Forgotten Trails

by Bonnie R. Paulson

  “Rachiah!” Where was she? Worrying about her was going to age him.

  He dropped into a half-crouch when something moved by the fence. A hand waved feebly through a space between broken and separated slats.

  Rachiah. Damon broke into a run, stopping when he reached the hole. “Rachiah? Are you okay? Come on. Let’s get you in the truck.”

  She squinted when she got into the direct light. Damon wrapped his arm around her waist and helped her. She limped on one foot, groaning each time the raised foot touched the ground.

  “Come on, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” And he did have her. He wasn’t letting her go. He finally stopped and swung her into his arms and carried her to the truck. He rested her against the side of the truck to open the passenger door and pushed her into the seat. Making sure she was buckled, he closed the door and rounded the truck.

  “Let’s get out of here. I have a first aid kit in the glove box.” He pointed toward the light showing the door to the box in the dash.

  She didn’t cry. She didn’t even react. “Thank you.” She said the word numbly as if she wasn’t quite sure what she was thinking him for but she knew she had to say. She slowly pulled out the small yellow box and lifted her foot to her knee to look it over.

  Damon had seen shock before. He had to get her warmed up. He turned the heater up and shifted into gear. “Get comfortable. I’m going to get you home.”

  ~~~

  With Rachiah in the car, the drive passed faster than Damon expected. He wasn’t even tired, not with her so close to him. All he wanted was for her to be safe. Forever. With him.

  They crossed into Clearwater County around midnight, and Rachiah woke up.

  She didn’t say anything, just stared ahead, twisting the bottom of her T-shirt between her fingers.

  “Do you want me to take you to your mom’s?” They were getting closer to fork between the reservation and Taylor Falls. Damon had to make a choice.

  She jumped a little. As if startled he’d spoken. He had left her alone the whole ride and didn’t bug her about anything. “I can’t see my parents right now. I can’t see Cyan or Sherri either. I failed. I can’t do this.” Crying seemed imminent.

  Damon reached over, grabbing her hand in his. He glanced at her, shifting his gaze from the road to her profile and then back to the road. “It’s okay. Let’s go back to my place. You can stay there until you feel ready. You’re probably just tired.” Having her hand in his after he’d been convinced he might not see her again warmed his heart. She was fast becoming the person he needed around.

  She gripped his fingers with desperation. She nodded jerkily and tried to offer a tremulous smile. They pulled onto the reservation, the parking lights of one of MT’s guards sitting at the entrance.

  Rachiah glanced questioningly at Damon.

  He shrugged only one shoulder. “I probably should’ve said your place. We’re renting from your parents.” He chuckled when she squeezed his fingers and rolled her eyes.

  She would be okay. Damon would make sure everything would be fine.

  ~~~

  Leaving Rachiah asleep at his place was harder than he thought it would be. Damon had slept on the couch but that hadn’t stopped him from checking in on her. Repeatedly.

  Why hadn’t she cried? And if she had, how had she been quiet enough to keep it off of his radar? The house wasn’t that big.

  He had to get to work regardless of how much he wanted to spend time with her, if for no other reason than to check on Mrs. Metcalf. Oh, and to report to MT about Rachiah.

  MT stood at the cooler, throwing back a PowerAde and watching two of his men fight over the flat nosed shovel. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You guys are idiots.”

  Damon approached him, fatigue pulling at his normally smiling face. “Morning. MT. Rachiah’s sleeping at my place. I think she’s going to be okay.”

  “What is my sister doing sleeping at your place?” MT dropped his arm with the drink, peering balefully at Damon. “Look, we’re not friends. I’m not your requisite minority buddy. You don’t need to try to brag about things you do with the chicks, especially when that woman is my sister.” He glared at Damon who glanced from side to side in shock.

  Smugly, he continued. “Mrs. Metcalf passed away last night. You probably think part of me owes you something because you saved my sister when she didn’t even call me for help.” His jaw ticked as he clenched it. “But that’s not the way this works. You don’t have to help her. I don’t have to thank you for that.”

