The Dove

by Sharon Sala

  He spread their clothing on top of the tent to dry and then managed to get her awake enough to crawl inside it. Before he went in, he set about building a smudge fire. The mosquitoes were swarming, drawn to the site by so many bodies. But burning smudge fires in the midst of the tiny tents and stoking them with certain green leaves harvested from the jungle helped ward them off.

  And just to make sure they weren’t kept awake by them in the night, Yuma crumpled up a medicine leaf to release its oils, then rubbed it all over their clean skin, even the bottoms of their feet. He didn’t know what the leaves were actually called, but they left a slight peppery scent on the skin when crushed that he knew the mosquitoes did not like.

  As soon as he finished, he tossed the last of the greenery on the fire, satisfied as he watched the smoke thicken, then crawled into the tent beside her and pulled her close against his chest. With the weight of her breasts against the backs of his hands, he took a deep, weary breath and closed his eyes.

  ***

  Tyhen was dreaming. In the dream she was in the jungle with her mother. She could see her and all the others sleeping so close together that their bodies were touching.

  The twins were sleeping side by side and Cayetano was holding her mother close against his chest. She could see the rise and fall of her mother’s breasts and the frown on Cayetano’s forehead. He never really rested, not even in sleep.

  She saw the warriors standing guard and the piece of moon above them, heard the squall of a jaguar somewhere off in the distance, and felt a warrior’s heartbeat jump at the sudden sound.

  She moved silently among the weary travelers, seeing bodies with fresh wounds and new burns, hearing people snoring and others moaning softly in pain. She walked through clouds of insects feeding off the blood of people too weary to swat them away, and felt their sadness and despair.

  The urge to wake her mother was so strong that it was physical pain, but she did not follow the thought because she knew they would not see her. Still, she could not bring herself to leave them in such a miserable existence without doing what she could.

  She turned toward the moon and began to chant. As she did, a soft wind rose, stirring through the area and disturbing the insect swarms to the point that they swiftly disappeared. It wasn’t much, but it was a small comfort she could add to their rest.

  Despite the urge to linger, her spirit began pulling away. Still, the desire to look back was too strong to ignore. When she did, she saw the twins sitting up on their sleeping mats, their gazes fixed in her direction. She lifted her hand in greeting, and to her joy, they waved back. Moments later she was gone.

  She woke up in Yuma’s arms. When she smelled the smoke from the smudge fires, she remembered where she was and closed her eyes again, this time following the dream time to another sleeping fire, and an entirely different breed of travelers.

  She could tell by the dark energy within this camp that they were bad men, and the amount of weapons that they carried and the number of scars on their bodies attested to the brutality of their lives. She sensed that they were outcasts, banned from different tribes for evils done, and she walked carefully among them in case there was a dark shaman who could see and track her.

  The last thing she wanted was to call attention to her presence, but instinct warned her that the more she knew about these men, the safer her people would be. These men were raiders who killed for pleasure, stole for greed, and raped and then killed the women they took once they were done with them.

  These men also knew nothing about the prophecy or the strangers who would threaten their future existence, and would not have cared if they had. They had no allegiance to anyone but themselves, and their numbers were large.

  She looked around at the area in which they slept, but it was unlike anything she’d ever seen. It was not jungle growth, and there was only dirt beneath her feet. Their smoldering fires did not smell of wood smoke, but she didn’t recognize the scent of what was burning. The half-moon hung in a sky so vast the stars looked close enough to touch, and the mountain range below it was unfamiliar.

  Still at the edge of their camp, she heard one man grunt, then roll over and get up. When he began to walk through the sleeping men toward where she was standing, she froze. He paused to relieve himself and was almost through when he suddenly looked in her direction as if sensing he was being watched.

  It was all the warning she needed that she’d been there too long, and when she left the camp, she didn’t look back. She didn’t want him to see her face.

  ***

  The man was Yaluk, leader of the band of outcasts. He had not seen Tyhen’s spirit, but he’d felt it, and then he’d caught a glimpse of something with the shape of a woman’s body, but tall, very tall, before it disappeared.

  Always wary of witchcraft, he went back to his bed with an uneasy feeling. He had no problem killing, but the world of the dead made him uneasy mostly because he’d sent so many there. He needed a potion, a talisman for his protection, and made the decision that he should visit his sister. She was the only member of the family that would still talk to him, and she lived with her man in the tribe to which he used to belong. It was nearby. She could get a talisman for him from the medicine man. The medicine man didn’t have to know the talisman was for him.

  When he woke the next morning, it was still on his mind. The men had plenty of food and drink from their last raid and he was fairly certain one of the women they’d taken was still alive. They would have plenty to occupy their time while he was gone, and after a few orders to his second in command, he headed out of camp at a trot.

  It took almost two hours for him to reach the location, and the farther he walked, the angrier he became at the thought of being cursed. By the time he topped the rise above the home of his sister, he was in a terrible mood.

