by Tamara Gill
Wes spent hours hunting and fishing, providing food for his grandparents and others in the compound. After long walks in the woods, his strength returned, but his heart remained a cold block of stone in his chest. As always, he ignored the looks sent his way from the young girls.
Nights were spent talking quietly with mIshomes, the man who’d also helped form the person Wes had become, as he listened again to tales of The People. Crickets chirped a late summer melody around the small house, owls hooted and small animals settled in for a night of slumber, as the man spoke in soft melodious tones. But Wes kept Anna’s memory in his heart, unable to share the greatest love a man could have, and the excruciating pain of losing it.
***
Wes awoke to the sound of a female voice, singing softly. For a moment he thought it was Anna, before the now-familiar crushing pain descended on him once more with crippling force. He turned on his mat to see his grandmother rocking slowly back and forth as she sat on the floor, weaving bits of colorful cloth.
He watched her for a few minutes, her brown wrinkled skin, her gray hair fastened into two braids that hung down her back. Love filled him, and despite the pain, peace took possession of his heart. A renewed feeling of hopefulness hovered out there somewhere, lifting his spirit. “Koyake',” he whispered.
She turned to him, giving him a gap-toothed smile, the orbs of her black eyes reaching to his very soul. “Yankobcakin.” Setting aside the small rug she worked on, she held her arms out. Wes rose and went to her, helping her up and pulling her into his embrace. Familiar smells of honeysuckle that always surrounded his grandmother comforted him. He leaned back and studied her face. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
“And I am glad you came to us as well. I knew you would.”
Wes grinned at her. “Still having visions, koyake'?”
“Come. We will have some food and you will tell me of this sadness.”
He dropped his hands. “I can’t yet speak of it.”
His grandmother continued to hum as she placed food on the table. His grandfather joined them, and they ate their meal while she spoke of the new baby and the joy he brought to his family.
“He’s a fat, healthy baby. But Laughing Star says there will be no more, which makes her man unhappy. She told him he could birth the next one.” She laughed, the sound a tinkle as musical as small bells.
Wes watched his grandmother as she spoke, wondering again why she’d been so accepting of the grandchild who’d been only half Indian. Both his grandparents had loved their only child, and never had either of them indicated any unhappiness that Sings Like Angel had married outside of the tribe.
“Now we talk,” his grandmother said as she placed a cloth over a bowl to put away the last of the food. She made her way out the door and down the path, apparently unconcerned that her grandson might not follow.
Wes joined her, and she held onto his arm as they walked through the woods. The scant sun barely reached them through the thick foliage. After about ten minutes of silence, she headed toward a fallen log and settled there. She patted the space alongside her. Once they were side by side, she took his hand in hers and spoke. “Tell me about Anna.”
Only his surprise at her use of the name he hadn’t uttered in weeks kept him from groaning as pain sliced into his heart. He tried to form the words that would make it all seem real by speaking of it. As he gathered his thoughts, he studied the older woman. The bit of sunlight through the leaves fell directly on her neck, highlighting the small tattoo of a star.
Wes’s heart came to an abrupt halt before suddenly speeding up, and for a moment he felt as if he’d been struck by lightening.
“It was you,” he whispered.
***
With every one of his senses heightened, Wes could only stare at his koyake'. The soft chirp of nearby birds turned into a cacophony of sound, the dampness of the woodsy air grew until he thought he would drown in its heaviness. He swallowed, trying to gain control of his raging body, to keep from running far away from every whispered breeze that passed over his skin, and the metal taste of fear that lingered on his tongue.
My grandmother sent Anna back in time.
One word screamed at him, whirling around his mind until it erupted from his mouth in a single, agonized moan. “Why?”
She patted his hand, her face taut with sorrow. “Anna Devlin was your woman. No matter that you were separated by time. She needed your strength and loyalty as you needed her courage and help.”
Staring off into the distance, the pain in her voice real, she said, “When last you visited our home, you were deeply troubled. You never spoke of it, but your moans in the night woke me many times. My once forceful yankobcakin had become broken from the white man’s war.” She returned her attention to him. “Your Anna also suffered from fears. The weak man she had planned to marry would never have made her whole. Your two souls called to me to bring you together. She needed you, as you did her.”
His body somewhat under control, he was able to form words. “No, you’re wrong. Needing me got her killed.”
“That is not true, yankobcakin. The evil one killed her, not your love. Your souls would never have been complete had you remained apart.” She placed her worn finger against his lips when he attempted to speak. “Hear me. Anna will always be a part of you. That will never change, even when the pain eases.”
Wes bounded from the log. “I won’t accept that.” His head in a whirl and his senses pounding him, he strode from her, his steps soon turning into a race through the woods as he ran from the demons of his own personal hell. After crashing through a couple of miles of brush, he halted, dropping to the ground, his arms resting on his bent knees. Gulping for air, he leaned his head back and studied the blue sky. Even the filmy cloud above him resembled Anna’s face.
