Wind Of Change

WIND OF CHANGE Valerie stared into the eyes that constantly amazed her. She’d never known there could be so many different colors of blue in one place. She’d seen them as icy cold as a winter lake or so dark they were almost purple. When he played with Sally Black Cloud, they gleamed with pure joy. Now, they took on the warmth of a summer sky. She felt his warm, tangy breath on her face and knew she should be turning away from something she didn’t understand. Even as she told herself this, something deep inside her cried out to move closer, and her heart pounded just underneath her skin where his fingers lay. Through it all, she heard the whispered plea in his voice. Not knowing what he wanted, just that it was something very powerful, she moved closer to his warmth. When his lips touched hers, she felt a fire that started just where his mouth met hers and then within a heartbeat, it was racing down her neck and through her chest. The fire spread into her arms as if spurred by the wind of a thousand storms and made her hands tingle. Feeling an overpowering urge to get closer to him, Valerie’s arms lifted and wrapped themselves tightly around his neck. Then as if possessed of a spirit of their own, her fingers begn roaming through the short, thick strands of his yellow hair. Hiawatha’s low moan acted like oil on a blazing fire as his tongue flicked across her unbearably hot lips. Suddenly a thought, as if he had spoken, raced through her mind. In response, she parted her lips and immediately his tongue was inside her mouth. What a wondrous feeling. Never had her mouth been a party to such a tender onslaught…

PRAISE FOR WIND OF CHANGE

“…A wonderful trip back into time with likable characters and is rich in history. I highly recommend this time travel romance!” —Carol Durfee, Romance Reviews Today “…A realistic portrait of the masculine and powerful Hiawatha Craft contrasted against the innocence of stubborness of Valerie Redhook…provides a tantalising promise of the emotional and sexually charged conflict that is to come. Enjoy!” —Fiona Hay eBook Reviews Weekly “3 Stars. Traveling ‘The Trail of Tears,’ Hi and Valerie find love and satisfaction by discovering where they belong…The characters…are well drawn and believable. Conflict is strong and the ending is satisfying. Ms. Troxel’s use of today’s cultural references…is just delightful.” —Deborah Ledgerwood Romantic Times “4 1/2 stars…A wonderful time travel romance about a man with no family finding his roots in the past and a woman who helps him come home. Karen Troxel has mixed history and modern day with skill in

this delightful story filled with interesting characters and a strong plot. You’ll find yourself drawn into the lives of Hi and Valerie and wondering if the same force that brought them together will tear them apart. Or just maybe they will find happily-ever-after somewhere in time.” —Audra Silva Scribes World.com “Three Flowers…Provides ‘an informative glimpse into the past of our nation, as well as a story of two people finding their home in one another.’” Julie Shininger Escape to Romance Reviews “…Their journey and hardships are eloquently described, the Indians’ tragic destiny becomes painfully evident, and their fortitude in the face of their misery is amazing. Woven through the story is the blooming love of Valerie Redhook and Hiawatha Craft. Wind Of Change comes recommended.” —Jennifer Macaire Wordweaving.com

ALSO BY KAREN TROXEL Web Story

WIND OF CHANGE BY KAREN TROXEL

AMBER QUILL PRESS, LLC http://www.amberquill.com

WIND OF CHANGE AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2003 by Karen Troxel Borrelli ISBN 1-59279-140-9 Cover Art © 2003 Trace Edward Zaber Rating: PG-13 Layout and Formatting provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

There have been many times in United States history that the men and women enpowered to forge this nation decided to let greed overrule legality. The backdrop for Hi and Valerie’s love story is sadly one of those times. The forced march of the native peoples from the area of the United States now known as the southeastern states was nothing short of barbaric. That these people survived is a testament to their determination and will. I want to thank Bill for hours and hours of research aid on customs and history of all Native Americans. Also, I’d like to thank the staff of the Education Department of the Cherokee National Historical Society in Tahlequah, Oklahoma. If you are interested in learning more about the plight and history of the Cherokee, I strongly suggest reading Trail of Tears by John Ehle. Any mistakes I’ve made or liberties taken are completely my own. I dedicate this book to Mom and Dad, who taught me never to give up and to Tom, who gave me a chance to live a dream. You are the living hero.

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CHAPTER 1

Present Day It wasn’t often a man had to worry about getting scalped by a wooden tomahawk. That was the first thing going through Hiawatha Craft’s mind after the seven-foot tall Indian guarding the door of Joe’s Junk Emporium just missed falling on his head. His second thought was that an already rotten day was getting worse. Hi had wandered over to the small souvenir store that the tacky replica guarded while he was waiting for the mechanic at the garage next door to admit he had no clue why Hi’s 1966 classic Porsche wouldn’t run. Hi squashed his concern. The mechanic looked as if he’d only started shaving yesterday, but he claimed, as he was hooking the Porsche up to an ancient wrecker, to have worked on hundreds of foreign cars. When the boy had seemed stunned as he opened the hood, Hi tried not to listen to the little voice inside his head that was 1

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screaming a warning. Looking for a way to calm his nerves and waste time, Hi had headed for the dim confines of Joe’s Emporium. He had given the Indian standing outside the door a wry glance. He wasn’t incensed at the racism. The way he saw it, people were always looking to make a buck off anything, so why not Native Americans? It was all just part of a game Hi had learned to play very well in his thirty-five years. Time in the regular army, followed by a few more years spent doing jobs in places no one knew about and fewer cared about, had given him a well-warped view of how the world operated. Now, Hi lived his life the way he wanted—no strings, no ties, no family. His home, a five hundred acre stretch of mountain accessible in the depths of winter only by four-wheel drive, was his reward and protection. He only left it on his terms. Or when an obligation gave him no other honorable choice. He had just crossed the threshold into the store when the statue had swayed and fallen as if propelled by gale force winds. “Oh, lordy, mister, are you okay?” asked a man who was either the owner of the store or the oldest living salesclerk in the world. Together the two men worked, trying to right the heavy effigy as the clerk continued to ramble. “I don’t know how this thing fell. Why, we’ve had massive storms pass through here and he’s stood straight as an arrow.” The man wiped his hands on a faded beige rag sticking from the pocket of his washed-out, too-tight jeans and stuck out his hand. “I’m Earl, owner and sole employee of Joe’s Junk Emporium. You looking for something special? If we don’t got it, you don’t want it.” Earl reminded Hi of an old bloodhound with an iron gray buzz-cut that didn’t attempt to hide waggling rolls of loose skin around his neck. His neck moved as he walked and talked. Hi turned and looked at the counters full of plastic totem poles, rubber drums and tomahawks and even a pint-sized headdress guaranteed to be made from genuine eagle feathers. 2

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“No, just passing time,” he replied, trying hard not to show any interest. The bloodhound resemblance was more than just physical, Hi realized, for Earl seemed to be scenting the air for any whiff of tourist dollars. Maybe he should check his messages. He pulled out his cell phone and after a strange hiccup, finally got a dial tone. “Okay,” Earl replied, happily going back to the magazine he had stashed by an ancient cash register. Hi waited for the connection to go through, heard the annoying hiss that said the satellite wasn’t in exactly the right position, then heard the mechanized voice requesting his code. When the beep sounded, he touched a few more numbers and the computer played back his messages. He frowned when he heard an automated telemarketer trying to sell him floor wax. He thought he’d gotten off those damn lists months ago. The next message, though, had him smiling. “Hi, this is Allison. Please give me a call as soon as you get this message. I just had the strangest dream.” He broke the connection without listening to any more messages. Allison Calhoun, one of his best friends, had been going through a rough time lately. Her mother had been killed by a drunk driver, and then less than two months later, her oldest friend had been murdered in urban street violence. She had just moved to Tennessee where she’d inherited a run-down farm and was trying to get her life back together. She was the only person he cared enough for to leave his mountain. So when she’d called asking for moving help, he hadn’t hesitated. They’d had quite a wild time trying to solve a case of murder and mayhem in the sleepy little town she lived in. But things had worked out all right for Allison and the newspaper man she had come to love. Allison must be having separation anxiety, he thought, grinning. He had figured she’d be too focused on her new life to worry about him— at least for a little while. Guess he figured wrong. He dialed Allison’s number and after a few long seconds heard her 3

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pick up midway through the second ring. “Hi? Is that you?” “Boy, kid, I don’t know why you even bother with phones. You’ve got radar that beats the best stuff the Navy ever had,” he joked. He could hear the worry in her voice and wished he had the right words to reassure her. “Oh, hi, I’m so glad everything is okay. You wouldn’t believe the dream I had.” Allison’s speech pattern was somewhere between a hardcore Boston cabby and southern belle. Even though she’d only lived in Tennessee for a short time, she’d already started to pick up the drawl. “Are you home?” “Nah, the Porsche broke down. I’m in some little place right on the Arkansas-Oklahoma border.” He fumbled through his papers and still couldn’t find the name of the town. “Hold on a minute.” Lowering the phone, he looked at the proprietor of the shop. What was his name? “Hey, buddy?” he asked, speaking a little louder than normal. Earl, yeah, that was his name. “Hey, Earl, where the hell am I?” Earl looked up from his magazine and replied, “You’re in Dora, Arkansas, just a ways off Interstate 40, a touch northwest of Fort Smith.” “Could you hear that, Ally? Well, anyway, hopefully I won’t be stuck here too long. If nothing else, maybe I can get the Porsche towed to Fort Smith. There ought to be somebody there who can get me back on the road again.” Hi could almost see Allison gnawing on her bottom lip through the silence that followed. “Now, what’s this about a dream?” he asked. “I don’t know. I just had this dream that you were in a terrible accident. I don’t know what kind of accident, but I dreamed you didn’t make it.” He could hear her battling the tears. Allison was a beautiful woman and the closest thing to family he’d ever had. Indeed, she was a sister to 4

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him in every way but blood. Unfortunately, lately, Allison had become a bit of a worrywart. And his patience with her was starting to run out. “Hey, kid, you know I’m too ornery to let something little like an accident do me in,” he joked, trying to reassure her. “If I made it through the army and then all those hare-brained schemes you came up with, I’ll live forever.” Allison’s next words told him his reassurances were falling on deaf ears. “I know you think I’m paranoid. C.J. does too. You both think my dreams are crazy. I just want you to promise me that you’ll be certain the car is really fixed before you start off again.” That’s all he heard as the phone suddenly went dead. Hi tapped the talk button, but all he got was silence. Damn satellite. Modern technology, he had long ago decided, was just another name for “doesn’t work most of the time.” “If the satellite isn’t out of position, then it’s sunspots or asteroid showers,” he murmured. “Or the damn battery has shorted out. I’m going to call this company and ream them out as soon as I get home.” Seeing a pay phone on the wall, Hi decided to do things the old fashioned way. But when he picked up the receiver, there was no dial tone there either. “Something’s wrong with your phone over here, Earl,” he said, when several more attempts drew nothing. Earl looked up from his reading and shook his head. “I don’t know what’s going on around here. The phone company promised me there were no more problems in this line. It’s been better than a month since we had any problems and now it’s back.” Hi shrugged away Earl’s continued mumbling and glanced at his watch. The kid at the garage would probably take another fifteen to twenty minutes going over his car. He wandered through the odd collection of junk and some authentic-looking memorabilia that filled the small store to the brim. When the station playing on a small radio on the front counter 5

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interrupted its mix of modern country with a tornado warning and mentioned some twisters had been spotted in the area, he listened attentively. “Is that near here?” he asked Earl, catching him in the middle of spitting a mouthful of tobacco juice into an old, battered coffee can. Earl quickly wiped some leftover spittle away with his hand before answering. “Nah, it’s close to fifty miles away. Nothing to worry about.” Hi nodded as he cut his way through rows of junk. His gaze landed and stayed on the last counter, almost obscured behind a stack of genuine Indian baskets imported from Taiwan, and he felt himself being tugged toward that last counter. The small hand-lettered sign informed him the contents of this case were not for sale. There was war memorabilia here. He recognized a purple heart from World War II along with several newspaper articles describing the homecoming for some local boys. There were a few guns and knives in the case as well. Hi’s trained eye cataloged them from the 1940’s before going on to appraise some things that looked much older. He leaned lightly against the counter and read the typewritten card under the artifacts. Donated by the Redhook family, circa 1840-1860. “Interesting stuff, ain’t it?” Earl had crept up behind Hi, whose gaze was captured by a tiny, out-of-focus picture mixed in with the knives, arrowheads and even an antique pistol. “That’s one of the big Cherokee families from over Tahlequah, Oklahoma way,” the man said. “If you’re interested in Native American history and you’re heading that way, you might want to stop in at the Cherokee National Historical Society. They’ve got a lot of good stuff over there.” Hi continued to stare at the picture. It looked strangely familiar to him. Before he could stop to think about his actions, he was asking for a closer look. 6

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“Sure thing,” Earl replied, slipping behind the counter while reaching to unclip the key ring from his belt. Within a few moments, the plastic-encased picture rested gingerly on the counter in front of Hi. “You have some Cherokee in you, son?” Hi nodded. “Yes, I think one of my parents may have been of Cherokee descent. They died shortly after my birth, but that’s what the priest at the orphanage told me.” “Well, then, you definitely want to stop by the Historical Society in Tahlequah. They might be able to trace your family all the way back to this period.” Hi felt an immediate connection when he touched the picture of a woman and small child. Maybe they are my ancestors. “How far is Tahlequah from here?” he asked. Before Earl could answer, a gust of wind roared around the tiny shack rattling the windowpanes. * * * As Hi trudged along the empty stretch of highway, he wondered if this wasn’t an omen telling him he shouldn’t be asking questions he wasn’t sure he wanted the answers to. He’d always just thought of himself as an American. Not “native” anything. Oh sure, there were a couple of times overseas when the other guys had teased him about being “Injun,” but that was just because of his extraordinary adaptability to jungle warfare. Then, too, there were a couple of times when being part Indian had helped him get laid when he was young and hot-blooded. But that was the extent of Hi’s cultural pride. Hell, he honestly didn’t know how the Cherokees differed from any other tribe. Hi felt a bead of sweat trickle slowly down the back of his neck and wondered how the afternoon had turned from chilly to stifling. Deciding to sweat it out rather than carry his leather bomber jacket, he turned back to look at the cause of his current problems. The vintage black Porsche sat forlornly at the graveled edge of the 7

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blacktopped county highway—stalled again. He should have known it was too good to be true when the mechanic had promised it was in mint running condition. He’d had it to some of the best garages in the nation and still it couldn’t get him from his home in Montana to Tennessee and back. But seeing its gleaming black paint job only made him smile. No matter that it was as fickle as a teenage girl, there was something about the way its gears worked effortlessly as the engine went through its paces. That and the whine of the tires on asphalt gave him the kind of thrill he’d never known before in his life. When the damn thing ran at all, that is. If he’d never veered off the interstate for Tahlequah and a hairbrained quest, he might still be humming down the highway on his way home. He should walk back to that pitiful excuse for a town, get his car towed to the next big city on the map and forget all about this history stuff. He gazed around at the small rolling hills that surrounded him, wondering how far out of town he’d gotten. What he saw caused a slow, steady stream of curses to erupt while his heart began to hammer. A funnel cloud had formed from the black wall of clouds to the west and was heading in his direction. Could it be the same tornado he’d heard about on the radio? Or could this be a different one? Years of survival training kicked in as he realized he didn’t care which tornado it was. He had to find shelter. Driving back to the nearest town certainly was out of the question, thanks to his useless Porsche. Although the terrain hindered his view of all the landscape, he knew from memory that it was more than five miles since he’d passed a solid structure, such as a highway overpass, that might provide protection. Since he’d heard stories of how a tornado could pick up a car as if it were a feather and crush it before dropping it miles later, he knew 8

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returning to the Porsche was not a favorable alternative. Feeling a rush of fear, he began running. The wind started to gust around him as pea-sized hail pelted his uncovered head. Logically, he knew the chances of out-running a tornado were slim, but he couldn’t just stand and wait for it. He was starting to really panic when he noticed a deep irrigation ditch about a hundred yards off the asphalt to his left. Knowing it wasn’t much of an option, but the only one left, he started to run like hell. As he slid down the crumbling bank of the ditch, he heard what sounded like the roar of a thousand trains bearing down on him. He closed his eyes and felt himself slip down the final drop before hugging a large boulder as closely as he could. Burying his face into the rock, he tried to use his jacket and tee shirt as filters for the suddenly cluttered air. He felt pieces of debris pricking his skin along with hailstones that felt the size of Ping-Pong balls. Resisting the urge to raise his head and look his killer in the eye, Hi tried to remember all the things he’d heard about the force of tornadic winds. The pressure built and he felt his eardrums popping like he was coming up too fast from the ocean depths. He vaguely wondered if a person could die from ruptured eardrums, then told himself to quit being silly. Lots of guys had lost their hearing and had lived to tell about it. He felt something substantial hit his back and realized that loss of hearing wasn’t what could kill him. Wouldn’t that be a kick, he thought ridiculously. My obituary will read, killed by a hunk of sheet metal from a Porsche. I always knew that thing was going to be the death of me. The train sounded as if it had passed him and Hi realized the silence was deafening. Not sure if the tornado was gone or if it was turning around to come back like he’d heard the storms could do, Hi decided to wait a few more minutes before making his first move. He thought he 9

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had some time. Of course, if he was already dead, he had lots of time. Hi raised his head slowly. Although his nerves were screaming that it had been hours, he knew it had only been minutes. He unwrapped his arms from around the rock, grimacing slightly at the pain from the scratches and cuts on his palms from gripping so tightly. There were small indentations on the backs of his hands where debris had hit him like shrapnel. He saw a two-inch sliver of wood sticking out of his hand and tugged quickly, knowing the pain could be controlled as long as the object was out of his skin. He considered tearing a piece of his shirt off for a bandage, but since the blood had slowed, decided it would be fine as it was. Hi began to take a slow inventory of the rest of his body. Other than a few bruises and a slight swelling on his knee and ankle where something must have hit them, he was in good shape. Hi thanked God for watching out for fools as he began the slow climb out of the ditch. Funny, it didn’t seem as deep as it had when he ran into it, he thought as he quickly reached the top. He looked down the dirt-covered road to the west where his car had been, not really expecting to see it. His expectation wasn’t wrong. Dirt road? What happened to the blacktop? Thinking the asphalt was merely covered, Hi scrapped the toe of his battered Nike across the top. Just dirt. He looked around the area again. Something wasn’t right here. Did a tornado have enough strength to rip up an entire roadbed? Hi told himself not to panic. Maybe it wasn’t the same road. Maybe the tornado had picked up him and the boulder he was clutching and moved them. Or maybe, he thought, I’m just dead. Then Hi looked down and saw the blood still welling on his hand. “I can’t be dead,” he muttered to himself. “I must just be dreaming. That’s it; it’s all a nightmare. I’ll wake up and everything will be back to normal.” His spoken-aloud words made puffs of white in the air as 10

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Hi realized it had turned much colder. He looked around again. “Well, Einstein, if this is a dream, what now? Just sit here and let the fantasy flow?” As if in answer to his questions, the wind picked up again, bringing with it a frigid blast from the north. He reached in his pocket for his cell phone, which, although cracked, seemed to be still in one piece. He pushed the button to activate it and once again got dead air. Damn battery. What now? His feet started moving to the west as if powered by a will of their own. “Guess it’s time for walking,” he said, answering his own question. He pulled his jacket collar tighter around him. “That’s it, go west young man. That’s the ticket. At least back east, there was a town. But maybe I can find my Porsche this way.” After only a short time, Hi became aware of some strange sounds ahead of him. He stopped, cocking his head. The whinny finally tipped him off. Horses. Help. He started jogging lightly, trying desperately to catch up with what sounded like a large number of horses trotting away from him. He ignored the pain shooting through the muscles of his leg as his knee and ankle joints protested the stress. “Hey,” he yelled when he finally spotted a man on horseback about three hundred yards in front of him. “Wait up. Yo, I need help!” The man wheeled his horse around and squinted at Hi. Then he urged the animal into a gallop and raced back to him. Hi only had a moment to notice his strange looking uniform before the business end of an antique flintlock pistol was thrust in his face. Hi started to laugh as several other men rode up. “What’s so funny, savage?” one of the newcomers snarled. “Get back with the rest of them or you’ll pay.” The menace from the speaker was palatable, so Hi focused his attention on him. He couldn’t understand the sudden wave of hatred that rolled over him, but if the guy wanted to fight, so be it. Don’t forget the guy behind you, Hi warned himself. He whirled but 11

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wasn’t quite quick enough. He saw the butt end of the weapon just as it moved quickly down against his forehead. As he blacked out, Hi had one last conscious thought. I must be in an episode of The Twilight Zone.

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CHAPTER 2

Valerie Redhook stopped her family’s wagon as the soldier rode up with an unconscious man sprawled across the front of his horse. She frowned. Someone else must have gotten drunk on the whiskey sold illegally to the members of their group at the last ferry crossing. Feeling her temper flare, she took a moment before speaking to the soldier. “Who is this man?” Corporal Dawsey tipped his hat before he spoke. “Ma’am, I found this buck straggling back a ways from the group. Since yours is the last wagon, I figured he must be part of your clan.” Valerie frowned as she quickly viewed the man Dawsey held captive. He was dressed strangely, even for a member of another clan. He wore dark-colored pants that seemed to have no lacings or buttons. His upper body was covered by a jacket made of a shiny brown material but with no fur around the collar. The jacket was open, revealing an undergarment of thin bright cloth with letters that spelled 13

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no words and a painted white drawing on the front. He had the look of a brave except that his yellow hair was shorn so short he appeared bald. Valerie hadn’t even seen such a style on the great Chief John Ross, who had studied white ways and had taught them to the People. But it was more than just his looks that made him different. Even unconscious, this man exuded a powerful presence. She shook her head at the soldier’s words. “He is not one of us,” she said. There was only one man in their clan with hair even close to that color and she knew this man wasn’t him. “Please take him to the next group.” “Look, ma’am, I don’t mean no disrespect, but you’ve got to take him. My orders are that I not leave my post at the rear of the group, not for no reason. You either take him in your wagon, or I leave him in the field over there.” Valerie, who had passed her twentieth fall on this road to the west, looked the soldier in the face. He kept his eyes on the ground, as was the custom of her people, showing his respect for their ways, but she knew he was speaking the truth. It truly didn’t matter to him whether this man lived or died. “Why is he unconscious?” she asked. She knew that even though her wagon was already crowded, she was going to take in the stranger. “He got a little mouthy when we caught up to him. It was easier to conk his head than to fight him.” Dawsey gave a sideways glance to one of the silent soldiers riding beside him. “You know how it is with these bucks when they get liquored up.” Corporal Dawsey didn’t wait for any further response from Valerie. He just rode around and heaved the man into the back of the already crowded wagon. As she watched Dawsey ride away, Valerie tried not to sigh. She was the eldest daughter of Joseph Redhook. It was left to Valerie to care for the eighteen people on this despised journey away from their rightful homes. Four of those eighteen were resting in the wagon since 14

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being struck ill on their journey forced upon them by the white men’s greedy government. She tried not to think about how her people had been wronged. Her anger, though righteous, wouldn’t help now. Her father was riding in his rightful place at the head of their group, as were her three uncles. The four men intended to lead the way safely through the foreign, unknown country and provide food for what was left of the nearly eight hundred people who had left Ross’ Landing on the first day of September. It was a frustrating and often futile job. Even though their group had splintered a few days ago in an attempt to separate some of the sicker ones from the healthy, it was getting harder and harder to find food in this harsh, frozen land. Valerie’s job was caring for all the Ani’-Yun’ wiya’, the ancient word for the Cherokee people, their families and slaves and her own mother who had fallen ill with the coughing sickness earlier in the day. This was just another problem she didn’t need. Her thoughts darkened at her latest obligation. Would the suffering never end? * * * Hi wasn’t sure if it was the pounding headache or the feeling of being stuck between a rock and a hard place that first woke him. A blinding light flashed behind his eyes as he slowly tried to move his head and he decided the headache won. “Boy, that was some kind of ride, but now it’s time to get off,” he murmured, willing the pain to recede just enough so he could take stock of his surroundings. His memory slowly returned, as did flashes of the last things he remembered. There had been the tornado and then the memory of opening his eyes to find a whole different world than what he had expected. It was all starting to come back to him now. There was the dirt road and the sound of horses and wagons. There were the ridiculous-looking soldiers and the equally stupid antique weapons pointed in his face and then, he remembered the slur. Savage. 15

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“This ranks right up there with that time in Bangkok when I dreamed I was getting laid in the middle of a room filled with Big Macs.” A soft question drew his eyes. “What is this ‘Bangkok’ and ‘Big Macs’ you speak of?” She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but somehow he couldn’t remember who had been prettier. Sitting beside him on the planks of a crude wagon was a woman who looked like a model out of a magazine advertisement for the quintessential natural woman. Her flawless, golden skin stretched over high cheekbones and formed a perfect setting for her dark eyes. But it was her hair that drew Hi’s riveting gaze. He’d only seen such a perfect shade of black one other time in his life and that was on his Porsche. He stopped his hand before it could touch the silky-looking strands. She reminded him of someone. He just couldn’t remember who or where he’d seen her. He could tell his voice sounded gravelly when he tried to speak. After clearing his throat once, he tried again. “Who are you?” “I am Valerie Redhook, eldest daughter of Joseph, first chief of the Deer Clan. You were brought to our wagon by the soldier when you took ill.” Hi tried not to stare, but still caught himself watching her lips for movement a few seconds after she’d stopped speaking. He knew she was speaking English, but the lilting sounds she made seemed to be taking a circuitous route to his brain. He realized she was still waiting for an answer to her earlier question. He couldn’t tell her age from her complexion, but he found it hard to believe any American wouldn’t know the second reference if not the first. Something about her eyes compelled him to answer, though. “You know, Big Macs. ‘Two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun.’” He tried humming the fast food theme song to make it more recognizable. 16

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The woman, who’d called herself Valerie, looked solemnly at him for another moment. “Please, allow me to see to your wounds.” As she touched the tender scalp at the base of his neck, he felt first an incredible heat, then an amazing sense of warmth and well-being. What started out as a faint feeling grew, so that by the time her hands left him, he found himself wishing they would stay there longer. He wondered what would happen if he said so to her. “There is a lump on your head. Did the soldier hit you hard when you disobeyed him?” Valerie asked as she moved, drawing his gaze to his surroundings. From the dingy canvas stretched over wooden hoops and the hard planks beneath him, Hi guessed they were in some kind of wagon. She told you that, stupid. Remember? This dream was getting very specific. He hadn’t realized so much of high school history had remained in his brain, but unless he was crazy, he was dreaming he was in a perfect replica of a Conestoga wagon used by settlers to cross the country. To top it off, he was in said wagon with a beautiful woman of Native American descent. Before he could consider all the implications of that thought, his body made its needs known forcefully. Although the woman had her back turned to him, she spoke as if reading his mind. “If you will move carefully, you may step outside the wagon. I believe your wounds don’t require any more attention for now. Please see me before you sleep so I may put a poultice on your cuts.” Hi looked down and saw his hand was now bound tightly with a clean strip of cloth. The cloth had a heavy feel to it but was surprisingly soft. He moved to step down from the high wagon. A quick glance told him there was no indoor plumbing, so he limped his way to a stand of bushes nearby. A few moments later, feeling measurably better, he headed back to the makeshift campsite. Time for a little 17

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reconnaissance. As he walked slowly past wagon after wagon, he realized his injured ankle was holding his weight. He pulled up the leg of his jeans and saw a mate for the wrapping on his hand wound around his ankle. He knew he was a long way from being ready to run a marathon, but all in all, he was in pretty good shape for having survived a massive tornado and this strange dream. He’d have to remember to thank the woman, Valerie, for her expert first-aid. It had to be tough to come up with supplies in a situation like this, he thought as he looked around the large clearing. There were a number of wagons, all with small fires burning in front of them. There were also many blankets spread around on the ground. He passed several people, some of whom looked him in the eye and nodded before lowering their heads and hurrying on to do whatever chores awaited them. Some looked at him with the blank stare he had seen too many times in battle. He wondered if these people were shell-shocked or just drunk. Now I get it, he thought as the memory fell into place. He remembered reading about something like this in a National Geographic a few years ago. Several Native American tribes had gotten together and held their annual feasts as a celebration of their history. That’s it. I’ve stumbled onto a tribal re-enactment of some historic time. Having reached a slight rise, where he could turn and look back down on the settlement that lay behind him, he shook his head slightly. Strange, the pictures in the magazine didn’t look like this. Where were all the campers and recreational vehicles? Maybe this was a low-rent version. “You, there. I thought I told you to stay with the group.” A man dressed in a coarse, woolen uniform came striding up to Hi. After a few moments, Hi realized this was the man who had greeted him so callously before. “I know this ain’t pleasant for you young bucks, 18

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having to leave your home like this. Don’t do you no good to get all liquored up and then get in trouble. Just get back down there where you belong.” This was getting out of hand. “Look, don’t you guys think you’re taking this stuff just a little too far?” Hi asked. “I get it. You’re trying to re-enact some historic event, but enough already. I need some help. I need to get in touch with the authorities. Even though the little nurse down there did a nice job patching me up, I’d really like to get back to civilization and contact my insurance company. Then, I just want to go home.” The soldier looked around quickly as if afraid someone were listening. He stepped closer to Hi and stared him in the eye, his face inches away. Although the man’s breath wasn’t repugnant, the stain of chewing tobacco and rotting teeth were enough to cause Hi’s empty stomach to roll. “Look, I don’t know if you got a hold of some bad whiskey or what, but acting crazy won’t help nothin’.” Although the man’s tone was now reasonable, something about it struck Hi as condescending. “We’re not far away from Indian Territory. I know things are tough, but I’d hate for anyone to have to die needlessly so close to your new home.” Hi looked closely at the speaker. It was obvious the young man was either the greatest actor he’d ever seen, or he truly believed everything he was saying. Could it be possible? Even in a dream? He heard himself ask the question. “Where are we?” “I just told you, boy. We’re almost to Indian Territory. Another week or so at most.” Hi shook his head, feeling the pounding inside start to increase with the rising wave of irrational panic. “No. No, I mean what year is this?” “Son, stay away from that fire water. It’s done wiped your memory clean.” The soldier laughed, as if finally relaxing. “This is the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and thirty-eight. And I can’t be sure, since 19

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we’ve been on this damn trail for so long, but my guess would be that it’s late February or early March.” Hi started to laugh at the outrageous statement. Something, though, in the man’s face stopped him. “It can’t be. I think maybe you’re the one who has been imbibing a little too much, my friend.” Hi made a motion of tilting a bottle and guzzling with his hand. “It’s October, two thousand.” The man laughed again. “I don’t know what the hell imbibing means, but I haven’t had a good drink in months. But I do know that if you think this is October of two thousand, I want some of the stuff you’ve had.” With another laugh, the man started to walk away. Well, that does it. Somebody’s drunk or crazy, Hi thought. He knew he wasn’t drunk, so that only left one option. Hi felt his legs go rubbery and managed to slide down to the ground as his knee and ankle protested.

