The Soul Survivors Series Boxed Set

by Vella Munn

  * * *

  Night brought a chill that nearly made Luash forget how warm the day had been. Wrapped in her blanket, she sat next to Whe-cha and waited for Ha-kar-Jim to begin speaking. She'd kept to herself all day, frequently scanning the sky in a vain hope that she'd see Eagle again. Twice she'd stared in the direction of the isolated peace tent, but it was too far away for her to see it. She'd been willing to end her life so those she loved could live, but Eagle hadn't heard her.

  Or maybe he had no answer for her prayer.

  "My husband was angry today," Whe-cha whispered. "He again said that Ha-kar-Jim and Cho-ocks and the others should have known a white man does not forgive a wrong done by an Indian, that their killing may kill all Modocs."

  "There have been wrongs on both sides since the first white came here," Luash pointed out as she fought the impact of what Whe-cha had said. "What are we supposed to do, go back to the first wrong and point at the one responsible?"

  "I do not know. I just wish... oh, Luash, I am so weary of living like this! I pray to the spirits, but they do not hear me. The only sound is that of my frightened heart."

  Tonight, feeling like an animal in a slowly closing trap, Luash shared her friend's emotion. Had she once spent her days looking for spring flowers and butterflies? It seemed impossible, a foolish child's game. What she was living now was a nightmare that made her thoughts chase in endless circles like a foolish fox kit. The only part that wasn't a nightmare were the all too brief moments she'd spent with Jed—moments when she'd been able to forget how different their worlds were.

  Ha-kar-Jim climbed onto the speaking rock and addressed everyone sitting inside the rock wall that circled the council grounds. Dark lights from the campfire played across his face, distorting his features.

  "There have been enough meetings. Talk and more talk that leads nowhere," he said. "First the peace commission says one thing, then another. Their general says he must wait until he hears from his president before he knows where we will be sent if we surrender. Cannot this president make up his mind? I say I will not listen to any more words." He looked down to where his companions were grouped. "The army continues to grow stronger, to come closer. Something must be done. Now."

  Luash couldn't argue with that. What worried her was what Ha-kar-Jim had in mind. His words confirmed her fears.

  "The whites must be murdered. Now."

  "Murdered? No!" Kientpoos, who'd been all but hidden in the shadows, jumped to his feet. "They are too strong."

  "Not all must die." Ha-kar-Jim leaned forward so he could meet his chief's gaze. "Just their leaders."

  When Kientpoos demanded to know what Ha-kar-Jim was talking about, the brave explained that after much discussion, he and his friends had decided that without their leaders, the rest of the army would run away. "Would any of us have left the reservation if we hadn't had a leader? No. We would still be waiting for whites to herd us ever closer to the Klamaths. But you, Chief Kientpoos, you told us what we should do and we followed. Without leadership, people scatter. If their general is dead, the army will not know what to do. They will go home."

  "You are foolish!" Kientpoos declared. "Modocs have murdered whites. That cannot go unpunished."

  "Who will punish us if they have no leaders?"

  Grunting, Kientpoos insisted he too wanted an end to the war. However, after talking to the peace commission until his head ached, he believed the only way that would happen was if all Modocs surrendered peacefully. Because his heart rejected that, he had no choice but to wait until the snows left the mountains. Cho-ocks retorted that the ranchers and other settlers hated Modocs; someone would hang for the murder of their neighbors before they were satisfied—unless, as Ha-kar-Jim had pointed out, the army had lost its leader. As shaman, Cho-ocks promised, he would make powerful magic that would make it impossible for any Modocs to be killed, but for his magic to work, the army would first have to be turned into a headless rat.

  By now Kientpoos was all but standing toe to toe with the shaman. He continued to meet with the peace commission, he said, because he couldn't yet lead his people safely into the mountains.

  "You are a woman!" Ha-kar-Jim shrieked. "A woman cowering behind her mother's skirts. You are afraid of war, too much of a coward to lift your rifle against the general."

  Whe-cha whimpered and Luash drew in a strangled breath, but even if she'd known what to say, this argument was between the men of the tribe. She and Kientpoos's young wife would only be shoved aside if they tried to intervene.