Where had his grandmother’s powers come from? All these years he’d known her, and yet he didn’t know her at all. He clamped his palms against the sides of his head, wanting to squeeze the misery out.
Then, staring down at a small colony of ants as they worked diligently to drag a small, discarded crumb, a small niggling of hope started in his chest and spread outward. The idea took hold of his mind until it possessed him, body and soul.
Smiling for the first time in weeks, he pushed himself off the ground and headed to his grandparents’ hut.
***
“Send me to the future.”
Wes’s grandmother sighed, her coal black eyes boring into him. “No, yankobcakin.” The old woman shook her head, her tightened lips in a determined line. “I can’t do that.”
He squatted before her. “Why not?”
His stubborn koyake' continued to shake her head as she stabbed a needle at the soft piece of leather, drawing through a string that she slid colorful beads onto.
Wes removed the garment from her worn hands and held onto her fingers. “Is it possible?”
She refused to meet his gaze. “It is no matter. Just because something can be done, doesn’t mean it should be.”
He took a deep breath, attempting to slow down his heart before it beat its way out of his chest. “Koyake', I ask you once more. Is it possible?”
“Trust me when I tell you, it is not a good idea.”
Relief spread through him, and he hugged her fiercely. “I want you to do it.”
His grandmother rose from the crude stool and closed the front door. “First I must tell you all the reasons it should not be done.”
Unable to sit still long enough to listen to her, Wes jumped up and paced. To see Anna again, hold her close . . . he’d tie her wrist to his so she couldn’t go anywhere without him watching over her. Things were apparently very dangerous for women in the future. She’d had to go to a school to learn how to defend herself. And did dangerous work just to buy food and other necessities.
He’d also take care of that jackass she had intended to marry. That knothead better not be bothering her in any way. Even if he wasn’t, a visit to
let him know to stay away from her would set things to right. Then, he’d have to—
“Are you listening to me?”
So deep in thought that her voice jolted him, Wes stared at his grandmother. For a moment he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone in the room. “What?”
“Sit down, yankobcakin. You are making this old lady dizzy.”
Running impatient fingers through his hair, Wes pulled out a stool and joined her at the table. She laid her hand on his arm. “Several things are important before you make this decision. The future is very different. Your Anna had studied history books in her time, so all of this was not so unusual for her. In the future, nothing will be familiar. In some ways it’s a strange place. There are many things you won’t understand, machines that you’ll find hard to accept. More white man’s wars have changed the world.”
Wes shrugged. “I can learn. Don’t you understand? I would do anything to see Anna again.”
“Your wife will not recognize you.”
Wes continued to shake his head. His grandmother cupped his cheeks in her wrinkled hands to hold him still. “Here are more concerns. I can’t promise the exact moment you will arrive. There is the chance Anna might have already traveled to the past.”
He felt the blood leave his face, but nodded for her to continue.
“And this you must pay close attention to, and think strongly on, yankobcakin. You can never return. Once you are in a new place, I am unable to bring you back.”
“I don’t care. I have no life here without Anna.”
His grandmother’s shoulders slumped, and her eyes filled with tears. “My powers grow weak with the passing years. I will never see you again.”
Wes placed his hands on her shoulders, his voice low. “I will miss you and mIshomes very, very much. But this is something I must do.” He smoothed her hair back, tucking the loose strand behind her ear. “So far you haven’t said anything to stop me. Please, koyake'. I’m begging you.”
She studied him for a minute. “You are so much like your father. He loved Sings Like Angel with such fire, she was unable to resist. And neither were we able to stop her from accepting him. Know that your father was a wonderful man, and loved our daughter deeply, much like you love your Anna. We were always pleased with him, and with the son he and Sings Like Angel created with that love.”
Bowing her head, she chanted, thumping her chest lightly. Wes gazed at the top of her head, the ever-present scent of honeysuckle surrounding her. He indeed would miss her and mIshomes, but his love for Anna was so powerful, he’d do anything, make any sacrifice, to get her back.
***
Over numerous cups of his grandmother’s specially brewed tea, she related a brief summary of what he would see in the future, and exact instructions on where outside of Denton, Kansas he would find the oasis. When he balked that he knew the area well and never saw anything like that, she merely smiled and continued her narrative.
Shortly before midnight, anxious to be on his way, Wes was packed and ready to begin the twelve-hour journey to Kansas, followed by the one hundred-thirty year trip to Anna.
With his saddlebags slung over his shoulder, he looked around his grandparents’ hut for the last time. The oil lamps that lit the small space brought his gaze to the old couple, their hands clasped together.
Koyake' moved forward and tucked some bills into his hand. “This is money you will need in the future. It may be some time before you find a way to pay for your own things.”
“I have some gold coins as well,” he added.
After hugging his grandfather and thanking him for all he’d been to him, Wes turned to his grandmother and held out his arms. She settled there, hugging him tightly.
“I will never forget you, Koyake', and will always carry you and mIshomes in my heart.” His voice shook with emotion.
“I know that, Wesley Shannon. Go now and join your woman. I wish you happiness throughout time.”