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CHAPTER 3

Hi sat on the ground by a fire in front of the Redhook woman’s wagon, where Corporal Dawsey had led him a few moments ago. He noticed there were five or six strangely silent children in their group, along with about six adults, if you counted the people already wrapped in blankets close to the wagon. There were also a dozen blacks grouped together in their own little camp. Valerie Redhook seemed to be the youngest woman around and there was no questioning her authority. The children jumped to carry out her orders as did the sallow-looking female, who had handed him the plate of mush he was now holding. “Eat,” Valerie commanded, having moved silently to his side. “It will help your head pain and the rolling in your belly.” He nodded, knowing she was right, but not relishing what was about to come. He’d eaten enough field rations in his time to know what to expect. If the look of this was anything to go by, he’d gladly take one of those inelegant freeze-dried delicacies right about now. 21

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This looked like something that was meant to come back up, not stay down. He stared at the concoction a moment before a soft giggle caught his attention. A beautiful little girl, sitting across from him, was staring at him. She picked up the biscuit on the edge of her plate, tore off a piece, dipped it into the white mush and popped it into her mouth. Sensing she expected him to follow her actions, he did, surprised by the taste of the meal. The mush was simply a watery corn soup and the biscuit, although cold, was flaky and tasty. Certainly not cordon bleu fare, but edible. His stomach reacted strongly to the introduction of fuel and growled for more as he picked up the bread. The sound of his stomach must have been louder than he thought for he heard another giggle. This time the gamin-faced little girl gave him a gap-toothed smile that totally enchanted him. “Eat. Today, we have plenty,” Valerie told him before she went to see to one of the men lying silently on a blanket. Hi knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help watching her walk away from him. She was dressed in clothes that would have seemed appropriate for a homeless bag lady. Strangely, she didn’t look like he’d always pictured an Indian woman would. She was wearing a long heavy skirt with a multi-colored long-sleeved blouse. The blouse was complete with a collar that covered every inch of her neck. Draped around her shoulders was a beautifully worked woolen cape. When she walked, however, he could see she wore what appeared to be deerskin pants covering her legs underneath the skirt. On amazingly tiny feet, she wore threadbare moccasins. At least that fit. As he ate, he wondered about the things Corporal Dawsey had told him. Could this really be eighteen thirty-eight? His mind refused to accept the absurdity of that concept. Probably the man was so caught up in the playacting he had begun to believe it himself. The wind picked up slightly and caused goose bumps to prickle the 22

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back of his hands. His leather bomber jacket certainly wasn’t doing a good job of keeping him warm. He knew that a tornado was spawned by the convergence of hot and cold fronts, but he hadn’t expected the temperature change to be this great. He started to follow Valerie and ask her how they’d weathered the storm, when a muffled sound stopped him. The little waif who’d teased him about dinner was crying as she rubbed bare arms. That was the first time he noticed how poorly dressed everyone was. The little girl’s shoes were so old they couldn’t possibly be keeping her warm. He tamped down his anger, knowing his first concern now was to keep small feet and arms warm. Then would come the time for questions and answers. He’d do what was necessary to get them from little Miss Organizer over there. As he walked over to where the little girl sat, he decided his jacket would be the most help. It was big enough that it would work as a blanket for her. He took it, off wincing as the cold air hit his bare arms. “Here you go, darlin’” he said, offering the wide-eyed child his jacket. She merely looked at the faded emblem on his tee shirt as he gently folded the jacket around her. She stared from jacket to the emblem on his shirt then back. Suddenly she smiled and placed a finger on the tattoo of the U.S. Marine Corps insignia on his forearm and said, “Pretty. Real pretty.” Hi was first embarrassed, then amused. His laughter, sounding rusty to him, barked across the nearly silent campsite. It was the laughter that drew Valerie’s attention. She didn’t know who this man was but there was definitely something different about him. He had the eyes and face of the Cherokee but the startling yellow hair on his head was something she’d only seen once before in her life, when her father had sent her to the white man’s missionary school. Her people’s blood had been intermixed with the whites for many seasons now, but never before had they produced such a man. 23

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Yet it was more than just his hair that disturbed Valerie. He had the lean, powerful build and movements of a warrior. That alone wasn’t unusual. There were still some warriors left in their group and even Black Cloud, now sick with the latest curse to befall them on the trail west, had had the same quality in his prime. Now, though, all their men were either beaten from the frustration of their removal from their rightful homeland or drunk from the white man’s whiskey. Not this man. Even when he had been unconscious, he’d radiated a power that was almost overwhelming. It was true that when he first awoke, the words he spoke had no meaning to Valerie. She had never heard of such words. Maybe they were friends of his. Or he could wish to be called Big Mac. Then she’d laid her hands upon his bruised skin and had a vision that was so frightening, she’d immediately pulled away. Visions didn’t usually scare her. She’d been having them since she was just a small girl and sometimes they’d helped her father and their leaders avert disaster for the people. She, like her twin sister, had been taught that visions were a vital part of a Medicine Woman’s craft. She’d used many visions and chants to try and stem the suffering her people had survived on this trek. First, the strange coughing sickness had attacked their people and now there was the new fever. But the vision she’d had when she laid her hands on this man was unlike any she’d ever had before. She’d seen a force that was so powerful it made the earth tremble with the rage of ten thousand river rapids. There was also a fury within it that had rolled over her in wave after wave. When the blackness of death had lurked on the edge of the vision, Valerie had pulled away, unable to understand or withstand any more. Yet, as she watched him come slowly awake, he had seemed none of that. A little confused perhaps, but certainly not the confusion caused by fever or drink. 24

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And now as she watched him offer Sally Black Cloud his strangelooking overcoat, she saw compassion. It was a strange puzzle, one Valerie didn’t need now. She turned her attention back to Black Cloud, whose breathing had become labored, and knew she was about to lose another battle. No, she didn’t need any riddles now. She needed help. Hi strode quickly across the packed dirt from where the little girl had lain down under a thin blanket and his jacket to where Miss Valerie was sitting cross-legged beside a man. It was past time for answers. He stood beside her for a few seconds awaiting reaction to his presence. Her low chants finally filtered through his righteous rage. Then he noticed the man’s labored breathing and ashen skin. “He’s dying,” Hi said, lowering to his knees. He nudged Valerie aside and put his ear to the man’s heart and felt for a pulse in his neck. It stopped and Hi knew time was of the essence. Using the CPR he’d learned in basic training, he went to work. “Don’t just sit there chanting,” he ordered. “Help me.” He didn’t wait for her response, but pulled the man away from the wagon he was lying under and straddled his waist. Using his fist, Hi punched hard on the man’s sternum and then began a rhythmic movement to stimulate the man’s heart. After a moment of silence, he barked another order at Valerie. “Count, dammit. Give me a little help here.” Unsure of what he meant, Valerie gaped for only a second before trying to match her chants to the beat of his movements. Surprisingly the chants did begin to help Hi and although not as effective as a number count, he was able to develop a rhythm. After a few moments, he stopped his hand movement and felt once more for a pulse. It was thready, but there. Hi leaned back off the man and heaved a sigh of relief. “Well, he’s still alive. At least for now. But, you’d best get somebody to help me move him off this cold ground. And if you want him to make it through 25

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the night, call a doctor.” Valerie turned to see that her father, uncle and several other council leaders had arrived during the man’s display. They hurried to move Black Cloud into the wagon. She tried not to feel awed at the man’s magic and told herself that what she did feel wasn’t envy. “Well, if you won’t go get a doctor, I will. Where can I find him?” Hi stood with his legs slightly apart and his fists at his hips. The sweat of his exertions gleamed brightly in the moonlight on his bare arms. “There is no white man’s doctor here,” Valerie said. “Our group only had one doctor assigned to us and he fell sick with the coughing disease two days ago. And our Medicine Man went with the other group at the big river.” “Look, I am tired of everyone play-acting like this is the eighteen hundreds. I don’t know what you people are doing. I don’t know who you are. To be honest, I don’t care. I just want to get back to town and try to get some help for this man. If you folks want to go native, that’s fine, although you should get with central Casting for better costumes. No self-respecting Hollywood Indian would look like you. I would think you’d want to get some help for one of your own. But, in the final analysis, it doesn’t matter to me. I just want to leave.” Valerie’s temper boiled in a very unladylike manner. This man’s tone was the final straw. “Go. Go then, back to wherever you come from,” she spat. “We do not need your medicine and evil tongue. We will be fine on our own.” She stopped to catch her breath and felt the waves of disapproval flowing over her from behind. She turned to face her father, lowering her eyes in a sign of respect, hoping he wouldn’t notice fire burning in them. “Daughter, what is all the yelling about? And who is this young brave?” Joseph Redhook asked sternly, trying to hide his pleasure at seeing some spark of emotion from Valerie. It was good to see that some things hadn’t changed despite the awful suffering this journey 26

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had caused. Valerie nodded once and began a rapid explanation. At her father’s look, she slowed down. “Black Cloud was getting weaker and weaker all day. I felt his spirit leave his body and began the death chant as I was taught. Then this man, Big Mac, who was brought unconscious to our wagon early today, rushed over and beat on his chest. Now Black Cloud has returned to us.” Joseph’s eyes narrowed. Valerie had recounted exactly what he had seen when he arrived with his brothers back in camp. The words did not make the events any less spectacular. Who was this strange manner of man who brought the dead back to life? Hi listened to Valerie’s words while he took stock of the newcomer. Though there were lines of strain and worry in his face and eyes, this was obviously a man used to being in control. Strength and intelligence emanated from him. Finally, he’d met a leader. Now, maybe he could find out what exactly was going on. But why did Miss Valerie think his name was Big Mac? “Hello, sir, my name is Hiawatha Craft,” he began, reaching out a hand in greeting. “I got caught up in a tornado a few miles east of here and lost my car. Then after the tornado passed, I seemed to be on a different road and ran into your group. A man knocked me out and brought me to Ms. Redhook, who treated and fed me. For that, I am grateful. However, it is vitally important that you get your friend over there to a hospital and I need to get back to town to call my insurance company.” Joseph had reached to grasp Hi’s hand when it was first offered. As the explanation continued, he felt a trepidation go through him. A slight movement of his free hand brought the men closer to form a protective circle around them. Looking into Craft’s eyes, Joseph did not see any glint of the devil insanity, but he did not want to take any chances. He needed to confer with the elders and maybe call a council meeting to decide what to do. 27

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Obviously, this man had strong medicine, but Joseph could understand little of his speech. Weighing his words carefully, he spoke. “Thank you for your aid to Black Cloud. It is late now and quite impossible to get him to this hospital you speak of. We welcome you into our clan and offer you our hospitality for this night.” Touching his youngest brother, Charles, on the shoulder, he continued, “If you will please follow my brother, he will show you a safe place to spend the night.” In Cherokee, he told Charles to give his blanket to the man to sleep on and guard him all night. When Charles led the stranger away, Joseph motioned for the elders, who’d begun speaking rapidly, to be quiet. He looked at his daughter and spoke. “You have done well this day, daughter. Any more deaths?” Valerie knew her father carried the weight of all their people on his shoulders and she could see the new lines etched on his face every day. Sometimes, it still shocked her how much he had aged since their journey had begun. She hated to have to add to the strain with her latest news, but there was no recourse. “No, Father, but I regret to tell you e tsi, mother, fell ill this morning. I am very afraid.” Joseph’s face grew even more ashen. “Is it the coughing sickness?” he asked, bracing himself for Valerie’s answer. “Yes.” Valerie’s sad, one word answer squeezed Joseph’s heart even more fully. Without looking at the elders, he turned for the wagon that had once carried all his wife’s fine furniture and had now been turned into a moving sick lodge for his people. “Eat, we will discuss this later,” he commanded the elders, who started to cluster around him. Joseph climbed into the wagon, which now held only blankets forming bedding on its rough planks. Not for the first time, he cursed 28

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the winds of fate that caused his people to be caught on this harsh, unending trail. He wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to pack his family up and head deep into the mountains to fight the white law that had forced them from their homeland, like some of his brothers had done. It seemed as if even the most basic of rights, privacy, was to be denied them on this trek. He squeezed between the blankets that held children, his wife, and Black Cloud and tried not to think how different things would have been if they had remained home. The sight of his wife, so beautiful only that morning, turned his curses to fear. The colorless face drawn with pain squeezed his heart so much he had to fight to catch his breath. Although he didn’t think he had made enough noise to wake her, her eyes opened slowly as if she sensed his presence. He clasped her cold hand in his own and then raised it gently to his lips. “My tsu nadada tlu gi,” he murmured the Cherokee words for sweetheart. He tried to speak English as often as possible, and his wife and both his daughters had been instructed to do so as well. They had been speaking the white man’s tongue in their household for many years because of a prophetic dream Valerie had had early in her training. Joseph had hoped that by learning the white man’s language and practicing their customs, things would be easier for them when this time came. It was a philosophy even the great Chief John Ross agreed with. But in these private moments between husband and wife, Joseph spoke the language of his heart. So far on this journey his people called The Trail Where We Cried, all their efforts had been in vain. Now, seeing his beloved in pain, he wondered if he and the others who had chosen to honor laws that weren’t honorable had been wrong. Maybe, it would have been better to have stayed in the hills and mountains, hidden until the fight could no longer be denied. His wife smiled drowsily and reached for his face with her other 29

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hand. Its unsteadiness almost caused the tears to fall from his eyes, but he blinked them back and clasped both her cold hands in his warm ones. “I missed you this day, husband.” Charlotte Redhook’s soft southern voice was further hushed by the soreness in her throat. A fullblood Cherokee from the southern portion of the nation, she had willingly moved to the north upon her marriage to Joseph, going against Cherokee custom to remain near her family. “Does the hunt go any better?” He tried to hide the pain of his failure from her still-keen eyes. Now was not the time to worry her with his problems. “Much. We found five deer today. If we use sound judgment, it will be enough to feed everyone for a while.” Charlotte’s smile did not reach her sad eyes. “My tsu nadada tlu gi, you are a poor liar. Do you remember that day so many seasons ago when I first laid eyes on you outside my father’s barn?” Joseph smiled, glad to accept the subject change. If he was lucky, he could keep her mind off the People’s trouble as well as her own until she fell asleep. “Of course I remember. Your father accused me of trying to steal his pig. I was as innocent then as I am now.” Charlotte laughed softly. “No, my dear, you weren’t. Not then, nor now. You were just lucky I took pity on you and begged for my father’s mercy.” Joseph knew his wife spoke the truth. The luckiest day of his life had been when Charlotte’s father had caught him while he was trying to fulfill part of the rights of becoming a brave. That was the day he had first laid eyes on the woman who had made his life complete. He did not want to think what he would do if she did not get well. “Now, my dear, tell me truly how the hunt went today,” Charlotte asked. Knowing he could never lie to her, he quit pretending. “Same as 30

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always. The cold wind has driven all the game away. We didn’t even see any birds in the sky.” Charlotte felt the pain of her husband’s frustration as clearly as if it were her own. Indeed after forty-four years of life together, seeing their beautiful home burned to the ground by the white soldiers and burying their three sons, his pain was hers. She felt some of her strength return. “I must rise and help Valerie prepare the meal tonight. There are ways she does not yet know to stretch the stew. And I can also help nurse the sick.” Joseph’s strong hand on her shoulder pushed her relentlessly but gently back onto the blanket. “No, you must not move. Rest now. Valerie is doing everything that must be done. And I believe the meal is already over. Anyway, something strange happened today that I must tell you about. I would value your counsel on this occurrence.” Joseph told Charlotte all that happened in the last few moments with the arrival of Hiawatha Craft and bringing Black Cloud back from death. He left nothing out of his story. Charlotte had been his silent partner in many of the decisions he had made for the clan over the four decades of their life together. When he finished the story, she was silent for so long he thought she might have fallen asleep. The slow caressing motion of her fingers on his wrist told him otherwise. Finally she spoke. “I believe you were right to have Charles watch him tonight,” Charlotte said. “I remember once, when I was a little girl, hearing an old woman speak of the coming of a savior for the people from the stars and beyond. All the shamans and chiefs of the village said the old woman was crazy, and I thought so too.” She paused a moment in thought. “It is unlikely that this man could be that savior, especially when we are so far away from home. But he may have heard the old stories and may be trying to trick us into believing them.” 31

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Joseph nodded at Charlotte’s wisdom. “You are right. If he has come to help us, we will watch him closely and it will be shown to us. If not, then we will make sure he does not harm the people.” Joseph lowered his head and kissed her fingertips first, then brushed a fleeting caress across her lips. “You have served me well this day, wife,” he said. “Now, sleep. I will make a final check of our campsite and then return shortly to your side.” “But Joseph,” Charlotte began, “what if you take what ails me now?” “Why then, I’ll consider myself a lucky man able to lie abed with you all day tomorrow and mayhap the day after. It will be just like the first days after our marriage, eh?” Charlotte smiled weakly. He kissed his wife’s forehead and exited the wagon quickly. There was still work to be done this night. * * * Valerie sat in the darkness underneath her parents’ wagon and listened as her father took his leave from her mother. The soft cough she knew her mother had been withholding during her father’s visit tore at her heart. She tried to think of a healing chant that would help her mother, but all she could think about was what she had heard. Was it possible the yellow-haired man was indeed the savior her people had been waiting for? Certainly now was the time they needed help the most. She thought on that possibility for a moment, then denied the idea. No, if he were a savior, he wouldn’t have been taken unawares by the white soldier, Dawsey. He wouldn’t have allowed Dawsey to hit him and render him unconscious. And he wouldn’t have lied about his name. He had called himself Big Mac when he first awoke, but then had introduced himself as Hiawatha Craft to her father. Valerie moved lithely from under the wagon and went to stoke the fire and check on the thickening soup. Her father and uncles would 32

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need some food before going to sleep this night. She stared out through the darkening forest, trying to make out the shape of the wagon where the man now slept. Mumbling softly to herself, she spoke her thoughts. “This man isn’t a savior. The only savior for my people will come from educated, wise leadership. The kind of leadership I can provide. Now, all I have to do is convince my father I’m right.”

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CHAPTER 4

Well before the sun rose, Valerie and her twin sister, Mary, were up and saying their morning prayers as the Christian missionaries had instructed. They were camped beside a great river, but the icy conditions forced them to forego the weekly ritual of immersing themselves in water to cleanse away any evil spirits that may have attached themselves to their bodies during the week. Mary, younger by some two minutes, quickly ate a bowl of the mush left from last night and headed to the small group she’d been tending for the last two weeks. Mary’s report still haunted Valerie, as did the sallow look of her sister’s skin. “Two more fell ill,” she told Valerie as they sat by the slowly reviving fire. “The old Medicine Man of the group, who still hasn’t regained his strength, told me to take them down to the river to purge the evil from their bodies. But the ice is so thick I don’t even think the strongest of our men can break through. The third child of our uncle died yesterday as well.” 34

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Both women were silent for a moment, for there was no response to Mary’s unspoken anguish. Mary’s next question startled Valerie. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like now if we hadn’t been made to leave?” Valerie smiled, “Sometimes, late, when the moon has set and the fever that attacks our people rests. I think, you would be the toast of all the young braves of the nation, with so many offering for your hand that father would be forced to call a council meeting just to make a decision.” Mary returned Valerie’s smile. “Yes, but you, as the eldest would have had first choice of all my suitors and I would be wildly jealous because mother gave you the prettiest material for your wedding dress.” Valerie shook her head. “No, sister, we shared the womb of our mother, but you took all of her fair looks. I would have been completely happy to dedicate myself to becoming the wisest Shaman in all our lands. Father would have sent me off to study more at the missionary school, then apprenticed me to the Medicine Man in the next village. He would have wanted me to learn both ways, so I could serve our people completely. But, enough of this silly talk. Our life can never be the way it was. We have to remember that, Mary, else we’ll never survive.” Mary frowned, knowing instinctively the truth of her sister’s words, yet also hearing the note of sadness in her tone. “Have you told father yet of your desire to become the next chief?” It wasn’t necessary to know how Mary knew her innermost thoughts. They had been entwined since before birth. It didn’t stop because they had both become women. “No,” Valerie replied. “Mother took ill yesterday and then there was the arrival of the man.” At the concern on Mary’s face, Valerie spoke the sad news. “She began to get heated early and by the first break, she could not take a breath into her chest. I am afraid she has the same sickness that has 35

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attacked most of our people.” Mary frowned. “I will say prayers for her today. Do you think I should stay here with you?” she asked. Valerie shook her head, regretfully. “No, there is nothing you can do for mother. Besides, you are still needed with the other group. If anything happens, I will send one of the children for you.” Mary nodded, accepting the wisdom of her sisters’ decision. “Tell me about the man.” Valerie told her sister the events of the day before, leaving out nothing. She hoped Mary’s cool, calm logic would help settle her seething mind. “Is it possible the man could be a god?” Mary queried. Valerie stood and walked a few feet away. In the waning darkness she could see people in all the camps beginning to move about. The hairs on her arms bristled as if there were the crackle of a storm in the air. She knew the object of their discussion was beginning to make his way over to them. “No,” she answered. “He’s just a man. An arrogant, ill-tempered, bossy man.” * * * Hi woke to such absolute quiet that for a minute he thought he was back at his ranch. Then the events of the last twenty-four hours came rushing back to him. As his back muscles screamed at the discomfort of sleeping on rough wooden planks, he realized he had to admit the truth to himself. This wasn’t a misguided group of re-enactors enjoying a brief visit to the past. And he hadn’t wandered into a group of homeless people. As he peered out at the awakening camp, nothing had changed. He realized he had somehow traveled back in time. What was it the soldier Dawsey had said yesterday? Winter, 1838. “Oh God,” he prayed. “What the hell am I going to do now?” He laid back and let his mind try to reason away the evidence his 36

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eyes had reported. His eyes remained closed and he felt rather than heard the slight movement beside him. Opening his eyes to the squint he’d perfected in the military, Hi saw the man who had shown him to the wagon last night had silently moved beside him. Not sure if he was a captor or protector, Hi took a moment to take in his appearance. The man was tall with a whipcord-thin muscled body. He wore heavy woolen trousers and a multi-colored woolen shirt with stripes forming an X. His hair, though long and black, seemed very clean and certainly not any longer than some of the men Hi had seen in his day. The man wore a long stocking cap with a feather stuck awkwardly in its side. The only thing missing was a weapon, but its lack didn’t diminish the strength or power emanating from him, a power Hi was intimately familiar with. Hi knew this man had been both protector and captor in his time. And, there was little doubting what role he played now. Hi wouldn’t push things but there was no question in his mind that he and his captor would have to have a reckoning. Now, however, he had bigger problems. He had to figure out what had happened. He vaguely remembered a reference to someone in the eighteen hundreds theorizing about time travel. Of course, he remembered reading H.G. Wells in school. If he remembered his history, Wells wasn’t even born until the late eighteen forties. Anyway, that was all conjecture, fiction. This was real. So how? How was it possible to be driving down a rural road in the fall of 2000 and then next thing wake up in 1838? The tornado. Somehow, God, or whatever was controlling the forces on this earth, had brought him through the ravages of nature to this time. “Come on,” he muttered to himself. “No one has ever actually traveled through time. Well, there was Sherman, Dr. Peabody and the Way Back machine. But that’s even worse than H.G. Wells.” He shook his head at the absurdity of it all and surveyed the raw 37

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evidence of his journey. He jumped lithely to the ground and looked at the rough-hewn wagons, people dressed in colorful but obviously homemade garments, the mules, horses and oxen. He tuned his ears to the silence of the morning. There were no sounds of automobiles whizzing by or streaks of white caused by jet exhaust fumes in the sky. There were only bird songs and the chomping of a horse enjoying a breakfast of winter grass. Hi let that soak into his consciousness and then, as was his habit, decided to follow the Marine Corps motto. Adapt and overcome. He added one small proviso to himself, And search like hell for a way back. Hi looked at the face of his silent companion. Their eyes met. Yes, he knew a warrior when he saw one. This man’s face had some of the same hardness he saw when he looked in the mirror each day. Feeling a sudden camaraderie with him, Hi almost clapped him on the shoulder. Knowing instinctively that would be a mistake, he opted for humor instead. “Okay, Toto, I guess we’re not in Kansas anymore,” he quipped, trying to elicit a response from his new sidekick. He was met with stoic silence, prompting him to try again. “No? Well, how about, take me to your leader?” The man grunted, then motioned for Hi to head to the camp where the Redhook woman was adding wood to a smokeless fire. “What should I call you, pal?” he tried companionably. “I can always stick with the standby ‘Hey, you,’ but like my old gunny sergeant used to say, ‘a ewe is a female sheep.’ You don’t look much like a sheep to me.” Hi strolled the last few yards into the main camp circle. His last words must have been louder than he intended, for more than a few heads turned in his direction. His eyes met the furious gaze of Ms. Redhook before he felt a small hand grope around his kneecap. He wondered briefly at the anger in Redhook’s eyes before gazing down 38

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into the face that had welcomed him across the fire the night before. Scooping the little girl high into his arms, he boomed, “What’s this, a little munchkin around in the daylight? I thought you guys only came out to play at night.” He accompanied his words with a knowing tickle to thinly covered ribs. The small giggle brought a smile or two from some of the older women who had begun to move around, and more of a frown from Redhook, who was brandishing a beautifully worked silver spoon. After a moment or two more of play, he set the little girl down, swatted her playfully on the behind and turned to Redhook. “Is there a problem this morning, Miss Sunshine?” he asked, so softly he knew only one woman heard him. “Or are you just a little witchy before you’ve had your coffee?” The stiffness of her back told him he’d scored a direct hit. Fine. He was looking for a fight this morning and this righteous bossy little lady had just won the honor. He could almost see the sparks flying from her eyes. Just as suddenly as the anger flared, it was banked as she turned away. “Mr. Craft.” Joseph’s silent arrival startled Hi. “I hope you rested well. Please come sit by my brothers and me and eat. Before we resume our journey, we would like to talk to you.” Trepidation fluttered through his stomach as Hi realized he was in for the questioning he’d expected since realizing he was in another time. Not knowing how to handle the situation without sounding like a raving lunatic, he moved to join the other men seated in a semicircle slightly away from the fire. He noticed the children were served first then the men. Most of the women either ate standing around the fire or between helping some of the smaller children with their food. He wasn’t surprised to see the same mush he had eaten the night before on his plate. Using a trick he’d perfected in the jungle, he imagined himself savoring a thick-cut steak smothered in onions and mushrooms as he took the first bite. Like the night before, the surprisingly sweet taste of 39

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the meal had him quickly forgetting the trick and sopping the bowl clean. Slightly embarrassed at his table manners, he looked around to see the other men doing exactly the same thing. Relaxing somewhat, he was just wondering if he’d seem too much of a piglet by asking for seconds when his gaze caught sight of the thin little girl. Something inside him clenched and he knew that even if offered, he wouldn’t be taking seconds this morning. He looked around at the other people, some adults and some children. All had the same look he’d seen on faces of children living in poverty and war all over the world. These people were all slowly starving to death. Maybe that’s what his mission was here. Maybe he was like that guy on television a few years ago. Maybe he’d been sent back to right a wrong and once he’d done that, he’d be whisked back to his right time. Yeah, and next he’d be seeing a Genie pop out of a bottle to grant him anything he wished. Maybe that lump on his head rattled more than just a few brain cells. Still, it was an interesting theory. What if he happened to meet up with someone famous and did something to change history? Or even better, what if he could find the woman and child he’d seen in the picture back at Earl’s place? The one who’d sent him into the path of a tornado. Boy, that would be a kick. At that moment, Valerie turned and the watery rising sun hit her flush on her face. A chord of recognition struck him deep in his mind. He knew he had seen that face before. But where? He was trying to get his memory to come up with a time and place when Joseph Redhook spoke. “Sir, we would like to know how you came upon us.” Hi tried to concentrate on finding one last bite of food on his plate while his mind worked feverishly. Should he tell the truth? If he did, how would these simple people react? Did they believe in witches 40

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during this time? Hadn’t they burned people they thought were witches during some time in American history? Remembering the answer to his questions, Hi decided to do a little verbal dancing. He chewed a moment on the inside of his jaw then said, “I have traveled a great distance to get here. I was caught unawares by that huge storm yesterday and when I awoke, I heard the sound of your group going past. I ran to find some help.” Joseph rocked back and forth for a few moments saying nothing. His lieutenants, including Hi’s guard, sat unmoving at Joseph’s side. Hi couldn’t tell by a flicker of an eyelash or even a twitch of a jaw muscle if they heard or even understood the conversation he and Joseph were having. The man who’d been his guard last night reminded Hi a little of the wooden statue outside of Joe’s Junk Emporium. And for just a moment, he wondered what it would be like to sit down with this man with a big, juicy pot between them and a new deck of cards. “This huge storm that overcame you, when did it happen? And what kind of storm was it?” Joseph finally asked. Hi could see no possible mistakes he could make by answering those questions truthfully. “It was yesterday afternoon. It came from the northwest. Surely you saw it on the horizon. It was a tornado. You know, a funnel of wind, rain and hail.” Joseph’s face remained blank. He rocked once more then queried again. “Did this storm take your wagon, your slaves, your possessions?” Hi had a brief moment of regret for the Porsche. If his calculations were correct, though, the idea for automobiles wasn’t even a gleam in someone’s eye yet. He did know he couldn’t tell Redhook the full story. How could he explain something he wasn’t even sure existed? He opted for simplicity. “Yes.” 41

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Redhook rocked and then grunted. After another moment’s pause, he spoke again. “In that case, you are welcome to stay with us. Unfortunately we do not have a spare horse for you to ride, but you can help my daughter drive the wagon or walk along beside it with the others.” He stood, moving with a lithe grace. “Now, it is getting late and soon the soldiers will be demanding that we get underway. My brothers and I must see to helping the others break camp.” He spoke softly, yet the girl Hi now knew to be his daughter appeared instantly at his side. “Valerie, this man is one of us. Treat him as a brother.” Joseph Redhook turned and started to leave, then stopped. “Your mother,” he began, his back still to Valerie. She reached a hand to his shoulder and spoke softly in the tongue of her birth. “I will watch her carefully. Do not worry.” Valerie watched her father and uncles walk away and silenced the desire to call them back. They were needed elsewhere and she had responsibilities of her own. Dawn was giving a silent, watery, golden light in the east to herald the breaking of a new day. There was still much to be done to get her little group prepared for the day’s journey. The sound of a throat clearing stiffened her spine, making her recall what he’d said to her by the fire. She had heard the whispered murmurs of some of the people in her village when she was a little girl, but rarely had the word “witch” bothered her as much as it did when he called her that. As if she didn’t have enough worries, she now had one more. She turned and looked at this man called Hiawatha Craft. Her father had told her to treat him as a member of the family. From the sorry state of his unusual clothes, that meant she had to first give him something to wear. He had the muscled strength of a warrior, and looked to be about the size her brother Joshua had been before the coughing sickness had whittled him down to the size of a small boy. She had kept some of Joshua’s things rather than burning everything 42

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upon his death, as was the Cherokee custom. She’d known their journey was going to be long and hard, and knew the extra clothes would be needed. So, she would give him warm clothes and treat him as a brother. That didn’t mean she’d trust him. Despite her father’s apparent acceptance of his story, Valerie was not quite so easily swayed. She’d listened to his answers and heard the slight hesitation in his voice before each one. She had noticed a small twitch in his left cheek as well. Then there was that talk about a huge storm. A storm from the northwest that had strong enough wind and rain to destroy all his possessions. They had been traveling along the same road as he, and had been ahead of him. They had seen no such storm. If it was as great as he claimed, how could it have missed their entire group? No, Valerie was certain that Hiawatha Craft hadn’t been completely honest with her father. In her mind, that meant he couldn’t be trusted. Until he could, she would watch him carefully.