  "You want me to kill their general?" Kientpoos demanded. "The others would turn on me. Tear me apart."

  "Not if every white in the peace tent was dead," Cho-ocks insisted. Then, before Luash could guess what they were up to, Ha-kar-Jim's followers jumped to their feet and surrounded Kientpoos. Although he struggled, they threw him to the ground. Someone held a woman's shawl and headdress aloft, then clamped them on Kientpoos. He continued to fight, Cho-Cho lending a hand, but Ha-kar-Jim and Cho-ocks had too many friends. They managed to keep the women's clothes on Kientpoos.

  "Coward! White-faced squaw!" Ha-kar-Jim taunted. "You are no longer a roaring bull, no longer a true Modoc. Look at you, afraid of a white man."

  Finally, sweating and red-faced, Kientpoos managed to fling off the humiliating garments. Trembling, he faced the assembled Modocs. "This is what you want?" he demanded. "A leader in murder? Well, that is what I will be."

  "No!" Whe-cha sobbed.

  "Uncle!" Luash gasped. "No. Please."

  He ignored them. "I am no squaw, no coward. I will do as you say and take a weapon into the peace talking tent, but I say this to you. I will die. Maybe every Modoc here will be killed, but this is' what you want. I will show you how a murder must be carried out."

  "My husband, no!"

  "Yes! Yes because I must!" He thumped his heaving chest. "With my own hands, I will kill the general."

  * * *

  Long after the Modocs had gone to their separate caves, Luash still couldn't believe what she had heard. His eyes wild, his voice shrill, her uncle had continued to insist that he would be the one to kill General Canby, because one leader must end the life of another. Yaihaka, who'd claimed to have murdered as many ranchers as Ha-kar-Jim, would be given the honor of killing Colonel Gillem, who had been at most of the peace talks. Sano'tks would be responsible for Meacham. A Sunday Doctor called Reverend Thomas would also be killed, but not Kaitchkana and her husband, whom everyone expected to be there. After all, Kaitchkana was Modoc, even if she had married a white trapper. Slolux and Barncho, two young and simple-headed braves who'd ridden with Ha-kar-Jim during his rampage, were given the honor of being put in charge of the horses.

  It sounded unbelievably cold-hearted. Still in shock, Luash sat on one of the rocks that ringed the council ground. With the help of the moon, she made out where Kientpoos and the others had stood earlier. She was alone. Still crying, Whe-cha had hurried into the cave after her husband.

  Jed might come to the peace tent with his general. At Kientpoos's insistence, he'd become part of the peace commission, attending most of the meetings. No one had spoken of killing him, maybe because in their excitement, Ha-kar-Jim and Cho-ocks had forgotten about him. But Luash knew if Ha-kar-jim could murder ranchers he'd traded with for years, he wouldn't spare Jed.

  Feeling beyond tears, she stared up at the moon, which had been playing with the clouds ever since it had replaced the sun that evening, and listened to the song of the night creatures. Her choices were so simple, yet so impossible. Either she prayed for her uncle to succeed and regain leadership of his people, or she told Jed of the plot. Either she stood beside Kientpoos or Jed, embraced her people or turned her back on them.

  The sound of boots on rock startled her, but she couldn't pull herself away from her twisted thoughts until Kientpoos spoke. "Tell me, my niece. Do you hate me?"

  "Hate you?"

  "For agreeing to their demands."

  She made room for
him beside her. Together, they leaned forward and studied the ground. "You should be with Whe-cha," she said softly. "She needs you."

  "I cannot be a husband tonight, Luash, not when my mind and heart are so full."

  No, he couldn't. "Nothing matters to Ha-kar-Jim except what he wants."

  "It is how he hopes to stay alive."

  She didn't want Kientpoos to be so understanding; she wanted, what—for him to become as bloodthirsty as Ha-kar-Jim? "You are his chief. He had no right forcing you."

  "He speaks with the heart of many."

  "What he says will not happen. The army will not turn into a headless snake."

  "I know." Kientpoos ended on a sigh. "If I kill General Canby, I will become a dead man."