  “I don’t treat you like a minority. I don’t treat anyone like that. I don’t know what is going on between you and your sister, what’s going on in your family, or even this reservation. But I, personally, don’t treat people like that.” Damon was too tired to deal with being nice. He had too much on his plate. Not to mention he’d been up all night worried sick about Rachiah, driving her home and then worried while she slept.

  “I know, but you need to know there are boundaries you can’t cross. Lines she can’t cross. And you just keep pushing and doing. At what point will she be too grateful to you she won’t be able to say no? Even when she has to.” MT glanced over Damon’s shoulder, his expression set in stony acceptance.

  Damon tilted his head back, the brim of his cowboy hat brushing his upper shoulder blades. “What is so wrong with the idea of Rachiah and me together? You’re giving me almost as much opposition as she did.”

  MT shifted on his feet, putting his weight on one leg and putting the other off to the side. He nodded towards the Metcalf place. “Ryan Metcalf. Did you know he’s full Salish?”

  Damon rubbed his eyes. He had no idea where MT was going with this. But he played along anyway. “No. I didn’t.” At least the topic wasn’t about Damon and Rachiah and their forbidden love or whatever.

  “His daughter was full Salish. Did you know that?” He didn’t wait for Damon to reply, just continued as if making polite conversation. “She killed herself in high school. I don’t remember her much. She was a grade or two above me.”

  And it was like an iron fist was brandished into Damon’s stomach. He suddenly couldn’t breathe. Somehow, he found the air to speak. “She killed herself?” He had thought maybe a car accident or maybe she had gotten sick, anything but suicide.

  MT didn’t look at Damon. “She brought shame on our people. She put a lot of pressure on the rest of us in the pure generation. I know it’s hard for you to understand, being a white guy. I bet you have Irish and English and maybe some German in your background. Probably more. White people seem to have the most mix in their bloodlines and you guys don’t care. You don’t care where you come from or your traditions are your cultures.”

  “Why did she kill herself?” Damon didn’t care that MT was slamming white people in general. He only cared that he could barely breathe and Melissa would never breathe again.

  MT shrugged. “Who knows? She didn’t fit in outside the reservation. Her mom and dad moved the family back here. Shortly after they moved back, her mom died from a pretty bad disease. That happens a lot on the reservation. Melissa went soon after.”

  Damon didn’t have any response. Couldn’t reply. Melissa had killed herself.

  He had the sinking sensation he was the reason why.

  MT turned, piercing Damon with his gaze. “You don’t know the kind of pressure Rachiah is under. You and her? It can’t work. Our people, our bloodline, our traditions, and our culture need to carry on. Rachiah is one of those who has to do her duty.”

  Damon shook his head. He tried to clear it of what he was hearing. “But you and Sherri...”

  “Me and Sherri? You don’t know anything about that situation. Let me tell you about Sherri and me.” Anger clipped each word for MT. He thrust his finger into Damon’s chest. “I love Sherri. I would still give up everything I am, everything expected of me, to be with her. She just has to change her mind. All she has to do is leave that white boy. Like you. She’s made me see the wisd
om in arranged marriages.” Pain ripped across his face which he hurried to conceal. He spun on his boot and stomped away, his shoulders rigid.

  Damon didn’t stop MT from walking away. He slumped against the side of MT’s truck and crossed his arms. What had he done?

  How could Melissa do... that? Had Damon really been that awful? He’d known he was mean. He just hadn’t realized how bad he’d been.

  Damon couldn’t breathe. He and Melissa hadn’t even been friends, and he had destroyed her enough she had taken her own life.

  What if he did hurt Rachiah? What if he hurt her bad enough she wanted to cut herself?

  Kill herself?

  With all of the pressures she was under, Damon had no right to hurt her at all. He had no right to add more stress. All she had been trying to do was find out where she came from.

  It didn’t even matter she wasn’t full Salish. What if things didn’t work out between her and Damon? Screw the reservation. Screw the tribe and their expectations. Damon cared way too much about Rachiah for her race to be an issue for him.