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CHAPTER 5

Hi knew that if this wasn’t real, it certainly wasn’t a dream. Nightmare, maybe, but no dream. He scowled as he tried to wipe off the bottoms of his athletic shoes once again. This walking behind wagons pulled by oxen and horses was tricky business. He bent to pick up a stick to help loosen the moist remains he’d stepped in while his mind had been trying to come up with a foolproof escape plan. Now, he knew he’d have to save the plotting until he wasn’t forced to concentrate on where he was walking. He’d accepted Miss Redhook’s offer of clothes but had elected to wear his jeans and sneakers. The shirt she had given him was woolen and much better suited for this weather than his own had been. The new shirt was a little tight across the shoulders, but since all Hi had done today was walk, he didn’t think there was any danger in splitting the seams. They’d been walking steadily since just after dawn, and even though the clouds covered the sun, his stomach told him it had to be close to noon. Yet these people moved onward without complaint from 44

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the old or the young. He wished he could remember more of what the nuns had tried to teach him about this period of American history. Somehow, he didn’t think he’d been taught about the pride of his people. Nor the resilience, he thought, as he dug a particularly fragrant piece of dung from the deep well in the sole of his Nikes. He jumped when he felt a palm caress his rear like a hook in a slab of meat. The old woman was smiling and speaking rapidly to him in the musical tones he had heard several members of their group use since he’d been in this time. When she tilted her head and favored him with a gap-toothed smile, Hi felt the overwhelming urge to blush. The words of his nemesis confirmed it. “Abigail Little Tree likes the way you look in your strange pants,” Valerie Redhook said as she pulled her team to a halt beside them. “Abigail is alone and is willing to take you in tonight.” When Valerie finished speaking, the old woman began again, walking slowly around Hi and then reaching up to touch his strong chest and finger his still short hair. “You smell as if you have stepped in cow dung for years, but Abigail is willing to use some drinking water to clean you up.” Valerie waited for another spate of words and then continued, clearly trying to restrain her mirth. “And Abigail has a potion that will make your hair come back, as well as, er, improve your stamina, should that be a problem.” Hi’s mouth fell open. He’d had many women come on to him before, but never quite this way. Nor quite this type of woman. Toothless, with blackened gums the result of too many years chewing tobacco, she had skin folded around her jaws that made her a deadringer for a hound dog. Abigail Little Tree had to be eighty if she was a day. He was just grasping the situation when his eyes skated up to Valerie’s face. He could tell by the twitching of her cheek and the water bubbling up in her eyes that she thought this was hilarious. By 45

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the looks of the small crowd of people gathered around them, she wasn’t the only one. He looked into the sparkling brown eyes of the beautiful woman he’d already decided he wanted to get to know better, and saw something beside mirth there as well. Knowing instinctively this could be another test, he decided to take the easy way out. He bowed quickly from his waist, mimicking a move he once saw David Niven do in a movie, and spoke in his best fake, British accent. “You do me great honor, pretty lady, but alas, I am unworthy of your offer. Perhaps, instead, you would allow me to carry your belongings.” Bowing again, he reached tentatively for the old woman’s sack. It was surprisingly heavy and he marveled again at the strength and endurance of these people. He waited patiently as Valerie translated and kept his eyes lowered in what he hoped was a sign of respect. “Abigail says you’ve shown your respect as well as your strength,” Valerie told Hi. “You are worthy of Abigail’s attentions, but she will take your refusal graciously. However, if you ever get cold at night, Abigail’s blankets will always be open for you.” Hi looked up at the people surrounding him and saw grins of approval on most of the faces. He even thought he saw some approval on Valerie’s face, before that carefully blanked expression was back in place. He hefted Abigail’s sack onto his shoulder and trotted after Valerie’s wagon as it lumbered away. He didn’t know what he was going to say, but he wasn’t about to stay behind her wagon any longer. One thing he’d already learned on this day’s trek was that being behind a team of laboring oxen was worse than being the first man in the jungle. Thankfully the oxen’s gait closely resembled his own or else his tender ankle and knee would have been a problem. But even with Miss Little Tree’s possessions on his shoulders, he managed to catch up with Valerie. 46

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“Hey,” he called as he trotted up beside her. “Stop for a minute. Let me ride.” Valerie looked at Hiawatha Craft and tried to hide her grin. He had accepted her offer of clothing, but had only pulled on her brothers’ outer shirt under his strange coat. He had stored the rest in the back of her wagon. Valerie agreed with Abigail’s previous comments. Hi’s pants fit him like a woman’s evening glove. She frowned. And she never remembered the shirt fitting Joshua quite the same way it fit Hiawatha’s muscular chest. She didn’t realize she had pulled the team to a halt until he was sitting beside her on the wagon seat. Hi put Abigail’s sack down at his feet and smiled. Valerie felt herself responding and tried to harden her heart against his obvious charm by reminding herself of his deception. “Ahh, that feels much better,” he said, rolling his shoulders and neck. “Between sleeping in the wagon and then our little hike this morning, I feel like I’ve gone ten rounds with Ali. I’m just getting too old for this roughing it stuff, ya know? Valerie was lulled by the rush of his words. She knew that people from different areas had different ways of speaking—she’d learned that at the Mission School—but she’d never heard such an accent in her life. He spoke rapidly, but there was some slurring of his word endings as if he weren’t quite sober. Not to mention the words he chose. She had decided to question him about his background when there was a small sound from inside her wagon. They both whirled toward it. Valerie recognized her mother’s moan and pulled back on the reins to stop the team when Hiawatha put a hand on her. “No, I’ll go. Might as well make myself useful. I don’t think I’d be very adept at handling this high-tech driving machine.” He laughed softly and then scrunched his large body through the small opening that led to the back of the wagon. Valerie told herself she didn’t feel anything when his shoulder and 47

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arm brushed hers. She told herself her heart was racing in reaction to what might be happening to her mother. She also told herself it wasn’t relief she felt when he was no longer touching her. The canvas covering the small wagon was stretched so low that Hi had to bend almost in half to fit under it. The rocking motion of the rough wheels over uneven earth made him feel like he was battling a hurricane in a rowboat. Funny, but he’d never thought traveling by covered wagon would be quite like this. In all the westerns he’d watched as a kid, wagons had moved easily and there had been plenty of room for people to hide behind the high sides while fighting ferocious Indians on the warpath. Once again, though, reality was coming up on the short end of the stick. Obviously, Valerie or her father had removed their possessions in order to make some room for the sick to ride inside. There were four people lying inside this wagon now, two of them children, and there was barely room to move. As he adjusted his balance, he tried to chart the course of least resistance. The moan from the woman lying awkwardly against a half-full burlap sack caught his attention, and Hi moved cautiously to her side. He wedged his large feet in the small opening between the woman’s thin blanket and the next makeshift bed, then he squatted on the balls of his feet like a baseball catcher to get a closer look. The cracked, dry lips and glazed look in the brown eyes that opened slowly told him the woman was locked in the grip of fever. When he touched her wrist to feel a pulse, her skin was unnaturally warm. He’d seen cases like this in the jungle and villages of South America. The pulse was steady as was the now unblinking gaze. He tried a smile he hoped was reassuring while his mind raced. What did they use instead of antibiotics in this time? And where was the closest place he could get them? What were the chances of surviving pneumonia or influenza without antibiotics? 48

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Feeling as if the woman’s gaze on him was demanding answers he didn’t have, he spoke the first thing that came to mind as he tried to get a closer listen to her lungs. The rattle of fluid he heard was not reassuring. “This is a pretty good racket you guys have going here. Riding in this wagon sure beats the heck out of walking along behind it.” His humor fell short of its mark because at that precise moment, the wagon went over a particularly deep rut and nearly caused him to fall flat on the woman. Feeling a blush start to threaten its way up his neck, he started to utter an apology when he felt her smooth, dry, hot hand on his arm. “You are right. This is a pretty good ‘racket’ we have here.” The woman’s voice had the soft, cultured tones of the deep south. “However, if you would like to trade places with me for a while, I would be happy to walk while you suffer here in my place.” The woman paused a moment, then continued. “My name is Charlotte Redhook. You are?” “Hiawatha Craft,” he responded, feeling a ridiculous urge to bow. That this woman was the wife of the man he’d met earlier, and probably the mother of Miss Valerie, was painfully clear. It was also clear that she was a lady in every sense of the word, and would have been in any time or place. “Mr. Craft,” she acknowledged with a slight nod of her head. “It is nice to finally meet the man who is causing such an uproar among our women. It is also nice to meet the young man who was able to thwart Abigail Little Tree with such finesse.” Hi chuckled and then scratched his scalp. “Well, I’ll tell you Miss Charlotte, you don’t mind if I call you that, do ya? That Little Tree was one piece of quicksand I was in for a moment. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of seeing that particular gleam in a lady’s eye before. I couldn’t quite help feeling a little like top choice beef on the hoof.” Charlotte giggled but it turned to a gasp of pain as her lungs took 49

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hold of her breath in protest. She spent a few painful moments shaking off the effects of the deep cough her laugh had brought on. She didn’t understand some of his words, but oh, they painted such a colorful picture. She couldn’t help noticing that the other three people riding with her in the wagon seemed to be breathing a little easier while he talked. Maybe this man was the savior she had heard about after all. She’d have to remember all his words to tell Joseph when he came to see her this night. Valerie was straining to hear the words Hiawatha spoke to her mother over the din of the wagon moving along the rough, frozen course. She couldn’t make them out but when she heard the giggle, she stiffened immediately. She was starting to pull back on the reins to stop the oxen when she heard the sounds of Hiawatha coming back to the front seat of the wagon. Hi climbed awkwardly over the high backrest and settled down on the wagon seat, trying not to jostle her. The swaying of the wagon didn’t make it easy, but he was pleased with the results. He noticed how she stiffened when he’d accidentally brushed up against her a few moments ago. He didn’t know what her problem was, but obviously something was bothering her. Or maybe, she was just a number-one, Class-A witch. Hard to believe that two people like Chief Joseph and Charlotte Redhook could have produced such a changeling for a daughter, but then, he’d seen stranger things in his life. The rigidness in her jaw and back told Hi he’d somehow managed to encroach upon her precious personal space once again. Trying for a conversational tone, he said, “Your mother has pneumonia at the worst. Influenza at the best. You need to tell your father that she needs rest. Perhaps we could take a couple of days’ break from this traveling.” She repeated his strange word slowly, sounding out the syllables as she had been taught at the mission school. “New-mon-i-a?” she asked. “That’s right. Pneumonia. Coughing, trouble breathing, high fever,” 50

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Hiawatha confirmed. “I’m no doctor but that’s what it looks like to me. And it looks like the other people back there all have varying stages of the disease.” His mind raced ahead quickly. “In this time, I don’t know how they treat it,” he murmured to himself. “I don’t think there are going to be a lot of stop-in pharmacies where we can run in and buy some antibiotics. Hell, I don’t even think they’ve invented aspirin yet. Wonder if I can remember enough of high school chemistry to make something?” He looked over at Valerie. “I’m sure you’ve been giving herbs or some kind of tea for the fever, but this has gone past that. You mother needs strong medicine.” Valerie’s mind was racing madly ahead as she tried to translate some of Hiawatha’s strange words and formulate her plans for her mother. He’d called it “New-mon-i-a.” That wasn’t a term she recognized, but she did know about the coughing sickness. When she had been a girl preparing to go to the missionary school, rumors had come to their town about how a coughing sickness of the white people had wiped out a whole clan in one of the refugee towns. There had been much discussion about how to battle the sickness in the council sessions, and her father had even warned her of the possibility she wouldn’t be allowed to attend the missionary school. Now, according to Hiawatha Craft, her mother had this same thing. Valerie felt the fear bubble up through her insides and into her mouth. “Did you hear what I said?” Hi realized how pale she had gotten, and his impatience turned to concern. “Are you okay?” When she just looked at him blankly, he repeated his earlier comment. “I asked if there was any way to get word to your father that we need to stop for the day?” She nodded once, then said, “Call the Corporal over here. If we just stop without asking the soldiers, there will be much trouble.” Hi was tempted to say something pithy about anyone who would force sick people on this trek in the first place, but he bit his tongue. He had to remember where and when he was. And that meant playing by 51

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these people’s rules. * * * If Hi hadn’t been so exhausted later that night, he might have been amazed again at the Cherokees’ strength and endurance. Corporal Dawsey had agreed, albeit reluctantly, to let them stop early. Once the okay was given, things progressed faster than even he could believe. And Valerie was the reason. A couple of times, he wished she’d been in the jungle directing movements for his platoon. In almost a blink of his eye, all the wagons had been stopped, fires were started, water was being unloaded from the supply wagon then placed near the fire to break up the ice that had formed in the buckets. The entire time, the sick were being cared for. After conferring with the old woman who’d taken such a fancy to Hi earlier in the day, Valerie sent some of the younger children scouting for some kind of plant. He gathered they were going to try to make a medicinal poultice. He agreed wholeheartedly with the plan, having remembered from some of his survival training that certain root plants did form a menthol-like vapor when ground up. Also, at his suggestion, Valerie had taken some of their precious water and made cold compresses to help reduce some of the fever. He’d also suggested boiling another pot of water to alternate with the cold compresses in hopes of breaking up some of the congestion in the lungs of her mother and the other ill people. At first, Valerie was taken aback by his suggestion, but then seemed to see the merit, especially after he’d explained that the leftover boiled water could be used later for cooking and drinking. It surprised him that there hadn’t been outbreaks of cholera, given the unsanitary conditions they had been forced to live in. Abigail Little Tree, who’d chattered almost endlessly to him in the lyrical Cherokee language, used a combination of sign language and facial expressions to pass on his suggestions to the other members of the group. 52

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Through it all, Valerie was there. Everywhere. She personally supervised the grinding of the plants into a yellow mustard-like pulp, only leaving the job to Abigail and the other women when she was sure they understood her directions. Afterward, she went from patient to patient applying compresses, poultices and, most of all, tenderness. He tried to be as much help as possible, but he admitted to himself that his medical skills were mostly of the textbook kind. Sure, he’d be able to fashion a crude needle from a sharp piece of wood. Or make a tourniquet. Or a splint. He also knew, technically, how to make a poultice but putting it into practice was something else. He contented himself with just helping with the heavy stuff, like lifting the full buckets of water from the wagon to the ground and then again away from the fire so the women could get to them. By the time darkness settled, Hi was exhausted. And awed at the stamina displayed by Valerie. When she finally alighted from her wagon, where the sickest people were still being cared for, it was well past dark. Even though every muscle in his body ached, Hi jumped up to get her a plate of the mush still warming over the low-burning fire. “Here,” he said, offering her the iron plate and a piece of the hardening biscuit left over from the morning meal. “Sit down, rest and eat. You’re making the rest of us look like couch potatoes.” At her questioning look, he tried to explain. “Where I come from a couch potato is someone who lays around all day doing nothing.” He didn’t think she’d understand what watching television was, so he edited the explanation to fit her experience. She laughed lightly as she took the plate and he felt the slam of desire deep in his gut. When he looked away in an attempt to lessen his feelings, he met Abigail Little Tree’s gaze from across the fire. The gaze, which reminded him of a hungry wolf eyeing a newborn calf, made him even more uncomfortable. Looking away from Abigail, he tried to take his mind off things. 53

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“How long have you been traveling?” he asked Valerie, who was finishing up her plate of food. She paused and then passed a hand through her hair. Against his will, Hi’s eyes followed the movement, mesmerized by the way the firelight glinted against the silky strands. For a moment, a second, he could see his own hand passing through it and lingering there, before letting it waterfall back against her back. “This will be the one hundred, fifty seventh day,” she said. “One hundred and fifty seven since we left home.” My god, Hi thought. That’s more than five months. And they still have more to go. “What did you people do to deserve this,” he asked, still trying to grasp the enormity of what she had said. Valerie looked at him for a moment and shook her head. Then, she rose gracefully, cleaned off her plate and went back to more chores. There didn’t appear to be an answer. * * * Now, lying under a thin blanket beneath the endless winter sky of the prairie, he tried not to think about the valiant, beautiful woman who was sleeping only a few yards across the campsite from him. There was no question she was something to look at, but she wasn’t what he normally thought of as his type. He liked his women blonde, voluptuous and eager to play the game. He’d seen and lain with women who were better looking physically than Valerie. He guessed it had to do with something on the inside. He’d always been a sucker for spirit. That’s what made his friend Allison Calhoun so special. He felt a pang of regret when he thought about Allison. He would bet she was tearing up that little town where he’d called her from in her search to find him. Allison Calhoun on the warpath was not a sight a man forgot. And that’s where Allison and Valerie Redhook were sisters. There was no questioning the spirit of Valerie Redhook. She’d 54

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taken on an enormous responsibility here. Her father was obviously the law, but Valerie was the one who was holding this little group together. He’d seen men trained by the military to handle that kind of responsibility crack under less pressure than Valerie was coping with every day. And when he thought of the length of time she had dealt with it, his respect rose higher. Granted, he knew things took longer in this time than his own. Still, it seemed to him that over five months of travel for a group this size was too long. Unless he was wrong, Valerie was also very young. Maybe not even twenty. This was a lot of pressure for a woman who hadn’t even begun to live. Maybe he’d been too quick to judge her. Hi had just started to fall asleep when a small sound startled him. He lay still in that moment halfway between sleep and wakefulness before the sound repeated and he realized what it was. A child’s cry. He had started to move toward it, when he realized that Valerie had beaten him there. He didn’t have any second thoughts about eavesdropping—even if the conversation was in a strange mix of Cherokee and English. “What’s wrong, tsu nadada tlu gi,” Valerie whispered as she crawled over to the weeping Sally Black Cloud. “Sweetheart,” she crooned once more, wrapping the small child in her arms. The child was still wearing the strange outer shirt Hiawatha had given her and amazingly it retained a scent she knew was his. As she rocked the quieting child, Valerie told herself she shouldn’t be concerned about how Hiawatha Craft smelled. She focused on Sally’s stuttering words. “I miss mother,” the child said and hiccuped. “And I want my daddy.” Valerie sighed. Sally’s mother had died nearly a moon ago on this wicked trail and now her father, Black Cloud, was fighting for his life as well. Hiawatha’s strange actions of pounding on his chest had kept him alive the other day, but Black Cloud was unable to expel the evil 55

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that still lay on his chest and was coughing up blood regularly. The poultice had helped ease him into sleep this night, but Valerie feared that it wouldn’t stave off the inevitable for much longer. Now, though, was the time for reassurances. “I’m sorry, tsu nadada tlu gi, but your daddy is sleeping right now and I’m afraid if you go to him, you’ll disturb him.” She paused, carefully choosing her next words. “You know your daddy has been sick, don’t you?” Sally, who’d begun sucking her thumb as Valerie talked, stopped long enough to answer. “Yes, but pretty Hiawatha-man saved him.” Wonderful, Valerie thought, I can’t even get away from him with a child. “That’s right,” she said aloud. “But your daddy is still very tired from his battle.” Suddenly, she had an inspiration. “Do you remember when we would sit around the Council House and your daddy and others would tell stories about the great warriors of the past?” She could tell she had the youngster’s attention now. When the child nodded solemnly, Valerie continued. “Remember how they would talk about fighting great battles against the enemy and then would need some time for rest afterward? That’s what your daddy needs now.” “Who did he have to fight?” Sally asked. “Well now, that’s a little harder to explain. You see, unlike the Creeks, who were our enemies in ancient times, long before you or your daddy were born, the battle Black Cloud fights now comes from inside him.” Valerie touched her chest to show Sally Black Cloud what she meant. “You see, an evil spirit has come from the sky and worked its way inside your daddy’s body. Now, we must call upon help from God and all the good spirits to drive the evil one out.” Sally chewed on her thumb for another moment and then asked, “Can I help daddy fight?” Valerie sighed and rocked the child once more. “No, sweetheart, I fear your daddy must fight this battle alone.” 56

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Sally was silent a moment more, then said, “Would it be all right if I prayed for daddy to be strong?” Valerie fought back tears. “I think that would be a wonderful idea. I’ll pray with you.” She started the ancient chant of her fathers and forefathers to bring forth the gods, helping the child as she stumbled over the cants and rhythms of the prayers. Then afterward, she taught Sally a prayer she’d learned at the missionary school as well. As Sally fell asleep, Valerie added prayers of her own for the fate of both the child and the father. Hi listened to the soft voices of Valerie and the little girl and felt a frustration he hadn’t felt in years. What was he really doing here anyway? It wasn’t like he was a great thinker or scientist. These people needed help. Real medical help. At the very least, he should be able to invent something to make their lives better. Here he was, a man from the future who knew nothing about saving lives in the past. Too bad they didn’t need someone to go wipe out an enemy village. He’d been real good at taking a flame thrower to the enemy. He also was not a bad pilot, if it came down to it. He’d landed some planes down in South America that he’d sworn hadn’t been held together with much more than a rubber band. Realistically, he probably wouldn’t be much good at warrior-type things in this time. Corporal Dawsey had taken him out pretty easily the other day. Of course, he hadn’t been expecting an attack. That shouldn’t be an excuse. There had been a time in his life, where he’d always been ready for any attack. Maybe, he was getting soft in his old age. Anyway, the last thing these people needed was another warrior. Since he’d been out of the Marines, he’d gotten pretty handy with computers as well. Once again, though, not exactly a skill that could be translated easily to this time. No microchip in sight for a million miles and almost that many years. It didn’t make any sense. If God, or whoever was running this show, had wanted to right a wrong, why hadn’t he plucked up a doctor 57

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or scientist and sent them through time? Hi looked up at the moon just as a dark cloud passed over its brilliance. Why in hell did you pick me?

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CHAPTER 6

The sun had only begun to edge its way from behind the early morning clouds when Hi followed Valerie from the campsite the next morning. He’d awakened to a feeling of dread he hadn’t known since his years working covert operations down in South America. He’d heard muffled sounds and instinctively just barely opened his eyes. When he saw Valerie arising from her blankets on the other side of the banked fire, he didn’t question his desire to follow her. Now as he trailed silently behind her through the woods toward a small creek they’d discovered last night, he told himself he should turn around and return to the camp. Obviously, she was taking care of private business. That certainly wasn’t any of his concern. Still, he followed, asking himself why? Relying on instinct, Hi melted silently into the undergrowth before Valerie stopped and turned to look at the spot where he’d been. She waited a few seconds then continued lightly along the path. 59

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Telling himself again to go back to the camp, he continued his pursuit of her. In seconds he knew he’d been out-foxed. In the time it took him to realize she was gone, the hairs on his arms stood on edge in mute warning. He whirled on the balls of his feet ready to thwart any attack, his head cocked to one side in an attempt to smell the danger. It took only an instant for him to realize he had become the pursued instead of the pursuer. Valerie caught her breath at the sight of Hiawatha Craft as he turned on her. She felt the waves of danger wash over her even though they were separated by several feet of empty path. She remained absolutely still, much as she would when faced with a rattlesnake. There was certainly no doubt this was a warrior ready for action. In the next instant, she saw a vision of this man dressed in strangely spotted clothes and marked with black war paint, standing in a dense, dangerous forest she knew was in a far away land. The image, so clear it made Valerie want to close her eyes even when she knew it wouldn’t matter, continued. There was a village made of crude houses, some burning out of control. The smell of death was everywhere as was the sound of sobbing and brutal death. Valerie also knew everything she was seeing, the man in front of her had witnessed first-hand. As the pictures finally faded, she closed her eyes slowly in an attempt to stem the tears from rolling down her face at the thought of this man living through that. When she opened them again, she used anger to hide the feelings arrowing through her. “Why do you follow me, Mister Craft?” Her tone told Hi she was unhappy. He didn’t blame her. “I, uh,” he began, unsure of what he should say. “Please call me Hi.” That hadn’t been it. She stood with her dainty hands placed upon her hips, her legs spread for balance on the uneven ground. He didn’t have to see the 60

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glint in her eye to know she was ready to pounce. He began again. “I heard a noise at the camp. I was unsure what it was and just started heading this way, thinking someone might have been trying to steal some of our supplies.” He held his breath, waiting to see if she was going to buy it. When she spoke, he had his answer. “You have been following me for quite some time. When I turned around a few minutes ago, why did you hide?” Hi didn’t think she was ready for the truth. He knew he wasn’t. “After I realized it was you, I thought you might be looking for some privacy. I was afraid if you knew I had followed you, you wouldn’t continue. I didn’t want to be the cause of your distress.” That’s kind of phony sounding. Wonder if it will work? Valerie looked at Hiawatha Craft for a few more seconds. Something was amiss here. He was looking at her, but not directly in the eyes. Normally, no single man would look at a Cherokee princess in the eye before they were betrothed or had been introduced by a Wam^ktea, a go-between. Since the people had been on this trail though, everything about their culture had been thrown into disarray. Since she had met Hiawatha Craft, he had completely ignored the traditions of the People. Now that he was suddenly following them, Valerie’s instincts were on alert. About to admonish him sternly for his breach of propriety, Valerie surprised herself further when, instead, she opened her mouth and said, “That was kind of you. I must admit you frightened me, but now that I know it is you, I would welcome your company. I am only going down to the water. It is a good place for me to think about what faces us this day.” Not about to question his luck, Hi quickly agreed and waited for her to join him. They reached the small creek and spent a few moments in quiet contemplation. 61

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The air was fresh and cold and so incredibly clear that when he drew a large breath into his lungs, it hurt. The creek, which was moving quickly in its middle, showed signs of life despite the ice edging away from the bank. He felt peace seep into his body inch-by-inch. He looked into the approaching dawn and wondered why he felt so at home in this hostile environment. “You ever miss it?” he asked, uncertain what he hoped to learn. “Home, I mean.” Hi sensed Valerie moving to squat beside him but didn’t turn to look at her. His nose picked up her fresh, earthy scent and he wondered vaguely how she kept from smelling like a goat after all the physical work she did. He didn’t need to sniff his armpits to know he was edging dangerously close to rank. “Every day,” she replied softly. “Our village was near the top of the tallest mountain. On a clear day, you could see Mother Sun and Father Moon talk to each other as they took over the sky.” She waited a moment. “By now, the people would have been snug in their houses awaiting the last snows and preparing to plant our crops. Surely, you miss your home and people as well.” For once, since Hi had realized where and when he was, he didn’t think before answering and spoke from his heart. “Yes, I miss some things. Not really as much as I thought I would.” When she didn’t respond, he continued. “That sounds terrible doesn’t it? I guess it just comes down to the fact that I never really felt at home anywhere I’ve been.” “Not even with Big Mac and Bangkok ?” she asked softly. He laughed softly. “No, especially not there.” He looked in her eyes then, and knew he couldn’t pass this off with a joke. He saw innocence there, and a strange sadness that came only with cruel knowledge. He continued. “My parents were killed when I was a baby. I don’t 62

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know, maybe that affected all the choices I’ve made since then. I’m not proud of everything I’ve done. Hell, I don’t guess I’m that much different from anybody else. That’s got nothing to do with anything really. Except that I’ve never been able to be close to anyone. I guess you could say I’m not a people person.” Her silence seemed to urge him to continue. “It’s hard to explain. It seems to me that all my life I’ve been on the outside looking in. Even when I was invited in, I couldn’t allow myself to take that final step. Ah, hell, I don’t know how I can expect you to understand this.” He stood up and ran his hand through his hair, which seemed to be growing rapidly. He also knew from the slight itch under his chin that there was a definite fuzz there as well. The surprising thing was how he’d just spilled his guts to a woman he hardly knew. He rubbed his chin again, this time nervously. Valerie sensed Hiawatha’s distress, had seen the glimpses of it in his eyes. She wondered if this had to do with some of the visions she’d had about him. Not thinking of the consequences, just wanting to offer her support, she rose to her feet and laid her hand on his covered arm. “I think I do understand what you mean.” She spoke quickly, trying to ignore the heat that seemed to be radiating from him, through his clothes and into her palm. “I, too, know what it is like to be on the outside. Fortunately, I had my parents and my family around me to help. Sometimes, though, no one can help when the people talk.” Hi raised his eyes from where her hand rested on his arm and looked into her eyes. He wanted to know more. Reading his silent question, she spoke again. “Since I was very young, I have had an ability to see things. Things in the future. The people don’t always understand.” It suddenly dawned on Hi what she was saying. He remembered his word “witchy” the other morning and her reaction to it. He felt lower than he had in a long, long time knowing that, however unintentionally, he had caused this beautiful, special woman pain. 63

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He cupped her smooth cheek in his palm and looked deep in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he began, wishing he could undo the past. She shrugged, not completely hiding the hurt in her eyes. “How could you know? You are not one of our clan. You do not see into the past, nor can you change the future. It is not important. What is important is that I know I am not from the spirit world. Would that I were, so I could stop the awful suffering of our people.” She paused another moment, looking at Hi, but he had a feeling she wasn’t seeing him. “That is what must be stopped. I fear, though, that even when we reach our new home, there will be more pain for the Ani’-Yun’ wiya. That is what I must worry about now. That and how to make it through this journey without losing any more lives.” Hi stroked her satiny skin lightly with his thumb, sensing the strength of purpose and determination in this young woman. And the purity. That was what affected him the most, he thought. He didn’t realize he’d moved his face to within inches of hers until he felt the caress of her soft, sweet breath upon his lips. “Please,” he whispered. “Let me help.” Valerie stared into the eyes that constantly amazed her. She’d never known there could be so many different colors of blue in one place. She’d seen them as icy cold as a winter lake or so dark they were almost purple. When he played with Sally Black Cloud, they gleamed with pure joy. Now, they took on the warmth of a summer sky. She felt his warm, tangy breath on her face and knew she should be turning away from something she didn’t understand. Even as she told herself this, something deep inside her cried out to move closer, and her heart pounded just underneath her skin where his fingers lay. Through it all, she heard the whispered plea in his voice. Not knowing what he wanted, just that it was something very powerful, she moved closer to his warmth. When his lips touched hers, she felt a fire that started just where his 64

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mouth met hers and then within a heartbeat, it was racing down her neck and through her chest. The fire spread into her arms as if spurred by the wind of a thousand storms and made her hands tingle. Feeling an overpowering urge to get closer to him, Valerie’s arms lifted and wrapped themselves tightly around his neck. Then as if possessed of a spirit of their own, her fingers begn roaming through the short, thick strands of his yellow hair. Hiawatha’s low moan acted like oil on a blazing fire as his tongue flicked across her unbearably hot lips. Suddenly a thought, as if he had spoken, raced through her mind. In response, she parted her lips and immediately his tongue was inside her mouth. What a wondrous feeling. Never had her mouth been a party to such a tender onslaught. When his tongue slowly returned to caress the outside of her lips, she instinctively mimicked his movements with her own. She was vaguely aware of his arms wrapping around her hips and pulling her even tighter into his natural man’s embrace. The minute their lower bodies met, the fire burst again into a wild blaze racing through her to pool into a heated lake deep inside her most womanly parts. She would have been happy to stand forever in Hiawatha’s arms and continue to explore this strange flame he was causing inside her when she felt him stiffen. With one last sweeping caress of his tongue across her lips, he pulled away from her. She felt his heated touch on the tip of her nose and then once more on her forehead. As her heartbeat pounded inside her chest, she concentrated on trying to get control of her now uneven breathing. Hiawatha’s hands were moving slowly on her back, but the rapid beat of his heart under the ear she had pressed to his chest, told her he had been as affected by their embrace as she. Hi struggled to get himself back under control. He had nearly climaxed because of one kiss. Thank God he’d been able to stop it before it went any farther. That whack on his head must have knocked 65

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his hormones crazy. He hadn’t even been this hard after an extended stint in the jungle. He brushed a soft kiss against Valerie’s silken hair and after a soft cough to strengthen his voice, said, “Dawn’s breaking. You’d better get back.” He turned his back on her and tried to control a body that was demanding its release.

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CHAPTER 7

Valerie didn’t know what had gotten into her. She did know Mister Hiawatha Craft was responsible for it. Since he’d kissed her so seductively beside the creek the morning before, she felt like she was possessed by a spirit. He had left her abruptly and then had proceeded to ignore her. She had felt his eyes on her several times during the day—when preparing the evening meal and telling a bedtime story to Sally. Yet, every time she looked up, he seemed to have his back to her or be involved with working grease into a spare harness. One time, she’d even seen him talking with one of the slaves. “That’s fine,” she muttered to herself the next morning as she hitched the oxen to her wagon. “Why do I care if he looks at me or not? Or ever talks to me? I got along fine before he joined us and I can certainly get along fine now.” “Talking to ourselves, dear?” the voice was raspy but the aged, lined face was familiar. 67

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Valerie lowered her eyes in respect for the Wam^ktea who was now standing beside her. In olden times, Wam^kteas held a place of high honor in every clan. Though not allowed to have a seat on the tribal ruling board, they were highly respected for their efforts as matchmaker among the tribes. Wam^ktea also played the important role of rearing any children orphaned in the village. Lately, though, Valerie had seen a movement of the people away from the traditional ways. The harsh trek they were now enduring wasn’t helping any. Still, she felt respect was due this learned person. “Just thinking aloud,” she responded, careful to keep her eyes lowered. The Wam^ktea’s eyes were not so old they couldn’t see the truth of things. Nor was the nose unable to scent romance in the air. A smile started to move the hundreds of wrinkles that years had folded into the face. The Wam^ktea didn’t have to look far to know from which direction this wind was blowing. After helping Valerie finish strapping the harness onto the oxen, the old one headed across the campsite with a light step. There may be hope for the people yet. * * * Hi was beginning to think he had a serious problem. Strike that. Another serious problem. Abigail Little Tree wouldn’t leave him alone. She’d come upon him just as he had finished talking to Nathan, one of the slaves in the Redhook group, and had been his shadow the entire day. She’d even been waiting for him when he came out of the woods after answering an urgent call from Mother Nature. He wasn’t exactly certain, but he even thought he felt her palm on his buttocks once or twice during the day. If that wasn’t bad enough, there was her incessant chatter. He ran his palm over his bristly face. He didn’t have to understand Cherokee to know the old woman was talking constantly about Valerie Redhook. 68

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“I thought if I stayed away from her, I’d be able to forget what a fool I’d been. Whatever gave me the idea to make out with a Cherokee princess in a time I don’t belong?” he muttered as he followed the group of slaves and elderly men leading the oxen down to the stream for a drink. The women were readying their supper after their camp had been set up. “Then I have an old woman hitting on me and giving sly winks toward Valerie every time I happen to look at her.” “Who you talking to, suh?” Nathan turned and waited for Hi to join him. It had taken Hi a long time to realize that this gentle giant was a slave, and he’d tried not to condemn all the Cherokees for the practice out of hand. He’d told himself these people were products of their time and in their time, slavery was the norm. It would be almost three more decades before a war would be fought over the practice. Still, when Nathan had smiled at him, he’d been reminded of Lucius Warren, one of his best army buddies. It had been easy to strike up a conversation with Nathan. Hi had learned that Nathan had been bought by Joseph Redhook from white traders going north through Cherokee lands to Virginia. Looking at Nathan’s face now, Hi remembered the conversation clearly. “These Cherokees are good masters, Mister Craft,” Nathan had said. “They don’t work me too hard. In fact, Chief Joseph worked right along ’sides me in the field plowing, ’less there was a council meetin’ or somethin’. And Miss Charlotte, lord it’s terrible to see her sickly now. She was the sweetest mistress you’d ever want to have. Chief Joseph even let me have a piece of land all to myself to raise my own food, and was helping me build my own house ’til the whites made us move. Yes, sir, that was what was terrible.” Even though he knew Nathan hadn’t suffered by being the Redhooks’ slave, Hi still had to bite his tongue to keep from speaking out about the rights of every man to freedom. Now, he focused on Nathan’s question. 69

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“Hello, Nathan, just talking to anyone who’ll listen to me, I guess. How’s your day going?” Nathan smiled, his white teeth splitting wide the dark creases of his face. “Kind of boring, if you want to know the truth. I used to dream about being able to just walk and walk when I was a young’un. Now, I’d love to just be able to plop my butt down over yonder and never leave. I sure hope we get to this new territory mighty quick.” Hi laughed. “I know what you mean. In the jungle, er, I mean where I used to be, we used to have to take these twenty-mile hikes every day. Ever since then, I haven’t been much on walking myself. Now, I like it even less.” The two men reached the edge of the small creek and sat companionably beside one another on a snow-covered log. There were sounds of animals drinking and the occasional stomp of a foot from one of the other men. Hi made a quick decision. “Nathan, I wonder if you’d be interested in helping me?” he asked. “I seem to have a little trouble picking up some of the words the Redhooks, and especially old lady Abigail, say. I guess I’ve been away too long. Would you mind teaching me?” The man’s eyes widened. “You want me to help you learn Cherokee?” “Yeah, I guess I do. I don’t know what I have to offer you in exchange. Surely there’s something you’d like to know that I can teach you.” Nathan looked deep into Hi’s eyes for a scant minute. Then, as if what he saw pleased him, he nodded. “I’ll do it, sir. If you’ll help me cipher this.” Nathan reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a folded paper. It was a heavy envelope with a broken wax seal on it. Hi’s grin turned into a full-fledged smile. Maybe he couln’t end slavery, but he could help Nathan be able to cope when its end came. “Not only will I help you cipher that Nathan, I’ll teach you how to read anything you want.” 70

