Yellowstone Origins: Yellowstone Romance Series, Book 6

by Peggy L Henderson

  The handsome hunk turned away from her and poked a stick into the fire.

  “I may know of a way to return you to your time,” he said slowly. He stared into the flames.

  Riley’s pulse quickened with relief. “Well, that’s a start,” she said with a quick laugh.

  She waited for him to look at her again. “So, suppose I believe you, and I’ve traveled to - what I assume is the past - what year did I land in? I’m guessing somewhere in the early nineteenth century?”

  She raised her brows and glanced around the camp for emphasis. Her mind was still trying to fully wrap itself around the idea of time travel, but there must, at least, be some towns and civilization here. She could make do until she could figure out how to get back to where she belonged. She had a million other questions for this guy, but she'd wait and see what his first response would be before bombarding him with more.

  He turned his head to look at her. “Naatoyita, the elder who came for me, told me that he brought me 300 years into the past.”

  Riley gaped at him. She fought to slow her racing thoughts down enough to make sense of it all and process what he’d said. The first thing that registered was that this guy had also time traveled.

  “And what year did you come from and how long have you been here?”

  His eyes held hers. “It was 2036 when I was brought here. Thirteen winters ago.”

  Riley’s mouth dropped open. She did some quick math in her head. She was in 1749? Yellowstone wasn’t even on anyone’s radar at that time. Well, no one except the Native Americans who lived here. Heck, America hadn’t even become a country yet!

  “You came from 2036?” She stared at him. “You’re younger than I am.” Looking at him, that thought was ridiculous. He had to be at least her age, but probably a few years older.

  His mouth widened in a slow grin. “Perhaps I’m much older than you.”

  She laughed. “You couldn’t have even been born yet when I supposedly time traveled. Yesterday, it was still 2011 in my world.”

  The guy studied her intently. His eyes roamed over her again, a definite appreciative gleam in his gaze. There was something he wasn’t telling her. Riley inhaled a quick breath to ease the tightness in her chest. She was jittery, nervous, and yes, scared. It would take some time to process all of this, but for now, she had to go with the assumption that she had time traveled, as crazy as it sounded.

  She stepped up to him, gritting her teeth at the pain in her feet. She held out her hand. “I’m Riley Bernard. I guess I owe you a thank you for getting me away from those other men last night. They weren’t exactly friendly.”

  He stared at her hand, then slowly raised his and wrapped his fingers around hers. Adrenaline surged through her at the contact. His hand swallowed her much smaller one. It was warm, calloused, and no doubt could break every one of her fingers with one squeeze. She eased her hand back, and he let go.

  “I am called Cameahwait,” he said, then stood and walked away from her. He opened a large leather pouch that hung from a tree branch.

  Riley stared at his back as he retreated. Four long, deep scars, like someone had raked a sharp, four-pronged object across his skin, ran from the top of his right shoulder to the middle of his back. What had happened to him?

  When he came back, he pierced a stick through a large chunk of meat and held it over the fire.

  “We’ll eat, and be on our way,” he said.

  “What happened to your back?” Riley whispered. He looked up at her while kneeling in front of the fire.

  "I fought with a bear." He shrugged as if it was no big deal.

  "A bear?" Riley gaped at him again and glanced into the forest as if expecting a bear to walk into their camp.

  “The Bakianee – Blackfoot – call me kia-ayo because of it.”

  Riley pulled the buffalo robe closer to the fire, and sat. “But you’re not part of the Blackfoot tribe, are you?” she guessed. “The men yesterday, they spoke a dialect of Algonquian. Your words have a distinct Uto-Aztecan sound, but I can’t totally place it. Ca-me-ah-way translates to ‘someone who can’t walk’ or something close to that. I’m a little shaky on my linguistics.”

  Riley opened her mouth to say more, when she glanced up to see him staring at her. She smiled tentatively. She was running off at the mouth again.

  “My name was given to me by the Sky People. It means that I soar rather than walk, like the spirits.”