  She'd shuddered the first time she heard that; now she shuddered again. "I will ask Eagle to protect you."

  "Eagle is your spirit, Luash. Not mine."

  Hers? Maybe—and maybe Eagle had taken away his blessing. "I love you. I want you and Whe-cha to have many years together, many children. Those I love should be safe."

  "And we should still be free to roam over the land the gods gave to us. Nothing is as it once was."

  "No. It isn't." She wanted to say more, but her chest felt tight and her tears were so close that she didn't dare.

  "I do not want this, Luash. I do not want to kill the general because then the hearts of the army men will fill with the need for revenge."

  "I know."

  "Maybe the hearts of all army men."

  Not sure what he was trying to tell her, she could only wait for him to continue. "Luash, I told Whe-cha that I would-not say anything, that what you do and feel is for you alone. But you have done a dangerous thing. Because I love you, I cannot remain silent."

  "Dangerous?"

  "You have let a white man touch your heart."

  "No. His heart does not beat the same as mine."

  "Maybe. Maybe not. Think on this, Luash. He will be there when I do what I promised. When I try to."

  "I know."

  "Will you warn him? That is why I sought you tonight, to ask what you will say to him."

  She tried to speak but couldn't find the words.

  "Answer me! What does your heart tell you to do?"

  "To run. To go to Fern Cave and stay there until I am an old woman."

  "Fem Cave? Because no one will find you there?"

  "And because what grows there is beautiful and ageless, a gift from the gods, and because the wall carvings make me feel close to our ancestors."

  "Our ancestors also left their markings on the mountain Ku-mookumts left behind after he dug his sleeping hole deep in Modoc Lake. Maybe you should go there. If you do, be careful the hawks do not fly overhead or they may gift you with what they ate that morning."

  Her uncle was trying to make her laugh. If they hadn't been talking about murdering white men, she might have. "Please tell me this. Are you afraid you will be killed at the peace tent? If they bring guards—"

  "They do not. Otherwise, I would not meet with them. But what I said earlier—it is what I believe. Before our war with the army is over, I will be a dead man."

  His final words faded into the night air. She wanted to snatch them back, say something to make a lie of them, but she couldn't—no more than she could promise that Eagle would spread his wings over her uncle and the rest of her people. What good was a spirit that gave safety only to her, and one who no longer understood her need for him? If those she loved were dead or prisoners on some reservation, could she call herself free?

  Her questions made her head pound. Pushing herself to her feet, she walked out into the middle of the council ring and stared upward. "All my life I have loved the moon," she whispered, "but I loved the sun more because it brings warmth. Now I wish night would never end."

  "We cannot stop the order of things." Her uncle sounded incredibly old. "Just as I cannot stop what I must do. I ask you: are you going to speak to him?"

  "I do not know!" Her uncle was a shadow among all other shadows. "I do not know."

  * * *

  Only, she did, Luash admitted as she neared the army camp. She couldn't say how long she'd sat watching the moon after her uncle left, but finally she'd gone to find a blanket to protect herself from the night chill and then, instead of joining her people, she turned her feet in another direction.

  Because the moon continued to dodge in and out of the clouds, it took her most of the night to cover the distance that separated the Modocs from the whites. She expected to find that the army had posted so many guards that she wouldn't be able to slip into camp, but she didn't see any. The deep shadows cast by tents, cannons, horse corrals, and rocks gave her the shelter she needed. She kept her breathing and heartbeat under control by reminding herself that no one would be looking for a Modoc here. Finding Jed's tent was easy.

  What was nearly impossible was forcing herself to slip inside. When she finally pulled back the cloth door, it was so dark she couldn't make out Jed's bed. She considered hiding outside until he emerged, but he might not stir before morning and she couldn't risk being spotted by someone who cared nothing except that she was a Modoc. Finally, not knowing what else to do, she pulled an eagle feather out of her hair and left it just inside. Then she hurried away to wait behind a large sage growing at the edge of Modoc Lake.