He stared at her once more, then headed for the door and his new life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
For a moment after he opened his eyes, Wes was confused. He’d awakened from the most restful sleep he’d had in weeks with an overwhelming sense of peace filling him. His palms rubbed the arms of the marble chair perched in an oasis surrounded by flowers and the greenest grass he’d ever seen. Gazing off into the distance, he noted the change in the area where he’d settled, before nodding off mere minutes ago.
A small hill rose in front of him, about a hundred yards away. His attention was immediately drawn to unfamiliar noises. He glanced up at a large metal container of some sort he remembered his grandmother calling an airplane. He felt the need to duck, then laughed at himself.
Before he could take more than a few breaths—even the air seemed different—sounds of mumbling and footsteps caught his attention. Using his hand to block the sun, he studied a figure coming toward him. Unable to believe what his eyes told him, he blinked several times, the thumping of his heart silencing all sound as a woman in a familiar outfit of men’s trousers and a strange yellow band around her breasts, clutching a pouch tightly against her body, crested the hill.
Anna.
His lips parted and he stared as relief flooded him and every bit of blood drained from his head. He had to fight black dots closing in as he watched her approach. Torn between racing to her, or shouting with joy—which would most likely have her running in the other direction—he stilled, mesmerized.
She was alive, a flesh and blood woman. Her silky hair blew in the breeze, and she casually brushed the strands back. Still busy with her thoughts, she walked with her head down. She hadn’t yet seen him, which gave Wes time to study her.
He’d forgotten how appealing she looked in those clothes, but he still had the urge to whip off his shirt and cover her up before anyone else saw her. Then he’d drag her off and keep her all to himself−forever.
Her footsteps slowed when she finally noticed him, then she flashed a hesitant smile, perhaps because of how he stared. He couldn’t get enough of her, feeling as if he’d break down any second and cry like a baby. Every muscle in his body screamed to pull her close and hold her tight−and never, ever let her go.
How the hell am I going to handle this without scaring her to death?
***
With her head down, Anna never noticed the man’s presence until she stood only about fifteen feet in front of him. “Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry, the woman in the store sent me out here. I didn’t realize she’d told someone else, too.”
When he continued to stare silently at her, she grew a bit nervous. His face had paled and he looked as though he’d just seen a ghost. Deciding it was time she was on her way, she shrugged. “No big deal, I guess. Have a good day.”
Just as she backed up to leave, the man spoke. “Wait!”
Something in his voice chilled her. For a moment, a strong sense of belonging to this man and that voice washed over her. This was crazy. First the strange Native American woman, and now this equally strange man. The past few weeks must have stretched her nerves tighter than she’d realized.
He was tall and muscular, dressed in unusual clothes. Instead of jeans or slacks, he had on a dark pair of thin wool pants, and a shirt with a strange collar. His dark hair fell over his broad forehead, making her ache to brush it back, a memory of having done just that rattling her to the core. He took a few steps closer to her, yet instead of wanting to retreat, she had an overwhelming need to step closer, wrap her arms around his waist, inhale his familiar scent. Her hand moved to touch him, then she jerked it back, feeling foolish. He would think she was crazy.
What the hell is going on?
This man was a complete stranger, yet she felt a pull toward him she’d never experienced before in her life. Sudden visions of him holding her, while she kissed him passionately, swept through her as though it had actually happened. She needed to get out of here before she lost her mind, or did something totally stupid. She force
d herself to step away, feeling a sudden despair so strong, she almost wept.
“Don’t go.” His deep voice, like soft velvet, caused goose bumps to break out on her arms. “I’m finished here. In fact, I thought I might get a cup of coffee.” He looked around. “Do you know where I can find some?”
He seemed confused, out of sorts, as if he’d just landed in an unfamiliar place. Again a burst of remembrance shot through her, and before she even considered the impulsiveness of her words, they were out. “There’s a coffee shop next to the Indian store.”
“That’s good. Will you join me?”
She opened her mouth to decline, then heard herself say, “Yes, I would like that.” All the while her head nodded almost of its own accord. Any plan to return to Tulsa as soon as possible fled as his piercing eyes captured hers.
They trekked over the hill, back toward the highway. The silence surrounding them seemed comfortable, but she still had a strong urge to touch him, almost as if she had that right.
Anna peered through the entrance of the Indian store as they passed, but a different woman sat in place of the Native American lady who’d sent her to the ‘peace chair.’ This had indeed been the strangest morning.
The coffee shop was empty, a lone waitress sitting at the counter, turning the pages of a newspaper as she sipped from a cup. “Y’all can sit anywhere. As you can see, we’re not exactly humming with business.” She left her seat and grabbed a coffee pot before heading in their direction.
They both looked up as she poured coffee into two mugs, then held out a menu.
“I’ve just had breakfast, so only coffee for me,” Anna said.
“Me, too.”
Once they were alone, he folded his hands on the table and stared into her eyes. “I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Wesley Shannon. But most people call me Wes.”
“Anna Devlin,” she responded. “Are you from around here?”
“Yes, in a way.”
