Healing Woman of the Red Rocks

by Verna Clay

  Tana locked her gaze on Thomas' and barely mouthed the words, "Trust me."

  Lefty motioned toward Thomas. "You! Step away from your girl."

  Thomas looked from Tana to Lefty and back to Tana. She could see that he understood what she was about to show the outlaws. He slowly stepped sideways.

  "More!" commanded Lefty.

  He stepped farther away.

  Tana now stood in front of Amy and called over her shoulder, "I'm going to ask the child to give me what's in her pocket. Believe me; it will make you do anything to keep us alive."

  Lefty said, "Now this I gotta see."

  Tana said to Amy, "Honey, I need the stone in your pocket."

  Amy's eyes conveyed her trust. "Yes, Miss Tana." She reached into her pocket and withdrew it. Lefty urged his horse forward until he was beside them. Tana lifted the nugget wrapped in cloth from Amy's hand and offered it to him.

  "What the hell is it?"

  "Something men die for."

  A glint of fear passed across Lefty's eyes but was replaced by cockiness once again.

  "You're crazy, lady."

  "Open the fabric and then tell me I'm crazy."

  Lefty stared at Tana's outstretched hand for a long moment, shifted his gaze to his men, and then back to her. "If I don't like what I see, Pete's gonna shoot your man."

  Tana replied, "I guarantee you will like what's in my hand."

  Clyde said, "Hell, Lefty, the suspense is killing me. Open the damn cloth."

  Lefty hesitated for a second, but then grabbed the stone from Tana's hand. He ripped the cloth open.

  An eagle's call captured Tana's attention and she glanced skyward.

  Lefty shouted, "Damn! Damn! Damn! We hit the mother lode, boys." He raised the huge chunk of gold for his men to see. The men moved closer for a better look.

  Lefty eyed Tana. "Is there more?"

  "There is."

  "And you want to exchange your lives for gold."

  "I do."

  Lefty scratched his chin, cocked his head sideways, and studied Tana. "Lady, you got a deal, but just to even the odds…" He pointed his pistol at Thomas and fired.

  36: Sowing and Reaping

  Both Tana and Amy screamed and rushed forward as Thomas' crumpled to the ground. Bending over him Tana heard him moaning and gasping for air. He forced out the words, "It's…shoulder. Breathing…impaired…because of…pain…not because of…wound."

  Tana said, "I've got to see it."

  Thomas groaned when Tana helped him roll onto his back. There was a lot of blood and she started ripping her skirt for pieces of cloth to press into the wound. She briefly glanced at Amy to see the child holding her hands to her mouth trying to stop her sobs.

  Lefty said, "I only nicked him so's he won't try nothin' whilst you lead us to the gold."

  Tana glanced into the sky above Lefty and then toward the trees. Sadly, she said, "You and your men are about to meet your fate, Lefty."

  Suddenly a screech rent the air and Lefty jerked his head skyward. His eyes widened, but before he could get his pistol aimed at his attacker, the talons of a powerful eagle clamped into his shoulder. He screamed and his gun fell to the ground.

  Pete and Clyde's eyes rounded in horror as Lefty was dragged from his horse. Clyde recovered his senses and started to lift his rifle, but his arm was suddenly captured in the jaws of Warrior. Pete tried to aim his pistol at the wolves surrounding Clyde, but his hand was shaking so bad that he fired into the trees. He aimed again but the bullet went astray again. His terrified horse rose on its hind legs and he toppled off. Before he could scramble to his feet, a bear rushed from the trees and grabbed him.

  When the attack had begun Tana had called Amy to her, and now she held the child to her breast. "Don't look, honey. It will soon be over." Amy whimpered and nodded against her. Tana met Thomas' gaze when his eyes shifted from the macabre scene back to her. She said, "This is sowing and reaping."

  Thomas said nothing.

  Tana closed her eyes tightly and placed her hands over Amy's ears. The screams grew fainter as the evil men were dragged into the forest and out of sight. Soon there was silence.

