by Vella Munn
Luash had never been this close to an army stronghold, had never guessed she would crawl on her belly to the edge of the bluff that looked down on men, weapons, and horses. But ever since the army's attack and retreat, she'd battled emotions that could only be calmed by coming here.
An officer had been shot. Ha-kar-Jim, who claimed responsibility, hadn't known who he'd hit. What he did know was that the officer had cried out and fallen to the ground where two of his companions, one of them already wounded, lay.
Full of himself, Ha-kar-Jim had insisted that no white could stand before him and that those who tried would watch their blood seep into the ground. Hadn't he already killed more white men than there were fingers on both his hands after the burning of Modoc homes at Lost River?
Jed was an officer. Maybe he'd been out there two days ago while she watched what she could see of the battle from her rocky vantage point. When the soldiers began retreating, taking their dead and wounded with them, she had tried to bury her thoughts in the sounds of the victorious scalping dance that lasted through the first night. The next day she'd helped the other women prepare beef and camas stew while the tribe's children noisily replayed the battle around them, but early this morning, feeling sick, she'd ventured out onto the battlefield where chilling silence had replaced the sounds, sights, and smells of fighting.
She'd come across several bodies stripped of clothing and weapons, and despite her horror at what had been done to them, she'd sent Eagle a prayer of thanksgiving that no Modoc blood had been shed. Cho-ocks had taken full honor for that, saying his powerful medicine was responsible for the Modoc victory. Maybe he was right, and maybe Eagle had spread his protective wings over all her people.
By afternoon, Luash had reassured herself that Jed's body hadn't been left behind at this horrible place, but that did nothing to quiet her fear for him. She'd seen wounded soldiers being lifted onto horses' backs and led away. Jed could, have been one of them.
There was a full moon, and although clouds and fog often covered it, she was grateful for the faint light cast by it and the fires burning near the sleeping men. Over and over again she traced in her mind the route she had to take if she was going to get any closer, but every time she started to leave her shelter, her body froze; the sensation had little to do with the bitter cold or cutting wind.
She shouldn't be here. What did she care what happened to a gray-eyed man who hated her people and lived for little other than to fight them? She should wish him dead. If he was, he would fade from her mind and she could go back to who she'd been before he touched her with his words.
But she didn't know whether he was dead or alive and the question ate at her the way a spring swollen creek attacks its banks.
Calling herself crazy, she drew her blanket up around her neck to ward off what she could of the night and slipped away from her shelter. Ha-kar-Jim said the soldiers had crawled on their bellies like snakes. Now she was doing the same as she made her way to the sleeping men. She heard loud snoring. While the soldiers kept their rifles near them, none stirred the way a man does when his sleep is light. Ha-kar-Jim had laughed that many of the fleeing soldiers had fallen asleep on their horses. Unless she walked into their camp beating a drum, there was little danger she would be spotted.
Lantern light glowed from within the Van Bremer house, and she was careful not to walk where anyone inside might spot her. A soldier, a sentry she guessed because he was near the horses, sat slumped forward, his face nearly touching the rifle resting on his lap. Despite her reason for being here, her eyes strayed to the corralled horses. If she could bring them back to her people, even Cho-ocks would have to acknowledge her courage.
A horse that had been sleeping standing up lowered itself to the ground and stretched out, sighing deeply. Although she had ridden several times, she had no idea how she would make the animals follow her back to the beds without waking the soldiers.
Besides, horses hadn't brought her here.
After waiting behind a stack of rough-cut lumber for several minutes, she forced herself to leave its protection. Although her lungs burned with the need to take a deep breath, she was too close to the soldiers to take the risk.
She was insane for coming here.
She stared at the cabin! When the shadow of a man passed in front of the window, she dropped flat against the ground, then lifted her head. Another man came to the window and stared out of it, but she was too far away to make out his features. In there, she reminded herself, were men who were not overcome by exhaustion, or were so consumed by thoughts of revenge that sleep wouldn't come. Surely they were talking about her people, cursing them, maybe planning their next attack. If they knew she was out here, they would kill her, or worse.
Despite her faith in Eagle, the thought nearly overwhelmed her, and she had to concentrate on calming her pounding head and heart before she could go back to trying to locate Jed.
Jed. A man who challenged everything she believed about those of his kind. A man tied by his own hatred. A man who had seen her with Eagle and had reached past her defenses to touch—-to touch—no!
The frozen ground bit at her hands and forced her to stop so she could tuck them against her body. As she waited for her fingers to warm, the tug she'd sensed coming from the cabin returned, stronger this time. She didn't want to go any closer; those men were armed, angry and armed. A man lying a few feet from her groaned and tucked his body closer in upon itself. She stopped breathing, then slowly relaxed. This man, who looked so young that it tore at her resolve to hate the enemy, had rolled so that his blanket no longer covered his back. It wouldn't be long before he stirred. She knelt, with the cabin to her left and motionless bodies surrounding her, and wondered at the insanity that had taken hold of her.
The cabin, full of life and men, called to her in some unfathomable way.
