The Soul Survivors Series Boxed Set

by Vella Munn

  "Let it be, Luash," she heard Jed whisper. "You can't change what's going to happen."

  "You are wrong!" Her outcry died on a strangled whimper. When Jed pushed her toward the door, she briefly resisted, then, spent, did as he ordered. Behind her, she heard the rattle of chains as Kientpoos and the others were led away.

  "I didn't want you here," Jed said, "but Wilfred was right; the decision had to be yours."

  "I cannot help my uncle." She still clutched the flattened feather.

  "No one can. You don't have to go back in there." He indicated the stockade. "Come with me; we'll talk."

  "Talk? Will that change what is going to happen?"

  He didn't answer, but it didn't matter, because she knew what he'd say. The last time they'd been together, she'd fallen on him as if by making love with him she could make the world go away. Now she knew better. "My people will want to know what happened. Whe-cha, I must—"

  "Later." Walking beside her, not touching, he began moving toward the trees that had sheltered them before. She didn't think anyone was watching them this afternoon; the others were too busy talking about what had happened at the trial to pay attention to two quiet people—two people as different as winter and summer.

  "When this is over," Jed began and then stopped. "After the trial—there's something you need to know."

  "What?"

  "About—about what's going to happen to me. Custer knows things are winding up here. I have no reason to stay."

  "No," she made herself say. "No reason at all."

  "Besides." He held the word for so long that she imagined it drifting slowly out on the wind. "You won't be here much longer either."

  "I know." She wouldn't look at him; she couldn't. "We will be sent to a reservation."

  "Maybe more than one."

  A warning like the rifle shot which brought them together so many months ago ricocheted through her. She tried forcing herself to ask him what he was talking about, went as far as opening her mouth. Then she made the mistake of looking up at him. In his eyes lay darkness.

  Near terror, she shied away and stared up at the late afternoon sky. It was blue today, a clean and flawless color that made her want to weep. How many times had she seen Eagle on a day like this? The sight of him drifting almost lazily toward her had always filled her with joy; she needed that joy with a fierceness that nearly brought her to her knees.

  "Tell me what you're feeling," he said softly.

  "Alone," she told him after a long silence. "I feel alone."

  "I'm here."

  "It is not enough."

  "I know." His voice caught.

  Any anger she'd had toward him died. She couldn't say what replaced it. "I want to be a child again, but I cannot. I must find the courage to face what will come... alone."

  He waited a beat before speaking and she knew how much he wanted to rip that last word from her. "You still have Eagle."

  "No," she said with an honesty that should have torn her apart but came easily. Too easily. "He is no longer with me. I think maybe he has seen inside my heart and knows it is dying. He knows the Modocs are a broken people."

  Chapter 19

  Luash was back in the stockade before dark, telling everyone about the trial. When she said that others might attend if they wished, they simply shook their heads and asked her more questions. As night quieted Fort Klamath, she watched what she could see of the stars come out, slowly at first and then one upon another like joyous children after a storm.

  Something about what Jed had said had left her stomach knotted, but when she tried to find the source of her fear, it slipped away, along with the comfort his presence had given her.

  Honoring Kientpoos's request, Luash told Whe-cha that his thoughts were of her and that he now proudly wore her gift. She said nothing of the shackles still around his legs. Then, although Whe-cha wanted to hear more about the trial, she sought a distant corner of the stockade, hoping she would be left alone.

  Again the sky called to her, whispered its summer song and brought back memories of her childhood, when she'd first become aware of how much a part of the Earth she was. Eagle lived in that night sky, claimed it for himself. She knew that because he always carried its essence with him when he came to her. Although her heart felt wounded, she sent Eagle a painful message.

  Be free. Even when I am gone, spread your wings over this land and find another to comfort. Fly with your mate; catch the wind and ride it to where the other spirits live. Settle yourself over your children and teach them your wisdom. Give them your courage. And, please, please—leave me a little of that courage so I can face what I must.

  Tears streaming down her cheeks, she sank to her knees, eyes still on the cool, distant shards of light, and waited for the moon. Waited for an answer.

  A shadow. Maybe an illusion. No. There, just beyond the trees that clung to the mountain behind the stockade. For a moment, her thoughts caught on fragile memories of what she and Jed had done there, but they soon faded. Tonight, Eagle was everything.

  The shadow took on more form, became a living, breathing essence. Great wings outspread, Eagle rode the wind. She thought her spirit might come closer, hoped he would seek her out in this place that was surrounded by white man's walls, but Eagle didn't and her tears became hot.

  Still, her guardian spirit didn't leave. Instead, moving so slowly that she couldn't believe he didn't feel the Earth's pull, he drifted over the trees. Her heart felt as if it had been shattered and yet a spark of warmth remained and began to grow. Eagle hadn't deserted her. Yes, the wordless connection between them had become less, might never again be strong and clean and pure, but tonight Eagle touched her heart with his freedom.

  And she understood something else in the way he slowly circled a rocky outcropping near the top of the mountain.

  * * *

  The trial continued for nine days that bled one into another and made it impossible for Luash to concentrate on anything else, even Jed, who was there the entire time. Although it all but destroyed her to have to sit in that close, white-man-smelling room every day, it would be harder not to go.