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He held out his hand and after a moment’s hesitation, Nathan grasped it with his own. * * * Valerie knew she shouldn’t be following Hiawatha Craft and the other men down to the river. She knew they would handle the tending of the stock. She also knew she had a hundred things to do herself before nightfall. When she’d noticed Craft following the other men, though, she just couldn’t seem to help herself. She’d absently told the Wam^ktea to start the cook fires and oversee settling in the sick for the night, and then she let her feet guide her body. She’d noticed the knowing gleam in Abigail’s eyes, but hadn’t commented on it, focusing instead on keeping the men in sight. She told herself she wasn’t interested in Mister Craft’s actions because of the way he’d first kissed her then ignored her. It had nothing at all to do with that. It was simply because she didn’t trust him. Now, as she crouched in the bushes near where Hiawatha and one of the slaves, Nathan, sat talking, she chided herself once again. What am I doing? Instead of answering, she listened in to their conversation, reminding herself she had to quit thinking of him as Hiawatha. It was not at all seemly for an unmarried woman to be so informal with a single man. It was strange how friendly and at ease Hiawatha seemed with Nathan. Most of the warriors in their clan owned slaves. In olden times, slaves were considered spoils of victory. Now, it was just another part of adapting to the white culture. The white men who had taken over their lands had owned negras, so should the Cherokee. Besides, Valerie knew merely owning slaves didn’t make you a bad person. It was all in how you treated them. Her family had never taken a whip to any of their slaves. She remembered hearing her father and grandfather talk about it many times around the council fire. 71

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Yet no one in her family had treated the negras as Hiawatha seemed to. Watching him now with Nathan, Valerie knew what the difference was. He talked and listened to Nathan as if he were an equal. Before Valerie could contemplate that notion, she heard his request for Nathan to teach him Cherokee. Then the offer to teach Nathan how to read. What madness was this? Valerie backed silently away from her hiding place. She couldn’t believe what she had heard. She quickly looked once around the trail, trying to decide what to do. She knew she ought to head back to the campsite and help with the evening preparations. What she really wanted to do was go somewhere quiet to think about what she’d overheard. She’d always thought there was something strange about Mister Hiawatha Craft. Now, her suspicions were confirmed. Nathan might believe what he had said about not being able to pick up the different dialects. She didn’t. He could not speak their language and yet he was supposed to be one of them? Surely, if he were the god her parents hoped for, he would know everything about the People. He wouldn’t need a slave to teach him the language. Maybe, he was not part of any clan. She knew there were white men who did nothing but assume different roles. Hiawatha Craft could be one of those men. He could be a spy sent by the soldiers to learn the Cherokee secrets. Valerie started to scoff at this idea. The Ani’-Yun’ wiya didn’t have any secrets now. They didn’t have anything they held dear. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was on the right track about him. Once again, Valerie found herself asking the same question, Who is Hiawatha Craft? Knowing her duty could not be put aside even to solve this important mystery, Valerie turned back to the camp to finish the evening’s work. There would be time enough later to discover the 72

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truths of Hiawatha Craft. She promised herself she wouldn’t be swayed either by his deep blue eyes or his velvety touch. I’m not going to let him get close to me again until I know the truth. * * * Hi felt better than he had since he’d landed in this strange time. He’d made a friend in Nathan and, more importantly, had found an ally. Nathan was going to teach him the Cherokee language, and he was going to try and help a man prepare for the future. It was a win-win situation. Nathan, probably only in his late twenties despite the wrinkles on his face, would still be around when the Civil War was fought and won by the Union. When the inevitable change occurred, he’d be a little better prepared to handle his new freedom, and if he passed his learning on to his family, they’d be better off as well. It was a little thing, but after his failure to remember any medical tips that would help the sick, Hi felt like he was finally getting to do something worthwhile. It might not be the wrong he’d been sent to correct, but it was a step in the right direction. Hi was in such a good mood that night, after agreeing to meet Nathan by the horses just before dawn, he found himself humming along with the ladies as they prepared the camp. The tune rang a bell in his mind, but the words were unfamiliar and he couldn’t put a name to it. He was so focused on trying to name the tune, he didn’t notice Abigail had sidled up behind him. Then it was too late to sidestep her knowing fingers from connecting with the fleshy part of his fanny. After his uncontrollable flinch, he turned and met her toothless grin. He bowed slightly, rubbing absently at the sore spot. For an old lady, Abigail was awfully strong, he mused. And when he looked closely at her face, he noticed an almost masculine structure to her bones. Abigail began prattling off in rapid Cherokee and he had to concentrate on trying to understand what she wanted. After several minutes of frustration on his part, she finally wrapped 73

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her callused palm around his arm and dragged him over to the banked fire. Using gestures and pantomimes, he finally deduced she wanted him to lift the heavy iron pot of water off the flames. He scratched his head twice trying to plot the logistics. He didn’t quite trust Abigail not to take another hunk out of him while he bent over to lift the heavy pot. He was just wondering how to let her know she could go on with her duties when Valerie walked up. She spoke to Abigail, sighed, and continued speaking while the old woman was shaking her head emphatically. When she finally spoke to him, Valerie never looked at his face. “We need to take this pot of water over to where the women are beginning to bathe the sick. I am told bathing a woman is not something you can do on your own because it isn’t a job for a Warrior.” Hi told himself not to stare at her face and remember the texture and taste of her satiny skin. He tried not to remember what her sweet kiss had done to his body. Too late. His mind produced the memories in picture form and his body reacted immediately. She scowled at him, jerking his attention and thoughts back to the present. That’s when it dawned on him that she wasn’t happy with him. “I asked you if you were going to pick up that kettle?” she demanded in a tone that showed her anger. “I don’t have time to wait for you to make a simple decision.” What did I do to deserve this? Ah, of course, the kiss. He tried not to smile. It had been obvious when he’d touched her that Miss Valerie was a virgin. Now, she was ashamed about her response. It was quaint. Yes, that was it. Quaint. And amazingly attractive. Knowing that now, in front of the people, was not the time to talk about it, he picked up the pot and followed her. There would be plenty of time to straighten young Valerie out on just how innocent their kiss had been. Of course, it wouldn’t have remained that way for long. 74

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Fortunately, though, he’d been able to keep his wits about him. Sure, there had been a moment or two when he’d forgotten about everything except the pleasure of her taste. Then, he’d remembered when and where he was. He hadn’t been casual about sex in a lot of years—not since the diseases that went along with the game could no longer be cured with a shot of penicillin—but he admitted to himself that wasn’t what stopped him with Valerie. She was an enticing example of femininity. And it had been a long time since he’d been with a woman—nearly two hundred years to be exact—but something inside his mind had blown the whistle. He didn’t know if making love to Valerie would change history, but he did know he didn’t want to face the risk of leaving a child behind when he finally went back to his own time. Still, he couldn’t allow Valerie to think that kissing a man made her a dishonorable woman. It was what she was made for. Before the end of the night, she’d know it. * * * Valerie felt as if the blood in her body were actually boiling. She couldn’t recall being this angry even when the People were ordered from their cherished land. She hadn’t been this angry when her two brothers had died in the prison encampment where they had been forced to live before starting this trail. Simply, she was angry enough to spit. She could feel the humor rolling off him in waves. It made her even madder. How dare he laugh at us? How dare he laugh at me! At the touch of his hand on her arm she whirled around as if being attacked by a pack of wild dogs. “Hey, slow down will you?” he said. That she was a powerfully angry woman was immediately apparent. He glanced around surreptitiously. They weren’t completely alone, but he decided now was the best time to have their talk. 75

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“Look, honey, I know what you’re upset about. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he began in what he hoped was a soothing tone. “We shared a beautiful dawn. The kiss that happened afterward was natural. It doesn’t mean anything. We’re both adults. You’re a beautiful woman and I’m a man. It was bound to happen. But it was just one kiss. Let’s not go making it into a federal case, hmm?” It took a few moments for his strange cadence to sink in. The short leash holding her temper snapped. “You—-” For once, Valerie was speechless. She knew of no word in either her native language or her adopted one vile enough for her thoughts. When he just stood there with that silly grin on his face, she decided actions were better suited to her thoughts anyway. Hi saw the anger in her eyes and then felt a little puff of wind as she flung herself across the short distance to him. He barely had the time to set the precious boiled water safely on the ground when she was upon him. He didn’t fear her attack. After all, he was stronger than she and outweighed her by close to ninety pounds. When her knee nearly connected with the most tender area of his body, he remembered all victories weren’t necessarily won on strength. Hoping only to protect himself, he tossed her over his hip and to the ground. He did the only prudent thing then, when her foot lashed out unerringly for him again. He straddled her. The laughter of the group of Cherokees now surrounding them was the first time he noticed they weren’t completely alone. The way her heaving chest caused her small breasts to strain the fibers of her dress and the enticing blush on her neck and cheeks made him forget about their audience. “Hey, hey,” he said, surprised that he was slightly winded from the attack. He shifted slightly to hide his body’s reaction to the attractive picture she presented. “Let’s try and talk rationally now, okay?” He used the same tone he 76

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would on a frightened animal as he tried to get his mind off the way her small form felt beneath his body. Before she could speak, he covered her mouth with his hand. “I understand how you might be upset. I just want you to know you have nothing to be ashamed of.” Valerie tried to calm her breathing and her anger at the same time that she was looking for a way to unseat him. She told herself she didn’t care that his body felt so wonderfully warm and hard on hers. She struggled once more, unsure whether she was struggling against him or herself, before quieting. “That’s better,” he soothed, sensing her calm. “Now, let’s calm down and talk like two adults, okay? If I remove my hand, do you promise to cooperate?” She nodded. When he started to remove his hand, she bit him. Hard. “Owww! What was that for?” he demanded. Hi completely removed his hand and examined it. When he saw the small teeth marks, he sucked on the spot gently. “That hurt.” Valerie smiled. Finally, she felt she had some measure of control over both the situation and Mister Hiawatha Craft. “You didn’t move your hand fast enough. Who gave you the right to cover my mouth in the first place?” she asked haughtily. “Now, please, get off of me. You are as heavy as one of my oxen.” Hi glared at her once more, and grudgingly rolled off her. He was still looking at the side of his hand. Instead of answering her question, he said, “I think you drew blood.” Valerie sighed. Men. “Here, let me see it.” Hi started to offer his hand then drew it back quickly. “How do I know you’re not going to attack me again?” She smiled sweetly. “I am a healer.” He offered her his hand, saying gruffly, “Healer, hell. If I get blood poisoning, I’m going to report you to the A.M.A. Or whatever passes for that here.” She couldn’t help smiling at his words. She started to question him 77

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about what “A.M.A.” was and then laughed when she saw his hand. “It is nothing. There isn’t even a mark on the skin. Why even Sally Black Cloud wouldn’t have cried as you did over that.” Valerie stood up regally and watched as Hi remained sitting on the ground. Amazingly, she was no longer angry at him. That’s the first time she noticed the smiling faces of the people surrounding them in a small circle. Trying to regain her composure and anger, she said, “Get up. We must carry the water to the sick.” She walked off, feeling Hi’s eyes on her back.

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CHAPTER 8

Hi felt ridiculously like a teenager on his first date. He had been reduced to fetching and carrying. He followed Valerie from one sick bed to the next, taking care to stand well away from any of the patients who were female, but close enough to lend his strong arms and back when she needed help turning someone. He made numerous trips back and forth from the creek, carrying fresh water to the camp. He brought ample supplies of the freshly ground mustard-like packs she was placing on pneumonia-clogged chests. Through it all, Hi felt himself grinning like an idiot. The playful little tussle in the clearing had been a revelation to him. Sure, she’d bitten him. In all honesty, he had to admit he’d deserved it. Of course, she hadn’t hurt him, although, she had come close with a couple of her kicks. None of that was truly important. What was important was the look in her eyes when she’d attacked him, and her almost instantaneous leap 79

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to tend his wounds. The thought made him smile again. There was no question he didn’t know beans about life in the 1830’s. It was also certain he didn’t know anything about the life and mores of these people. He did, however, know women. Surely they hadn’t changed that much over the years. He smiled again. There was no doubt in his mind. She liked him. “Look at him,” Valerie muttered to herself as she gave a hard twist to a piece of cloth she was using to wipe down the fevered arms of Black Cloud. “Standing over there and grinning like a fool.” As she stood to move to the next patient, she felt his eyes follow her. “You’d think he’d have enough sense to stop staring at me like that. Soon people will talk.” “What was that you said, dear?” For one who had seen so many seasons pass, Abigail still moved with the stealth of a deer. Valerie tried to hide her guilty start by lowering her eyes. “Nothing,” she replied. That answer was obviously not good enough for the Wam^ktea. “I touched your young man’s arse today.” Abigail spoke in Cherokee, but loudly enough for the women working around them to hear. “It is as firm as a husband on his wedding night.” The comment drew guffaws from the women surrounding them. Despite herself, Valerie felt her cheeks begin to heat. “Perhaps though, you already know about his firmness since we saw you two rolling in the dirt a while ago.” Valerie knew what was coming and tried to stop it with a hard look. “Please forgive me, daughter of our great leader. I forgot my place. I didn’t mean to imply you were doing anything forbidden.” Abigail’s quick, respectful nod didn’t hide the gleam in her eye. Her chuckle took some of the sting from her words. The women bobbed their heads in agreement and Valerie felt the tension lift from her shoulders. She laughed along with them. “Look at him,” she said to them. “He is so full of himself and all 80

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because he thought he knew what was in my thoughts. I ought to go over there and bite him again.” Abigail hid another grin. So that’s what happened. “Why did you bite him?” Valerie caught herself before she told the entire tale. After all, there were some things that would shock even the wise Wam^ktea. Still, she felt she needed to defend her position. “He kissed me with the dawn the other morning,” she said, omitting how the kiss felt and how it turned her emotions upside down. “Then, after ignoring me for the whole rest of that day, he tried to explain to me how sharing that kiss was natural. Why I shouldn’t be embarrassed. He treated me like I was a child, not a woman fully grown.” Abigail lowered her gaze to the ground but not before Valerie again glimpsed the humor in them. “Is that when you bit him?” Valerie felt the tug of laughter pull at her. “No,” she answered on a chuckle. “I bit him after he sat on me when I nearly kicked a hole through his private parts.” The laughter started low but rumbled quickly through the Wam^ktea’s chest. The women around them started chuckling too. Valerie’s soft laughter completed the circle. After a few minutes, Abigail rose with some of the mustard poultice in her hand. “Where are you off to?” one of the women asked through her laughter. “I have a feeling our Hiawatha man may be needing this more than Black Cloud right now,” Abigail answered, sending the group into another peal of laughter. The sound of the women laughing together sent chills prickling along Hi’s skin. For some reason, he knew they were talking and laughing about him. It took all his control not to look over to where they stood. It took even more control not to flinch as Abigail walked his way, carrying a small bowl of the brownish paste. The eyes that met his were 81

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curiously solemn, but he detected a twitch just at the corner of her mouth. Careful to protect his flanks, he spoke. “Do you need help?” he asked when she was still more than an arm’s length from him. The old eyes raked his form as if she were a Bangkok tailor about to sell him a suit before she spoke, calling Sally Black Cloud to her side to act as an interpreter. “Abigail wants help placing the healing poultice on the chests of the sick braves,” the child said. She listened another minute to the musical words Abigail spoke and then continued. “She hopes you are not too,” there was a short pause, then, “hurt to help. What does she mean by ‘too hurt,’ Hiawatha man? Did one of the oxen step on your toes?” Hiawatha resisted the instinct to flinch in reaction and narrowed his eyes. Now there was no question what the laughter had been about. He looked into the big wide eyes gazing up at him, and smiled. “No, I’m just fu…” He stopped and tried to edit himself. “I’m just okay-doakey.” Where the hell had that come from? “Tell Abigail I’ll be happy to help her with the braves. And you, munchkin, should run over to the campfire. I think I saw two fish with your name on them. It’s time for you to do KP.” “KP?” asked the little girl. “You know…” He sliced his hand across his neck and made the noise of a knife cutting through skin, then pantomimed cooking it up in a pan. Sally’s eyes widened momentarily, then she giggled before parroting, “Okay-doakey. Time for KP.” What a great kid, Hi thought before turning back to find Abigail almost glaring at him. Why did he have this sinking feeling that pinches were now the least of his worries? * * * It was the laughter that stopped first Charles Redhook and then Joseph, who was walking directly behind him. It was like music to Joseph’s ears. 82

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“It has been a long time since we heard our women laughing like girls, hasn’t it, brother?” Joseph asked, placing his hand on Charles’ arm. He felt the instant tensing and tried not to curse the gods for yet another example of what this miserable journey had done to his family. Charles had once been full of laughter and prone to mischievous, brotherly pranks. That had changed before they had left the first “stockade” the government had placed them in. Joseph looked into the camp in front of them, but his eyes were seeing the past. His family, and all the members of their village as well as the next village to them, had been herded into a stockade that had resembled a pen for livestock. There was a roofed building and high wood walls. Even that hadn’t been enough to dampen Charles’ spirits. Joseph had known, of course, the reason for his brother’s continuous smiles. Charles had fallen in love with a young woman, named Helen, of the next village. She had been a comely maiden and Joseph knew that Charles had gone to visit her on many occasions before their removal. Despite the turmoil among their people, Charles had sought a Wam^ktea and all the marriage arrangements had been made. A wedding day had been set. A leg of venison was scouted up by the groom’s family and a blanket, which would have been Charles’ wedding gift to Helen. Helen’s family had prepared an ear of corn and a blanket. The two blankets would be tied together by bride and groom symbolizing the joining of two lives as was their marriage custom. Even though the tribe had been moved to the stockade, Charles had won approval from the councils to continue with his personal plans. Then, there came the awful day when Charles’ future father-in-law had brought the news. There would be no wedding. An unknown white soldier had raped Helen. In her despair, she had taken her own life rather than face the censure she thought Charles would show her. Charles had been heartbroken, but not a flicker of emotion had 83

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shown on his face. Some days later, the soldiers had come to question Joseph and the council members regarding the disappearance of one of their soldiers. The officer in charge had hinted to Joseph that the man had been questioned about Helen’s attack, but had denied responsibility. Even though the incident was considered closed after only a minor investigation, Joseph had noticed the change in his brother immediately. Charles had gone from a laughing, happy boy to a sullen, withdrawn, driven man. Joseph had no doubt that Charles had murdered the soldier. He hadn’t blamed him. He knew, had it been Charlotte, he would have done worse than anything Charles could have dreamed of. He was also sure that had times been normal, he would have sent Charles off to cleanse his spirit. That wasn’t possible now. Many things weren’t possible now. Joseph came back to the present when he felt his brother’s stare. “Let’s go see what this is all about,” he said. * * * Hi looked out over the bank of the creek and felt the peace of the early morning wash over him. He was absently watching the piece of string he was dangling through a hole cut in the ice. Really, he was just trying to pass time while he waited for Nathan to join him. He hadn’t considered himself much of a fisherman in his life, but seeing the fish last night had given him an idea. Perhaps the best thing about being a Marine had been their emphasis on survival training. He’d loved challenging his body in boot camp and then, when he got into the Special Forces, it had been the source of countless hours of training. Hi had excelled at it and it had given him a source of confidence he had badly needed. What that training, plus living in the wilds of South America, had taught him was that fish could be tricked into snapping up just about any bait if it was handled properly. So, he’d taken a little of the left84

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over corn mush, wrapped it in a piece of hardened bread and rubbed some of the oil from the dead fish over the whole thing. The result wasn’t something he’d relish eating, but he was hoping the fish sleeping at the bottom of the creek would feel differently. He’d used a rock to punch a small hole in the ice and dropped his string down into the water. So far, he’d caught one good-sized catfish, but he was hoping for a lot more. At least enough to help feed the group for the day. The rustle in the overgrowth had him turning around cautiously. He relaxed when he saw Nathan walking slowly down the trail. Hi smiled and started to speak when he noticed Nathan’s guilty look over his shoulder. “I’s sorry, Master Hiawatha,” Nathan said, keeping his eyes lowered. “I couldn’t help being late. Had to be careful no one took a notion to follow me down here.” Hi frowned. It was almost as though Nathan was worried he was going to be punished for being late. He wondered if the Redhooks had been as good to their slave as Nathan had said. Trying only to put him at ease, Hi clapped Nathan on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I was beginning to think I wasn’t going to make it out of the camp without my shadow following me, either.” Nathan slowly raised his eyes to Hi’s face. Not knowing what else to do, he blurted out what was on his mind. “Was you serious about teaching me to read?” Hi’s smile broadened. “Indeed I was. Now, come over here by the river bank and we’ll get started.” Hi walked over to a bare spot of ground just starting to thaw. He picked up a sturdy piece of stick he’d found by the trail on his walk down to the creek and began drawing the letter “A” in the moist earth. Valerie watched the two men from behind the screen of a tree. She couldn’t hear their words, but caught an occasional chuckle above the noises of the morning. She’d awakened when Hiawatha had slipped 85

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from the camp and had almost been caught going down the path by Nathan. With his appearance, she had quickly melted into the overgrowth, knowing they were about to have their first lesson. She told herself it was necessary to watch everything Hiawatha did to report to the council and her father. She also told herself it was important for the protection of her friend and slave, Nathan. She was sure her father wouldn’t react badly to Nathan learning to read the English language. But some other members of their clan wouldn’t be as understanding. Anyway, it was part of her job to protect everyone in her care. She decided to watch for just a few more minutes, then she would head back to the camp and get breakfast ready. She wondered how the people would like to have fish stew for dinner. * * * The man watched the girl as she hid behind the stout tree. Gawd, but she was beautiful. Her black hair shone with health and cleanliness, despite the horrendous ordeal this trek had been. He’d been following her most mornings since they’d been on this trail, and even though it was forbidden, he knew himself to be in love with the princess. He told himself it wasn’t right. After all, he had a wife and two sons waiting back home for him in Georgia. But, damn, it was just too much to expect of a man to do without a woman for so long. Then, they had to go and make him follow along behind her day after day. She’d even smiled at him once. That was before he’d picked up that young buck back on the trail a ways. Since then, the princess hadn’t spared him more than a glance. Plus, that buck was causing trouble. Just look at the way he was cuddling up to that negra. It just wasn’t seemly. He knew there were many Cherokees who felt just like him. It was terrible what his government was forcing the Cherokees to suffer through, because everybody knew these Indians were civilized. That 86

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wasn’t the case with the negras. They weren’t worth much more than a horse or a cow. He shook his dark thoughts away when he realized the girl was starting to move from her hiding place. Holding himself so still that he daren’t breathe, he waited until she had passed his spot. Damn, but she even smelled clean, he thought as she left. He knew he’d never act out his fantasy, but even now he could picture burying himself in her. It would be heaven. Forcing his mind away from such erotic thoughts, he crept closer to the two men who were still kneeling beside the creek. When the slave laughed at something the other said, the man’s frown deepened. This could not continue. Somebody would have to teach them both a lesson. * * * Hi tried to tamp down his excitement as he rode on the high seat of the wagon beside Valerie. He was going to get to see a town—well, okay, maybe not a town, but at least a trading post with people other than soldiers and the Cherokees. This could truly be the break he had been seeking. He was surprised at how quickly this new adventure had unfolded. Joseph had declared there was a small trading post just a short distance away from where the people had camped. Since they had stopped early to give the sick a chance to recuperate, the captain had agreed to let them replenish their dwindling supplies. Joseph had decreed that Valerie should do the bargaining and that Hi should go along with her for protection and to help her load the wagon. He had also sent Nathan and Abigail. Nathan was to help with loading the supplies and the driving, while Abigail was the chaperone. It wasn’t the seemly thing, Joseph’s words, for a young single woman to be seen driving alone with a single man. When Joseph had explained this, Hi had come close to asking who was going to chaperone Abigail, but had managed to bite his tongue. 87

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Joseph gave Valerie money, along with blankets and some jewelry to use as trading goods. Valerie was hoping to purchase a large amount of flour and salt pork to supplement their food stores. Hi looked at Valerie who was seated next to Nathan. The slave was driving the team of horses that Joseph had insisted they use on this trek and was talking quietly to Valerie. Abigail was apparently dozing in the back of the wagon. He let his mind wander to his plan. He’d accepted that he was in the year 1838, but he was sure he’d find out when they came to this trading post. If it was what he expected, he’d still be able to ask some questions and find out if there had been a tornado recently in this area. If someone had spotted a funnel cloud, maybe he would be able to slip away tonight and find the storm. It was a risk, since he wasn’t certain the tornado was his ticket back to the future, but he wasn’t about to pass up what could be his best chance. Hi’s planning was interrupted when their wagon crested a slight ridge. What lay before him was something straight out of a “B” movie. A shack that looked like it had never seen a coat of paint was nestled on the bank of a river. In front of it was a single hitching post made out of three crooked logs. The ground directly in front of the hitching post was nothing but dirt, although there were patches of dead grass ringing the outside fringes of the area. Attached to the main building was a smaller one that appeared to have been built by a drunken construction crew. Listing heavily to the right, its roof was nearly touching the ground on the back corner. As Nathan pulled the wagon to a stop in front of the main building, a man and young boy came out of the door on the sagging building and stared. They didn’t speak or offer to help, just stood silently watching. Hi jumped down, then turned to help Valerie from the wagon. She spoke to Nathan and Abigail quietly. “Wait here. When we need your help, we’ll call,” Valerie said. Hi had already grabbed their trading goods from the back by the time she 88

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faced the porch and headed across its rough planks. Valerie straightened her best day dress that she had unpacked for this occasion and patted her hair to make certain the trip hadn’t loosen any strands from her braid. She took a deep breath as if preparing herself for a confrontation and then said, “Let’s go.” Hi, wanting to reassure her that shopping wasn’t so bad, felt compelled to hold his thoughts to himself. As he stepped onto the shaded porch, the sight that greeted him made him glad of his restraint. A crudely painted sign on the wall spoke volumes. “No Injuns or Negras allowed.” Valerie saw the sign, but didn’t pause. Hi felt her stiffen her back as she opened the door and strode into the small room. It was just like Joe’s Junk Emporium, only smaller and older, Hi thought as he followed Valerie. Just about every usable inch of floor space was filled. There were fabrics and canned goods sitting on wooden shelves. There were barrels and barrels of supplies and even an iron pot-bellied stove sitting in a corner. There was a long counter that followed the back of the room with a piece of wood dividing it in half. On one side there was a double-sided sign. One side read, “Whiskey, 10 cents, shave 5 cents,” while the other read “Canned fruits, 1 cent, flour, 3 cents a pound.” The man behind the counter looked up as they walked in, frowned, then said, “Be right with you,” before returning to the large woman in front of him. “No, ma’am, you sure all you need is ten pounds of flour? I’ve got plenty back in the store room.” When the woman, who was eyeing Hi and Valerie, shook her head, the shopkeeper continued. He picked up a pencil, licked the tip with his tongue, and scratched out something on a sheet of paper. “Okay, that’s ten pounds of flour, two sacks of beans and three cans of fruit. I’ll just add that to your bill, Mrs. Johnson. The boy should have your wagon outside now, and I’ll get him to load your purchases.” 89

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Hi, trying to be gentlemanly, interrupted, “Allow me, madam.” Not understanding, but shrugging aside the woman’s gasp, he reached for her supplies and picked them up. “I’ll be happy to carry them for you.” The woman hurriedly followed him as he led the way out the front door. When he returned, he found Valerie, her upper lip stiff in indignation, in a Mexican standoff with the man. “What do you mean, you have no more flour?” she asked. “As we came in, I heard you say you had plenty.” The man chewed on his thumbnail, looking from Valerie’s angry face to Hi’s. “I think you must be mistaken. I am completely out of flour.” Hi felt his anger bubble inside him. He strode forward. As if she sensed he was losing control, Valerie put her hand on his arm and stopped him from crossing the counter and grabbing the man by the neck. “I am sure you are right, but if you could only go and check your supplies once more. You see we desperately need flour and beans. Anything you have. We are willing to pay for it.” Valerie pulled out the large roll of money her father had given her. The clerk stroked his jaw once and nodded. “Well, I’ll look, but I ain’t making no guarantees.” Then in a lower voice that Hi and Valerie could still hear, he muttered, “Damn Indians. Wish they’d just stay the hell away from decent folk.” When the man left, Hi turned and hissed at Valerie. “Why did you stop me? That man is lying to us. Even if he comes back here with flour, you know he is going to try and cheat us, don’t you?” Valerie nodded and answered in a low voice. “Yes, I know. It has been that way ever since we left our home. However, there is nothing for us to do. We need the supplies. We must just try and do the best we can.” Hi glared at her, but for the first time noticed how hard this was for her. She didn’t like it either. But she had accepted it. The look in her 90

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eyes told him he had to accept it as well. * * * They were headed back to camp before Hi finally got his temper under control. It had been worse than he expected. The shopkeeper had returned with two sacks of flour and beans. Then he had proceeded to charge them triple what his sign had advertised. When Valerie had requested more flour and beans, the man had been solid in his refusal, claiming that was all he could spare. To make matters worse, in Hi’s opinion, when he had carried the supplies to the wagon, he had felt a stone hit his back. Valerie’s stiff posture and tiny gasp of pain, told him he wasn’t the only target. Despite being with his people on this forced march and seeing the horrible way they were treated, Hi had never felt like a second-class citizen. Somewhere between walking in that store and now, Hi realized returning to his own time had become secondary. He wanted to stay and help his people—at least until they reached their new home.

