The Sparrow

by Kristy McCaffrey

  “I am?”

  He grinned at her. “I’m just along for the ride. I’ll let you make all the tough decisions.”

  Emma laughed in disbelief. He must be teasing her. She felt a new kind of tension. She could hold him at bay as long as he was aloof and reserved, as long as she acknowledged he was tall, dark, and powerful, and therefore unreachable. But if he tried to make her laugh, she might not be able to maintain her composure.

  It took them all afternoon to line the rapid. The current wanted to carry the boat across the river, into a sheer wall of sandstone and shale. They struggled to keep the dory close to shore, but rocky pourovers made that a tenuous plan. When they finally got back on the water further downstream, Emma felt weary and exhausted. The setting sun was far beyond their vision, and the canyon was now cloaked in shadow.

  “Since I’m the boss,” Emma concluded, “I think we should start navigating more of these rapids ourselves. Lining the boat is becoming tedious.”

  Nathan watched her as he rowed. “Could be dangerous,” he remarked. “What if we lost the boat?”

  “I didn’t say it wasn’t a risk.”

  “What if I lost you?”

  Startled, Emma stared into his brooding, brown-eyed gaze. “Then you’d have more to eat each night.”

  “There is that.” He rowed in long fluid strokes. “All right, let’s run some rapids tomorrow.”

  Her heart pounded faster at the prospect, and faster still from Nathan’s contemplative gaze on her.

  * * *

  Three miles later, they located a campsite at the head of another rapid, a large side canyon extending to the northwest. It was nearly dark as they pulled the boat out of the water; Emma’s hand slipped from the gunwale and she fell back. Nathan caught her around the waist.

  “Pardon me.” She struggled to stand as Nathan’s arms held her a moment longer than necessary. As he helped her to her feet, his hands came up under her arms and a shock of awareness shot through her when his fingers skimmed the side of one of her breasts.

  She froze as both his hands settled on her shoulders. “Don’t go getting sick on me.” His voice resonated from behind her.

  She nodded, torn between pulling away and staying right where she was. If she remained, he might get the wrong idea, that maybe she enjoyed his touch. If she pulled away, he might think she didn’t like him. But she didn’t like him, not in that way. Did she? Oh good God, she was in trouble. In the end she didn’t move, just stood there trembling like a coward, her legs useless.

  “Why don’t you sit down?” He guided her away from the river.

  She started walking and Nathan’s hands fell away from her. Her shoulders burned from the imprint left by his fingers. No one’s touch had ever done this to her, leaving her helpless and confused but so aware. She didn’t need a vision to feel the desire in Nathan’s body, to hear it in his voice. Did he truly want her? She found the idea hard to grasp, and yet her body reacted with uncontrolled approval. Dream lover or not, Nathan Blackmore was a man not easily pushed aside.

  “I think I might attend to myself.” She refused to turn and look at him, afraid he would see how much he affected her, afraid she wouldn’t see the same in his eyes. “I’ll be up this way.” She gestured toward the side canyon.

  “Be careful. Don’t wander too far.”

  Without a backward glance, she picked her way through the rocky terrain as the last remnants of daylight faded to gray. Concentrating on her footing, she moved further away from the river and felt completely alone at last. She took several deep breaths to calm herself, and a swift inspection revealed the canyon narrowed into a smooth, tan-colored sandstone pathway, with small pools of water inking their way along the center. Its otherworldliness gave her pause. When she continued, her boot slipped twice as she attempted to sidestep the obstacles.

  The canyon walls extended straight to the darkening sky. The absolute solitude settled around her, the echoes of her breathing and the scuff of her boots the only sounds on the flowing sandstone surface.

  Her boots slipped again on the smooth ground and her hand flew out to the walls, rippled as if some ancient sculptor had chipped out an odd pattern resembling the roughened skin of an elephant she’d once viewed at a zoo.

  She stopped, and listened to the silence.

  So quiet.