  What he cared about was his history of being unable to commit to anyone. Sure, he and Rachiah worked so far. But what if she stopped running from him? What if the chase wasn’t there anymore? Would he still want to be with her?

  And after he left her, would she kill herself?

  Damon didn’t have it in himself to try and find out.

  So what? What was he going to do about it?

  Did he have what it took to push her away?

  Chapter 15

  Rachiah

  Rachiah sat on the couch in her old place. The definite bachelor ambience felt good on the place. She jerked upright when the door opened.

  “Damon, I’ve been waiting for you. Ryland said you would be coming home for lunch.” She smiled hopefully at him. He had rescued her, had left before she even called him for help. She’d grown to rely on him, in such a short amount of time. The feeling was alien, but one she could quickly grow used to.

  He hung his hat on the hook and glanced at her. Smiling coolly, he nodded his head and went to the kitchen. “Looks like you’re feeling better.” His formality threw her off.

  She stood and walked to the counter separating the kitchen from the living room. “Yeah, I got some sleep last night. Thank you for letting me sleep in your room. Or my old room.” She laughed, placing her fingers on the edge of the counter.

  He nodded, opening the fridge and pulling out some food. “Did you eat?”

  “Ryland fed me before he left. He said he would see you at work.” Why did she feel so uncomfortable with him? What was going on? Where was the Damon she had grown to care about?

  Forget “care about”.

  Where was the Damon she was falling in love with?

  “I have an hour for lunch. Do you need a ride anywhere?” He glanced at her, as if bored.

  She bit her lip, trying to keep her thoughts of worthlessness at bay. “No, thank you. I can figure it out.” She blinked back tears, swallowing the hurt. “I’ll get my things.”

  Obviously she had worn out her welcome with him. Maybe she was more maintenance than he was willing to put in. She went to the bathroom and the room she had borrowed from him and gathered her few things.

  Ryland had let her borrow a shirt of his.

  She sat on the edge of the bed in the room, with the door closed. With her hands tucked beneath her thighs, she sat there with her eyes closed. Waiting. Would he stay there and eat the whole hour? Would she have to wait an entire hour until he left? Would he seek her out?

  Yes. She had to wait. Her pride demanded it.

  When the front door finally closed shut, Rachiah stopped fighting the tears.

  Dashing at them with the tips of her fingers, she clenched her teeth. Hadn’t she learned yet? Hadn’t she figured out men cannot be trusted?

  Maybe she could find Cyan and Sherri.

  She grabbed her shirt and phone and left the house, closing the door behind her.

  When she reached the end of the drive, she stopped abruptly.

  MT parked his big red truck at the curb. He climbed from his rig and eyed her sister over the hood.

  With her heart shattered by Damon and Ratchet, she couldn’t handle anything else. Seeing her brother brought a whole new wave of tears. “MT. I’m so happy to see you.” And the sobs tore free.

  MT reached her faster than she expected, helping her sit on the curb. He sat beside her, his hand on her shoulder. “What’s going on? Did that Trail hurt you? I’m not surprised. He’s a drifter. There’ll drifters. They’re not worth your time, ‘Chiah.”

  Even as cool as Damon had treated her, he hadn’t been mean to her. Not really. “No, Ratchet was a drifter. He hurt me. Damon wouldn’t hurt me without a reason. He saved me from Ratchet and his friends.” She spoke dully as if she recited a poem she’d learned in school.

  They sat there in silence together for a moment.

  Rachiah glanced at MT’s hands hanging between his legs.

  He clenched and unclenched his fists. She finally glanced at his face. The face of her brother had matured into the face of her Salish warrior.

  “What’s wrong, MT? Are you okay?” She leaned closer, both for warmth and to see him better. Shoes she’d found in the coat closet must have been left there by Sherri and she’d claimed them anyway. Why hadn’t they been smart enough to leave a jacket or something?

  “Why did you do it? Why did you hurt Mom and Dad like this?” He spit to the side, moisture balling up when it hit the dry dirt.