  Riley shook her head. He was talking about Sky People again. Her eyes widened, and her heart rate accelerated. “You’re Shoshone? More specifically, you’re a Sheepeater? A Tukudeka?”

  His jaw muscles visibly tensed, as did the rest of him. The surprise in his gaze that she had guessed correctly about his name quickly vanished.

  “I belong to no people,” he growled, then stood, and walked away.

  Riley stared after him. Question after question flooded her. He’d come from the future, but seemed to have been brought here by someone. He hadn’t accidentally touched some time portal like she’d done. He referred to the sky people spirits as real people. How was it possible to time travel, and would he help her get back home?

  That old Native American that she’d glimpsed several times – once in Yellowstone when she’d left the ranger station, and again in the parking garage yesterday at the university – entered her mind. Had he been real, rather than a figment of her imagination?

  “Riley, you’re in serious trouble,” she whispered. She darted a quick glance in the guy’s direction. “In more ways than one.”

  Had her wish been fulfilled, and she was about to embark on the ultimate field study? Her conversation with Dan Osborne came rushing back.

  It’s one thing to read about the past, but to actually experience it might be more than we’d want to deal with.

  Cameahwait grabbed for the pouch that hung from the tree. He pulled his knife from his belt, and kept his back turned to her. Riley wasn’t going to interrupt whatever he was doing. She’d obviously said something to make him mad. The scars along his back muscles rippled with each of his movements.

  This guy implied that the spirits of the Sheepeaters had brought him here and given him a highly spiritual name. Another tribe called him Bear. Dan Osborne’s smiling face flashed before her.

  Your name literally means divine bear.

  Riley shook her head. No. It was too far-fetched of an idea.

  “What was your name in 2036?” she called, her mouth quicker than her mind again.

  Chapter Seven

  Cam turned to face the woman . . . Riley Bernard, when she called to him with her question. He stared. She sat by the fire, her wide eyes waiting for an answer. He hadn’t spoken his old name in years. In his hand, he clutched the pieces of hide that he’d cut from his shirt. It would have to be enough for now to make her some moccasins.

  Cuts and bruises marked her bare feet. Dried blood mixed with dirt and dust. She couldn’t continue to go without foot protection. He’d use a little of the bison hide for now to insulate the moccasins he was making for her, rather than the customary rabbit fur.

  Anger surged through him at the Bakianee warriors for forcing her to walk almost an entire day without shoes. He mentally shook his head to think clearly. The Blackfoot weren't known for their kindness. As much as her feet were injured, she'd gotten away easy. She could have been beaten by Cunning Fox and his warriors, or worse. She might not have lived through the night if he hadn't bartered for her.

  Cam walked toward her and checked on the meat cooking over the fire. The sun's rays, streaming through the canopies of the trees and mist, bounced off her golden hair. When he'd returned to camp from washing yesterday's dirt and sweat from his body, and found her sitting by the fire, trying to scare off a squirrel, he'd been startled by her beauty. Laughing at her antics had been the best way to cover his reaction to her in daylight. The brief glimpses of her in the darkness hadn't prepared him for seeing her this morning.

  Her hair, n
ot to mention her clothing, was out of place here. It only reaffirmed his earlier thoughts that she didn’t belong in this world. She was a delicate flower, and his anger with the Sky People grew more intense, for sending her to this time, and to a certain death.

  He could do little about the color of her hair, but she’d need something else to wear in order to make the journey to see Naatoyita, the Sky People elder who’d brought him to this time. It would take days to reach the high mountains where the old man made his home with his brother, Naatosi, who’d brought Mat from the future. Like all Sheepeater clans, the two Sky People elders tended to move with the seasons, and he needed to find out where they currently made their camp.

  Cam glanced toward the woman again. Wherever the old men made their home, it would be a strenuous journey for anyone. Riley might not be up to such a trek. At best, she’d slow him down. At worst, he’d have to leave her behind, and convince Naatoyita to travel to the lower elevations in order to send her back to her time.