  She was quite alone in this strange place; a place she could easily imagine didn’t exist on earth but somewhere else, somewhere in the heavens, far away. Instinctively, she sat down and leaned against one of the smooth walls, deceptive in its appearance of softness. But she hardly noticed as her thoughts drifted to a place she often went when she needed to rest the chaos of her mind.

  * * *

  Emma opened her eyes, shocked to see a young Indian boy standing across the small pool of water between them. She stood, never taking her eyes from him. He looked to be five or six years old. She couldn’t imagine how he had come to be here. Blackmore must have seen him, or else the boy must have come down the canyon from the opposite direction. There must be others with him. Maybe he was lost.

  “Hello.” Her voice resonated, an odd sound in such a confined space. “I won’t hurt you.”

  He simply stared, his face—youthful and sweet—closed from her emotionally. Black hair, so dark it reflected not a glimmer of starlight, framed eyes wide with interest. She could sense his curiosity. His only clothing was a small garment wrapped around his waist and he wore no shoes.

  Emma knew he probably didn’t understand anything she said, but she spoke anyway, hoping her voice would soothe him. “Are you lost? Can I help you find your folks?”

  Several objects fell and landed in the dark pool of water, making loud plopping noises. Startled, she looked down and stared in disbelief. Five birds, all dead, floated on the surface. She was no expert, but intuitively knew the species—sparrows.

  She leaned over to look more closely. A flash of light revealed no sign of a violent death, just the lifeless forms of creatures with black throats and grayish-brown bodies. She looked upward, thinking it was lightning. Did a storm approach?

  She jerked back as a sharp pain split through her forehead. A bout of nausea formed in the pit of her stomach and Emma struggled to focus as the world spun around her. She stood and the pale colored sandstone blurred in her vision. Something was very wrong with this place, an unnatural force building in strength around her. A malevolent force. She faltered and slipped to her knees.

  The boy. She had to help the boy.

  “Where are you?” The world continued to spin, and she closed her eyes to make it stop. She couldn’t hear over the rushing sound in her ears, as if ocean waves crashed down beside her.

  “Where are you?” She extended her hand outward hoping he would grab it, hoping she could hold him close until it was over and her head stopped screaming. Maybe then she could find her way out of the canyon.

  From nowhere, a violent force pushed her against the rock and she gasped for breath.

  Chapter Seven

  “Emma? Emma?”

  Blackmore’s voice penetrated her grogginess, but she couldn’t open her eyes. Her body wouldn’t respond.

  Then, she remembered.

  “Where’s the boy?” Her words slurred together and were almost unintelligible. She tried again. “The boy, where’s the boy?”

  Blackmore held her in his arms. “There’s no one else here but us. When you didn’t return I got worried and tracked you, only to find you passed out. What happened?”

  In the all-encompassing darkness, Emma could barely make out Blackmore’s features despite his close proximity to her face. She reached up and touched his cheek, then his lips. At least he’s real.

  He helped her sit upright. She glanced at the water. “Did you see the dead sparrows?”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “They were floating in the water.” She gestured toward the pool.

  Blackmore scooted to the edge and looked, even ran h
is hand through the dark liquid, the gentle lapping sending shivers down her spine. "There’s nothing here. Did you see someone? Did they hurt you?”

  Comprehension flooded her—she’d had a vision. But never before had one been like this. And she’d never confused one with reality.

  “I must be more tired than I thought,” she said, trying to undo all the strange things she must have said. “I must’ve fallen asleep and had a bad dream.”

  Blackmore stood. “Do you feel well enough to walk? We really should get back to camp.”

  “Yes.” She grasped the hand he offered and stood, but swayed into him.

  “Here.” Blackmore put his arm firmly around her waist. “Lean on me.”

  Exhausted and dizzy, Emma did as he said. After a few awkward steps, Blackmore lifted her into his arms.

  “I’m too heavy,” she mumbled against his neck.

  “Hardly.” The warmth of his breath fanned across her forehead. Did she imagine the sense of healing in his touch?