  “You’ve got no idea what I’m going through.” She pulled away from him. No amount of warmth was worth getting chewed out. How could he? He knew who he was. He knew what he was. She didn’t.

  “Really? You mean you’re not trying to get attention? Because you’ve been nothing but a brat since you found out. You’re not the only one hurt. Mom and Dad? You could’ve resolved all of this by talking to them about it. Instead you’ve dragged our family’s name through the mud because your pride hurts.” He didn’t shift away from her. He looked at her hard from the close distance.

  Damon had pummeled her heart the second time in less than twenty-four hours. Rachiah was not going to take the bullying from her brother. “Are you sure you’re not mad about Sherri? Taking this crap out on me?” She hit below the belt, but in a fight with MT, no holds were barred for survival.

  “Maybe. And maybe that’s my business. I keep my personal stuff to myself. I don’t go behind my parents’ back and destroy them.” He didn’t flinch, just watched her as he ground out his accusations.

  She picked at a pebble on the ground and then tossed it to the side. “Ratchet said Mom...”

  “Really? After what he did to you? How can you give anything he said any slice of credibility? You should’ve asked Mom and Dad. They would’ve told you. They don’t want to hide anything. Not from you. Not from me. When are you going to start acting like this family matters?” He slid his gaze up and down her form.

  MT pushed himself to a standing position and studied her once more. “I’m done with you. You straighten out your situation with Mom and Dad and we’ll have something to talk about. I don’t even care if you’re full Salish or not. I don’t care if you stick to the traditions. I don’t care if you marry a white man. But you will respect our parents. You will respect the Two-Claw name.”

  He didn’t wait for a reply. He stormed to the truck and drove away, exhaust blowing behind him.

  With that, MT demanded better from Rachiah than she had ever demanded from herself.

  Chapter 16

  Damon

  Damon straddled the fold up chair set at an angle in the kitchen at Bella Acres. He nodded at Stephanie, Nate’s sister, when she handed him a bottle of root beer. Cold condensation dripped down the side of the glass and Damon leaned his head back to take a drink. In time for Kyle, another cousin, to punch him in the stomach hard enough to leave an impression.

  “Oh.” Damon’s g
runt echoed in his bottle. He lowered it, laughing. “You’re a jerk. What has you in such a good mood?” His cousin lived with bugs. His fiancée, Sherri, was an entomologist. She also had MT’s lovesick attention.

  Kyle didn’t have any reason to be in a good mood when his competition for Sherri’s attention had eight legs and even more eyes. Maybe. He didn’t like to talk bugs with Sherri. His mere presence on the reservation brought MT and his gang out as his shadows. All of that should keep Kyle’s good moods at bay.

  “Well, I found out before coming here that I don’t have to have the termite nest in the glass case inside my kitchen anymore. Sherri found a home for it with one of her other coworkers. Termites are ugly. Have you seen them? They. Are. Ugly. Try staring at them when you’re trying to drink or eat.” Kyle shuddered, claiming the seat beside Damon. “How you been? Ryland said you were driving all over kingdom come for some girl.”

  Kyle winked. Everyone knew Rachiah wasn’t just some girl. She was Cyan and Sherri’s best friend. That alone made her part of the family. But with Damon’s interest, her worth skyrocketed.

  He shook his head. “Yeah, that girl...”

  Jareth tapped a spoon on the table to get everyone’s attention. They were all gathered there, except for Nate.

  Over at the far wall, Cyan sat with Sherri and Hannah. Stefanie bustled around the kitchen, where Emma usually was. Ryland threw something at her and she threw something back.

  “I know Nate’s missing. I don’t know where he went. Has anyone heard from him? Has anyone heard from him and promised they wouldn’t say anything?” Jareth braced his hands on the end of the long dark table. He had been forced to slip into the leadership role Nate usually filled.

  The sight of Stephanie in the kitchen brought tears to Damon’s eyes. Emma usually worked magic around the kitchen, making drinks for everyone, laughing as she pushed on your shoulder to hand you something. She used to make cookies, jams, and jellies.