She was still on her knees when she again spotted movement at the window. Whoever it was stood motionless for a long minute. Because the lantern was behind him, all she saw was his silhouette. He looked to be Jed's size, but she'd never seen him without his heavy coat, and this man wore only a shirt. Finally he turned as if distracted by someone behind him and moved out of sight.
The night held silent and still, a pocket of time without beginning or end. Sometimes night gave her comfort, a chance to be alone with her thoughts. And sometimes night filled her with a restlessness so raw that she wondered if she might shatter.
Tonight beat with restlessness.
The door opened and a large form filled it. The breeze blew toward her; she caught the sound of men's voices but not their meaning. When the door closed, the man remained outside, standing with his back only a finger's span from the heavy wood. He carried a rifle.
Then he began walking and she knew. Jed walked like that, strong and purposeful, yet as if his body weighed no more than that of a fawn.
She shouldn't have come here; she didn't want to see him after all.
He made his way toward the nearest campfire and after propping his rifle against a rock, piled wood on the coals. When fresh flames pushed heat toward the sleepers, he retrieved his weapon and walked to the second fire. When he'd replenished all of them, he stood with his back to the last one, his attention not on those at his feet but the darkness beyond.
Could he possibly know she was out here?
After a seemingly endless stretch of time, Jed moved toward the barn and slowly walked around it. When he was where she couldn't see him, she hurried toward the corral and crouched deep in the shadows. Now she was closer to the hills. If he tried to stop her, she might be able to escape into the night before he overtook her.
But if he shot at her—
No. Jed wouldn't kill her.
Reappearing, he started back toward the cabin, his steps slow as if he was reluctant to go inside. Before, his attention had been on the men and fires. Now he kept his gaze on the night and when he looked in her direction, he stopped for two, maybe three heartbeats.
&n
bsp; Pain shot through her numb legs as she straightened, but she dismissed the discomfort. Maybe he didn't need sight. Maybe something else held him to her.
And her to him.
He began walking toward her. She told herself she should turn and run like a swift-legged deer, but she simply stood and waited, her mind overflowing with him. Her heart felt like a drum being beaten with angry fingers.
"I knew I'd find you here," he whispered. "Somehow I knew."
He'd stopped far enough away that his presence didn't make her uneasy. She was grateful for that and wondered if he knew how much courage and insanity it had taken for her to come here. "I thought you might be dead," she told him.
"And that mattered to you?"
He didn't have to tighten his grip on his rifle. Surely he knew she was no threat to him. But the movement reminded her that they were enemies. In a strange way she was grateful for that. Grateful and filled with regret. "Ha-kar-Jim said he shot an officer," she explained with the night and his presence lapping at her senses. "I had to know if it was you."
"Did you?" Anger and a soft confusion flowed through his words. "Where were you during the fighting? Did you see any of it?"
"A little."
"And?"
She hadn't come here to have him throw his words at her, but if he'd asked, she wouldn't have told him what had compelled her to risk her life for this meeting. She couldn't because she didn't understand herself. "Your soldiers know nothing of fighting in the Land of Burned Out Fires. They were lost, like small children far from their mothers' sides."
Although she thought that might anger him, he only grunted. She wished she had the power to chase away the night. Daylight would expose her to even more danger, but at least she would be able to look deep into his eyes for the emotions buried in him.
This was the first time she had seen him without his bulky clothing. She realized he had been created with generous hands. His broad shoulders left no doubt that she couldn't pit her strength against his and yet she wasn't afraid of him.
His chest was so wide that his buttons strained slightly. His waist was narrow, his belly flat. Strong hips flowed into thighs made for a lifetime of riding and walking. If she tugged his uniform off him, he would keep no secrets from her, and she would know everything about him—the muscles that roped his body, the sunbaked color of his flesh, whether—as she had heard about white men—he had hair on his chest and belly and back, and covering his manhood.
Her mind snagged on that part of him, but she felt no sense of shame. Still, in attempt to keep her thoughts from him and his power over her, she tried to remember what they'd been talking about. She'd made fun of the soldiers; he'd said nothing in turn.
"Did you think we would be easy to defeat?" she asked. "That we would flee the only home left to us?"
"No. I didn't. But I seem to have been the only one who did. However, because of our miserable showing, the others have come around. What about your warriors? We heard them singing. I imagine they're pretty full of themselves right now."
She wasn't quite sure what he meant by "full of themselves."
"There has been much boasting and the scalping dance lasted a long time."
"There wasn't any scalping."
"No." She tried to ignore his harsh tone, then reminded herself that the truth and what she wanted were worlds apart. "But the dance fills our braves with courage. They have much to celebrate, much to boast about. Jed? Why did you come out here? The others—" She pointed. "They sleep like the dead."
He placed the wooden end of his rifle on the ground and leaned against it, looking comfortable and yet not comfortable with himself. "I knew—no. I couldn't have known. I can't say what it was. Some sense... those poor exhausted youngsters almost let their fires go out. It's a good thing I checked up on them."