  The settlement, which was along a river called Rio Yaqui, which was where the Hiaki, also called Yaqui, lived. And the fact that he had been exiled from the place where he’d been born, ate at him daily. But because he wanted a favor from his sister, he could not start trouble.

  He watched the coming and goings down in the village until it began to get hot. He was tired and hungry and it was time to make his move. He began circling the area until he came to an arroyo that led to the back of his sister’s home, jumped down in it, and followed it toward her house.

  He could smell corn and squash cooking even before he reached the dugout. It had been a long time since he’d had anything but meat they’d hunted or stolen. He hid behind the dugout, waiting until people in the area had moved on and he could no longer hear voices. When he was certain all was clear, he circled the dugout and slipped in so quiet that Nelli never heard him enter.

  Yaluk came up behind her, clapped a hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming, and then turned her around.

  When the little woman saw who it was, she swung the stick she’d been using to stir her stew and hit him on the side of the shoulder.

  “Yaluk! Crazy man! Why are you here? You know you do not belong!”

  He would have never tolerated being struck by a woman and let them live, but Nelli was his little sister and he needed a favor.

  “I am sorry I frightened you,” he said. “I just needed to make sure you would not cry out.”

  Nelli glared. She was small, even by their standards, and married life had turned her body to fat. Sweat was running out of her hair and between her heavy breasts. But the stew she’d been cooking outside was done, and she wanted to get in the shade, so she’d brought it inside to keep the camp dogs out of it. She was already angry with her husband for giving her a beating last night because her blood was flowing and he could not lie with her. Now her disgraced brother had come sneaking into her home and made everything worse.

  “You do not belong here,” she said. “You need to leave before someone sees you.”

  “I will
leave soon, I promise, but I need something first.”

  “I have nothing,” Nelli said.

  “I want nothing from you, but I need you to do something for me.”

  She frowned. “What?”

  “Is Cualli still medicine man?”

  She nodded.

  “Go to him and get a talisman for me against witchcraft.”

  She gasped. “What have you done?”

  “Nothing, I swear. But there is a presence about me I do not like and I want to protect myself.”

  She was still in shock. “I cannot go to the medicine man. Everyone will know and then they will want to know why. My husband will find out and beat me again.”

  Yaluk frowned. “I will kill him for you.”

  Nelli shrieked and then clasped her hands over her mouth. “You do not kill my man! Who would take care of me... you? You are an outcast from your own people.”

  “Then I will not kill him. Stop shouting,” he said.

  Now Nelli was afraid to turn him down for fear he would do exactly that. “I will do as you ask, but he will need payment.”

  Yaluk nodded and pulled a gilded bowl from his pack and handed it over.

  Nelli squawked again. “I cannot give him this. He will know the talisman is not for me.”

  Yaluk frowned. “Then what?”

  She pointed to the ring on his little finger with the red gem.

  Yaluk wanted to object. He’d fought the man in hand to hand combat who’d been wearing this and considered it a well-earned trophy. But he wanted free of the spirit-witch worse and ripped it off his finger.

  “Here. Take it, but hurry back.”

  She glared and then pointed at the stew. “Do not eat all of my stew or my husband will beat me.”

  Yaluk glared. “You let him beat you, but you don’t want him killed. You are a stupid woman, I think.”

  “If you were a woman, you would understand,” she argued and waved the stick at him again. “I mean it. You do not eat my stew.”

  Yaluk threw up his hands in pretend defeat and smiled.

  She curled her fingers around the ring and scurried out.

  The moment she was gone, Yaluk picked up a shell and scooped a generous serving from the stew pot and proceeded to eat it, savoring the fresh taste of cooked vegetables.

  While Yaluk was sneaking her food, Nelli was scurrying through the village. So much for not calling attention to herself, she thought. By the time she got to Cualli’s dwelling, she was in a panic.

  When he approached her, she burst into tears and then grabbed his hand and slapped the ring into his palm.

  “I am sorry to intrude, but I have a need. This came from one of the strangers many years ago who gave it to my father. Now my father is dead and I want to trade it for a talisman against witchcraft. Will you help?”

  Cualli frowned. “Who in this village is practicing witchcraft? I will put a stop to it at once.”

  “No, no, not here, not here. I cannot say more.”

  Cualli fingered the ring thoughtfully and then tried it on several fingers before he found one it would fit. That seemed to sway his decision.

  “I have such a talisman. You may have it.”

  Nelli’s relief was great, but her name meant truth, and she’d just voiced the biggest lie of her life. She wanted to faint.

  “Thank you, oh great Cualli, thank you.”

  “Wait here,” he said and walked into an adjoining room, only to come out a few moments later with a small leather bag tied with a strip of braided corn silks and three tiny black feathers at the knot.

  “What’s inside?” Nelli asked, as he put it in her hands.

  “Look and you will die,” he said.