  First, though, they had to reach the Tukudeka village where his adopted family lived, so he could ask them where to find the elders. He’d also trade for some tanned deer hide to make clothes more suitable for Riley, or perhaps he could barter for a finished dress.

  He hadn’t seen his adoptive family in a long time, and it remained to be seen how they’d receive him, but the Tukudeka didn’t turn away visitors. Even though he and Mat no longer lived with the Sheepeaters, they still had friends among the hunters and their families. They might not welcome him with open arms for leaving the clan, but they’d be hospitable enough.

  Cam knelt by the fire. He sliced his knife through the meat and handed Riley a piece. The sweet scent drifting from her hair, although faint now, mixed with the familiar smells of wood burning and cooked meat, and his heart beat faster. Thoughts and memories of what he'd done the night before overpowered him. The soft feel of her beneath him, and later carrying her through the forest, sent heat rushing through his veins. He gritted his teeth and abruptly stood. He'd been alone in the woods too long.

  She looked up at him with raised eyebrows when he offered her the meat. She’d remained silent, no doubt waiting for his answer to her question about his name. Riley accepted the meat he offered, holding it between two fingers as if it would scald her. Cam’s lips twitched at her curious scrutiny of his offering. She looked so innocent, and inquisitive, like a young child making a discovery. Yet, she was far from a child.

  He shook his head to refocus, and cut off a piece of venison for himself, peeling his eyes away from Riley. He tore into the meat, forcing his wayward thoughts about her elsewhere.

  “You must be hungry,” he said, still chewing. He motioned at the meat in her hand. “It’s fresh deer. I shot it myself yesterday.”

  Riley offered an uneasy smile and looked at the meat again with a critical eye. He shrugged and tore off another chunk with his teeth. It tasted good to him. He continued to eat, his focus on the meat. The sooner he finished, the quicker he could fashion some footwear for her, and they could be on their way.

  “My former name was Cameron,” he offered when he’d swallowed his last bite, and she still hadn’t touched her food.

  Riley stared at him with a curious look, but so much more. Her expressive eyes clearly conveyed that she was thinking about something.

  “Cameron is a very modern name,” she finally said. “You had to have had a last name, too.” Her inquisitive gaze widened. Cam locked his eyes on her. His long-forgotten former name had never sounded better than coming from her lips.

  “Cameron James.”

  "James?" Her brows rose. She looked almost disappointed. Her lips pressed together, and she scrunched her forehead as if something didn't make sense to her.

  Cam ate the last of his meat, then kicked some dirt onto the fire.

  “There’s a creek behind those trees.” He pointed to the west. “You can clean up before we leave camp.” One thing he remembered from his former life was that women of her time liked to be clean.

  Riley nibbled at her food, and stood. She let out a quick cry and sucked in a sharp breath before clamping her lips together. Pain clouded her eyes. Cam's eyes shot to her feet. He cursed his own stupidity for suggesting she go to the creek. He was still groping for the correct English words to use at times when talking to her. Obviously, he'd been unclear to tell her to wait until he made her some moccasins.

  Despite the warning in his head that he was treading dangerously, he walked up to her, and hooked his arms behind her back and legs, scooping her up in his arms. He’d never ignored his instincts before, alarming him to danger. Riley Bernard was the most dangerous person he’d faced in a long time, but it didn’t matter. Some invisible force drew him to her, and his arms ached to hold her again.

  He should have known last night that her companion, and not she, would be in possession of the vessel, but he’d bartered for her. He could have left her behind to face her fate with the Blackfoot. He could have told her to stay where she was just now, that he’d have some footwear made in a few minutes, rather than pick her up with the intent to carry her to the creek. He’d done none of those things.

  “What are you doing?” she gasped. Her eyes grew round, locking with his.

  Cam’s lips widened in a slow smile. He stared down into her brown doe-eyes through the glasses she wore. Her face was so close, he could lean down and kiss her if he wanted. He cursed silently, then straightened, and hardened his features.

  He had to put an end to these crazy thoughts and feelings swirling through him before they burned out of control. He hadn’t seen a white woman, someone who gave him a connection to his former life, in more than a dozen years. That’s why he reacted so strongly to her. He hadn’t spoken this much English at one time since leaving his other life behind. The more he used the old words, the easier they were to remember.