  His arms wrapped possessively around her body and she clung to him, enjoying his smell, his heat, and the very life pulsating within him. Gradually, she began to feel more herself and the confusion lessened. The evil she’d absorbed was gone, or else too depleted to be of consequence now that they were some distance from the location of the irregularity.

  For there was no doubt in her mind a vicious force had been at work.

  She held tighter to Blackmore and buried her face into his shoulder. For the first time in her life, she felt shielded from the demons.

  * * *

  Nathan slept as he often did while a Ranger, lightly and with a heightened sense of awareness. He did this not because he feared he and Emma would be attacked, but rather because he worried about Emma herself.

  By morning he felt relieved when she seemed more alert. Maybe all she needed was a good night’s rest. They had pushed hard the day before, probably too hard, and it had undoubtedly caught up with her.

  He fixed a breakfast of beans and fried potatoes while she cleaned up at the river’s edge, washing her face then braiding her hair. When she returned, he pressed a cup of coffee into her hand and in silence she sat and drank. He was reassured when color returned to her pale complexion.

  She set the tin cup aside. “So, we run any rapid we come to today, right?”

  He considered her sudden streak of boldness. She had said some rather odd things last night when he’d found her out cold on a smooth bed of rock. “You sure you’re up for that?”

  “I was just overly tired. I feel much better now. Getting my sea legs, as they say.”

  He handed her a plate of food. “Eat this.”

  “Yes, sir. Have I lost the job of boss already?”

  “We’ll see how you do today.”

  She smiled, a sincere, heartfelt expression he felt clear to his toes.

  “I plan to have fun and stop worrying,” she said. “How about you?”

  She tugged again at places long dormant in his life. He answered truthfully. “I’ll try.”

  * * *

  It was a day worth remembering, a day unlike any other. The sun shone in a clear sky and the canyon walls dwarfed them in a now familiar cocoon.

  They rode rapids. Over and over.

  For Emma, it was a chance to forget the workings of the other world, a place that used her as a conduit into this world. Today, she was simply a woman on the adventure of a lifetime, with a man who made it an incredibly heightened experience.

  Nathan taught her about the river, how to read the currents, the best way to enter a rapid, how to recognize submerged rocks, and how to guide the boat for the best possible entry. They sat side by side, each holding an oar, a leg flung over the side. They screamed and yelled, laughed and got drenched. The wild rides were interspersed with silence and an easy companionship. Nathan didn’t seem to mind the fact she didn’t like to talk much.

  When possible, they scouted each rapid beforehand.

  “Go left, past the obstruction, then row center. Try to hit the waves head on.”

  Emma listened and learned.

  “Let’s avoid the hole below that boulder. A good place to get caught.”

  Emma began to realize Nathan had a real love for running rivers, and a natural instinct when it came to whitewater.

  “Stay clear of the bedrock wall. If you fall in, the current could pull you under.”

  He always stressed safety.

  “If you fall out of the boat, Emma, go into the rapid feet first. Keep your head up. I’ll throw you a rope if possible, or you do the same for me.” He tied one end of the rope to the boat for just such an emergency, concerned Emma wouldn’t have the strength to haul him in if she needed to rescue him.

  The rugged-looking canyon sheltered rocky debris fields that littered both shorelines. Periodically a flash of thick vegetation would stand out; juniper, cottonwood, and willow trees dominated the river’s edge. Clumps of mesquite bushes hugged the moist environment, their branches armed with straight, paired spines. The slender green spindles of Mormon tea grew in abundance, covered with yellow buds. Apache plume, a scraggly shrub, could be seen at high water lines along the river.

  During their scouting missions, Emma noticed various lizards shuffling about, a toad or two, and a harmless gold gopher snake. It boosted her confidence when she didn’t jump as it slithered past her boot. Even more, watching it was a treat, its movement through the sand and shrubs entrancing. She never experienced such things while living in San Francisco.