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CHAPTER 9

It was Hi’s fourth day on the trail and he honestly didn’t know how he was going to make it any farther. Already, his expensive running shoes looked like they had been used in a thousand marathons. There were blisters on top of blisters on his palms from controlling a team of oxen with only a pair of leather reins for hours on end. He was leaning against the Redhook wagon during one of the short morning breaks they were allowed when he finally admitted the truth. He was going to have to find his own way back to the future. He couldn’t understand why he’d been lifted up and placed in this time. He didn’t know how to find out what wrong he was supposed to right. Even when he had tried to right a wrong, he failed miserably. All he had to do was remember the debacle at the trading post. He also knew that the longer he stayed with these people the more attached he was becoming. One thing was certain he didn’t need any attachments in the 1830’s. And that stupid thought he’d had about staying and helping his people was never going to enter his mind again. 92

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Despite the temptation lovely Valerie presented. His mind flashed back to the simple, beautiful kiss he’d shared with Valerie just a few days ago. He was starting to admire everything about her. There was no questioning her strength or her spirit. Nor was there any questioning her loyalty. Funny, he’d never thought much about loyalty in a woman before. Maybe, in part of his mind, he’d known if he ever married he would want his wife to remain true to him. That didn’t really strike him as loyal, though. When he thought of the definition of that word, he thought of his army buddies. Now, there was loyalty. The only female friend he’d ever had was loyal, but then he’d only thought of her as a woman the first night he met her. And then only because he was drunk. Loyalty wasn’t a word he usually associated with attractive women he wanted physically, but that’s how he thought of Valerie Redhook. His eyes followed her as she walked across the trail to help Abigail Little Tree carry a pail of water. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only way that he thought of her. It was definitely time to be getting out of here. “Hiawatha-man, Hiawatha-man.” Sally Black Cloud came skipping up to him and grabbed him around his knees, effectively moving his thoughts away from the delectable curves of Valerie’s figure. He lifted the little girl into his arms and felt the world settle on its axis. What a precious child. “How are you today?” Sally asked. He squeezed the warm, small body once affectionately and ruffled her hair before placing her gently on the ground. “I’m just fuc…I mean I’m just hunky-dory, munchkin.” He hadn’t heard that one since third grade. Amazing what popped into a man’s head when he had to improvise. “How about you?” The child’s eyes widened slightly, then she broke into her gaptoothed smile. “I am ‘hunky-dory,’ too, Hiawatha-man,” she parroted, 93

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then ruined the serious tone of her reply with a giggle. “Hunky-dory, hunky-dory, hunky-dory,” she chanted as she skipped away, her head bobbing in time to both her feet and her word play. Hi covered his smile with his hand and stroked his fingers across his jaw. He’d obviously have to watch out what he said in front of the child from now on. What was that old saying about kids? Something about a pitcher with big ears. Oh well, if hunky-dory’s the worst thing she picked up, it wouldn’t be a major tragedy. Corporal Dawsey and his platoon rode up to their group, signaling the break was over. As Hi headed for the wagon seat and the new job he’d inherited, he kept his eye on the Corporal. Something about the man seemed familiar to him. On the surface, that was impossible. How could he know a man from some one hundred fifty seven years before his own birth? Hi took up the reins, watched for the signal from Valerie, who was driving the wagon in front of him, and decided he’d just have to consider this problem for awhile. * * * Hi watched the soldiers getting ready for bed from his crouched position deep in the shadows. He really didn’t know what he was doing. Keeping his eyes, ears and nose focused on the action within the camp, he let his mind wander. He’d been engaged in the mind-numbing task of counting the number of times the team of oxen relieved themselves while walking, when it came to him. Dawsey. Of course. Benjamin Harrison Dawsey, from Bayou Le Coden, Alabama, was the reason Hi had made it through his first tour. Dawsey, one tough-talking, hard-drinking platoon sergeant, had been a high school football star and later had played for the Crimson Tide in college. Then Dawsey’s penchant for beer and diddling with the dean’s underage daughter had led to his being kicked out of college once his athletic eligibility had been up. With the draft recently re-instated, 94

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Uncle Sam had beckoned. Background aside, Dawsey never lost his fleetness of foot or his penchant for young girls. The girls weren’t a problem in the jungle. Neither was athletic ability. In fact, it was the skill honed on the football field that had saved Hi’s life. They’d been walking through the jungle in the midst of a week-long rain storm. Suddenly the rain stopped and the sun burst forward. Before the platoon even knew what hit them, they were deluged by sniper fire. Hi, only in his first month in country, had honestly been too scared to move. Too scared to even think. Dawsey saved his life by tackling him into the mud. Dawsey had taken the round meant for Hi. Hi wasn’t certain if this Dawsey was related to the man he owed his life to, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt to spend a little time investigating. And who knows, maybe he could do something to help this Dawsey that would transport him back to his own time. * * * Valerie knew the exact moment that Hiawatha stole back into their camp. She was deep in a meditative trance, but a prickling along her spine told her of his return. The hard-won serenity the spiritual high had given her vanished. How dare he intrude this way? She rose from her kneeling position and turned back to face the fire. Her eyes slid past the sleeping people in her care and collided with his gaze. Shivering from a chill that had nothing to do with the wind, though she tried to convince herself otherwise, Valerie lowered her eyes. She knew she was being untruthful, at least to herself. Thank goodness that wasn’t a sin. She’d had enough sinning, at least in her thoughts, when it came to Hiawatha Craft. She imagined again the picture he’d presented that morning beside the frozen water. She’d followed him out of the camp, as had been her habit since she’d overheard the plan to give lessons to Nathan. The two men now met each morning just before dawn and she had watched each session. 95

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She told herself it was just so she knew what was going on. That, too, was not the truth. She’d come to enjoy the lessons almost as much as the two men. It was certainly amusing to hear Hi’s sometimes hilarious attempts to pronounce the Cherokee words. It was heartwarming to hear Nathan’s increased pride as he worked steadily at reading the words he had spoken all his life. But the lessons hadn’t been the cause of her concern this morning. It had been the sight of Hi’s bare back and chest as he attempted to wash himself off before Nathan’s arrival. Glistening with water and goose flesh from the cold, his was certainly a warrior’s chest. Though she had been training to be a medicine woman, Valerie had very little experience with male chests. It wasn’t a seemly thing for a young, unmarried woman to see. Sure, she’d seen her father’s chest once or twice and certainly, she’d glimpsed her brothers. Funny, the sight of their chests had not caused her entire being to flush as the sight of Hiawatha’s bronzed and chiseled one had. Even in the pale dawn light with his muscles flexing as he moved, his skin gleamed with wetness and glowing health. And as he had moved to reach for his shirt, it had entranced Valerie as no other sight ever before. Valerie felt the heat of her blood flare into her cheeks at the thought even now, all these hours later. As she felt Hi’s laughing eyes on her back, she railed the gods once again for bringing Hiawatha Craft into her life now. * * * Valerie awoke the next morning to sounds of shouts and riders approaching. She rose from the cold ground quickly just as her father was stepping from the wagon where he’d spent the night with her stillailing mother. Corporal Dawsey and another white soldier rode up with a third 96

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man dressed in a heavy winter coat and beaver hat. Hanging down from his saddle was a black bag Valerie had seen white doctors carry to and from their patients when she had been in the mission school. When her Uncle Charles rode up with the Cherokee scouts who had been out seeking food, Valerie prepared for the worst. “Chief,” Corporal Dawsey said, only to be waved into silence by the other soldier. “The United States government has delivered as promised, Chief Redhook,” the man Valerie knew was the lieutenant in charge of their journey said. He waited only a moment then continued, remembering the Cherokee surrounding him were more fluent in his language than he was in theirs. It was only one of the many discrepancies in this hated duty. How he wished he’d stayed home with his new wife instead of reinstating in the military. “This is Doctor John Crawford. He has been assigned to finish our journey with us, treat your people who have fallen ill and has agreed to remain with you for thirty days until you are settled in Indian Territory.” When Joseph made no comment, the lieutenant continued. “Doctor Crawford is a recent graduate of Baltimore College and has excellent credentials. He will treat your people as if they are his own.” At this the man with the black bag said, “Excuse me, lieutenant, I believe it is best if you leave now. Chief Redhook and I have business to discuss.” Then, to Valerie’s surprise the young man dismounted and spoke to her father in Cherokee, before bowing his head slightly. “Ka wat lee os, Peace to the Cherokee.” Joseph took stock of the young man for a moment, then nodded his head to Charles. At a hand signal, Charles and his men rode off again on their quest to find food. Valerie sighed. Maybe things were going to be all right now. “Welcome, Doctor,” Joseph said, extending his hand. “You speak the language of the Ani’-Yun’ wiya well. Who taught you?” 97

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John Crawford shook Joseph’s hand and tried not to show his relief. Apparently he’d passed the first test. “No, I am sorry, sir, but I only had a chance to learn the one phrase. I hope it was appropriate. May I also say that I requested this duty. I have been following your people’s plight through the courts and papers for several years now. It sickens me what my people are doing to yours in the name of civilization.” Joseph shook his head at the young man’s comments. “We do not hold fault with you. It is your leaders who have brought us to this. My own leaders agreed to their terms. Now, we must deal with the results. But I thank you for your concern and certainly I thank you for your offer of help. We have many sick. We have great need for your skills.” Without turning to look at her, Joseph spoke Valerie’s name. “This is my eldest daughter, Valerie. Valerie, this is Doctor Crawford. You and Mary show him what needs to be done.” Valerie nodded briskly and before either could speak, Joseph was gone. “Welcome, Doctor. As my father said, we have much need of your help. We had another English doctor, but he died only two moons ago. There is a shaman in the other clan traveling with our group, but he is ill and speaking out of his mind with fever most of the time. My sister Mary and I have had some training, but we are baffled by what to do with the latest sickness to befall our people.” She strode away quickly, expecting the young doctor to follow her. After a moment of stunned silence, the man went to his horse, grabbed his bag, and did. * * * John Crawford had never felt so exhausted in all of his life. Nor had he ever felt so helpless. There was little he or anyone could do about the inflammation of the lungs that was sapping the strength of so many of these people. He turned and watched as Mary, one of the Indian women he’d been working with for the past three hours, carried another pot of 98

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steaming water over from the fire. She was such a quiet beauty that for the first hour, he’d jumped to his feet every time she came near. Her soft-spoken Southern dialect had him picturing her sitting on a long plantation porch, sipping a mint julep and being waited on by dozens of servants. It was what she deserved. Life hadn’t seen fit to give her those things though. Her fate had been determined by a greedy government who had only wanted gold and land. Slowly, as the afternoon passed and the demands grew greater, John realized that despite her appearance, or maybe because of it, Mary was not a woman who wished to be coddled. Though not as dominant as her elder twin, Mary was just as competent. In fact, she was the best assistant he’d ever worked with. Even before he spoke his needs, an instrument was produced from his bag and placed in his outstretched palm. He’d been taught that gentle women shouldn’t be exposed to the kinds of things Mary and Valerie were seeing. He wondered if, in a different time or place, he might be the nurse and Mary the doctor. That he would like to see. “Doctor, are you ready to begin?” Mary asked, careful to keep her eyes lowered so the young, impossibly handsome English doctor wouldn’t think her forward. He had decided, after taking a close look at Black Cloud, that there would have to be an emergency surgery to relieve the pressure on his lungs. Doctor Crawford, certainly the most skilled physician either she or Valerie had ever been close to, said the procedure was very new and a big risk. Mary remembered how the conversation between Doctor Crawford and her father had progressed only minutes before. “Chief, I am sorry to tell you, but I believe Black Cloud is suffering from a disease we call peripneumony. Normal treatment is bleeding; however, I feel Black Cloud is not strong enough to withstand bleeding. Normally, I would favor wet cuppin, but Black Cloud needs 99

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to take air into his body first. To do that, I want to make a small incision at the base of his throat.” Joseph looked at the man and said, “What is this small incision?” “It is a small cut in the skin. I must tell you, this has never before been performed on a human. It is a theory I developed in medical school. I believe that the disease has affected his ability to breathe. I propose that by making a small hole in his throat, his breathing will be easier and thus make the bleeding go easier. It is, sir, our only hope.” Joseph nodded, then called Charles and other members of the council over to him. After a few moments, he included both Valerie and Mary in the council discussion. “The council would like to hear what you think about Black Cloud’s sickness?” Joseph included them both in his question. “I do not know, father,” Valerie admitted. “It sounds very odd talking about cutting the skin to let in air. I have heard and seen the bleeding he is talking about. And I agree that Black Cloud is much too weak to withstand that now.” Joseph and the elders nodded their heads at Valerie’s words. When Mary spoke, they listened closely. “I agree with Valerie,” she said. “I have been watching Doctor Crawford this day. He seems to be very patient and caring of our people. I wonder, though, if we should talk to Mister Craft. He is the one who mentioned the sickness by its name to Valerie. Perhaps, he can be of assistance to Doctor Crawford.” Joseph looked back at his eldest daughter. “Is this true? Did he use the name Doctor Crawford just said?” Valerie shrugged. “I am not sure, father. It sounded similar; however, there was a difference. Mary is right. Perhaps he has seen the disease and could be of assistance to Doctor Crawford.” The elders had agreed and Charles was dispatched to fetch Hiawatha, who was tending the animals down by the stream where they were stopped for the rest of the day. 100

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Valerie was kneeling beside Black Cloud and beginning some of the chants meant to call forth the spirits. Mary had told Doctor Crawford of the elders’ decision, and also that they were bringing a man to help him with the operation. Crawford had nodded his acceptance and then had asked for plenty of boiling water. Although most of his fellow students at school disdained his penchant for cleanliness, Crawford had never forgotten his practice of boiling all his instruments in water before using them on a patient. He also liked to have the patient clean and he instructed Mary in both these areas. Mary sent some of the older women to handle the bathing of Black Cloud and attacked the problem of cleansing the instruments herself. Although Crawford hadn’t asked for help, he was glad the Chief had seen fit to give him a man. There was no doubting either Mary or Valerie’s abilities, but Black Cloud was still a man. He’d seen many nearly dead men thrash about wildly in pain and fear during a mere bleeding. There was no telling what would happen when he had to make an incision in the sensitive area of the throat. Too much thrashing by the man could make him cut deeper than he needed. As Mary and the women continued with the preparations, he closed his eyes and said a little prayer. For Black Cloud, these people and most of all for him. He was about to take the biggest risk of his career.

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CHAPTER 10

When Charles had materialized silently at his shoulder, Hi had known instantly something was wrong. So when Nathan translated Charles’ words that Hi was needed back at the camp, he had walked swiftly up the rough frozen trail, Charles at his side. Now, seeing the worry on the faces ringing the camp, Hi’s eyes immediately sought Valerie. He was relieved when he picked up the sound of her voice. The words sounded familiar, as did the rhythm of her chant. He recognized it as the same one she used the day he’d found Black Cloud in respiratory arrest. He strode across the campsite to where she sat, only to stop as a man stepped into his path. “I need some strong men to help me.” The man was dressed in a shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a dark vest covering the front. It was obvious he was not another member of this tribe. “We need to get this man off the ground in order for me to operate. See if you can find 102

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some planks or lumber. I think if we stretch a piece between those two stumps over there, it will be just the right height for me to work.” Charles nodded his head once, but Hi’s hand forestalled him. “What is going on here?” Hi knew he was being preemptory, but he wasn’t about to let any stranger harm Black Cloud or the rest of the people. The man’s straightened posture proved he hadn’t liked the tone of Hi’s voice. Too bad. The newcomer pointed to Black Cloud. “This man is about to die. There is only one way to save him and even though it is a risk, Chief Joseph and the council have agreed to let me try. Right now, even leeching won’t do the trick.” This man must be a doctor. Young, not dressed in military clothes, he must be from the nearest settlement. Maybe, if he played his cards right, he could at least make sure Black Cloud didn’t die from infection. Having made his decision, Hi nodded once and moved to help Charles find some wide planks. Making motions with his hands, Hi suggested tearing off one of the wagon sides. Charles’ eyes gleamed once he understood, and he rushed to help Hi make the transition. John Crawford sighed softly under his breath. He was so incredibly tired. He’d known from the newspaper reports that the Cherokee had suffered terribly on this forced march, but he hadn’t been prepared for this. He’d only been here a few hours and already he’d treated more people then he had during his entire residency at Baltimore. To top it off, it seemed as if everything he did had to get approval. The Chief’s daughter, Valerie, wasn’t helping any. She’d started off giving him orders like he was one of the ward sisters. Now, when he should have been preparing his patient for a risky operation, she was holding up the show with useless chanting. Granted, he understood the need to prepare one’s soul for the hereafter, but he was concerned with Black Cloud’s present condition. And then came that strangely dressed man who spoke with such authority in his voice as if he, one of the top graduates in his field, had to get approval from every member of the 103

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tribe to perform an operation. He tried not to worry anymore about the Cherokee woman’s chants or any of the other things. He had to be thinking about the procedure he was going to attempt. To his knowledge, it had never been tried anywhere in the world. There was a very good chance it would not save Black Cloud. But John knew that if he stuck with traditional medical techniques, Black Cloud would not make it through the night. Honestly, he was a little nervous himself. He had theorized about the possibility of doing this procedure in school and his instructors had laughed. Since he had never had any live patients to try this on before, he couldn’t be certain it would work. Trying to ignore the strange sounds and rocking motions Miss Valerie was making, he turned to the two men who had prepared the makeshift operating table. He spoke to the man who’d come last, sensing his command of English was better than the near-silent man who’d been on Chief Joseph’s right side when he arrived. “Please have the women spread clean blankets over the wood. It would be better if it could be washed, but I don’t want to lay Black Cloud on wet wood. He’s got enough facing him as it is.” Hi nodded and was about to translate for his partner, but Charles was already heading over to the fire to talk to Abigail and the other women. Charles pointed to the blankets and spoke to the women. Hi hid his surprise. Obviously, English was not a concern for the warrior. After all the things he’d said to him earlier, thinking he didn’t speak English, Charles had to believe he was nuts. He’d have to test the theory out at a later time. Instead, he turned back to the young doctor. “May I ask what exactly you are planning to do?” Hi asked. “I know a little about this stuff. I might be able to help.” John Crawford stopped his pacing and gave the man a thorough look. “Were you a surgeon’s assistant in the army?” he asked, thinking that if the man had any experience at all, he could be used as a nurse. John had no doubt that either the lovely Mary or bossy Valerie could 104

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serve his purpose, but he would rather have a man. Hi tried to do a quick mental review of American history. What exactly did a “surgeon’s assistant” do in these times? He decided a partial truth was better than nothing. “Some.” John rubbed his hands together briskly. “Excellent. I am going to try a new procedure. I have no idea if it will work. Black Cloud’s breathing has reached a critical point. I want to bleed him, but if we don’t force some air into his lungs, the leeches will be useless.” Crawford stared off into the distance for a moment. “I don’t know if this will help, but I propose to make a small incision at the base of his throat. If that doesn’t help bring him air, then at least the bleeding will be easier to complete.” Hi’s stomach churned at the thought of bleeding Black Cloud, but the doctor had a good point about getting air into his lungs. Maybe with a few gentle hints and some inventiveness on his part, he could show these people how to perform a tracheotomy. He knew he’d never in his life forget the time in the jungle when he’d been the only one available to help the medic perform an emergency tracheotomy on one of the men in his platoon. His mind raced. If it was going to work, Hi needed something for the doctor to insert through the incision and into the trachea to maintain the opening and provide a chance for air to get in. They were close to a river; there might be some hollow reeds around. Then he’d have to convince the doctor they had to be sterilized first. Of course, that was after he took the time to find them. Hi remembered seeing Sally Black Cloud playing with a small toy that resembled a kazoo. That would be perfect. He needed to talk to Valerie and see if she could get it for him. He looked over at her and realized her chanting had stopped. Now was as good as any time to talk to her. “Valerie.” he murmured, placing his hand on her arm. She jerked as if shocked out of some kind of trance. “The doctor is going to need something to make his operation work. I saw Sally playing with a small 105

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wooden object the other day. It was about three inches long and had holes on both ends and one on the side. Do you know the toy?” Valerie looked into Hi’s deep blue eyes. Why would he have need of a toy? Sensing the desperation in his voice, she nodded. “Good. See if you can find it and bring it over to the table. Hurry.” Hi turned back and helped Charles and several of the other men lift Black Cloud from the ground onto the now–covered operating table. He was relieved to see the doctor using hot water and some of the lye soap on his hands and arms. At least this one knew enough to try and be as clean as possible. He was also glad to see the doctor’s instruments in a pot of boiling water. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all. He had been wrong, Hi thought, when he finally was able to sit down at the campfire later that night. Doctor Crawford had been hesitant to cut as deeply as Hi remembered they needed to. Hi had even felt some trepidation himself. The jungle had been a long time ago. What if he was wrong? Finally, Hi’s instructions had been carried out and they had managed to cut through the skin at the base of Black Cloud’s throat through the layers of tissue to the trachea. The influx of air into Black Cloud’s body had been instantaneous. Hi had Valerie sterilize the small instrument, but convincing Crawford they should stick the toy in Black Cloud’s throat had been another battle. Finally, Hi’s logic got through. He’d used the argument that the tube would keep the spot open and make it easier to do the bleeding later on. Hi wasn’t about to let the doctor bleed Black Cloud or anyone else, but that was an argument for another time. Doctor Crawford hadn’t flinched but had pulled a strand of hair from Black Cloud’s head and used it to stitch the wound. Actually, Hi was pretty pleased with himself. He’d shown an intelligent young doctor something that was years ahead of his time and he’d managed to prolong Black Cloud’s life in the process. Granted, it didn’t guarantee the salvation of all the Cherokee, but he’d take his 106

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victories one small step at a time. Maybe, being back in this time wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Hi looked around at the quiet camp. Doctor Crawford’s head was already nodding onto his chest. He didn’t blame the man. It had indeed been a long day. He heard the rustle of skirts and sensed Valerie’s presence as she came closer to the fire. She was worthy of being the daughter of a great chief like Joseph. The Ani’-Yun’ wiya’, which Nathan told him meant Real People and was how the Cherokee thought of themselves, were lucky to have her on their side. Hi told himself he was lucky she was on his side as well. With a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in a long time, he felt his eyelids start to lower. Valerie, with two plates of warmed food in her hands, stopped at the sight that met her. Both Hi and Doctor Crawford were sleeping sitting up. Her heart swelled with tenderness as she watched Hi sleep, looking like a little boy. Indeed, the half-smile gracing his lips reminded her of a picture she’d seen once at the Mission School. It had been an artist’s drawing of a cherub. Valerie had learned a cherub was a child-like messenger from the white man’s God and represented a good spirit. “One thing Hiawatha Craft isn’t is an angel,” she muttered. “I think that can be said about both men.” Mary’s soft voice startled Valerie. “How are you doing, sister?” Valerie looked into her sister’s tired face and then stretched her aching back. “Better. Black Cloud is breathing easier. The surgery seems to have been a success. How does our mother fare?” Mary’s face lit with a slight smile. “She seems improved. Your poultice is helping her breathing and I believe the fever has finally broken. Did you learn a lot from watching Doctor Crawford?” Valerie shook her head. “They would not let me near the table. First the good doctor, and then Mister Craft, said it wasn’t the thing for a female to watch. You would think I had never seen blood before.” 107

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“And it made you angry,” Mary finished for her. “It is odd, is it not? We have been caring for our people for all these weeks and now, suddenly, we are too frail to continue our jobs. Doctor Crawford was constantly trying to shield me from one thing or another this day. No wonder he is so tired.” Valerie laughed, then remembered the plates she was still holding in her hands. “Come, sister, I made these plates for the men, but I think we need them more. Let’s sit for our own rest.” The two women moved to the other side of the fire, ate and continued talking quietly. * * * Hi was busy fighting his way through an endless jungle battle with the sounds of mortars and rocket launchers reverberating in his head when the first scream pierced the night. At first, he thought it was coming from inside his own head. The second scream jerked him fully awake. He was up and running towards the sound before Doctor Crawford had even moved. There was a crowd of people gathered in a circle near the outskirts of the camp. When Hi reached the inner ring, he saw Charles holding a knife in one hand while sitting astride a soldier. The knife’s point was leveled at the man’s throat and Charles was staring down at the man’s face. Chief Joseph was crouched on his heels three feet away from his brother and speaking quietly. Hi’s tension eased only slightly. He’d seen that same look in the eyes of several of his army buddies. There was even a time when the same look stared back at him from a mirror. Hi was trying to remember if there had been any major wars with the Indians in the late 1830’s when he sensed Crawford at his side. “My God, what is happening?” The doctor spoke softly, eyes locked on the deadly tableau playing out in front of him. “Isn’t that the chief’s brother on top of the soldier? I’ll stop this right now.” Hi’s hand on Crawford’s arm stopped the man. 108

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“Let Chief Joseph handle it. Anybody else makes a move and I’ll guarantee Charles will kill that man before he realizes what he’s doing.” Crawford stared intently at Hi. “You’re not an ordinary member of the tribe, are you?” Before Hi was forced to answer, the action in front of them drew their attention. He looked across the crowd and saw fear and something else on Valerie’s face. Without looking again at Crawford, Hi started to move in her direction, careful to stay on the outer fringes of the circle of people watching the tableau. When he reached Valerie, Hi was close enough to hear the low voice of Joseph. Charles still hadn’t spoken, but the good news, from Hi’s standpoint, was that Charles was looking at Joseph instead of at the knife held to the soldier’s throat. Valerie felt Hi’s presence long before she saw him. For the first time since she’d been awakened from sleep by Charles’ scream, she felt like things were going to be all right. Without taking her eyes away from the scene in front of her, she spoke softly. “Father is telling Charles that he is a great warrior and the people are all proud of him for his vigilance on guard duty. It seems Charles found this man trying to steal one of our ponies.” For the first time, Hi noticed the man Charles held at knife-point. The man was wearing dark-colored jacket and pants. Unlike uniforms the soldiers guarding them wore, this one showed faded empty spaces on the jacket shoulders. “This man is a deserter.” Though Hi’s words were low, Valerie heard. “Yes. It would appear that way. It is just unfortunate he had to try and steal from us on Charles’ watch.” “Unfortunate? I’d say it’s damn lucky for us,” Hi retorted. Valerie shook her head quickly. “Do not be silly. We cannot have any more problems with the whites. If we kill one of their own, even with justice on our side, things will be even worse for us. Father must 109

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convince Charles to let that man go. I just wish there had been time for Charles to cleanse his soul before this happened.” She bit her lip, realizing she may have spoken too much. No one outside the direct family and council members had known about the night Charles had killed a white soldier months ago. If word got out to anyone else, it could mean more dire circumstances for her people. She didn’t want to believe that Hiawatha was spying on the people, but she just didn’t know for certain. Hi wanted to ask what she meant by “cleansing his soul,” but managed to keep the words from spilling out. As a member of their tribe, he should be familiar with all the customs. Maybe at their next lesson, he’d ask Nathan what the phrase meant. It appeared Joseph had gotten through to Charles because the warrior was handing the Chief his knife and moving slowly off the thief’s chest. As soon as Charles was out of the way, soldiers who had been standing among the people rushed in to take charge. While the soldiers took command of the white man who had been Charles’ captive, several men Hi recognized as members of the council took Charles and led him away. Joseph was left to talk to Corporal Dawsey. Hi and Valerie moved closer to hear what was being discussed. “I’m awfully sorry about this Chief,” Dawsey said. “I don’t know how that scurvy son of a dog got by our sentries. We won’t let it happen again.” Joseph nodded once, started to speak and stopped. “Thank you, Corporal. I am just happy my brother Charles was on guard tonight and able to protect our property. We have little enough left as it is. Since you are here, have you heard any news on my request to take some men into the nearest town for supplies?” Dawsey removed his hat and scratched hair that gleamed greasily in the cold moonlight. “Yes, sir. Captain has agreed to allow you to send two men and a wagon ahead to Fort Smith for supplies. It’s up to you who you want to send. If they leave now, they can get there, get what 110

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you need and probably get back to the new land shortly after the group arrives. I was supposed to come and tell you this before we started out in the morning. I guess it don’t hurt to tell you now though.” Joseph nodded his head again, his mind moving rapidly ahead of them. This was indeed good news. He would have to call a council meeting to decide who to send. He had a feeling the people would need the supplies desperately when they arrived if they were going to survive any time in the new land. “Thank you, Corporal, for your information. Now, I must ask you if we can delay our departure for a short time after dawn. It will be necessary for us to call a council to decide who will be selected to go for the supplies.” Dawsey scratched his head again. The Captain was not going to be pleased about this news. But shee–it, what did they expect? The Cherokee people were real big about letting their governing council decide on all important matters. He’d like to see how the Army would like it if somebody told them they had to forget all about their orders once in awhile. His decision made, Dawsey replied, “That’s not a problem, Chief. I’ll let the Captain know right away. It’ll probably help the new Doc out, too, give him some extra time to get some of your people back on their feet.” With that, Dawsey saluted smartly and turned to leave. Joseph showed no sign of his exhaustion, but how he wished he could just go and lie by his wife for the rest of the night. That wasn’t to be, though. There was much work still to be done. First, he had to find out how Charles was doing. Then he had to call a council meeting for this morning. Joseph walked away without realizing his daughter and Hiawatha Craft were waiting to talk to him.

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CHAPTER 11

The sun was just starting to rise when Joseph called the council meeting to order. Granted, it wasn’t in a sturdy house, but on the ground around a stripped wagon, yet the elders who were not ill with the coughing sickness were all there, as were members of the women’s council and the Wam^ktea. The people of the other clans traveling with their group who were able to sit up were also present. Valerie was part of the women’s council, taking the spot of her mother who was still too ill to participate. If things were normal, Joseph would have had his Itausta, or Right Hand man and his Chief Speaker or Tikunotsuliski, at his side along with six more council members to form the tribe’s civil government. There should have also been seven honored women present. The split of their group combined with injuries and death had whittled the number of council members available down to six men and four women. Valerie swallowed her bitterness over the fate of her people as her 112

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father spoke. “I have called this meeting to announce that the white soldiers will allow us to send two men and a wagon to Fort Smith for supplies,” Chief Joseph said. “This trip is to help insure that we will have food and building supplies when we get to our new homeland.” Joseph waited for the murmurs of assent and pleasure to move around the circle. Valerie tried to control the thrill that raced down her spine. Perhaps, the best man for the job was a woman. Her mind raced ahead. I could take the wagon, get the supplies we desperately need and get back in time to meet the group. Joseph’s words broke into her thoughts. “This is a dangerous assignment for which we need someone who is both strong and wise. Our scouts tell us that the land between here and Fort Smith is harsh and unforgiving. There are also signs the land may be considered the sacred hunting grounds of hostile people.” Valerie’s thoughts soared. This was just the assignment for her. If she were at the settlement waiting with the supplies when the people arrived, her father and all the other elders would realize she was able to lead the people into their future. Wondering how to go about volunteering for the assignment without raising the censure of the elders, Valerie let the discussion flow around her. She was busy plotting how she would handle the trip. She would wear her pair of deerskin leggings that she occasionally wore under her day dresses when the weather was really cold. She also had a few of her brother’s shirts that would provide her extra warmth. She thought quickly. There was no question that she could handle a team of oxen. She’d been doing it all these weeks on the trail, she told herself, anticipating the arguments her father would make against her doing this. And if she plaited her long black hair and then tied it around the top of her head under a knitted cap, no one would even have to know she was a woman. Valerie’s excitement began building. There was no way the elders 113

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could argue that her medical skills were needed. The People now had Doctor Crawford, and Mary’s own skills as a medicine woman were just as good as her own. Some might say Mary didn’t have the ability of second sight that she did, but the People didn’t need her sight. It hadn’t kept them from any of the bad things that had happened to them so far. She wished she could tell her father she had envisioned this was her destiny. But she wouldn’t falsify her gift like that. Not even if it meant helping her take a big leap in reaching her dream. The sound of Charles’ raised voice brought Valerie back to the council discussion. Charles had stepped from his position at the right hand of Joseph and spoke in a chillingly calm voice. “I will take this job. I will bring our supplies safely to us.” Valerie’s heart dropped as her father looked around for agreement from the elders and the women’s council. When he got nods of approval, he spoke loudly enough for all to hear. “It is settled then. Charles will go and take a man of his choosing with him.” Joseph gripped Charles’ arm at the elbow. “Be like the anitsiskwa. May the spirit of the bird guide you. We will prepare for you to leave as soon as possible.” Joseph listened to the murmuring of a woman who held the position as head of the women’s council in place of the absent Charlotte. He nodded and then spoke again. “The women will prepare some grape dumplings for you to take on your quest. We will also send some of our gunpowder. It may be of use for trading if necessary.” Having finally finished, Joseph signaled for the council meeting to end and everyone moved slowly back to their wagons. Valerie heard snatches of conversation as people went over their meager supply lists to find if they had anything to aid Charles’ journey. All the time, she fought against the urge to cry and finally lost. Turning blindly away, she headed down the path to the river, seeking some solitude. 114

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Hi watched Valerie leave the crowd gathered for the meeting. He started to follow when he saw Charles walking toward him. Was this it? Would Charles ask him to go with him to Fort Smith? It could be his chance to do something worthwhile to make up for the fiasco at the trading post. It could also be his chance to find another tornado and go back to his own time. He had been near Fort Smith when the tornado had come upon him before. Hi held his breath, releasing it only when Charles stalked past him and stopped in front of a young man Hi had seen on several other occasions. The man always had the slack-eyed appearance of too many hours spent looking at the bottom of a bottle. Maybe in this case, it was the bottom of a jug. When Charles stood in front of the young man, he jumped to his feet and tried to straighten his clothes. “Little John, I need a man to go with me to the white fort and bring the supplies we need to build a new life for the People. Will you be that man?” The boy-man tried once to speak, then again, before managing to get his voice past the bobbing apple in his throat. “Yes. Sir,” he added lamely. Charles looked deep into Little John’s eyes as if to see into his soul. “I need a man whose brain is not clouded by the white man’s whiskey. I ask again. Will you be that man?” “I will,” Little John vowed. Hi saw the very cloak of dissipation leave the young man as if he were shedding a poorly tailored suit. Having been a leader of young men himself, he recognized the tactic. Sometimes all it took was giving someone who thought they were useless an important task. Throughout history, great armies had been built on just that theory. That didn’t diminish Hi’s own feeling of frustration. Would he never be able to find a way to either put things right in this time or a tornado that would send him home? What did he have to do? 115

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He headed down the path Valerie had taken. For some reason he had a great desire to just talk with her now. Joseph watched Hiawatha Craft follow the path his daughter had taken. He tried not to sigh. There was something afoot between the two and he wasn’t at all sure he could stop what he believed would eventually happen. Nor was he sure he wanted to. Last night, Charlotte had told him of the talk she’d had with the Wam^ktea. The go-between had wanted to get Joseph’s permission to begin plans for a wedding ceremony. Charlotte said she had noticed the tension between Valerie and Hiawatha and believed the Wam^ktea was correct in her assumptions. Joseph wasn’t so sure. Every time he’d seen both Hiawatha and Valerie anywhere in the same area, the sparks had been almost visible. Of course, his dear Charlotte had reminded him that had been the way between them as well. Still, Joseph wasn’t blind to his daughter’s desires. He knew in her heart she hoped to become the leader of their people. It wasn’t possible of course, but it was hard for anyone to convince Valerie of that. Wishing he had the words that would ease her pain or even make her satisfied with her important role within the tribe, Joseph sighed in frustration. He had to believe Valerie would be all right. Now, though, he had to speak with his brother and make certain he hadn’t made the wrong decision by sending Charles on the crucial mission to Fort Smith. The fate of their people rested on the success of his journey. He had known his role as chief wasn’t going to be an easy one. Their journey was fraught with hardship and bigotry. The few times he, his warriors or even Hiawatha and Valerie had gone into the small towns that bordered their trail, shop-keepers had either refused to sell them goods they had on their shelves or else charged exorbitant prices. Even though they had tried to find most of their food through the hunt, such staples as flour and meal had to be bought while they were on the 116