  A firm resolve took hold in him. He’d strike a bargain with Naatoyita if that’s what it would take to get the old man to send this woman back to her time. If the elder agreed, Cam would return to the Sheepeaters and do whatever was expected of him.

  “I’m taking you to the creek. You can clean your feet while I get some footwear made for you. You’re going to slow me down enough as it is.”

  Her brows furrowed, and anger flashed in her eyes. “Oh, am I? Well, I didn’t ask for any of this,” she hissed. “And I’m certainly not asking you to carry me, so please put me down.”

  Cam released his hold around the back of her legs and dropped his arm. Riley squealed in surprise when he let go, and her hands shot up and gripped his shoulders. His other arm was still wrapped around her middle to soften her landing on her feet.

  The unexpected feel of her hands on his bare skin sent an intense ripple of awareness through him, and his arm tightened around her, drawing her fully up against him. Her chest heaved against his, and she stared up at him with a mixture of annoyance, and a spark of something that reflected his own reaction to her. The smooth fabric of her shirt slid along his skin, and her soft curves pressed against his torso. Cam eased his hold around her waist, or else he might do something he couldn’t undo later.

  “Why did you drop me?” she stammered. She took a step back, out of his embrace, and regretfully, removed her hands from his shoulders.

  Cam plastered a grin on his face. It was time to refocus, and get this woman to safety.

  He shrugged. “You told me to set you down.”

  Riley narrowed her eyes. The spark he’d seen there that made his heart beat faster was gone, replaced by an annoyed glare. His grin widened. She looked even more enticing when she was mad.

  “You could have warned me first, Tarzan.”

  “We need to be on our way soon.” His grin faded. “If you don’t want to go to the creek, you can wait here while I make some moccasins for your feet. You can’t walk without foot covering. I’m not convinced the Blackfoot won’t track us. They might just want you back since their other prisoner vanished.�
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  Even with moccasins, her feet looked injured enough that he might end up carrying her most of the way.

  “Well, thanks again for taking me away from them,” Riley mumbled. Her annoyance faded.

  His lips twitched. "I wasn't going to leave you behind since I traded my best weapon for you."

  Her eyes narrowed again instantly, making it immediately apparent that he’d said the wrong thing. She glared at him.

  “You traded a weapon for me?”

  Cam never backed down from anyone’s challenge, but this little woman’s angry stare sent a decidedly uncomfortable feeling through him. What had he said wrong this time? He chuckled. His words hadn’t meant to insult her, but that’s exactly what he’d done, to her way of thinking. A woman of this time would have been grateful.

  She leaned toward him, then she straightened as if she'd just come to understand something. She inhaled a deep breath, by the way her chest heaved, and shook her head. The incredulous look in her eyes faded.

  “I should really know this, and Dan Osborne was right,” she mumbled. “Living the past is a little different than reading about it. I suppose I should be thankful.”

  “Dan Osborne?” Cam frowned. Somewhere in the back of his mind, that name sounded familiar. He’d heard it before, and not just when Riley had spoken it the previous night.

  "He's a ranger I met the other day. I asked him to take me to some old Sheepeater sites within Yellowstone Park before all this craziness started." She laughed. "Maybe you can take me to see them instead."

  Cam’s frown deepened. Memories came rushing back of his childhood, and his trip with the boy scouts to Yellowstone. The land had called to him then, and he’d unknowingly touched the Sky People’s ancient vessel, just as Riley had done. Only, it had sent him to an unfamiliar time and place. It definitely hadn’t been the Yellowstone region.

  Of course, he’d had no idea at the time what had happened to him. He’d been told that he’d been lost in the wilderness. He’d followed an old Indian through the forest for days. A man had found him, and no doubt saved him from being killed by a cougar, and had told him he’d come to take him back to the scouts. The Indian had vanished, and Cam had no recollection how they’d returned to the area where he’d originally touched the vessel.