti and Bobby was the sign he had been waiting for. Ganali had spent so many years dissolved in her fantasies and Cheveyo learned to become used to her unusual behavior. He would smile and say, “I never know who I’m waking up with, but it sure makes our time on the sleeping furs interesting.”
His patience and love for Ganali, had won him the respect of the women in the tribe. He welcomed the children in the afternoon, and they sat under the shade of the trees while Ganali wove her fanciful stories. It had taken him some time to understand the need for cows. He checked the children and spoke with Awi and Tala to find out when the practice had started.
Cheveyo finally sat with the shaman and chief. “They tell me this was two decades ago. What was different then?”
The chief sighed. “That was so long ago.” He turned to the shaman. “Remember those difficult years? The drought lasted almost five seasons, and buffalo littered the prairie. Calves were separated from their mothers in the dust storms.”
The shaman said, “Our stream dried up, and for the last two years of the draught we stayed south, near the ranch. Just like the calves on the prairie, our children were becoming weak. We hunted and had enough food for them, but we could not make them strong. When we gave them milk from the cows, they became healthy again.”
Captive Travelers Page 20