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trail. The soldiers didn’t want to give them enough time at each stop for the women to make their own and even then, they would still have to buy the grain since their own supplies had run out long ago. Joseph looked down the path both Craft and Valerie had taken and wished, not for the first time, he could see into the future. He wondered if he would ever go back to the gentleman farmer’s life he had started to enjoy before their world had fallen apart. Feeling a great need to touch his wife, he veered toward their wagon and told himself his eldest daughter would be fine for a while. * * * Valerie stood at the bank of the icy little stream and wiped away the tears streaming down her cheeks. How could she ever be taken seriously as the next chief of her people when she couldn’t even control her emotions? One thing didn’t go her way and all she could do was run away and stand around crying silly female tears. She just wasn’t going to do it. She wasn’t going to let this stop her from her dream, though. She’d prove to the people she was ready to be their leader. And she’d do it by staying with them and helping make their lives easier. Her shoulders stiffened when she heard Hiawatha Craft call her name. “Valerie? Are you all right?” he asked, coming up behind her. He could tell something was wrong. He’d seen the heaving of her shoulders and heard the telltale sniffling as he’d walked into the clearing. Now he saw how her back straightened at his voice. “I am fine, Mister Craft. Please, if anyone back at the camp is missing me, tell them I’ll be there shortly.” Her tone told Hi she wasn’t in the mood for company. Ignoring the warning, he moved to stand beside her. With his peripheral vision, he saw her satiny cheeks were stained with the tracks of her tears. He clenched his fists against the wave of desire that swept over him. “Please, you can call me Hi. Are you upset because your uncle is 117

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facing a dangerous trip?” he asked, just trying to keep her talking. Maybe if she were talking, he’d be able to keep his mind off the sudden vivid image of taking her in his arms and kissing her until she could think of nothing but him. He felt himself drawn to her lips as if they were the center of gravity, but he jerked himself back to a safe distance. He had to clear his throat twice before he could continue speaking. “If that’s the problem, let me tell you I don’t think you have anything to fear. Charles strikes me as being able to take care of himself. He handled that guy last night like a pro. I’m sure if there were any doubts, your father wouldn’t be sending him.” Valerie sniffed the last of her tears away. Obviously, Mister Craft couldn’t take a hint. “Please, I would like to be left alone,” Valerie said, knowing with this man the direct route was obviously the only way. Before Hi could respond, a shout from the campsite broke the morning stillness. “Valerie, Mister Craft, come back now. The soldiers say we must move onward,” Abigail Little Tree called and waved at them. It was funny, but from this distance, the old woman’s voice had an almost masculine sound to it, as did the look of her pronounced Adam’s apple. Could it be possible? “Valerie,” Hi began. She had already started forward and was now just past him. “What?” she snapped, her mind obviously on the tasks that lay ahead of her. “Never mind.” He must be crazy to think even for a moment that Abigail Little Tree was a man. He’d know after all. And he certainly didn’t think there were cross-dressers back in this time. * * * The next two days brought change in Hiawatha’s routine. With the absence of Charles and the warrior he’d taken with him, Joseph began to rely on Hi to take a more active role in hunting and foraging for food. Joseph even allowed him to join in the nightly council meeting to 118

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discuss the best way to find more food for their group. It was from these meetings that he learned the United States government had offered to provide the Cherokees with food for their trip. The people had refused the offer, preferring to owe no allegiance to a government that had forcibly taken their land and ignored the ruling of its own legal system. The talks brought to mind Hi’s history lessons that had taught him of the white man’s greed and the treachery of Andrew Jackson’s presidency. It was a theme all too prevalent in the dealings with all Native American tribes. His new responsibilities were a lot different from what he’d been doing since he came to this time, but Hi welcomed the change even though it included many long hours on horseback. He’d never spent so much time in a saddle and the result was soreness in muscles he’d forgotten existed. That was something Nathan took great pleasure in teasing him about on the third morning after Charles had left the main group. “So, Mister Hiawatha, it seems you be moving a little slow this morning.” Hi didn’t need to see Nathan’s grin. He heard it the big black man’s voice. “I’se got me some awful good liniment. Little Tree gives it to me. Course it burns like you’se in the fires of Hell. On second thought, maybe where you’re hurting, the cure might be worse than the sickness.” Hi, who’d stiffened at the mention of Abigail, relaxed at Nathan’s teasing. Nathan’s next words got him a little worried again. “Course, maybe if’n we told Little Tree about it, you’d have a volunteer to make the hurt go away.” Hi scowled good-naturedly at his friend. “Don’t even THINK about it,” he warned, and smiled to take the sting out of his next words. “I know a lot of different ways to make your life miserable, pal. One word to Little Tree, and you can count on my revenge being swift and highly 119

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uncomfortable.” Nathan’s wide grin told Hi the threat had been understood and given the proper degree of respect. None. With that, they began their lesson. Joseph watched the camaraderie between the two men and wondered if he was about to make a mistake. He’d heard rumors of Hiawatha’s closeness to the slave Nathan, but he’d downplayed them when repeated to him. He himself counted Nathan as a friend and knew the negra to be suffering as much as any of the Ani’-Yun’ wiya on this trek. Joseph had promised Nathan a tract of land and had been planning on helping cut the trees and build Nathan a house this spring. That was, of course, before they had been forced away from their homeland. Now, Joseph didn’t even have any land to give Nathan. He hoped to be able to award Nathan his own spot in the new land, but Joseph knew it could well be years before anyone was settled enough for that. And frankly, he just wasn’t up to the problems it would cause among the People if he were to grant a slave land when the People’s way of life itself was struggling to survive. There was already a great deal of talk against the men who had signed the agreement with the white government that gave away their land. He had to keep Hiawatha’s friendship with the negra a secret. He couldn’t afford division amongst the remaining members of the council. Not now, not with the news he’d just received. He needed a strong, healthy man to make the trek he had planned. If he hadn’t sent Charles to Fort Smith, this would be a perfect job for his brother. He didn’t have that option now. Other than himself, Hiawatha Craft was the only man left in their camp strong enough and well enough to make the trip. Joseph would love to make this journey, but his people needed him with them for support. Besides, he didn’t relish leaving his wife and daughters alone at this time. 120

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Yes, Hiawatha Craft was the only choice. “Hiawatha,” Joseph called, breaking into the open after Nathan left. “May I have a word with you. I have something I need you to do.” Waiting until he was close enough to lower his voice, he quickly explained about the message he’d received from his cousin and then asked if Hi wanted to make the dangerous trip. Hi couldn’t believe his ears. This was just great news. He smiled when he realized Joseph was waiting for his answer. “I know what I ask of you is unusual. And dangerous,” Joseph said, as if trying to convince Hi to accept his proposition. “I believe it will be at least one day’s ride and maybe two to the place where my wife’s second cousin and his family have settled. It may be another day’s ride to meet us where the soldiers have told us we can build our town.” He frowned and didn’t give Hi a chance to speak. “I have no idea what might face you between here and there. The soldiers will not allow you to have a rifle, so the only protection you will have is this knife and your wits. Unfortunately, I must beg you to think not of your own safety, but of the Ani’-Yun’ wiya.” Hi held up his hand, finally stopping Joseph’s flow of words. “Wait a minute, Chief. You don’t have to give me the hard sell. I’ll go. Just tell me what you want me to do and where I’ll find this cousin. Don’t worry about a thing.” Joseph’s frown turned to a weary smile. He held out his hand and clasped Hi’s forearm tightly. “It is done,” he said in a formal tone. “You will leave at first light. I will give you my own stallion for the trip. He has weathered the journey better than any of our other horses and is fast as lightning. I believe you will find Charlotte’s cousin settled fourteen miles north of Dwight Mission. According to him, there is a trading post in the town where I hope we can get some more supplies.” Joseph went on to tell Hi how he had received a message from his wife’s cousin, who had been sent ahead by the Cherokee the preceding 121

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spring to scout the territory for possible sites for the People to build farms and hopefully, one day, a school to teach the children. The most important role of the “missionaries,” as the Cherokees had called them after the example of their white brethren, had been to plant crops and secure supplies to help the remainder of the Ani’-Yun’ wiya settle when they arrived. Now, Joseph needed to get word to his wife’s cousin that they would be arriving within the next week and were desperate for the supplies he had stockpiled. He wanted Hi to deliver this message. Hi realized the significance of Joseph’s request and felt his chest swell with pride much as Little John had reacted when Charles asked him to go to Fort Smith with him. Maybe, by completing this job, Hi could satisfy whatever spirit was keeping him bound to this time. Certainly, accomplishing this task would help the people he’d come to feel were part of him. Hi shook his head and said, “Don’t worry about a thing, Chief. I’ll deliver the message. We’ll be waiting with building supplies and all the food we can find. You have my word on it.” * * * Valerie couldn’t believe her ears. She looked at her father as he spoke to the group gathered around the campfire that night. How could he do this to her? Joseph was telling everyone that Hiawatha Craft had agreed to travel by horseback to the approximate site her mother’s cousin had settled. Valerie knew her father was correct in sending someone on this journey. Their supplies were rapidly running out and with more harsh weather ahead of them in their new land, they needed warm, safe houses to live in immediately and food to sustain their very lives. What Valerie faulted her father on was his choice of messenger. Why can’t he see this is a job for me to do? Her voice remained silent, but the screaming inside her head raged intently. As if he were reading her mind, she watched her father’s eyes meet her own. The words he 122

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spoke were those of a leader, not a father. “Mister Craft has proven that he is strong of mind and body. With Charles and Little John gone to Fort Smith, we need a strong, healthy man to make this journey. It must be done quickly if Cousin George is to meet us with the necessary supplies when we arrive. Of our remaining men, Mister Craft is the only one who is not battling weakness from the peripneumony as Doctor Crawford has called it. It has been decided,” he finished, breaking eye contact with Valerie. She knew the signal. It meant there would be no argument. Hiawatha Craft was taking the journey that should have been hers. Knowing she was being silly but unable to help herself, she stood. It just wasn’t right. She wasn’t going to stand for it. Showing the only form of rebellion she was allowed, Valerie turned her back on her father and walked away from the group.

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CHAPTER 12

It was still dark as Valerie silently moved about the campsite. Dressed in dark deerskin leggings that she had worn most of the trip, along with one of her brother’s heavy woolen shirts and a top coat, she hurriedly tried to stuff her long braids into a tightly knitted stocking cap. The cap was a godsend when she’d found it lying among the clothes piled in the corner of one of the supply wagons. She’d thought about pinning her hair up in the usual chignon, but had then decided the warmth of the hat would be more important than having her hair out of the way. Satisfied with the fit if not the comfort, she leaned down to the ground to search for the knife she had taken from her father’s things and tried to think about what else she needed for her trip. Soft voices coming through the woods stilled her motions. “I am sorry to bother you like this, Miss Mary,” Doctor Crawford said as he and Valerie’s sister walked through the woods and into the clearing on the opposite side of the camp. Valerie’s quick glance told 124

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her she was hidden behind a wagon wheel. If she were very still and quiet, they wouldn’t even see her. “It seems silly that I can’t get the fire going again. I don’t know what happened to my flint stick. I probably left it beside one of my patients. But it is so dark and most of them are finally resting easily. I do not want to go skulking about and disturbing them,” Crawford said. Valerie noticed the emotion she heard in Mary’s voice when she spoke seemingly innocent words to the young white man. “Do not concern yourself, Doctor Crawford. I will be glad to help you in any way. I had to get up soon myself and start our breakfast fires.” Valerie heard Mary stop just in front of the wagon she was hiding behind. “I do wonder where my sister is, though. She is not asleep in her blankets, but I see no sign that she has stoked our fires.” Mary paused and Valerie knew her sister was looking around for her again. “Maybe she has gone down to the creek for water. I’ll be back from helping you in plenty of time to help her.” “I’m sure your sister is fine, Miss Mary,” Crawford spoke. “I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of meeting another young woman of Miss Valerie’s, er, determination.” Mary laughed quietly and there was no mistaking, at least for Valerie, the affection in her tone. There was also no mistaking something else as well in Mary’s tone. She dotes on him, Valerie thought. Mary’s words recaptured Valerie’s attention. “My sister is rather like a bull among young heifers when she gets something on her mind.” I am not, Valerie silently protested. Then after a moment’s reflection, Well, maybe I am. “I see you are shocked I know about such things, Doctor Crawford,” Mary said, her voice lacking some of her earlier happiness. “I guess you think it is unseemly for a young maiden to know of such things. I am sorry, but I have been raised on a farm all of my life and it is the custom among our people for the women to help one another with 125

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the matters of family. I do, however, understand if you think less of me.” Valerie heard the slight rustle of her sister’s skirt and petticoats, then Crawford’s quiet call. After waiting another few seconds while the couple walked away from the camp and into the woods, Valerie released the breath she had been holding. She wasn’t afraid of being found out by Mary. Her sister, more than anyone else, would understand her desire to do this thing, but Mary would also be fearful of the risk Valerie was taking. Doctor Crawford was a different story. He was a man, after all, and she had seen how he treated her sister. He probably would have awakened the whole camp with his arguments against her plans. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about the hurt that had been evident in Mary’s final words to Crawford. The two would have to work out their problems on their own. She had important things to do before she could begin her quest. She stole around the front of the wagon to the area where their few remaining horses were sleeping. She didn’t hesitate, but patted the hindquarters of her father’s stallion, looped a bridle over his head, then grabbed a saddle. It was heavier than she expected and much bulkier than the side-saddle one she usually used on her mother’s horse. Knowing the smaller woman’s saddle wouldn’t work on the stallion, she heaved the big one on the animal’s back and cinched it into place. The stallion stood docilely, and bent his head for a bite of the winter grass that was just beginning to edge it’s way through the frozen ground. Valerie felt trepidation about what she was about to do. The stallion was her father’s prized possession. It was also the best chance she had of making the trip a success. When she was waiting with the supplies their people needed, her father would certainly forgive her sin. Her father’s stallion was much bigger than the horses she used to ride on their family farm, but Valerie thought one horse must be the 126

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same as another. There was the problem of getting her leg up high enough to reach the stirrup, but she solved that by leading the horse over to a fallen tree stump and using it as a step. Once seated, with her legs spread indecently apart, she clicked her tongue against her teeth and waited for the stallion to move. Some minutes later they were still standing in the same place. Then she remembered her father’s penchant for training his horse to answer only to sound commands, a trick he had learned from her grandfather. She pursed her lips into a bow and blew. There was a breathy whistling sound. Whether by luck or skill, the horse responded and moved slowly away from the camp. She was on her way! * * * Hi wasn’t sure what woke him up, but as he lay on the cold ground, he knew something was different. Keeping his body still, he moved his head a fraction and opened his eyes to slits. He recognized Doctor Crawford and Valerie walking into the woods. His eyes narrowed when he heard Valerie’s throaty laugh and noticed the intimate way Crawford had his hand at the small of her back. Crawford had seemed like an upright guy even with his lack of medical knowledge. He was probably a fine doctor for this time. It wasn’t his fault many procedures he knew to be helpful would be proven wrong before the end of the century. Still, medical skills or lack thereof aside, Hi wasn’t certain how he felt about Crawford forming an attachment with Valerie. Crawford was probably what was considered a good catch. Hell, even in his own time, doctors were considered good catches by women of all ages. Suddenly, Hi was angry. He didn’t want Valerie to be thinking of Crawford as a good anything. Hi knew what was ahead for these people and he knew how history treated whites who married Indians. He also knew how the Indians treated their own when they married outside their race. History didn’t lie. Valerie didn’t deserve that. She deserved 127

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someone who would help her teach their children the pride of the Cherokees. She needed someone who would help her teach the generations to come there should be no shame in being Cherokee or in choosing the Cherokee way of life. Why should I even care? She can mean nothing to me, Hi told himself, stopping his dangerous train of thought. Another sound trickled into his consciousness, but when he listened closely, he heard nothing. Thinking it was just one of the animals stirring, he lowered his head back to his blanket. Worrying about Valerie and Crawford wasn’t going to get him anywhere so Hi began plotting his upcoming mission. He knew the area settled by Joseph’s cousin, George, could be reached in one and a half days of hard riding. According to what the soldiers said, their band would be settling in land that was a day north of the cousin’s spot. If he and the other man could reach the new homestead in three or four days time, they would be there well ahead of the People, who would be slowed by the wagons’ slow progress. If he rode hard and didn’t stop for long breaks, he might even be able to reach George’s land in one day. Of course, he might be looking for more than just Abigail’s liniment to ease the pain of such hard riding but Hi wasn’t deterred. If this were the deed that sent him back to his own time, a few muscle aches would be worth it. He was starting to care a little too much about these people and their problems. That wouldn’t do at all. “Hiawatha, we have a problem.” Joseph’s soft-spoken words ended his contemplation. Hi rose lithely and reached for the heavy woolen overshirt Valerie had given him. He pulled it over his head, wincing at the tenderness of his shoulder muscle. He wondered vaguely if he’d unknowingly used a boulder for a pillow last night. “What’s up?” he asked without thinking. At Joseph’s frown, he corrected himself. “I mean, what’s wrong?” 128

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“My stallion is gone and so is my daughter, Valerie.” Jseph stated. “None of our sentries saw anyone leave the camp, but with Charles’ absence and the sickness that has weakened us, I cannot be sure of their vigilance.” That explained the noise he’d heard. “I wouldn’t worry, Joseph,” he said. “I saw Valerie and Doctor Crawford leaving the group just awhile ago. I didn’t see her taking your stallion, but they probably needed it to help with the sick in the other group. You know women, she probably didn’t even think about taking the horse you’d promised for me.” Joseph nodded once and stroked his chin. “You may be right. I wouldn’t put it past my daughter to have taken my horse on purpose though. She was upset that I chose you for this journey.” “I noticed she was a bit…” what was a good phrase for this time, Hi questioned himself, “…put out.” Joseph smiled for the first time that morning. “Put out,” he repeated. “I like that. Yes, Valerie was very ‘put out’ as you say. She thought I would let her take the journey herself. She wishes she could be a man, but even Valerie cannot change that.” Hi laughed along with Joseph and wondered how the Chief would react if he told him about how even that could be changed in future. “So, now that I am a man without a horse, are we going to have to scrap, I mean postpone, the journey?” Hi asked. Joseph shook his head and made a sharp motion with his hand. Immediately, a young boy came up to them leading a black and gray spotted Shetland pony. Hi couldn’t help but smile at the colorful blanket resting under the ornately-tooled saddle. “This is Charlotte’s favorite pony,” Joseph said, giving the horse a friendly pat on its sturdy neck. The horse responded by waving her tail and promptly opening her mouth for a treat she sensed was in Joseph’s pocket. “As you can see, this horse has suffered little on the journey. If anything, young George Smith here, who has been given charge of her care, has spoiled her for any useful chore.” 129

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Joseph’s smile took away the sting of his words and the small boy, who looked to be about seven, ducked his head in embarrassment. “Hiawatha, let me introduce you to the fine lady, Daisy.” He inclined his head as if introducing a member of English royalty to a lowly servant. Surprisingly, the pony nodded its head twice as if understanding Joseph’s words and the honor they represented. Hi looked into the gentle brown eyes and found his humor bubbling. “A pleasure, my lady,” he said and did his most courtly bow. His actions and words were met with a pair of giggles. He saw the glee on George Smith’s face and had a good idea where the other giggle came from. He whirled and caught Sally Black Cloud in mid-laugh. “I knew you were there all along, munchkin. Thought you could sneak up on me, eh?” “Hiawatha-man, pretty Hiawatha-man,” Sally chanted in her singsong voice. “Are you ‘hunky-dory’ today?” Then the child begin making up words to go with the ones he’d inadvertently taught her. “Hunky, klunky, junky, tunky, monky, nonky, zunky.” George Smith caught on to her game and picked up the rhythm as Sally squirmed out of Hi’s arms. “Lunky, bunky, dunky, funky,” he sang, leading the little girl away on a series of giggles. “Jeez, what have I started now,” Hi mockingly groaned. “Yes, you have given our youngsters something new to help pass the boredom on the trail,” Joseph said. “However, their mothers and fathers wish you could have made up something not quite so tiresome. I heard Sally teaching one younger child sounds using our own alphabet as well as the white man’s. It was amazing. Tedious, but amazing.” Hi smiled. He looked around the suddenly still campsite and saw faces that had become dear to him. There was Charlotte, able now to sit up in the back of her wagon, at least long enough to eat some food; there was Nathan smiling at him from where he was helping harness the oxen; and there was even Abigail, grinning her toothless smile. Suddenly, he realized he would miss all these people. 130

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If his hopes were correct, he might never see them again. Hi felt great urgency to see Valerie once more. That wasn’t possible or even advisable. Instead he spoke words around a curious lump in his throat. “Well, I guess it’s time to be off,” he said, looking down at the blanket roll that had mysteriously appeared at the back of the saddle while he’d been playing with Sally. “Yes. Here is some food the women and Wam^ktea prepared for you. It isn’t much, but—” “It’ll be fine. If nothing else, I can hunt and fish myself. I’ve had to live off rations and the land more times than I can remember. Don’t be worried. I’ll get to your cousin and bring help. We’ll be waiting for you.” Hi started to the horse and then stopped. Without turning back toward Joseph, he spoke. “Tell Valerie, I’ll mi— Never mind.” He leaped nimbly upon the pony and waved to the people as he started off. It was the beginning of what could be the end. * * * Mary stood on a hill and watched as Hiawatha Craft left their group. Even from this distance, she could see how ill-fitted he was to her mother’s horse. Daisy was a gently-bred pony for a gently-bred southern woman. Hiawatha Craft was anything but. She wondered again at the absence of Valerie. When Doctor Crawford woke her this morning, Mary had felt something was amiss in their camp. Mary didn’t have traditional visions like her sister. She did have times when feelings would wash over her so strongly she knew they would come true. Even though her father didn’t seem worried about the missing stallion, Mary knew deep in her heart that Valerie had taken the animal and was attempting to meet their cousin for supplies. As she watched Hiawatha turn and head away from them, she prayed that both her sister and Hiawatha would be waiting for them in a few days. Her mother, her father and The People could not stand any more tragedy. 131

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She sensed rather than heard movement beside her. Without turning, she spoke, “Did you need me for something else, doctor?” She hated feeling so ill at ease with the man she had come to respect. She wasn’t about to let his contempt hurt her again. For a second, she longed to be back on her front porch in the mountains. He would have come to their village and they would have met at a church gathering. Wearing her finest gown, she would have impressed him with her poise. She longed to be able to dazzle him with her feminine wiles rather than embarrass him with her knowledge of life. He would have been invited for a Sunday dinner and they could have courted in the old style that blended the best of the Cherokee ways with the whites. Mary knew, though, there was no going back. Honestly, she didn’t want to. She was proud of what she and Valerie had accomplished on this journey. “No. I mean, yes.” Crawford stood beside Mary and wished devoutly for a hat. Or his medical bag. Or anything to keep him from touching the beautiful woman he’d come to respect and admire so much in such a short time. He looked down at the ground, screwed up his courage, and spoke again. “I wanted to ask you to forgive me for this morning,” he stammered. When she didn’t reply, he rushed on. “I didn’t mean to imply that I thought you improper by knowing about bulls and such. I would never think that.” He stopped, feeling his embarrassment rush over him. He’d never been good at dealing with women. To be honest, he’d never been good at dealing with men, either, except when it came to medical studies. Since he first learned how to read, he’d been fascinated by helping sick people and had devoted all his energy to learning as much as he could. When he had been accepted as one of the first students to attend the new medical school in Baltimore, he had been thrilled. Once there, he had kept his nose burrowed into books, not even 132

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going with his classmates down to the infamous waterfront to visit the taverns. In his final year, a classmate had invited him to a Christmas party. There had been several young women there, but he hadn’t even been tempted to talk to one, much less ask her for a dance. Suddenly, with Mary, he wished he’d had some experience to draw on. Maybe then, he wouldn’t make such a fool of himself. Realizing he had been staring stupidly at her again, he lowered his head and mumbled, stumbling over his seemingly numb tongue. “Well, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” Mary stopped him with a hand on his arm. “No, please don’t leave. I want to apologize to you as well. I, well, I had a long night and I wasn’t feeling myself this morning. I should have known you meant no harm.” They stood silently together and watched Hiawatha crest a ridge disappearing from their sight. Crawford, knowing her eyes were still on the man and feeling her tension, said, “Don’t worry. Mister Craft is strong and healthy. I’m sure nothing will happen to him.” “I pray you are right, doctor. For all our sakes, I pray you are right.” * * * Valerie knew things had been going entirely too well when disaster struck. She had finally managed to get used to the feeling of the stallion’s wide back between her legs and the sense of power the animal possessed. She had even finally been able to relax enough over the control of the spirited horse to enjoy the feeling of freedom that riding offered. When she looked back on that moment, she realized maybe that was the problem. If she hadn’t been so relaxed, she would have been prepared for disaster. When the small, brown, mouse-like creature darted out from behind a bush lying close to the path they were taking, the stallion reacted instinctively. He reared high on his hind legs and Valerie grabbed the horse’s mane. Her cold fingers managed to clutch a few strands before 133

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she helplessly slid off his back and landed on the frozen ground with a thump. The stallion whinnied once and shook his head almost in admonishment. Then, with a disdainful flick of his tail and without a backward glance, he trotted back the way they’d come. She tried whistling to call the horse back, but her chest felt like it was on fire when she drew in a breath. The next feeling Valerie had as she sat breathlessly on the ground was one of total frustration. If she had been standing, she knew she would stamp her foot, so great was her shame. It had been her big chance to prove to her father and everyone that she could handle any job any man, including Hiawatha Craft, could. She had been out to prove that she was just as qualified as anyone to become Chief. Instead she couldn’t even control one unruly horse. Valerie lowered her head onto her knees and felt the tears course down her cheeks.

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CHAPTER 13

Hi’s first thought when he heard the woman weeping on the prairie was that he was smack in the middle of a Kevin Costner movie scene. His second thought was one of murder. After recognizing the weeping woman as Valerie, he urged the mild-tempered Daisy into a gallop. As he approached Valerie, he reined in and leapt off the still-moving animal with a grace that would have made John Wayne proud. He ran up to Valerie. His questions were rapid-fire, giving her no chance to answer. “Are you all right? What happened? What are you doing way out here on the prairie? Did you get here on Joseph’s horse? Where is the animal?” Hi ran his hands around the back of her head, along her shoulder and arm joints, down her forearms to her wrists where the pulse was beating steadily, then swept his hands along her back, hips, legs and ankles before he was finally satisfied she was indeed whole and uninjured. Relief flowing through him, Hi wrapped her in his arms for a quick hug before releasing her to search her tear-stained face. 135

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Valerie, still trying to catch her breath from the excitement coursing through her blood at the sight of Hi running toward her and the feel of his touch burning her skin, nodded helplessly in answer to his barrage. Her bewilderment must have finally gotten through to him. “I’m sorry. I’m not giving you a chance to even answer, am I?” Still not waiting for her to speak, he continued. “I heard you before I saw you and I thought you were hurt. Please, what happened?” Valerie finally got her breathing under control, but she could not quell her overwhelming shame. Of all the rescuers in the world, why did it seem Hiawatha Craft was destined to be hers? Knowing there was no answer for her question and that Hiawatha wouldn’t rest until he had answers for his, she spoke. “I am fine. My horse was startled and managed to unseat me. Unfortunately, before I was able to catch the stubborn animal, he headed back the way we came. I was merely taking a few minutes to rest before heading on to my cousin’s place.” At her words, Hi’s worry dissipated and was replaced by anger. “You mean that you were considering going ahead to find your cousin on foot?” He scowled at the top of her bent head. “Of all the stupid, lamebrained, irrational things I have ever heard of, that takes the cake. What were you going to do for food and protection against the elements? Just what did you think you would do when you got hungry or if a storm came up on you?” Valerie’s back straightened as if he had placed a broom handle down the back of her clothes. “I was going to do the same thing I was going to do before I lost my horse. I would have hunted my food when I grew hungry.” Hi knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. It was simply too absurd. The sound he made was not a soft, mild-mannered chuckle. It was a full-bore, deep-chested, side-splitting, tear-causing laugh. Valerie’s first thought was how wonderful it sounded. The charity 136

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ended at his choked words. “I spent months and months in training to do that and I’m not even sure I can survive out here alone. How did you think you were going to do it? I know, you were going to build a fire and just wait for the food to come to you. Unless, of course, you have a bag full of tricks hidden somewhere I don’t see?” When she didn’t answer, he shook his head knowingly and said, “I know, all that stuff was with the horse.” When she blushed at his words, he burst into peals of laughter again. Valerie couldn’t remember ever feeling so angry. For a minute, she longed for the knife she had placed carefully in her saddlebags. She would show him just how adept she was at carving up meat. And the meat wouldn’t be off a rabbit. As her embarrassed anger started to fade, she looked again at the man who called himself Hiawatha Craft. He was right. It had been a foolish idea. She would have realized it herself before too long and probably would have already been heading back to their group if Hi hadn’t come along. She looked over at him lounging on the cold hard ground and opened her mouth to tell him he was right. At that moment, the sun broke behind a low hanging cloud and bathed his head in a ring of white fire. He looked like an angel. She saw the gleam in his eyes and changed her mind. No, he looked like an archangel. An archangel she had fallen in love with. The stunning truth hit her like a lightning strike. She couldn’t talk, she couldn’t think. All she could do was stare at a man she didn’t know if she could trust. At a man she wasn’t even sure she liked. Yet it was as clear to her as anything ever before in her life. He was the man for her. He was her destiny. She knew he was talking because the sound of his voice touched her as surely and warmly as a fresh mountain breeze in July. Yet she couldn’t say what his words were. They didn’t matter. All that mattered 137

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was that this was the man she loved. Hi didn’t know when he realized she wasn’t listening to him. He stopped talking and looked at her quizzically. “Are you all right?” he asked, wondering if he had missed something in his quick examination of her earlier, knowing full well that a concussion often takes some time to manifest. Valerie nodded and lowered her eyes. She wondered if she could keep the truth from him. She wasn’t ready to share her love, even with him. There were still too many things she didn’t know or trust about this man. Until she was certain, she would not let him know her feelings. Hi was frustrated at her silent response. He felt the wall between them that had been falling was now, for some unknown reason, back. Worse, it was stronger than ever. For a few minutes, he had felt a glimmer of the closeness he had when they had shared the dawn the other day. Now, he wouldn’t be surprised if she started calling him Mister Craft again in that high-brow, don’t-you-dare-touch-me tone of hers. Well, if the Princess thought she was going to be the one in charge on this journey, she had another think coming to her. “Come along then, Princess. We’ve wasted enough time. Since I don’t have time to take you back to your father, you’ll just have to come along with me. But don’t expect me to slow my pace. And don’t expect me to be stopping every five minutes. If you have to take care of any business you’d better do it now.” Valerie blushed when she realized what he meant, and then felt her temper flare again. “Anything else, Mister Craft?” she asked. There it was. “Yeah, Princess. Just so you know. I’m the boss out here. If I say jump, don’t even ask how high. Just do it. Instantly.” He reached out and grabbed her wrist as she turned to walk away. “Understand?” 138

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Valerie’s temper boiled, but something she saw deep in his eyes made her bite her tongue on the smart reply. She settled for an angry nod. When he released her arm and headed for his horse, she looked around for something to hide her from his view. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” His question stopped her after she’d only taken two steps toward a likely stand of bushes. “I’m doing what you told me to do,” she snapped back, partly angered by his tone and by the flush creeping up her cheekbones at having to discuss something so personal with him. Hi nodded when it dawned on him what she was trying to do. He turned back to the horse and began to ready the animal for carrying two people along with his bedroll and supplies, trying not to notice the telltale sounds of Valerie taking care of business. * * * They had agreed, silently, not to argue about who was in charge. In Valerie’s mind, that was probably for the best. She could think of nothing but the feel of her backside rubbing continuously against his maleness. Even though she knew how impractical they would have been, she longed for the protection her petticoats and day dresses would have provided. The breeches she was wearing, however suited for riding astride the pony, gave no barrier to intimate contact with Hiawatha. Hiawatha had to guide the horse and the only way to accomplish that was to wrap his arms around her waist. The horse’s movement made her breasts brush against his arms, causing almost constant tingles to run over her skin. Trying to take her mind off the disturbing feelings he was causing inside her, Valerie looked around at the country they were passing through. Though there were still large patches of snow and the ground was frozen, there were signs of the approaching spring in the tufts of grass 139

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pushing through to the sunshine. All around her she could see for miles and miles and at one point, she wondered where the land ended and the sky began. The vastness of Mother Earth overwhelmed her. She wondered how any people, even ones as strong and proud as her own, would be able to carve out a life here. So wrapped up was she in her own thoughts that she didn’t notice when Hi shifted uncomfortably against her. She spoke absently. “It seems so immense.” Hi drew a deep breath. Did she mean what he thought? He felt his erection grow even more as Daisy jogged over a particularly deep rut, forcing Valerie’s butt into closer contact with him. What the hell did she expect? She was all over him like molasses. His fantasy of her naked body covering his like a jar of thick gooey syrup vanished with her next words. “How will we ever survive?” He grunted his response over his painful awareness. “What do you mean?” She waved her hand to encompass the land around them. “This land is so harsh and vast. How can the whites expect us to build a life for our children and our children’s children here?” Momentarily nonplused, he finally realized what she was talking about. “Oh. Don’t worry about that. Your father and the elders have a plan. I’m sure they do. Besides, the government is sure to help.” His words sounded hollow even to himself. He wasn’t sure he believed the government would be helpful to the Cherokees. So far, he hadn’t been impressed with how the institution he had once sworn to protect and uphold with his life had handled this move. He told himself he wasn’t being unjust to a government that wasn’t anything like the one he had served more than a hundred years in the future. Somehow, that thought didn’t ease his conscience. Nor did the fact that the government hadn’t done anything positive for its native population in its entire history. 140