  Tana opened her eyes to see Thomas sitting up with a dazed expression. She said, "Amy, I want you to sit beside your father while I gather the animals."

  "Y-yes, ma'am." Amy opened her eyes just enough to see her father and scooted toward him.

  The animals had scattered when the attack began and now Tana called to them by name. Soon they all returned and she retrieved Thomas' medical bag from Petunia, reassuring the mule that all was well. Beulah, Moses, and Stanton surrounded her and she touched each animal, comforting them and promising they would soon be home. The horses belonging to the outlaws stood just inside the trees, watching. Tana called to them and they trotted toward her.

  Still in pain, but shocked by what he had just witnessed, Thomas watched Tana comfort the animals. Had the pain caused him to hallucinate the attack on the outlaws?

  Amy's words were muffled against his chest, but he understood them. "Warrior and the wolves and the bear and the eagle saved us, Papa."

  Thomas inhaled deeply, which shot pain through his shoulder, but also reminded him that he was still alive.

  Tana returned with his medical bag and asked him how he wanted her to care for his wound. She followed his instructions precisely. The bullet had only grazed his body and for that he was grateful. Somehow he managed a smile and a smirk. "When we get home you can put some of that brown muck on it." He lifted his eyes to her face to see her mouth trembling. Raising his good arm he touched his fingers to her lips. "Tana there's only one thing in this entire world that will make me feel better right now."

  "What's that?" she whispered.

  "Your smile."

  37: Mrs. Wilder

  Ten months later

  Thomas shifted his gaze beyond Mrs. Wilder seated on his examining table to stare blankly at the wall behind her. The elderly woman, a true hypochondriac, stopped describing her latest symptoms and sobbed. Thomas jerked his attention back to her.

  Leaning forward and placing a hand on her shoulder, he said, "Mrs. Wilder, what's the matter? Are you in pain?"

  Tears flowed down her cheeks and in a choked voice she replied, "Yes. But it's not in my body." She sobbed again, "It's in my heart."

  Thomas wasn't sure how much he wanted to hear, but Mrs. Wilder was his patient and she was very distressed. "Do you want to talk about it?"

  She nodded and he reached into his pocket for his handkerchief. "Here. Dry your eyes while I pour you a glass of water. Then you can tell me all about it."

  "Don't you have other patients waiting?"

  "They can wait. This is more important."

  She gave another pathetic sob and blotted her eyes.

  Thomas stepped to a sideboard in his examining room and poured water from a pitcher while Mrs. Wilder composed herself. He handed the water to her; she sipped and returned it to him. He set it aside and waited.

  Finally, she said, "Since my Henry died six months ago, I've been miserable. We were married forty years." Tears clouded her eyes when she said, "And I miss him so much I just want to go and be with him."

  Thomas started to respond but she lifted her hand to stop him. "I need to say something."

  He waited for her to continue.

  "Henry and I rarely saw eye-to-eye about anything and…and…I didn't listen to anything he had to say. Eventually, he stopped talking about things that really mattered to him. You see, he was a cowpoke when we met. He loved riding the range. He loved living in the saddle, but–" she glanced down at her hands, "–but he loved me more. He became a merchant for me." She inhaled a shuddering breath. "He was a spontaneous man and often said, 'Let's go here, or let's go there.' He just wanted to visit a few places, and we had the money, but I always said no. After a long time, he stopped asking."

  Thomas placed his hand over hers and waited.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"Now I sit home alone and stare at walls. I imagine all the memories we could have made—all the memories I would have to comfort me now. But there aren't any. My only companion is guilt."

  Thomas didn't know what to say. He thought about his dead wife and the memories that often made him laugh or cry, precious memories.

  Mrs. Wilder turned her hand over and squeezed his. "Don't let that happen to you, Dr. Matthews. Don't become so set in your ways you shut out the ones you love. Make beautiful memories with your daughter, and if you marry again, with your wife. Really live and love and laugh with them, because all too soon, it's over."

  Thomas lifted Mrs. Wilder's hand to his lips and kissed it. "Thank you, dear lady."