  She gasped, clutched it against her breasts, and scurried out as quickly as she’d come in.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was most unfortunate for Nelli’s husband that he chose to come back into their dugout while Yaluk was eating their stew.

  Yaluk didn’t know he was there until he heard a quick grunt. He spun around, the shell full of stew still in his hand.

  “Who are you? What have you done with my wife?” the man shouted.

  Yaluk dropped the shell, and before the man could move, shoved his knife into his belly, then stabbed him in the chest.

  The man was still in his death throes when Nelli came into the dugout. Yaluk grabbed her again, once more slapping his hand across her mouth.

  “I am sorry. He gave me no choice. Did you get it? Did you get the talisman?”

  Her eyes were wild as she struggled to get free, and when he asked for the talisman, she threw it on the dirt floor at his feet.

  He frowned. “You are a good sister. But your name has cursed you. You would never have been able to tell two lies.”

  Still holding her from behind, he thrust the knife into her chest over and over until she bled out in his arms. Then he dropped her where she stood, wiped the blood from his hands and arms with some of their bedding, and took the talisman as he left.

  He paused outside their doorway, pulled a small branch off of a nearby bush and began wiping out his tracks all the way down into the arroyo, and then all the way back to the ridge above the settlement.

  Only once did he look back, and when he was satisfied there was no cry of discovery, he returned to his camp.

  ***

  When Tyhen woke again, she could see the beginnings of daylight about to push away the night. She stretched and rolled over, only to realize Yuma was already awake. She saw the want on his face and without a word, rolled back onto her side, making way for him to take her from behind. With little movement and his very skilled hand between her legs, Yuma quickly brought her to a climax.

  The release not only filled her heart, but healed a walk-weary soul. It was a good reminder there was still joy to be had.

  While she was still riding the ripples of pleasure that he’d given her, she felt him shudder, then bury his face against the nape of her neck to keep from crying out. There was, after all, a courtesy to be followed in making love in a crowd.

  When the last aftershock of lovemaking had passed, he whispered softly against her ear.

  “You are my heart and the breath that I take.”

  She sighed, replete. “Thank you, my Yuma. You know how much I love and trust you. I could not do this without you at my side.”

  “I promise you won’t have to,” he said and gave her a quick hug.

  “I need to get up,” she said.

  “I will go with you and stand watch.”

  She scooted carefully from the tent. When she saw her shift draped across it all clean and dry, she slipped it on with a smile.

  “Thank you.”

  “You are welcome,” he said, then glanced around the area as he quickly fastened his loincloth. People were already stirring. Some, like them, were heading into the jungle to seek a few moments of privacy while others squatted where they were to relieve their bladders and thought nothing of it.

  Tyhen was barefoot, but when they came back to their camp, she went straight to her pack and dug out the moccasins that Wesley Two Bears had given her.

  “They will be better protection,” she said when she caught Yuma watching.

  He was already wearing moccasins that he’d made months earlier. They laced up past his calves with fringe all the way down the back. He’d made them in honor of the fancy dancers he remembered from the powwows of his childhood. He had always been fascinated by how the fringe danced with them as they moved. He’d made them especially for the walk, telling himself he was simply dressing to return to his roots. Now it would appear that he would most likely wear these out before he ever caught sight of his native land.

  Tyhen saw Shirley Nantay approaching and waved.

  “A little something to start your
day,” Shirley said and handed them each a piece of warm bread. “I don’t have a lot of the ground corn left, but we need to eat it up before it gets wet in a river, or I lose it running from yet another hunk of some mountain.”

  “Thank you so much,” Tyhen said as she took the bread in her hands. “I hope that we have run from our last landslide, but I will not promise anything about not getting wet.”

  Shirley laughed. “As long as we’re alive to face the next day, I will not complain. Here, Yuma, this one is for you.”

  He took the bread and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Shirley.”

  “No. Thank you, both of you. I will see you later.”

  She hurried away, leaving them to enjoy their treat.

  Later, as they began to pack up their tent for the journey ahead, Montford Nantay came running back, out of breath and wet up to his thighs.

  “I think I found a safe place to cross,” he said. “It’s only a couple of miles downstream. The riverbed narrows drastically, leaving only a short crossing in water, and it’s not deep. I walked all the way across and back to make sure.”

  “You make a good scout,” Yuma said.

  Montford shrugged off the compliment. “We still need to stand watch on both sides. There could be a crocodile in the water at any time.”

  Tyhen shuddered and said nothing, remembering Yuma’s near-death experience with one because of her.

  “So we go now,” Yuma said. “The faster we get everybody to the other side of this river, the better I will feel.”

  Soon the New Ones were on the march with Montford Nantay in the lead. As they strung out, walking in twos and threes all along the riverbank, their numbers covered more than a mile. But there was a bounce in their step that hadn’t been there last night. This was a new day and they were ready to move on.

  At first people were talking, and then as the reality of another day on foot dawned, they saved their breath. When they reached the crossing, they cheered.