  Not once did she speak, not even when Ha-kar-Jim told the commissioners he didn't understand why Kientpoos no longer considered him a friend. She wanted to scream at the young brave that he was a traitor, that he should be the one on trial, but because her words would change nothing, she simply glared at the man who'd forced her uncle to murder a general. Finally the man who called himself a judge said that when they came back in the morning, he would tell them what he had decided.

  As she got to her feet, Jed stopped her, whispering that there was something he needed to talk to her about. She stared at him and shook her head, muttering "not yet" over and over again. He nodded, brushed his fingers against the back of her hand, then walked away. The memory of that feather touch stayed with her through the endless night.

  * * *

  "It has been decided that you will be hung on October third," the judge said, nodding at the six prisoners. "That date, nearly three months from now, has been chosen because certain arrangements must be made first. The president and secretary of the Interior are involved in that process. Decisions must be made; those decisions take time."

  The harsh-faced man talked on, his attention not on the Modocs whose lives he had just ended, but on white men who either nodded agreement or grumbled about the long delay. You will be hung.

  You will be hung.

  Eyes burning, Luash stared at her uncle but he sat staring down at his shackles. It was as if the spark of life had already left him, and he was simply waiting for his body to go to wherever his spirit now lived. She sensed people getting to their feet, heard voices without meaning, watched as the condemned Modocs stood and slowly shuffled out. She longed to run after her uncle and clutch him to her breast. To have the power to send him to live with Eagle.

  "Luash. It's over."

  Over. Hanged.

  "Do not," she warned when Je
d tried to help her to her feet. "I do not want you to touch me. Not ever again."

  Pain and something else, maybe understanding, etched his features but she couldn't think about him. Instead, barely able to control the storm building inside her, she fell in line behind those waiting their turn to step outside.

  It was another sun-flooded day. The breeze brought the scents of sage, pine, and earth. Of life. A few clouds, sharply white against the pure sky, drifted overhead, teasing her with their false promise of freedom.

  Jed joined her. "Talk to me," he insisted. "Tell me what you're feeling."

  Didn't he know? "I want to be alone." Her attention slid to the distant rocky crag where she'd last seen Eagle. "I will not weep in front of you—or any white man."

  "Crying won't change anything, Luash. He's going to die."

  "He does not care; his spirit has already been stripped from him. Without freedom"—she pointed at the mountain—"without freedom there is no life. His soul—it is our belief that a Modoc's soul leaves his body through his head at death. A rope around his neck will trap it and allow it to die with him."

  Jed took a ragged breath. She glanced at him, then jerked away, unable to absorb the dark emotion simmering in his eyes. Once they had spoken of many things—of traditions, of generations of Modoc belief, of how losing their land had killed his parents. She remembered all that and mourned the loss. But now, "There is nothing left to be said. After my uncle and the others have been hung, the Modocs will be taken from here. When that happens, you will go where the army sends you."

  He took another ragged breath. "I already have my orders."

  They were no longer near the courtroom where Kientpoos had been condemned to death. Somehow Jed had led her through the settlers, army men, Modocs, and loud-talking newcomers who filled Fort Klamath, until they stood at the edge of the fort. The trees called to her.

  "Custer wants me back with him as soon as I can get there."

  Custer. The Indian fighter. Rage, like a violent river attacking its banks, surged through her. She whirled on Jed and struck his cheek with all the strength in her. He staggered back but did nothing to defend himself.

  "Go!" she screamed, not caring who might hear or what punishment might be meted out to her. "Go to him then! Pick up your rifle and kill again."

  "No."

  No? She felt as if she was being split in two, wondered if there would be anything left of her once their time together was over. "Tell me." Blood trickled from Jed's nose but he didn't seem to notice.

  "I've asked for an extension; there's something I have to do first." He paused. "Let's get the hell out of here."

  When she looked in the direction he indicated, she realized that many of the settlers and soldiers were staring at them. Half stumbling, she hurried into the woods, sought the protection of deep shadows. Jed kept pace with her, a powerful presence that lingered quietly within her even though she'd thought herself consumed by Kientpoos's fate—by her people's fate.

  "Don't run from me."

  His words stopped her. She spun toward him. Like her, he was now sheltered by the shade cast by countless trees. The woods were alive with sound as birds, insects, and animals went about the task of living, unaware that the people who had always shared this land with them could no longer call it their home.

  She turned her fear and grief on Jed. "I wish I had never met you, never shown you my world."

  "I don't believe you."

  He didn't know her heart. Did he? Wondering how long she could keep from crying, she pressed her finger to her lips to ask him to be silent. To listen.

  "I know these sounds," she told him. "The smell here. That knowledge lives deep within me and flows through my veins. This is where our spirits will always live because it is truly the Smiles of God. What will happen to us now? Will our hearts find peace on another land? Without our leaders, what will become of us?"

  Midnight was back in his eyes, spearing her. "Don't do this to me, Luash. Not now."