  Nathan pointed out grosbeaks, the males a spectacular midnight blue, the females a drab brown. Nature certainly didn’t give the females much to flaunt to catch a mate. Emma wondered if this was true of herself. Perhaps she should consider sprucing herself up when the time came to attract a husband. Instantly, her mind wondered what Nathan would find attractive in a woman, then chided herself for such foolish thoughts.

  They startled chipmunks and squirrels, mice and even a skunk. Nathan grabbed her suddenly when they spotted the last, throwing her into the boat and rowing swiftly away from shore. Emma smiled at the little creature, watching it fade from view as they found another place to stop for a midday break.

  By early afternoon they came to a large side canyon off to their right, jutting to the west. They stopped for a rest and to explore, noticing abandoned Indian ruins. Since Powell mentioned such things in his book Emma wasn’t surprised, but a thrill still ran through her to actually see them.

  “It’s hard to believe anyone would want to live down here permanently,” Nathan remarked as he walked behind her.

  “It certainly seems difficult to get in and out.” Emma ran her hand along a crumbling stone wall. “The Ancient Ones. The Navajo Indians call them the Anasazi.”

  “I wonder how old these are.”

  The vision flashed quickly before her eyes. Small, short Indians moved about, working, gathering, preparing food, talking of tribal matters. She blinked and took a steadying breath, then continued to walk. The crumbled remains to her left is a kiva, a ceremonial room, and very sacred. Men moved toward it and entered from a top hole, dropping down inside.

  “Seven hundred years.” She knew the timeframe of these people.

  “Sounds as good as any guess.” Nathan stood beside her.

  The vision shifted. People moved about, not in physical forms, but as energetic apparitions. Hazy, green outlines mingled around her and Nathan.

  Amazing.

  Warmth and spirit existed here, after all this time.

  Emma stopped and absorbed what it must have been like to be with these people, bright and intelligent, hard-working and innovative. Energy from the kiva compelled her to move again. These humans obviously had a strong spirituality, and she was curious to explore it further.

  She halted abruptly when the fear, elusive though it was, infiltrated the serenity of the moment.

  They're hiding.

  Then she saw him, the Indian boy from the previous night.r />
  The gossamer creatures disappeared. Only the boy stood in the crumbled remains of the kiva.

  He chased away the ghosts of the Anasazi.

  “Emma?” Nathan’s voice called to her from some distant place.

  “Don’t you see him?” she asked softly.

  “See who?”

  “The boy.”

  Nathan’s hands grabbed her shoulders and swung her around to face him, breaking the trance. The child seemed so real. While the ethereal remnants of the Anasazi people enthralled her, the little boy scared her. It made no sense. Her visions never took this form.

  “Are you all right?” Nathan asked, his brown eyes intent on her.

  Emma nodded.

  “You’re acting strange. Why did you mention a boy again?”

  “I’m not certain.” She stepped back and broke their physical connection. Nathan was difficult to read, but that wasn’t why she feared his touch. On some basic, primal level her body responded when he reached out to her. And she had no idea what to do about it.

  Nathan still looked at her with concern, and…disbelief? Hugging herself, Emma rubbed her arms and turned away. She really didn’t want to feel like a peculiarity in his eyes. “When I was a child, I would make up stories,” she said, not really lying. “I still do that sometimes.” She lied now.

  “Why don’t you share some.”

  “Maybe sometime I will,” she said over her shoulder and walked away. Sadness overwhelmed her.

  Eventually, she and Nathan would part ways. It was better if he never knew of her unnatural ability to see what others couldn’t; then perhaps he would remember her in a good light.

  Nathan shadowed Emma as she walked along the shoreline. Her behavior concerned him. Maybe she was ill. But how would he know? She didn’t appear sick. And he didn’t know her well enough to recognize normal behavior versus abnormal, illness-induced actions. It was almost as if she hallucinated, and was bound and determined not to share it with him.

  That aggravated him most of all.

  How could he help her if she didn’t let him?

  He didn’t want her sick. He didn’t want her possibly dying on him. He wanted her to talk to him, to share her thoughts, to confide her fears.