  After Mrs. Wilder left he sat in the examining room for a long time staring at the walls. The woman's confidences had solidified what he'd been feeling for months. Visions of Tana planted themselves in his mind and he knew more than anything he wanted to create memories with her.

  He glanced around a room that reminded him of everything he and Ruth had dreamed of—his medical practice, a beautiful home in a community of friends—but now…now he wanted something different because people change. He had changed over the months since his return. He didn't want to be dogmatic in his medical beliefs. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with a woman whose touch held healing magic, a woman who could communicate with animals, a woman whose love was so great the animals would give their lives to protect her. He wanted to go on picnics in the red rocks and explore its secrets. He wanted to sit under the Spirit Tree and create elixirs with her. He wanted Amy to learn from her…he wanted to learn from her. He wanted to comfort her when she cried, and laugh with her over silly things. He wanted to have children with her so the legacy of her family would continue. He wanted every beautiful memory they could make.

  Epilogue

  He's returning, Tana.

  Tana jerked awake. Frannie had been telling her the same thing for the past two months. And just as Tana had done when she was sixteen, she'd gotten excited, watched, and waited every day. And just as before, no one came.

  Tears dripped down her cheeks as she whispered, "Frannie, I miss him so much." She rolled onto her side and stared out the glass of her window. The spring day reminded her of the day Thomas and Amy had first arrived. In her mind, she revisited every detail of their first meeting. Before she was sobbing, she sat up.

  A soft sweet voice whispered in her ear. Trust me.

  Tana spun around. "Frannie!"

  The room was empty and silent, but Tana knew Frannie had spoken to her outside of a dream. A surge of happiness rushed through her. He was returning. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not for years, but he would return and she would trust Frannie's words.

  Later that morning, after feeding, watering, and doctoring the animals in her care, she sat in the center of the barn and sang the song Amy had taught her, raising her voice in thanksgiving to the Great Spirit who had blessed her beyond measure. The song lifted her into heavenly realms accessed only in music. Faintly, another voice joined her in singing Shenandoah and she gasped. The baritone voice continued, soon joined by a child's voice and then another child's. She ran to the barn entrance, scanned the trees, saw them, and started running again. Thomas dismounted Stanton and captured her in his arms. He twirled her around and kissed her with an intensity that promised a lifetime of happiness. "I'm never leaving you again," he whispered against her ear.

  Finally, he set her back on the ground and motioned toward Amy on Petunia and a boy on another mule. He said, "Tana, not only do we have a daughter, but I've adopted this young man named Josiah."

  Tana placed a hand over her heart. It was so full it wanted to burst. She said, "Welcome home, children."

  Author's Note

  For readers interested in knowing the real-life historical personages in this story, here is a listing in the order of mention or appearance: General George R. Crook, Curly Bill, Billy the Kid, Geronimo, U.S. Deputy Marshal Wyatt Earp, Ike Clanton, Jacob Waltz (The Dutchman), George Rothrock, and Captain William Wallace.

  Most of the geographical locations are real and wonderful places to visit; however, I fabricated some of the trails. I did a lot of online research but I also visited Montezuma's Castle, Montezuma's Well, Fort Verde, Fort Apache, the Yavapai Trail (nka Apache Trail), Sedona, and Globe.

  As for Sedona, the first time I drove through the red rocks, it was magic, and for a year my husband and I were fortunate to live nearby. About every two weeks we would drive to the monoliths to get our "Sedona fix." I was also fortunate to meet and become friends with a few Sedonians who introduced me to restaurants, trails, and wonderful places of interest.

  One day, while driving toward the Village of Oak Creek ten minutes south of Sedona, the title for this book popped into my head: Healing Woman of the Red Rocks. For several months I listened to "whispers" from the hero and heroine revealing their story.

  As I neared the end of writing the book, I got the idea to create a trilogy. However, this trilogy would be different from other series I have written. Rather than write the next two books in approximately the same time period (late 1800s), I would spread the stories over a few hundred years, categorizing them as past, present, and future.