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Valerie didn’t respond. They were silent, letting Daisy, who had slowed to a walk, linger in the prodding gait. Valerie’s words had taken Hi’s thoughts away from his body’s demands. Now he was focused on the future. What if she was right? How were The People going to carve out a life for themselves? The land around them was unforgiving. He had read tales of how rough it was for the pioneers as they tried to settle the vast plains during the decades following the Civil War. And most of the later settlers had chosen to make their journeys in the spring and summer, when the weather itself wasn’t so inhospitable. The Cherokees hadn’t been given that option. The majority of them were ill, either emotionally from being ripped away from the only life they had ever known, or physically from rigors of a forced trek they hadn’t been properly prepared for. What, too, if he was right? What if he was going to be sent back to his own time after meeting up with Joseph’s cousin and getting supplies to help the Cherokees? How would Valerie survive on her own? For the first time since he had learned of this assignment, Hi wasn’t in a hurry to get it over with. Maybe he had some control over when he went back. So far, no rogue tornado had popped up over his head and transported him back in time overnight. He was probably worrying about nothing. What he should concentrate on was finding Joseph’s cousin, getting supplies to the People and then helping them start a new life. If this cousin were in any shape at all, maybe between the two of them, they could start building a place for the sick and the children to stay in until everyone had a house of their own. He wasn’t by any means an architect, but one of the many things he had learned was how to make stable shelter out of a lot of different things. If there were any lumber or sturdy material, he could certainly fashion a suitable shelter for the settlers. Maybe he could even fashion 141

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some concrete to start pouring foundations. His mind racing, he began plotting what he would need. It would depend on the type of soil here. It didn’t look particularly sandy, but one could never tell. He wondered if the People carried anything with them he could use to make a mixer. Valerie hid her surprise at his words. He almost sounded as if he still trusted the white government. There had been a hint of something in his voice when he spoke of what would be done for the people. It wasn’t mistrust really. It was as if he had seen what the whites had done, but didn’t believe it. It was just one more reason she didn’t feel ready to tell him of her feelings. In the end, it didn’t matter what she felt about Hiawatha Craft. Her duty was, first and foremost, to the People. Even if she were never to become chief, she would always have a position of respect and leadership in her clan. It was a job she could never forget or forego. No man must be allowed to sway her from it. If he is a spy for the whites then she must work to prove to him that no matter what had happened to the People in the past, they were proud, civilized and resourceful. This would not be the death of the Cherokee. This would be their rebirth. * * * It was the longest day of Hi’s life. With Daisy’s every jostle and stumble, he felt both reborn and on the verge of death. It was torture. It was heaven. It seemed like they had only been on the trail a short time before the setting sun and rapidly dropping temperatures forced them to make camp for the night. When they finally climbed off Daisy’s back, they spent a few important minutes tending to the animal’s needs. Only after the pony had been hobbled near the stream where there was enough dread grass for her to eat, did he look over at the woman who had been tormenting him all day. Hi smiled when he saw Valerie wince as she tried to straighten her 142

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legs. Knowing the tension in her back and shoulders were also part of the problem, he moved closer to her and put his hands on her shoulders. He felt her tense immediately and try to pull away, but as his hands began a soothing massage, he felt her slowly relax. “My first day in the saddle after Charles left for Fort Smith, I probably felt worse than you do now,” he said, probing deeply but gently at the tender spot where the shoulder muscles crossed over the spine. “Nathan offered me some of Abigail’s liniment, but I decided the cure was worse than the pain.” The moan of pleasure that slipped from Valerie sent a blast of searing heat rocketing through him. I wonder if she would moan like that if it was my tongue and lips on her muscles instead of my fingers? Before his body demanded he suit action to thoughts, Hi pulled his hands away. “We’d better get settled in. It’s going to turn quite chilly tonight. Why don’t you search through the saddlebags for some food? I’ll find some wood for a fire. I don’t want to have to hunt food until we have to. No since drawing attention to ourselves unnecessarily.” His words jerked Valerie away from the deep pool of pleasure she’d been about to plunge into. Her back stiffened at his orders. She smirked. “I saw no signs of anyone following or watching us this day. Why are you so concerned?” “I’m not concerned. I just remember reading, er, I remember your father saying the scouts saw signs of hostile people near here. I don’t want to alert them to our presence.” He lowered his voice, speaking almost to himself. Valerie heard his words and puzzled over them as she began digging among the saddlebags the people had packed for him. “It’s not just hostile Indians I’m worried about. I think this is also the prime time for Mexican desperadoes through here. That’s all we would need.” 143

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Hi disappeared into the night shadows as easily and silently as any trained warrior. If Valerie hadn’t been so attuned to his physical presence, she would not have known when he left or when he returned. Thankfully, he was gone long enough so that she was able to accomplish some things to make her feel more human. They had camped near a small creek bed which had thawed enough that there was a clear, cold trickle of water flowing over its pebbles. Talking quietly to Daisy, who’d eaten her fill and was half dozing, Valerie pushed up her sleeves and used some of the water to wash her sweaty hands and face. The action was so refreshing that she almost succumbed to the desire to remove the man’s shirt she had worn all day and wash the rest of her body in spite of the frigid water. Knowing time was of the essence, she had indulged only in undoing the top two laces and wiping quickly there, and then sponging off her forearms. Once she was clean and proper, or as proper as she could be in man’s clothing, she went to work on the supplies she had found in the saddlebags. There was a small portion of meal along with some hard bread and a large piece of salt pork. She smiled at the wrapping around the pork. She recognized the design of the Wam^ktea and wondered if Hi knew the meat was a sign of the matchmaker’s interest. Keeping everything carefully away from the dirt and grime of their campsite, she exclaimed triumphantly as she pulled out a small pan from his possessions. Obviously, The People had provided him well on this short journey. The last thing she found made her lick her lips. Wrapped securely were four digalvnhi, a sweet made out of dried fruit that was tucked into a flour shell. Her stomach rumbled from just the thought of the special treat. Knowing the dumplings would give a festive air to their dinner, she set them aside for later and began readying a spot for Hi to lay the fire when he returned. Suddenly, a prickle of awareness tickled her skin. 144

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She turned her head and met his gaze from across the stream where she had washed only a few moments before. He was hidden in the dark of the shadows but she was certain his eyes had turned the startling blue that was almost purple. She knew it with everything in her heart. Just as she knew with her heart there was no question that he wanted her. It came to her in waves, searing hot and with a clarity more forceful than any vision she had ever had in her life. It was so intense she had to either leave her spot and go to him at that instant or break the contact. Only by the force of her will was she able to break free of his gaze. It was a cowardly thing for one who wanted to be the next chief to do. Right now, though, she couldn’t worry about what a good chief would do. She had to worry about controlling her racing heartbeat. Hi knew the moment she sensed his presence. He knew when she saw the need in his eyes. His body did, too, and responded instantly. It was completely illogical. There was nothing at all provocative about a lovely girl sponging her upper chest and forearms off beside a frozen stream. Hell, he hadn’t even seen a glimpse of her cleavage in the maneuver. But a droplet of water must have found its way underneath the shirt she wore and the coldness had brought one of her nipples erect. That’s when his own body had hardened in response. That was just physical. And temporary. Or at least it should have been. Instead, he’d remained hard at the sight of her going through the saddlebags that had rested behind his saddle the entire day, and the sound of her voice as she murmured and exclaimed over this and that. It was maddening. It had to stop. Or he’d never make it through the night ahead without taking what his body so relentlessly yearned. Instead of turning away, he watched until she realized he was there. Even when he knew she knew he was watching her, Hi didn’t try to hide his response. Finally, he broke the taut silence. “It’s getting colder fast. Let’s get 145

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this fire started.” He crossed the small stream, careful to avoid dampening his feet and risking frostbite. Entering the clearing, he dumped the wood unceremoniously on the ground. He grimaced at the look of hurt puzzlement on Valerie’s face. Making no comment, she stood gracefully and began carrying the items she had gathered over to him. Preoccupied with ways he could apologize for his tone even though his words hadn’t been harsh, Hi reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his lighter. The hammered silver covering with its U.S. Marine Corps engraving wasn’t as polished as it once was, but he was pleased when the top clicked open. He knew the inscription by heart but didn’t take time to read it now. He clicked the wheel on the flint and the flame flared instantly. He lit the kindling and snapped the lid closed then realized Valerie was staring at him. Shit. How am I going to explain this? Valerie had looked up just as Hiawatha drew a piece of what looked like jewelry out of the pocket of his tight pants. The brightness of the silver gleamed briefly before she heard the strange sound it made as he opened the clasp. A fire burst from its depths, which he transferred to the wood. He extinguished the flame by closing the jewelry’s top piece with another clicking sound. What manner of man could produce such a miracle? Needing proof her eyes hadn’t been tricking her, Valerie tentatively put her hand out to the flame. The burning wood was already producing steady heat. Not wishing to make a fool of herself, Valerie scrambled to put the food on the flame. She stood with her back to Hiawatha for a moment, trying to marshal her thoughts. When she had been at the Mission School, a peddler had come through town boasting of a miracle stick that could produce instant fire. He had gathered the townspeople around and the result had nearly blown his hand off. Yet, Mister Craft produced fire neatly, quickly and without any danger to his person. 146

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Could the whites have progressed so far in such a short time? If so, why did Hiawatha Craft possess such a new thing? Valerie knew whatever the answer to those questions was, Hiawatha Craft wasn’t a normal Cherokee man. Of course, she had known that all along. He was different enough to be the first man she had loved. Really, any strange magical thing he could do didn’t matter. It didn’t change the love she felt deep in her heart for him. Yet she was consumed with curiosity. Where did this wondrous invention come from? Did it feel hot when he placed it in his pocket? She couldn’t imagine that there was a tiny piece of coal inside, but it certainly couldn’t be a stick of wood. Even if there was one of those inside, what provided the spark to make it burn? She wondered if he would let her hold the magical thing. Perhaps she could discover its secrets. Should she just blurt out her request? What would she call it? “May I see your tinderbox?” she asked, breaking the silence between them. She regretted her choice of words. But, it looked like no flint stick she’d ever seen. Hi whirled at her words. “My tinderbox? Oh, yeah, I understand.” Now what? “There’s really not much to see. It’s just something they gave me in the army.” He held his breath, waiting her reaction. On a whim, he decided to go on the offensive. “Haven’t you ever seen one? I thought everybody knew about them. They’re all the rage where I come from.” Valerie was silent for a few moments. Hi started to gather up the skillet to start cooking, praying her questions were over. She moved to take over the job and he relaxed slightly. Hopefully she’d be too embarrassed to admit she knew nothing about the “tinderbox,” as she had called it. He was just starting to relax against a fallen log when her next question shattered his peace. “Did you get the tinderbox because of your work helping white 147

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doctors as you told Doctor Crawford?” she asked. He resisted the urge to stick his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. He didn’t want to draw her attention to the pants pocket where he had hurriedly stuffed the lighter. “Yeah, that’s why I got it,” he said. Remembering something Nathan had told him about the Cherokee habit of cleansing the soul after any violence and the privacy they protected at all costs, he forged ahead without giving her a chance to reply. “Look, it’s not something I like to talk about, okay. How’s the food coming? I’m starving.” He stood and crossed the short distance, hoping to intimidate her with his size and nearness. Her blush and flustered movements told him of his success. “It’s ready,” she mumbled, reaching for the tin plate she had rested by the fire to keep warm. She was afraid if he didn’t move away from her, he would cause her to drop the hot food into the dirt. She was about to tell him just that when he reached his arms around her and took the pan out of her suddenly numb fingers. “You take the plate,” he said. She felt his breath on the nape of her neck and it’s warmth caused a tingle to race down her spine. When she turned her head to the right, her lips were so close to his face she could see the stubble of his lightcolored beard. She wondered what it would feel like rubbing against her own face or even resting against her breast. Suddenly a clear picture came to her of him lying over her, their sweat-streaked bodies moving in such perfect union that she caught her breath. She saw herself move her hand from his hips up to run her fingers through his damp hair. The vision was so real Valerie could feel the texture of his skin under hers. She could smell the intensity of the moment. She felt the heat blossom in her cheeks and turned quickly away. She had to stop having such thoughts about this man. Since she had admitted to herself that she loved him though, she couldn’t seem to help herself. All during the long day, she had thought about his strong 148

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arms wrapped around her body and holding her securely against him. She had wondered what it would be like to lift one of his hands to her mouth and discover the taste of him. She knew that the hair on his wrists was surprisingly soft, but she had wondered how that same skin would taste. Now, with him so close, it took all her willpower to remind herself that she couldn’t have what she wanted. They only had one bedroll, which meant sharing it was the only sane option if they were to make it through the night. Valerie wondered how she was ever going to make it to morning without giving into the desire to make her vision a reality. Hi straightened slowly. The move was meant to intimidate her and it had worked just fine. There was just one problem—he was the one intimidated. How could she smell so fresh and look so beautiful. It wasn’t rational. The woman had been through events that would have sent most women he knew into a hospital ward for a week, yet she was still looking as fresh as dew on a mountain meadow. He felt another kick of desire and turned back to lean against the log, struggling to focus on the actions of chewing and eating the rapidly cooling food. Never before had he been one to notice such things as hair and skin. Usually all he looked for in a woman was big tits and long, long legs. He hadn’t even ever seen her legs when they weren’t encased in either the leggings she wore now, or the long dresses she had worn most of the time on the trail. Certainly, he had been able to make out the shape of her breasts under her clothes, but the only time he had come close to seeing them naked was earlier at the stream. He did know she was rather small, but for the first time, Hi didn’t really care. His mind started playing a fantasy he had of making long, slow love to her under the moon and stars. Hi looked once at the lone bedroll he knew they would soon be sharing and wondered how he was ever going to make it through the night. 149

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CHAPTER 14

After they ate the simple meal Valerie prepared and shared clean up, Valerie headed for the woods to again take care of personal business. While she was gone, Hi spread out the bedroll, which consisted of three threadbare woolen blankets, as close to the fire as he dared. He made a mattress of sorts by gathering dead leaves and some moss he found and covering it completely with one of the blankets. Even though it would be nice to use one of the blankets as a pillow, he was afraid since the sky was so clear, usually signaling cold weather, they would need all the warmth they could manage. After the bedding was set, he gathered more wood to keep the fire going through the night. Through all the preparations, he felt, oddly enough, nervous. He knew sleeping rolled in the same blanket as Valerie was going to be torture, but he also knew that trying to sleep outside the blanket could mean hypothermia at the best. It was going to be a sleepless night. And if he wasn’t going to get sleep, he was damned sure he was going to be 150

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warm. If the Princess wanted to make a big deal out of it, that was just fine, too. It wouldn’t bother him a bit to use force to get her into that bedroll. As thoughts of that battle raced through his mind, he rubbed his hands in glee. If he couldn’t make love to her, watching emotions flare through her body like a fine-blooded racehorse going through its paces might be enough to keep his mind, and his body, occupied. At least, he prayed it would. * * * Valerie stood at the edge of the clearing and watched. She could almost see the thoughts running through his mind. He expected her to complain about the sleeping arrangements. He was in for a disappointment. She was nothing if not practical—at least sometimes. They were alone in the open with only one bedroll. Good sense behooved them to share their body warmth and the heavy blankets. She was a woman, grown, who knew that merely sleeping with a man wasn’t bad. And she wasn’t about to let anything else happen. It didn’t matter that her heart raced wildly just at the sight of his lean, strong body silhouetted by the dim light of the fire. It couldn’t matter that every time she looked at his hands she thought of the moment a few days ago when his hands caressed her face as dawn broke by a frozen river. It couldn’t matter that every time she looked at his lips, she felt their fire as if they were touching her eyes, nose, cheeks and, finally, her own lips in that instant. None of that mattered. Now was the time to get on with what lay ahead. Hi whirled when she strolled back into the camp. “Uh, I, er,” he stumbled over forming the necessary sentence. “Oh, good,” she said in a light tone taking in his arrangements with a glance. “You’ve got everything set. I see you got enough wood to 151

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keep the fire going. If it’s okay with you, I’ll take the side closest to the fire. I’m a light sleeper and it’ll be easier for me to make sure the fire keeps going if I’m closer to it. There’s a good stand of trees just beyond the creek, if you need to use them.” When she walked by him and proceeded to crawl in between the blankets, he noticed that she moved as gracefully as if she were checking into a room at the Ritz and planning on sleeping on a feather– cushioned bed between satin sheets. He stood watching her for another stunned moment and then beat a hasty retreat. He desperately needed the space and the coldness of the creek. He needed them now. Valerie pretended she was asleep when she heard him come back to their camp. She almost wished she hadn’t claimed to be a light sleeper, because he probably would expect her to wake up at the noise he was making. She realized she had made a crucial mistake. Instead of facing the fire, she was on her side facing him. Unless he chose to sleep with his back to her, they would be face-to-face. Deciding that moving now would give her away, she held herself completely still, managing to keep her breathing at an even rate. She was particularly proud of the breathing part, because her heart was racing at the thought of him lying next to her. She closed her eyes more tightly when she heard the rustle of the blanket, the momentary rush of cold air and then the feel of his body next to hers on the hard ground. “Are you awake?” she heard him whisper, the freshness of his breath washing over her cheek causing her heart to beat even faster. She prayed he couldn’t hear it. Minutes stretched into hours for her. “Well, good night, then. I won’t let anything happen,” he said. Then he put one arm under his head and wrapped the other tightly around her waist, pulling her into intimate contact with his body. She stiffened and then forced herself to relax as his breathing evened to the 152

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steadiness of sleep. As he relaxed, she did as well and the warmth of their shared body heat under the thick blankets seeped into her. Her eyelids were just starting to droop when his hands moved to her hips pulling her even closer to his body. Her palms locked against his stomach, she could feel every imprint of his muscles on her own. She searched for ways to get her mind off the feel of his body pressed so tightly against her. She tried mentally reciting the newly formed Cherokee alphabet. When that didn’t work, she tried reciting the prayers she had been taught at the Mission School. Then she thought of the English game, Sally had taught her only the day before using a strange word Hi had taught the child. The thought of Hi playing with Sally brought a disturbing picture into her mind. She could almost see him playing with their children. She wondered. Would their child have hair like their father, or like her own? Stop that, she ordered herself. Hiawatha Craft is not the man for building a future with. Trying desperately to get her mind off the image of her and Hiawatha making a baby, she began mentally reciting the recipe for grape dumplings. Halfway through, it her left hand moved slightly and she felt the edge of his pants. She remembered seeing him place the strange-looking tinderbox in the left pocket. Valerie held her breath, hoping to be able to detect if Craft was already sleeping. For her plan to work, he must be completely asleep. She waited a few more seconds, listening to the even cadence of his breathing. She could just feel the touch of his breath against the top of her head. When she could no longer stand the suspense, she made her move. Slowly, so slowly she could almost feel each rasp of her skin over the cloth of his shirt, she moved her hand lower. When he twitched, she 153

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stopped, her heart pounding inside her chest. It seemed she allowed hours to pass before she made her next move. Trying to be more careful than at any other moment in her life, she moved her hand again. Almost there. She kept the pressure of her hand light and the movement slow as she worked her way past the top of his pants, past the button and on to the strange contraption that seemed to keep his britches closed. She hesitated here. She’d often wondered about the heavy cloth these were made of and the lack of buttons or laces to keep them closed. She thought briefly about trying to explore them more before going on to get the tinderbox. It was tempting. Perhaps, though, she would be able to study the odd closure another time. First things first. She wanted to see what the tinderbox was made of. If she could examine it closely, perhaps she could figure a way it would be useful to the people. She started the movement again, trying to angle her descent into the direction of his pocket. She panicked briefly. Perhaps the tinderbox was in the right pocket instead. Before trying to stick her hand inside it, she’d better discover if it was, in fact, still there. That thought in mind, she veered away from the edge and back towards the center where the metal contraption lay. It would take longer this way, but it was the best way to find what she wanted. * * * Hi couldn’t believe his good fortune. The little minx was teasing him with the ease of a society debutante in the back seat of a limousine. He held his breath against the gasp of pleasure that was threatening to erupt from his throat. He bit back a laugh. That wasn’t the only thing that was threatening to erupt. He’d felt it the minute her hand had started its slow descent. At first, he’d assumed she was merely shifting in her sleep, but the continued stealthy movement quickly dispelled that thought. When her hand had reached the top of his zipper, he’d almost 154

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jumped out of his skin. Would she undo the button and then ease the zipper slowly down? He prayed she’d sense the erotic fantasy that was careening through his mind. He licked his lips in anticipation of the feel of her soft warm palm against him. His mind flashed to the image of her bending over and taking him into her mouth. His vaunted selfcontrol was close to its breaking point. He bit back a moan when her hand eased away from his straining zipper toward his left hip. “Come back” he wanted to yell. No, what he wanted to do was lower his own hand and drag hers back where it belonged. Knowing that anticipation would make the culmination all the sweeter, he held himself in check. And started repeating silently the words to the Marine Corps hymn, and the Boy Scout pledge and every other ludicrous thing his mind could dredge up. He was in the midst of a Bible verse when he realized something was definitely amiss here. Instead of working her way back to the core of him, she seemed intent on feeling around the side of his thigh. Although she was still close enough that his body was pulsing from excitement at her touch, it wasn’t exactly an erogenous zone for him. What in the world was the little minx doing now? * * * Valerie reached what she thought was the outline of his pocket lining, but couldn’t seem to locate the tinderbox. There was no help for it. He seemed to still be asleep, but there was a new tenseness about his body. Perhaps he was locked in the middle of a dream. She had seen her Uncle Charles shake as if he had a fever when he was only dreaming. She herself had been involved in powerful visions that had come upon her in sleep. It would probably be best to just slip her hand into the pocket. That was the only way she was going to know for sure where the tinderbox was. Although the heavy material fit his body tightly, there did seem to be some give. 155

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Deciding now was the right time, she slid her hand quickly back up to the pocket’s edge, twisted her wrist and stuck her fingers down between the material. Almost there, she thought triumphantly. “What in hell do you think you are doing?” Hi’s voice rumbled menacingly in her ear. She jerked her head upward, hitting the top against his chin. She heard the click of his teeth snapping together, and then, a slow, deep, litany of curses. Hi rolled out of the blankets, feeling an ache in his jaw and tongue where bone and flesh had met convincingly. That was nothing compared to the ache in his lower region from the lack of any meeting of flesh. This hadn’t been what he had figured on when she had started her exploration. “Damn, woman, are you trying to kill me?” he asked, rubbing his jaw instead of the part which needed it more. “Don’t answer that. Just tell me what you were trying to do.” Valerie, now sitting up and rubbing the top of her head cautiously, had her head lowered so he was unable to see her reaction. “I couldn’t sleep and I was just trying to see if I could, umm… well, I wanted to find your tinderbox and discover how it worked,” she finally blurted. After a stunned moment, the sound of laughter broke the night silence. “Oh, that’s great,” he managed around heaves. He moved toward her then and despite her small protest, wrapped her in his arms. The warmth of his body and his joy began to seep into her. “That’s just great. Rich, in fact,” he said. It occurred to Valerie that for some reason he wasn’t just laughing at her. It almost seemed as though he were laughing at himself. “What did you think?” she asked, caught up by his continuing chuckles. “Oh, Princess, you wouldn’t believe it if I told you.” The thought sent him off on another wave of chuckles. At her inquiring expression, 156

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he decided to try an explanation. “For a minute there, I thought you were looking to, ah, how to describe it. I thought you were trying to sneak a peak at my personal etchings.” He tried waggling his eyebrows in his best Groucho Marx impression when he realized she wouldn’t get the connection. “If you follow my meaning.” Valerie was shaking her head no, when it suddenly dawned her. She remembered the tenseness in his body, especially when her hand had strayed close to the metal contraption that held his pants closed. Then came the realization of which body part was protected by the contraption. She burst into giggles. “You thought I was looking for a tryst with you? Oh, my, how funny.” Hi laughed with her. “Here I was going for the tinderbox and you thought I was trying to start your fire,” she said on a giggle-breath that sounded amazingly like a pig snorting. It was such a cute sound from the prim and proper Valerie Hi laughed again. “That’s hilarious. You thought I would want to do that with you. Here.” She rocked as laughter shook her body, more of the pig sounds leaving her mouth. Hi started to laugh again and pulled her into his arms and hugged her, muffling her honking sounds against his chest. He wanted to kiss her until all she could think about was finding the tinderbox that was between his legs. He didn’t know how long it took him to realize there was an insult somewhere in her words. He frowned, saying, “I don’t know if it’s that funny.” “Oh, yes. Yes, it is,” she gasped, pulling slightly away from him and trying to hide more pig-sounds behind her hand, feeling her embarrassment grow. He was looking oddly at her now, only making her snort louder. 157

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Ever since she had been a child, when she was highly emotional or something struck her as extremely silly, she couldn’t help but make this pig-laugh. It had been a constant source of gentle teasing from her family and sometimes the more ruthless brand from the village boys. She remembered her dear Grandpa reaching for his musket one time and saying he was going to go outside and kill that wild pig once and for all and then have the village shaman bless the poor besotted sow. Of course, that had made Valerie laugh even harder. There was also the time when Valerie and Mary had sneaked into the barn when her brother was wooing a girl from the other village. The scene had struck her so funny, that she began snorting. Mary had tried to hush her by covering Valerie’s mouth, but their brother had heard the noise and chased them away by yelling threats of revenge. It had been many months, certainly not since before they had been forced from their home, that something had struck her funny enough to force the snorts from her lips. Truthfully, Hiawatha Craft thinking she was trying to seduce him in the middle of the wilderness on a cold winter night and on the hard ground was the last straw on a tumbling haystack. Either he had such a high opinion of himself—which she knew to be true—or he thought very little of her skill as a woman. She stopped laughing momentarily when she realized it was probably some of both. That thought, too, struck her as funny. Someday, she’d have to show him how she seduced a man. Even though she had never lain before with a man, she knew what it was all about. She knew with a certainty deep inside her that told her she was a woman and this was the man she wanted. Apparently, if his body’s reaction to only her light touch was proof, he wanted her as well. She laughed again at the image in her mind. When it was time, he wouldn’t know what hit him. 158

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CHAPTER 15

The remainder of the trip went surprisingly well for Hi and Valerie. Dwight Mission, run by Presbyterian missionaries, wasn’t much in Hi’s opinion, but finding Valerie’s Cousin George was surprisingly simple. He was ready for them as well. George and his pregnant wife Margaret had come over with the first group of Cherokees the previous summer. They had stockpiled enough supplies to fill a wagon. Valerie and Hi spent a pleasant night with their host and hostess. George offered to travel with them to meet with Joseph’s group. Hi and Valerie convinced him he should stay home because Margaret, in the seventh month of her first pregnancy, was having a rough time. Valerie examined the woman, and although she didn’t anticipate any major problems in the coming months, convinced George his place was with his wife. By dawn the next day, Hi and Valerie were off again. This time, Valerie was driving a heavily stocked wagon pulled by two strong oxen, and Hi was riding Daisy again. 159

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George had assured him there would be no trouble on the trail north, but Hi wasn’t about to take any chances. With winter nearing its end, he was certain their supplies would probably be worth more than gold to someone desperate. They had been traveling for several hours when Valerie called Hi over to the wagon. “Please, come and sit with me,” she invited. “You have been riding Daisy hard in circles since we began. Don’t you think it is about time she had a rest?” Before he could respond, she continued. “I don’t think we should stop, but if we hitched her to the back of the wagon, at least she wouldn’t have to carry your weight. Unless, of course, you don’t want to sit up here with me?” Hi felt his cheeks redden. Blast it, why did she have to go and say that? He thought he’d rebounded admirably from her scathing laughter of a few days ago. He’d almost convinced himself that he’d forgotten all about the incident. Now, seeing the gleam of humor in her eyes, it all came back. He had two choices now. He could continue to sulk and take advantage of a rapidly tiring pony, or he could do the mature thing. Wishing he could do the first, but knowing the only alternative was the latter, he halted the horse and waited until the wagon slowed to a stop. He dismounted and tied Daisy’s lead to a strand of rope. He then walked around to the front of the wagon and jumped into the seat. “I’ll drive,” he muttered, taking the reins from Valerie’s hands and clucking twice to get the oxen moving again. Valerie lowered her eyes and bit her lower lip to control the chuckle trying to escape. She didn’t have to be a great thinker to see he was powerfully frustrated with her. He was embarrassed by what had happened between them two nights ago. Maybe, he was just embarrassed by her reaction. She bit her lip even harder, attempting to stifle the beginning of a 160

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laugh. The pig ruffle tickled her throat and nose. Would she ever understand the vagaries of men? “Don’t bother.” His low-toned rumble was just barely audible above the rattle of the wagon wheels. “I can tell you’re dying to laugh. At my expense, no doubt, so go ahead. Let it out. It’s perfectly all right.” She looked over at him. He was sitting there holding the reins as if he were a drowning frustrated man holding onto a lifeline, wearing the same wrinkled clothes that he had slept in for the last two nights. She remembered, too, the look on his face when she was trying to find his magic tinderbox. Though that look had been one of pained desire rather than anger, his frustration had been evident both times. The snort she was trying to withhold escaped from behind the hand she had clamped tightly over her mouth. “I’m sorry, it was just so f-f-ffunny,” she snorted. The pig sound erupted despite her best efforts. “I was trying to find your tinderbox and you thought I was trying to light your fire.” Her laughter rolled out in waves between the snorting sounds. She rocked back and forth, laughing, then clutched her side when a cramp hit her in a rush. This was it. Hi had had all he could stand. It was one thing to be laughed at, but he was damned if he was going to let a spoiled, little Princess make pig sounds over him. He pulled hard on the reins to stop the oxen and wagon. He looked around quickly. It was the perfect place. They were stopped on a fairly flat rise above a nicely moving river. There was an abundance of trees for cover and there was no danger of being ambushed by enemies. He looked over at the Princess, the woman who had been a thorn in his side since the day he had landed in this God-forsaken time. Because of her, he had had to put up with sexual harassment from an old woman who looked like a man, was the butt of her constant laughter and had 161

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worked harder than he ever had in his life. In short, he had taken all he was going to take. Strangely, he’d never felt more at home either. But, it was time he taught her a lesson about just who was in control. Without thinking about the consequences and as a pig snort was bubbling off her lips, he dropped the reins, yanked her onto his lap and drank the sounds into his own mouth. He was a wild man. He tasted laughter and honey and softness in her mouth. His tongue jabbed and darted, wanting to get as deep inside her as he possibly could. Heat, the most intense he’d ever known, roared over him. He felt as if he were plunging in the middle of a Napalm firestorm. Instead of wanting to run away from it, he wanted to pull the flames closer to him. For once in his life, he let his body rule his thinking and clutched her closer. While his mouth and tongue were laying siege, his hands did the same. One moved from the top of her head when he realized she wasn’t fighting him, to the tender skin at the back of her neck. What had been a restraining hold became a caress that caused a shiver to goose bump her flesh. The still-rational part of his brain prayed it was desire and not fear that caused her shiver. When he finally lifted his lips from hers, her moan of despair made him swoop again with glee. It was like coming home. Or finding water after nearly dying of thirst. How had he survived without this? How would he survive in the future? He pushed those thoughts away as his other hand made its way from her waist up to the curve of her breast. So soft, so small. It fit neatly in the palm of his hand. Despite the heavy clothing she wore, he could feel her response when his thumb caressed the nubbin at its center. That response triggered an almost violent reaction in him. He knew 162

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there was no way she could miss it since her hip was nestling intimately against him. He had a sudden intense desire for her hand to move as it had two nights ago, except this time, he promised himself, there would be no barriers of clothing between them. * * * It was as if she were caught in some wonderful vivid dream, Valerie thought. One minute she had been laughing at Hiawatha. The next, she had been taken on the most terrifying and amazing emotional ride she had ever known. When his mouth had taken hers and their tongues mated, she had felt as if she were leaving her body and hurtling to the stars. Breathing was no longer important. Nothing of this life had any meaning. The only thing that mattered was his lips fusing with hers. When he had pulled away, she felt as if her soul were being pulled from her. She couldn’t help the whimper of despair that escaped her. She clutched at him, wanting only the return of the life he had brought to her. Then when he had rejoined them and his hand had reached to stroke her breast, she had felt the deep answering call inside her body that told her it was time to make the leap from girlhood to womanhood. She knew this was what she had been made for and this was the man who had been created for her. * * * Maybe it was the creak of leather that brought Hi away from the headlong rush to fulfillment. It could have been the creak of a wagon wheel as the oxen moved to grab a bite of winter grass. Whatever it was, Hi finally pulled his mouth away from Valerie’s and looked in front of the oxen. Charles sat like a bronze statue on a black and white stallion. There was a rifle held loosely in one hand, while he controlled his horse with his legs. To his right, astride his loyal stallion, was Joseph. Neither man was smiling. It took a moment for Hi’s stillness to weave its way through the haze of desire fogging Valerie’s mind and body. Finally it did and 163