  Jed began walking again and after a moment she fell in line behind him. She didn't belong here. Her place was beside Whe-cha and Kientpoos's daughter as they struggled to accept what the white man had decided. But what lurked in Jed's eyes kept her with him.

  Deeper and deeper they went into the woods. The air became cool and damp, the ground soft from generations of fallen pine needles. Great green branches all but blocked out the sky, sheltered her from the world beyond this place, brought her in touch with herself and the only emotion left to her.

  How many times had she denied her body's hunger for Jed? How many tears had she fought when thoughts of what they might have become if they weren't enemies pounded around her? He, a soldier, had a gentleness to him that touched her soul. When she spoke of Eagle or the gods who live on the top of the great snow mountain, he listened. And when he told her what it had been like for a seventeen-year-old to watch the men around him die, she'd cried for that terrified boy.

  Finally Jed stopped and waited for her, his features blanketed by green depth. Behind him, she could just make out the steep, barren rock where she'd last seen Eagle.

  "I don't know what we're doing coming clear out here," Jed told her. "I guess I had to be doing something and there wasn't anything except walking. I had to put what happened today behind me."

  She waited for him to say more but he didn't. Something was building inside him, something that might be fury but perhaps was sorrow. Maybe both. She should be caught in a whirlpool of agony, but her mind had closed itself to everything except him and the incredible impossibility of their being together.

  "I don't want to go back," he said. "For the first time in my life, I don't want to be a soldier."

  How horrible it must be to be afraid of what went to the core of him. Thinking to give him distance from his thoughts, Luash pointed at the knifelike rocks that seemed to stretch into the sky and told him that she'd seen Eagle land up there. "Maybe that is his new home," she whispered. "I want to believe he is here because he wants to remain near me, but maybe he has chosen those rocks to shelter a nest."

  "Maybe. Luash—"

  "I want to go up there. To climb to the top and see if Eagle is a father."

  "We'd never make it before dark."

  We. "But we would be closer to my spirit; maybe Eagle will come to me even if you are with me."

  "Maybe," he said. After a moment she walked around him and began climbing. Before long, her fingers stung from gripping sharp edges, and her calves ached from the strain. Sometimes she was forced to crawl on hands and knees, but she couldn't stop. Ahead was Eagle's home. If she saw it, touched the massive nest that she prayed sheltered his offspring, maybe she would find the courage for tomorrow.

  On she went. Jed warned her to slow down, to be more careful, but she could not. The closer she came to the wind-beaten mountaintop, the greater her sense of urgency, her belief that she had to do this thing. Finally, when she wasn't sure how much strength was left in her, she spotted a familiar movement high overhead. Even though her eyes were blurry from fatigue, she knew she'd found Eagle, her Eagle.

  "There," she whispered in awe as the great bird pointed its sharp talons toward the top of the crag and pulled its wings close to its body to aid its descent. "That is where he lives."

  With a sharp cry, Eagle swooped downward and disappeared. In her effort to see where he'd gone, she nearly lost her balance, would have if Jed hadn't caught her. "You've done enough, Luash. It isn't safe—"

  "No! Not yet. I must touch—"

  She thought he would try to stop her, but he didn't. Instead, he placed his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the next ledge. She extended her hand to help him up beside her, but he shook his head. "You're not strong enough. Besides, there isn't room for both of us there. Can you see anything?"

  She couldn't, but to her right was another ledge and beyond that several more. Leaving Jed, focusing on nothing except what her heart told her to do, she kept moving. Something gouged
her palm. Her legs, trembling from weakness, couldn't carry her much further, but she was so close. So close.

  Eagle's nest was still above her, perched on the crag's tip like a reckless man's hat. Dizziness assaulted her and she had to hold onto a sharp rock to keep from losing her balance.

  "Are you all right?" Jed called from below. "Please, don't go any further."

  She didn't have to. As she blinked and carefully lifted a hand to shield her eyes, she saw there was something in the nest. Two birds, huge black-and white-feathered mounds. Her heart told her this was Eagle and his mate. Beneath them, nestled safely in the bottom of the nest, she prayed, were the eggs.

  For a long time after she returned to him, Jed didn't say anything. She wanted to tell him everything she'd seen and express her hope that there would soon be eaglets, but the experience remained a warm and wonderful pocket within her that she wasn't yet ready to share with anyone, even him.

  Finally though, they were back where the fort sounds fought with those of the forest. She would have to return to the stockade and face Kientpoos's family. She would have to ask unanswerable questions about what would happen to them once their chief and five other men had been hung.

  "Wait."

  She stood with her shoulder a scant distance from his, increasingly aware of the heat radiating out from him. For a little while she would stay near that heat, would not allow herself to look beyond this moment. "How do you feel?" he asked. "Seeing Eagle, did that make it easier for you?"

  "Maybe. I do not know."

  "I hoped it would."

  "It did, for awhile." Jed seemed more spirit than man now. The realization reminded her of the secrets she'd seen buried in his eyes earlier. "But Eagle did not come to me. I do not understand... maybe I don't want to understand."

  "Why not?"

  How she hated his hard questions! "A Modoc who has lost her heart has no need for a spirit."

  "You haven't lost—"

  "You do not know what is inside me."