He wasn't saying her presence had touched him in any way. Fine. Now she didn't have to tell him she'd known he was inside—that something of him had reached out to her. "What about those in the house? They speak of making more war?"
"There isn't much else to talk about."
He was far enough away that she could stretch out her hand in the space separating them and not touch him, and yet the distance wasn't nearly enough. He called himself nothing but a soldier and yet there was something about him, a power nearly as strong as the underground force that once spewed fire over the land. She felt like a fragile plant caught in the path of molten lava; if he touched her, she might be destroyed. "I do not want it to be like this. To fight, to kill may be a man's way, but my woman's heart seeks peace."
"It's too late for that. Look." He ran his hand through his hair, the gesture both angry and helpless. "I'm not going to tell you about what's being discussed. I won't betray the army."
She tried to speak, but he didn't give her time. "There's one thing you can take back to your leader and that's this—the army doesn't give up. We've got more troops, hundreds more, on the way. It'll cost the government a bloody lot of money to fight this damnable war, but in the end we're going to win."
"You have said that before."
"The question is, do you believe me?"
"Jed, you speak of more troops. Earlier you told me of great weapons, howitzers, that would bring the Modocs to their knees. But that did not happen."
She thought he gave a brief nod, but it was so dark that maybe it was nothing more than her imagination. "No, it didn't. They're all but useless on this ground, like you said."
"I will tell you something." Her thoughts boiled inside her, dangerous. "When we saw the army approaching, I went far into the lava beds where no one, Modoc or white, could see me. My mind was full of the sight of soldiers slowly coming closer, many weapons. Our shaman had done much magic to protect us, but there was something I had to do."
"And that was what?"
"I sought Eagle." He couldn't look into her eyes and see what was inside her. Still, she kept her gaze trained on him and hoped he might feel, might believe. "I prayed to him to shelter and protect my people. He came, hovered over me for a long time, then flew off in the direction of the soldiers."
"I don't want to hear this."
"Then he returned, bringing in his beak a soldier's hat. He let it drop to the ground, then tore it apart. When I saw that, my heart was filled with joy and peace."
She waited for him to tell her she couldn't have possibly seen what she had and even if Eagle had attacked a soldier's head covering, it didn't mean anything, but he didn't. "I speak the truth," she insisted.
"The truth? Luash, you said you came here because you thought I might have been wounded, or killed. That mattered to you?"
"I do not hate you, Jed Britton. I wish I did. It would be easier if..."
"You don't want this any more than I do, do you?"
She didn't have to ask him what he meant by "this." Although what she felt was without form, it filled her and made her feel young and alive. "No. I do not."
"Then you should have stayed away."
"And you should have remained inside."
This time she was sure of his short nod, followed by a deep and yet quick sigh. "You have to leave," he whispered. "If someone sees you..."
The men nearby were like the dead, and if someone emerged from the house, she could run away before they saw her; Eagle would protect her. "Maybe you are that someone," she challenged. "You are armed. I have no weapons. Shoot me, Jed Britton. Then you will never have to look at me again."
"Damnit, I wish I'd never laid eyes on you."
"I know."
"Do you feel the same way?"
"Yes."
Yes. Luash's admission echoed inside Jed. He tried to tell himself that was exactly what he wanted to hear, but it wasn't the truth. Tonight, the only truth was that she stood before him looking part human and part wild creature, surrounded by the night, caressed by it. What she'd told him about her spirit bird had sent a chill through him, but with her voice flowing around him, he hadn't been able to concentr
ate on anything except the fact that she'd risked her life because she'd had to know whether he was still alive.
He'd been full of her yesterday. Even when Perry was hit and he wondered if he might be next, a small corner of his mind had remained under her control. Hating her power, he told her what had happened when he realized he was responsible for two wounded men. He said nothing about the curses he'd hurtled her way.
"Your warriors laughed at the captain," he challenged. "Damnit, the poor man had been shot."
"Your soldiers came to kill us."
They couldn't say a word without it being about the differences between them. Why the hell then had he walked outside? The answer was as simple and as complicated as why she'd let him approach her.
"Jed?" she said softly. "What happened? Both men, they lived?"
After telling himself that as soon as he answered her there would be no more reason for them to go on talking, he explained that he'd ordered all soldiers within earshot to make their way to him. Then he deployed several to move the wounded; the rest were put to work defending their position. He put no emotion in the telling, said nothing about the anger and fear that had been churning through him.
Still, before he was done, he felt her fingers on his forearm. Warm. Alive. Both challenging and comforting. "You were alone with two injured men for a long time," she said softly. "The captain and the private looked to you for comfort, and there was little you could give them. It was a hard thing."
The only thing she hadn't mentioned was the cold sweat that had filmed his body, and yet he guessed she knew about that too. "I didn't run. I thought about it, but I didn't."
Her fingers became more than a whisper-touch. "No. You would never think of yourself only."
This woman, this so-called savage, knew too damn much about him.
"Life is precious to you, Jed," she whispered. Her hand was back by her side; he wondered if she regretted the brief contact. "You say it is not, but that is not the truth."