  Morning came slowly, as if the moon was reluctant to give up its hold on the world. She became aware of smoke drifting upward from several campfires and heard the restless sound of horses waiting to be fed. When a bugle sounded, she jumped. From where she crouched, those in camp couldn't see her, but if a group headed this way—

  Her stomach was rumbling from hunger when she finally spotted a lone rider. He sat tall in the saddle while he scanned the horizon. Taking an incredible risk, she stepped around the rock. The rider momentarily slowed his horse, then urged it on.

  Jed hadn't shaved for several days. His hair was uncombed. He wore, not his uniform, but shirt and pants nearly as old and worn as those the Modoc men wore. He seemed so large, roughened by the endless days he'd spent out here. She had taken care with her appearance before leaving the stronghold, but now wondered if she'd made a mistake. If he thought—if he thought what?

  "I saw the feather," he said when he was close enough for her to hear. "You could have been killed putting it there."

  "You forget, Jed. I am protected."

  "Are you? If that's what you believe, why were you hiding?"

  Feeling both hurt and vulnerable, she waited until she trusted herself to speak calmly. "Is that what you want? I should stand outside your tent so all will believe you have turned your back on your army? So they will call you a squaw man?"

  He held up the feather she'd left for him and smoothed it with his work-hardened fingers. His eyes became less wary, and she believed he was glad to see her. Maybe he needed this time together as much as she did. "Why did you take the risk?" he asked softly. "Things are so delicate now; everyone's on edge. If some scared kid took a shot at you—" She tried to speak but he shook his head, stopping her. "Eagle can't protect you from a bullet, Luash. I don't care what you think."

  "Do you care what I came here to tell you? Maybe I should leave."

  His mouth twitched, then softened. "No, stay. You've been all right?"

  "I am fine. Jed, will you be there tomorrow? At the peace tent?"

  "Yes. General Canby's hopeful.... Why?"

  What had he seen in her eyes that prompted him to ask his sharp question? Maybe she shouldn't try to do anything except give him the whole truth. Later she could ask herself why she'd confided in a white man and betrayed her people.

  "There will be killing," she whispered. Then, before he had to drag the words out of her, she told him what Ha-kar-Jim had forced Kientpoos to agree to.

  "They're going to the talks armed?" Jed dismounted and stepped toward her, stopping only when he was so close that she couldn't see the world beyond him. "They're willing to jeopardize ever
ything? I don't believe it. Why? Damnit, why?"

  "Because Ha-kar-Jim fears he will be hanged if the Modocs surrender. Because he believes the army will scatter if their leaders are dead."

  "Is he crazy?" Jed stared at her so intently that she wondered if he blamed her for the warrior's actions. "That's not the way it works. Damn! Listen to me, Luash. Tell this to your uncle." He ran a rough thumb over the scar on his forehead. "When I got this, eighty men died. An entire command was wiped out. A captain was killed. But those who found them didn't turn tail and run. It's not going to be any different this time."

  Although fear that he was right cramped her belly, she shook her head. "A captain is not a general. When the army sees how brave and powerful the Modocs are—"

  "When they see how stupid you are, they'll hunt down every last one of you."

  "Stupid?" Rocking back on her heels, she stared up at him. Her fingers curled into fists, and it was all she could do not to pound them against him. "Is that what you believe I am?"

  "I didn't say—"

  "You did say."

  He was going to touch her. She should turn and run, or if not that, yell that she didn't want his hands on her flesh. "What you are, Luash," he said as his fingers settled on her shoulder, "is brave and wise and beautiful."

  Like mist under a hot sun's assault, her anger faded into nothing. This was why she'd come here, not just to warn him that his life would be in danger tomorrow, but because it had been so long since she'd seen him. So long since her heart had fluttered and sung and driven her half insane. "I do not feel wise," she whispered. "I am afraid."

  His eyes said he understood and maybe even shared her emotion, but when he pulled her against him so she now felt his strength around her, she no longer cared about anything except ending the loneliness she'd spent so long trying to deny.

  Her body wanted him; her heart needed him.

  When she tipped her head upward and pressed her lips against his, it didn't matter that she knew nothing about the white man's way of showing emotion. He would teach her. And she would show him what beat inside her.