  I felt comfortable writing about the past and present, but challenged about writing a story that takes place way in the future. Another challenge was maintaining a western flavor for a future timeline. How could I do it? Well, I came up with an idea, but to reveal it would create a spoiler, and I hate spoilers. Suffice it to say, I believe I can pull this off. Books two (Song of the Red Rocks) and three (Spirit Tree of the Red Rocks) in this trilogy will be released in the summer and fall of 2015.

  The website for Sharla MacIntyre's crystal elixirs is http://crystal-elixirs.com/.

  Cry of the West: Hallie

  Prologue: March 1866

  With one arm around her eight year old son, Hallie Wells swiped her eyes with the handkerchief clenched in her other hand, trying to remain stoic. When men from her church began lowering her husband's coffin into his freshly dug grave she bit her lip until she tasted blood to keep from sobbing. She wanted to wail when the first pitch of dirt sounded on the simple wooden box.

  Timmy, who had been so brave the past two days, turned into her side and buried his face against her bosom, his thin body shaking with gut-wrenching sorrow. Hallie's heart broke for her child who had loved his father dearly.

  The pastor's wife placed a hand on Hallie's shoulder as Pastor Murdock said kindly, "Hallie and Timmy, it's time to leave."

  Still clutching her son, Hallie turned slowly from the grave, but at the last minute paused to stare at her husband's coffin. She whispered, "I'll fulfill our dream, Thomas, I promise," and then released the sob she had been trying so valiantly to keep inside.

  1: Finding Courage

  The crackling fire usually so comforting on a cold night did little to dispel Hallie's anxiety. Staring into the flames, she took deep breaths and closed her eyes, but her mind refused any semblance of peace.

  Tom, why did you have to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? Why did fate send you to St. Louis on the same day as a tornado?

  In the week since Thomas’s burial, Hallie and Timmy mourned his loss, though in different ways. Usually outgoing and rambunctious, Timmy became reserved and quiet, while Hallie, hoping to still her fears for a while, weeded flower beds and scrubbed and cleaned the cabin that had been her home with her husband and childhood sweetheart for the past seven years.

  Now, with Timmy in bed and her head drooping from exhaustion—sorrow, laced with fear of the future for her son and herself—could no longer be held at bay, and her tears coursed unhindered. That awful day when Pastor Murdock galloped to her farm with the sad news of her husband's demise replayed itself in her mind. The kindly pastor had tried to offer some consolation by explaining that Thomas, shielding a little girl from debris blown by the tornado and saving her life, was struck hi
mself, and according to the deputy, most likely did not suffer since he never regained consciousness.

  The thought of her sweet husband being so brave brought a fresh wave of tears, but for a few minutes Hallie allowed herself the unreasonable feeling of anger toward Thomas for dying and leaving her and Timmy alone. Her anger was soon replaced with self-pity because now they had nothing, all their worldly belongings having been sold a month earlier in anticipation of their upcoming travel.

  Finally, with her anger and sorrow spent, Hallie inhaled a shuddering breath, stared into the orange flames, and resolved to find a solution to her dilemma. Methodically, she inventoried her predicament—she had no home, no employment, and practically no belongings. What she did have, however, was the reason for Thomas's trip to St. Louis. In his pocket were three tickets for passage aboard the steamboat Mirabella leaving in mid April from St. Louis to Westport Landing. She also had enough money to purchase a wagon, oxen, and supplies necessary to continue from Westport with the train headed west on the Oregon Trail.

  You have more than that; you have the dream Thomas inspired.

  For the first time in days, Hallie smiled.

  Tom, your dream of adventure and new beginnings was infectious.

  For a few minutes, she envisioned the land her husband had diligently researched—the Willamette Valley in Oregon. Even now, his enthusiastic voice rang in her ears. "It's the next best thing to heaven, honey. So beautiful it steals your breath away. We'll start a new farm with crops that fairly burst from the ground they're so happy at being sown. We'll build a home to last through generations. We'll have the adventure of a lifetime. Can't you hear the Cry of the West? Come on, Hallie, say you'll consider it."