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when she twisted around, her eyes widened in shock. “e doda,” she said, addressing her father in Cherokee. “It is good to see that the People have arrived. We brought supplies from Cousin George.” From his lessons with Nathan, Hi could now understand most of the words she said. He didn’t have to speak the language to understand the disapproval coming from Joseph. This was the age-old disapproval of a father for a man after his daughter. In the past, he would have run from this situation as fast as his legs would carry him. This wasn’t his past. It appeared now to be his present and perhaps even his immediate future. Pride was the reason he held Valerie as effortlessly as he would a child when she tried to scramble off his lap. He wouldn’t acknowledge it had anything to do with proving to both men who was in control of Valerie. When he felt the daggers she was throwing at him from her eyes, he released her. She scooted over to the other side of the wagon seat, tried to hurriedly straighten the shirt that had somehow worked its way from her trousers exposing her bare skin, and smiled again at her father and uncle. When she started speaking rapidly again after a few agonizingly long moments, Joseph stopped her with a quick movement of his hand. “Daughter, I am glad to see you are safe. When my horse came back to the camp, I was certain we would never see you again. I did my best to keep it from your mother, but she worried nonetheless. The rest of our wagons are but a short distance behind us. Perhaps it would be best if you were to take Daisy and meet them.” Although phrased as a request, both Valerie and Joseph knew it was a command. She nodded weakly, then jutted her chin outward and leaped nimbly from the wagon. She went around to the back of the wagon and untied Daisy. Before she could jump astride the pony, Hi was behind her, lifting her up and onto the saddle. She glared once more at him when she felt 164

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his palm linger first on her hips and then caress the tender area of her calf beneath her trousers. He smiled at her mischievously and smacked his palm on the hindquarters of Daisy, sending the pony into a trot away from the wagon. She would ease her mother’s fears, then race back here. She wasn’t about to miss the discussion these three men were about to have. Not when she was sure it would be about her. She wouldn’t stand for it. Just as Daisy drew abreast of her father’s horse, he reached out and caught the bridle, halting the animal. “Please stay with your mother until I return. The last two days have been rough on her. I am sure she will feel better hearing any news you have of George and his family. Also, I am sure you would like to change into some clean clothes.” He took in the clothes she had stolen from head to toe and Valerie could feel waves of disapproval washing over her. Joseph tried to keep the gleam of humor from his eyes and his voice as he looked down at her bowed head. “Go,” he commanded. Seeing no alternative, she nudged Daisy into a trot and followed her father’s bidding. Hi waited until Daisy and Valerie were out of sight before he moved from the rear of the wagon. Whatever happened, he was prepared for it. “So, you found Valerie on the trail?” Joseph began. Hi crossed his legs at the ankles and leaned negligently against the wagon’s side. He felt dangerously calm. He answered Joseph’s question in great detail. He knew he was pushing the man when he explained about the necessity of sharing the blankets for warmth, and sharing Daisy’s saddle during the long hours of daylight. Keeping himself on alert, he watched both men for signs of anger. He felt a little disappointed when all he noticed was a slight twitch on Charles’ face. Through it all Joseph remained stoic. When Hi finally stopped his tale with the meeting of George and his 165

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family, Charles looked over at his brother. Rapidly, but keeping his voice low enough that he knew Craft couldn’t overhear, he spoke. “He looks so full of himself. Do you expect he will be hurt if I don’t challenge him to a death fight here and now?” Joseph, too, barely controlled his chuckle. Granted, it had been an unwelcome jolt to see his eldest daughter so obviously enjoying an intimate embrace with a man, but he was no fool. Even though he knew his daughters, and probably his wife, would disagree, a woman needed a man to care for her in these times. Honestly, he couldn’t think of a better choice in a husband for Valerie than Hiawatha Craft. He had closely watched the young man since he had joined their group. Even though he still spoke in riddles at times, and sometimes seemed unsure how to do things that even most young boys knew, there was no question in Joseph’s mind that Hiawatha Craft was an honorable, strong warrior. He would be a formidable ally and, one day, a wise leader. Valerie needed a man who would be strong enough to control her impetuous nature. He also had a feeling Hiawatha Craft needed a strong-willed woman to make his life complete. Unfortunately, he didn’t think either youngster would agree with his assessment. Joseph cleared his throat to cover his laugh. He turned his head and coughed to cover his words. “I very much expect he will,” he said in answer to Charles’ question. “Try, though, not to hurt him too badly. If the Wam^ktea and Charlotte agree, I would like to hold the wedding within a week.” “What about me?” Charles asked, still speaking in a low voice as he swung his leg out of the stirrup and jumped off his horse. “He looks to be as strong as an ox and in a fine rage as well.” Joseph’s shrug was all the answer he got. Charles stood facing Hiawatha and spoke in a clear tone. “You have dishonored a woman who is like a daughter to me. I demand 166

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satisfaction.” The words were so corny Charles almost laughed aloud. It sounded as if he were speaking the way the soldiers from England had. He remembered hearing them talk with his chief when he had been a small boy. Hi didn’t move, but he felt battle-ready tension pulsing into his muscles. He didn’t want to have to hurt Charles, or certainly Joseph if it came to that, but he wasn’t about to take a beating for no reason. “Look, I didn’t dishonor anyone. Valerie is a grown woman. We did the best we could in the situation. She would agree. But, if you have a problem here, take it up with me.” “Well, at least you admit who is responsible. You are older and wiser than Valerie. It was up to you to take control of the situation,” Charles said, moving closer to Hi. “We saw how you take control of things. She was sitting astride you as if you were a horse and she was riding you. Do you deny that you have taken her virtue?” Hi couldn’t help himself. The word brought a picture of him sliding between Valerie’s soft thighs and plunging into her tight depths. His body reacted immediately. “Enough. Stop it both of you.” Joseph’s words stopped Hi’s erotic thoughts and Charles’ menacing gait. “We will settle this in the old way. It will be done tomorrow night, after we set up the camp. At dusk. That is my word.”

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CHAPTER 16

There seemed to be a festiveness about the Ani’-Yun’wiya as the wagons parked along the grassy edges of the river. Valerie felt tears in her own eyes as she saw the joy and relief evident in everyone from the oldest traveler down to youngest that their journey was finally done. Those who were still able set about unloading supplies while her father organized work parties amongst the men to erect temporary shelters for the People. Charlotte, who had begun to regain her strength but was still unable to do the work she normally would, organized the women as well. Charles had been successful in procuring a large amount of flour, sugar and meal on his trip to the fort and had come across some deer the night before that he had been able to shoot. With the potatoes and corn she and Hi had brought from Dwight Mission, there would be a well–deserved feast for the people tonight. Valerie worked alongside the other women and Wam^ktea, peeling, shucking and grinding as the conversation rolled around her. 168

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She couldn’t believe what her father had decreed. Charles would fight Hi at dusk tomorrow. Fight for some silly man’s notion of honor. If her father were so certain her honor had been violated, why wasn’t she allowed to avenge it? Why should Charles be the chosen one? Of course, no one ever thought of that. No one ever even asked her if she felt dishonored. In fact, when she tried to tell her father that Hi was innocent, he had turned and walked away. Charles had only smiled at her and told her it was men’s business. As though that was the answer for everything. Surprisingly though, when she had gone to the one person she had been sure would support her, she received the same response. “Leave it to your father and Uncle Charles, dear,” Charlotte had said serenely, after Valerie explained what had happened between her and Hi in the clearing. “They will take care of everything.” As though sending an annoying child out to play, her mother had told her to go and find Mary and then organize the children into groups to gather firewood. Valerie left to do as she was told, silently fuming. She had found Mary in a seemingly intimate conversation with Doctor Crawford and dragged her sister away with hardly a word to the healer. Now, she looked at her sister in astonishment. “Do you know what you are doing?” Valerie asked. “If someone sees you talking alone with him, there will be more trouble than you can imagine.” Mary’s back stiffened immediately and the look she gave her sister was full of contempt. “How dare you say that to me? You, who went off on your own after stealing father’s stallion and leaving us wondering if you were dead or alive! You, who care only about making your own dreams come true so that you are blind to the dreams and desires of others. Even you own sister?” Mary broke out in tears and covered her face with her hands. For a moment, Valerie was too stunned to do anything but stare. 169

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Her eyes filled with tears as she realized Mary was right. She had been selfish. She had been so concerned with proving to the People that she could be chief, she had forgotten the first rule of being a leader—caring about others’ welfare above her own. She had been so selfish she hadn’t been there when the person who had been one with her since before birth had needed her. Valerie rushed over and hugged Mary’s trembling body next to her own. “Mary, please, please don’t cry. You are right. I was wrong. It seems I’ve been wrong a lot lately. Maybe I’m not ready to be chief of the People after all. It seems I have a lot of things yet to learn.” Mary’s sobs quieted and she even managed a little chuckle. Feeling a little vindicated, Valerie continued with a smile. “I know what you are thinking. Surely, this is not the first time you’ve heard me admit that I am wrong?” Mary raised her head and gave Valerie a genuine smile. “Well, there was that time when we were children. But you had a sickness then and I put it down to delirium.” The two shared a quiet laugh and another hug and then sat down on a log beside the clear, gently moving river. This was going to be a good place to settle. Valerie could feel it in her bones. She didn’t doubt that some of her people would always long for the comfort of their true homeland, but they could build a good life for themselves here. After a moment, she spoke. “Are you in love with Doctor Crawford?” If Valerie hadn’t been listening so closely, she might not have heard Mary’s whispered response. “Yes, yes I am. But it is not to be.” Valerie also heard the pain in her twin’s voice. “Is he already tied to another? A white woman?” she guessed. “No,” Mary shook her head, “but that wouldn’t matter to me. He doesn’t think it would be good for me. He thinks the people would shun me for marrying a man of white descent.” Valerie frowned. Her people’s blood had been intermixed with the 170

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whites’ for many years now. But that was before the white men had so callously taken their land and homes away. Several times on the trip west, she had heard some of the young braves talking about avenging the wrong. She chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip. “Doctor Crawford could be right, Mary,” she began. “Do you think that matters to me?” Mary exploded. Her small body radiating fury, she stood and began to pace in quick, tight strides. “That is not the worst of it. He thinks I don’t know what love is. He thinks I am but a young girl charmed by his healing skills.” She continued without giving Valerie a chance to respond. “Healing skills. Hah! I have seen greater miracles than he has performed. I have probably even attended more births than he. Yet I am the fragile flower on the bubble of my first sunrise.” At Valerie’s chuckle, Mary whirled. “Ridiculous isn’t it? Those were his exact words to me only a few moments ago. I believe his head is thicker than the base of the mountains we once roamed.” Her burst of fury over, Mary walked back to sit beside Valerie. “Sharing my burden is useless. You have enough problems of your own. The rumor among the people is that Abigail has agreed to act as priest and view the merging of the roots. There will be a meeting with mother and father tonight to go over wedding arrangements. Valerie jumped up and paced the same area her sister had just traveled. “It is unbelievable, isn’t it? I have tried to talk with father. He told me not to worry. I attempted to convince Charles. He just shook his head and told me to think about my upcoming nuptials.” Valerie took a sighing breath. “Even mother wouldn’t listen. I could just scream.” Mary hid her chuckle behind her hand. She knew her sister was terribly upset about this, but it was sort of funny. “I’m almost sorry to bring this up, but why are they doing this?” Mary asked, watching Valerie’s frustrated movements. Valerie snorted. “Father and Charles came upon Hi and me in the 171

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wagon.” “And…?” Mary prompted. “We were kissing. That’s all it was…only a kiss.” When Mary just looked at her, Valerie relented. “It wasn’t only a kiss. But it was innocent. I had provoked him and he was retaliating.” Mary bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling. “How did you provoke him?” Valerie stopped her pacing and stared out over the slow moving river. “I guess it really started when I tried to get this amazing tinderbox he has…” As if trying to arrange thoughts in her own mind, she retold everything that had happened between her and Hiawatha from the time he had found her crying on the ground. Mary listened for the most part, asking some very pointed questions when Valerie left a detail or two out for the sake of pride. Valerie ended her story as Hi pulled the wagon to a stop in the very clearing where their people were now working to erect shelters. “I was just teasing him. Truly. Then, it was as if something inside him snapped. He pulled me into his arms and merged his mouth with mine. It was even more amazing than the time at dawn by the frozen creek.” Valerie stopped pacing for a moment. “The unusual thing about this is that I believe Hiawatha welcomed the challenge. You should have seen how he and Charles acted at the wagon. It was as if they were two bulls fighting over the same heifer in a small pasture.” The picture was so vivid, Mary laughed. “It sounds like your Mister Craft is just as thick-headed as Doctor Crawford.” “It must be the way men are made,” they both said at once, dissolving into laughter. Through the chuckles, Mary sobered. Despite her sister’s protestations, she knew when a woman was in love. And despite her sister’s protestations, she knew Valerie was in love with Hiawatha 172

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Craft. If she hadn’t been, she would have seen their uncle and father’s fine hand of matchmaking in this upcoming mock battle from the start. Mary just hoped for everyone’s sake that neither Charles nor Hi got carried away with the fight. She would hate to see her uncle injured, but an injured groom wasn’t much good on a wedding night either. She was just wondering if she should caution Charles about his fighting techniques when she realized Valerie had asked her a question. Now she was waiting impatiently for an answer. “Well?” Valerie’s frustration showed in the rhythmic tapping of her foot against the still-cold ground. “I am sorry, sister. I didn’t hear your question,” Mary replied. “I said, would you go and talk to Uncle Charles? I am going to try and speak with Hiawatha. Maybe, I can talk some sense into him.” Mary thought quickly. “Uh, I don’t think speaking with Mister Craft is a good idea now. Let me talk to Charles and father as well. You’ll still have time to talk to him if necessary.” Valerie’s puff of air was so strong it blew one of the loose strands of her hair off her face. “I don’t like it, but I think you are right. I will wait. Maybe you can talk some sense into our family. Perhaps they will listen to your wisdom.” Mary looked away to keep her sister from seeing the humor she knew was reflected in her face. She sincerely hoped the family would listen to her wisdom because she was going to tell them they had better hurry the wedding preparations along or else the bride was going to ruin the whole thing. * * * There was a great celebration that night. Knowing their fateful journey was finally over, the People sang, danced, ate, and told stories of past great conquests. And they prayed for the future. Hi stood on the edge of the celebration, watching and wondering. He really didn’t know what to do now. The Cherokee had made it, finally, to their new land. Granted, he could probably help build houses 173

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and shelters, but that didn’t seem reason enough to keep him in this time. He watched as the women began to dance and sing around the large bonfire that burned in the middle of the main clearing. He saw Valerie, her beautiful black hair flowing freely down her back, and wondered if he wasn’t just making excuses. The People didn’t need him anymore. Charlotte was getting stronger every day. True, Black Cloud had died while he’d been away, but then nobody had really expected him to live. Sally Black Cloud was an orphan, but Nathan had assured him that the Cherokee were very protective of orphans. Anyway, what kind of father would he make here in this time? Hell, who was he kidding? What kind of father would he make any time? If he stayed, he was going to have to fight Charles. That was one battle he certainly didn’t want. It was also one battle he wasn’t certain he could win. It was amazing that he was in the situation to begin with. He had been so careful to stay away from any confrontations since he’d been back in this time. Now, because he had lost his head and had taken Valerie into his arms, he was facing a battle with a man who could kill him. Worse, what would be the ramifications to history and the Cherokees if he happened to kill Charles? Hi didn’t have the answer to that question, but he did know that he had sat back and waited long enough. It was time he went on his way. It would be hard leaving these people he had come to respect and, he admitted, love. His eyes lingered on Valerie’s lithe body as she circled the fire, arms linked with the other women. Yes, it was well past time. He had to find a way back to his real life before any damage was done. Once again, he was stumped. How? The only answer he came up with was stealing a horse and heading back the way they had come. Maybe, then, he could find the weather 174

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window that had propelled him through time. He was deep in thought about that problem when Nathan came upon him. “Master Craft, why aren’t you dancin’ and drinkin’ with the rest of the braves?” Nathan asked, slapping Hi on the shoulder. “Didn’t want to tell ’em how you’s planning to whoop old Charles?” “Hello, Nathan. No, I’m not so sure I could beat Charles,” Hi replied with a slight smile. Nathan had proudly passed the last reading and writing test just a few hours ago. Hi knew that no matter what he hadn’t accomplished here, he was proud of teaching Nathan to read. Nathan nodded in response to Hi’s words. “Ain’t no doubt about it, Charles is a great warrior.” He stroked his chin slowly. “But I’se got a feelin’ about you. I even made a bet on you winning tomorrow night.” He chuckled softly. “One way or ’nother.” Hi stared at his friend for a long moment. “See, that’s just one of the things I’ve been meaning to ask you about, buddy. I’m hearing things like that all day. I get the feeling everyone is talking and I’m hearing what they say, but not understanding it. I don’t get it.” Nathan’s grin split his mouth even wider. “You’ll find out soon enough. Yes, sir, you’ll find out soon enough.” The sound of the women’s voices reached him. It was a tune he had heard several times since coming to the Cherokees, and it tugged fiercely at his memory. “What’s that song the women are singing?” he asked Nathan. “I can pick up a word or two, but I know I’ve heard it somewhere else before.” Nathan nodded. “It’s a Christian hymn that was translated into Cherokee for the people when Sequoyah printed up his paper. I ain’t much of a singer, but I think it goes something like this. A–ma–zi–ng Grace,…” his voice broke several times as though rusty, then a clear tenor sound emerged. Hi listened as Nathan sang the words with increasing fervor and when he finished, clapped his hands for a few minutes as he smiled. 175

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“Watch out, Luther VanDross.” At Nathan’s questioning look, he amended. “What I meant is that I think you’ve got a great voice. You should sing more often. I bet you could even make money by singing.” Nathan’s glance turned to humor. “Master Craft, you’s sure full of strange notions. Who ever heard tell of anyone making money singin’? Maybe you’ve had enough of that corn whiskey Charles brought back with him. It done touched you in the head.” Hi’s smile faded. “You could be right, Nathan. You could very well be right.” * * * Valerie slipped away from the celebration, her heart racing. She had felt Hiawatha’s eyes on her throughout the ceremony, and had been embarrassed by her thoughts. She had imagined they were dancing together around a fireplace in their own cabin. She had felt his arms around her holding her tightly, just as he had that night on the trail. She had felt the imprint of his strong, lean body as it thrust against her in the intimate motions of their dance. She had known the dance was a foreshadowing of what was to come between them and she was nearly faint from anticipation. As she danced with the other women around the communal fire, she had felt his desire washing over her like the fall of a mountain stream over a dangerous cliff. It excited her. It terrified her and she felt an overwhelming need to escape. She had felt as if all the eyes of the people had been upon them, seeing his desire, sensing her need. She needed time alone to think things through. She wasn’t ready to marry. He wasn’t ready to marry. She still wasn’t certain if he was a friend or foe of the Cherokee. Some of their people even believed him to be a god. How could she marry a god? Worse, how could she marry a traitor? She stopped by the bank of the river and placed her hands over her 176

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heated face. What was she going to do? If Hiawatha won the fight tomorrow, he would win the right to marry her. If Charles won the fight, he would have the right to demand Hiawatha’s life in return. Could she stand either of those things? So deep in thought was she, that the sound of limbs breaking behind her caused her to whirl around, startled. “What do you want here?” she demanded. “You are not supposed to be here. Please leave. Now.”

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CHAPTER 17

Hi didn’t know what drove him to follow Valerie. He told himself he shouldn’t. God knew it would only cause problems later. He had convinced himself that the best solution was to steal a horse tonight and leave the Cherokee. He wouldn’t think about the possibility that he could never return to his own time. It wasn’t in him to admit defeat. The longer he stayed here, the more involved he would become in their lives. He still got shivers when he remembered the way Sally Black Cloud had welcomed him that morning. Hi trusted Nathan’s word that the Cherokees would treat the child well now that her father was dead. He did not trust himself not to want to be a part of her life, though, if he stayed. That did not explain why he was following the trail Valerie had taken. I just want to spend a little more time with her, he told himself. I won’t touch her. I’ll just say good-bye. 178

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He stopped a moment when he heard a muffled sound. It was just animal noises, he decided as he continued along the path. Suddenly, a scream pierced the air. Valerie. He ran, ignoring the slashing of bare tree branches and shrubbery scraping across his face and body. Just when he felt he was never going to reach her, Hi burst into a clearing. Then instinct took over. Instead of being beside a clear river in 1838 America, in his mind, he was in a jungle. He knew there were four men—terrorists? He shook his head trying to clear the rage. No, these men were the soldiers that had been guarding them. They had surrounded Valerie. Two kneeling men held her thrashing legs and arms while a third man was on his knees, his pants around his ankles. The fourth man, standing off to the side, was saying calmly, “We’ll give you first crack at her, Corporal, seeing as how you’ve wanted a piece of her since the first day you seen her. But don’t go thinking you’ve got long on her. Each of us gets a turn plowing her belly.” The man laughed evilly and the other men joined him. Hi knew that rage didn’t make for an effective fighting man. That was one of the things they preached night and day in that special school he attended after his first tour. Ice-cold logic and action were the most lethal. He ignored his training. The anger was so hot it rolled through his blood like an erupting volcano. He attacked the two men holding Valerie down in less than half a second, using a driving uppercut to take out one and a vicious jab in the underbelly to knock out the other. He took out the speaker with a swift kick to the head. The final man went down in a blink with a well-placed kick to the groin. Taking a deep breath, he knelt beside a shaking Valerie. “I’m sorry darlin’. Please tell me you aren’t hurt?” He stroked his hands over her body lightly, seeking any damage the animals might 179

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have caused. When he found none, he started to pull her into his arms, but her increased shivering stopped him. Feeling another onrush of rage, he turned toward her tormentors. He kicked one of the men balled up in agony clutching himself, again, hard in the stomach. “Animals. I ought to kill all of you. Now. It would be a pleasure.” He looked down in disgust, realizing that the man he’d kicked was Corporal Dawsey. It was hard to believe such trash was the forefather of the fine man who had saved his life in the jungle. Valerie’s soft moan had him turning his back on Dawsey. That was his first mistake. Dawsey sprang at him, grabbing him around the knees and bringing him to the ground. Hi rolled from his stomach to his back quickly, knowing he had to be able to see his attacker to stop him. As if separated into two beings, Hi found himself watching the fight as if he were looking down on it. He could see that Valerie was trying to get to her feet. The watcher in him wanted to scream at her to run for help. The fighter part of him was just too busy. Dawsey was on top of him like a heavyweight wrestler going for the pin, except Dawsey’s fists were raining accurate blows to his head. One punch landed on the bridge of his nose, causing stars to blink briefly in front of his eyes. From the spurt of warmth working over his upper lip and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, Hi knew he probably had a broken nose. His options rapidly dwindling, Hi tried to cover himself the best he could. The fighter part of him knew he could end this now by killing Dawsey. It was what the man deserved for attacking Valerie. The watcher part of him urged caution. What if you kill Dawsey now? the watching Hi asked. Will that mean Dawsey’s ancestor won’t be around to save the platoon? Then, does that mean we won’t be here to save Valerie? The Dawsey of the here and now was gaining strength. This man 180

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was a seasoned veteran of hand-to-hand combat and Hi knew there was no longer any time for thoughts. He felt the blood spurting from cuts on his face and nose. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be the one dead in the here and now. The trickle from his nose was now gushing. Knowing he had to make his move, Hi struck. Pretending he was unconscious, Hi let his body go slack. Dawsey continued to rain punches down on him for several more seconds, but they became slower. Hi moved his arm stealthily into position. Folding his thumb over his palm in a sideways Boy Scout salute, Hi chopped his hand with all his strength into Dawsey’s Adam’s apple. The relief was immediate. Dawsey gasped twice as air to his lungs was suddenly cut off. As he clutched his throat, Hi moved again, pinching the carotid artery in Dawsey’s neck, rendering the soldier temporarily paralyzed. Hi threw the slumped man off him and tried to get to his feet. It wasn’t a good idea. His head ringing like a packed bar on New Year’s eve, he got on all fours instead. If he had to crawl over to Dawsey to finish the job, so be it. He didn’t care about the balance of history. He didn’t care about what this could do to his own life. He wanted to taste victory. He wanted to make Dawsey pay for what he’d been about to do to Valerie. A pistol fired, stopping Hi’s movements. He looked up. Although his vision was blurred by blood and sweat, he could make out a semicircle of faces around him. Joseph, Charles and several council members were lined on one side. Some slaves, Nathan included, were in the middle, next to the women, while several soldiers finished the semicircle. Crawford, carrying his black bag, came calmly forward while one of the officers put his pistol into its holder. Joseph started forward to speak to the officer. “You don’t have to explain,” the officer said. “One of my men reported what was going on.” He nodded at the men under his command sprawled in various stages of consciousness on the ground. 181

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“These men will be severely punished. I can guarantee you that, Chief. Attacking a helpless woman is not the way I run things.” He spat on the man lying closest to him, and said to his second-incommand. “Place these men under arrest, Sergeant. We’ll take them to the fort and start court martial proceedings first thing tomorrow.” Hi, still on his knees and gasping for breath, jerked when Crawford touched his face. He looked up as the officer addressed him. “That was quite an impressive display of hand-to-hand combat techniques, sir. Did you, by chance, spend time at a military school?” Hi caught himself before he could tell the lieutenant about the extensive eight-week self-defense and jungle warfare training he’d endured at Paris Island. Thankfully, Crawford pressed a wet cloth to the tip of his nose at just that moment. “Owww! What the hell is that?” He scowled, pulling the man’s hand away. Crawford smiled in spite of himself. “I need to clean the wound in order to see how much damage there is,” he explained. Just as he finished, Abigail came up, offering to finish Hi’s treatment. “Uh, thanks, Abigail,” Hi said, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over him, “but I think it’ll be better if we let the Doc handle it. Why don’t you see to Valerie?” Crawford looked critically at Hi’s face and then pronounced, “You’ll live.” Hi grimaced, “Gee, that’s reassuring. What the hell!” he yelled as Crawford calmly placed a hand on each side of his nose and snapped the cartilage back into place. “What’d you do that for?” he asked, sounding like a bad imitation of Donald Duck. Crawford just grinned. “I’ve found in most cases, it’s just better to push it back into place when the patient is not expecting it. They don’t worry about the pain that way.” Crawford handed him a rolled-up piece of cotton cloth. “Stick that 182

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in your nose. It’ll be better before you know it.” Joseph squatted beside them, peering into Hi’s face as Crawford spoke. “He’ll be fine, Chief. How’s your daughter? Does she need attention?” Joseph, his eyes still on Hi’s face, said, “No, she’ll be fine with the women. I’ll have Charlotte call you if there is any need.” Hi swallowed the suddenly large lump in his throat. Valerie was surrounded by the women so he couldn’t even look and make sure she was okay. He felt pretty sure she hadn’t been harmed physically, but who could tell about the mental damage she had suffered. When one of the women moved, he saw the motion of her heaving shoulders and felt an immediate urge to go to her. He cursed the fates that had brought him to this time, but hadn’t allowed him to be in the right place at the right time to stop this from happening. He hadn’t been able to save Black Cloud and neither had he been able to protect Valerie. He had never felt so useless in his entire life. He looked at Joseph. “I am sorry, sir. If I had only been a little quicker…I don’t believe the men had a chance to do anything.” He hung his head. “I just couldn’t get here quick enough. I will forever be sorry for that.” Joseph shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You did all that you could and more than most would. I pledge my gratitude to you.” Joseph’s words were like rubbing salt in Hi’s wounds. No matter that the face and eyes seemed sincere, Hi knew he had failed. Joseph stood then, placed his hand on Hi’s shoulder and said in a loud, clear voice to the people standing around them, “Know this. I have lost my birth sons, but from this day forward, this is my new son. Treat him as such.” Hi, engrossed in his self-flagellation, missed all of Joseph’s words. He knew in his mind that it was over. He had failed. He would do what he should have done when he first realized he’d traveled through time. 183

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He would leave these people. Tonight. It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. * * * Valerie knew what she had to do. In truth, she was happier about her decision than any other she’d made in her life. Surprisingly, when she told her mother and her sister about it, there had been no objections. Mary had smiled and brought forth a packet of herbs she had picked from a special spot and carried from their homeland. The herbs would provide a soothing balm for Hi’s wounds. Charlotte produced a beautiful tear dress. It was the custom of the people to sew a dress for important ceremonies from torn pieces of cloth. Charlotte told Valerie the dress had been made for her by her mother when she had joined Joseph. Valerie looked around as she walked across the quieting circle to the wagon where Hi slept. Already, there were signs everywhere of his wisdom and skill. One building had been completed this day and was now giving the sick and elderly their first sustained warmth in many months. When her people were settled, the building would serve as a council lodge as the Ani’-Yun’ wiya set up their new government. There were also signs of other smaller buildings nearing completion. These would give families their places to rebuild their own lives. All of this was due to Hiawatha Craft’s influence. He had shown the men something he called an Assembly line, where each man had a specific task, speeding up the building process. He’d also ordered the empty water barrels they used to be placed on the ground to catch rainwater. The people were not only going to survive, they were going to be able to thrive because of him. She was, too. She had been terrified when the soldiers had tried to force themselves on her. She had struggled because she knew her life was at 184

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stake, but she had also known that she would not be able to get free. That’s when she had felt regret. She had been certain that she would never live to feel Hi’s arms wrapped securely around her. She had known she would never experience the satisfaction of holding the babes that she and Hi could create secure in her arms. Those were the things she had been fighting for. Those were the losses she had been weeping over. Then, as if out of a vision of some English fairytale of knights in shining armor, he had burst into the clearing. He had been magnificent. He had been her savior. He was her life. It was time, past time, that she showed him what that meant to her. He had thought she wanted to seduce him by the campfire when they were on the way to Dwight Mission. He would have no doubt about her intentions when she was through with him tonight. It might be the night before the actual wedding, but it was going to be a wedding night he would never forget.

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CHAPTER 18

Hi had been in worse pain in his life. As he sat on the blankets spread out on the bed of one of the wagons, he took personal inventory. Crawford said his nose was broken and Hi could tell from the tenderness under his eyes that the good doctor was probably correct. He’d broken his nose one other time—when he was young and stupid—but had been lucky. Then he’d been property of the U.S. Marines and one of the doctors there had taken the time to set it properly. “Well,” he said. “At least, I’ll have something to prove I was actually back in this time.” He gave a derisive snort. “If I ever get back to my own time, I’ll never be able to tell anyone about this. What could I tell them that they’ll believe?” Trying to answer that question just made the pounding in his head worse. He pulled his shirt off and looked critically at his flat abdomen. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Crawford. He did, sort of. It was his body and he wanted to make sure the good doctor hadn’t missed 186

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anything. The light from the lantern he’d lit showed the beginning of the purpling bruises. It was crucial for him to know if any ribs were broken, so he probed as much as he could. With his nose out of commission, he took a deep breath of air through his mouth, held it in his lungs and then released it. No pain. Good, he thought. At least he didn’t have to worry about that. He probed with his fingers again and sucked in a quick breath when he touched a particularly tender spot. “Well, I won’t be running any marathons for a while, but in general not bad for an old man,” he said to himself. He blew out the lantern and laid gingerly back on the blankets. Hi knew he should be riding out of the camp at this moment. He was only delaying the inevitable. He’d already decided that leaving was his only option. Usually, when he made a decision, he stuck to it with grim determination. With this one, however, he was having a hard time making himself do it. He thought back to the events of the day before he’d lost complete control. The people were so happy to finally have reached their new home their excitement was palpable. Men and women, who had been listless and beaten when he’d last seen them, moved now with vigor and energy. Joseph, and even Charles, the man he was scheduled to battle tomorrow night, had listened intently when he suggested dividing up the building chores among the workers. Only he knew that he was teaching them a technique that wouldn’t be formally introduced until Henry Ford needed a quick, inexpensive way to build his automobiles. Hi figured at this point, what was a little thing like that going to do to history? After all, he’d been able to keep his magical tinderbox out of public view. Really, as Nathan explained, the technique wasn’t totally foreign to the Cherokees. They had been known to help each other raise a barn or 187

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put up a new house for centuries. The only thing that was different was assigning a specific task to each person. Quite honestly, Hi was pleased with the results. In just one day, they had erected one large building and the shells for several others. The sick and elderly were sleeping in a stationary building for the first time in many months. Hopefully, by the end of tomorrow, at least a couple more houses would be ready for occupation. Hi felt a moment’s disappointment that he wouldn’t be here to see the village come together. He sort of wished he could stay. “Wait a moment, if I leave, what is that going to do to Valerie?” His spoken-aloud thoughts had him sitting straight up. “Charles and Joseph believe I have dishonored her. Will they scorn her?” His mind told him that wasn’t possible. They loved her. They would protect her no matter what. Could they protect her from the scorn of others though? He lay back down and turned over on his side, fiercely punching a roll of blankets he’d turned into a pillow. He ignored the sting of wool against his scraped knuckles. Staying won’t make everything peachy, he told himself. If he stayed, he would have to fight Charles. He could control his own actions, but he realized he could not control Charles! Fighting Dawsey that night sapped his strength, strength he needed to remain in control. What would happen if he lost control? What would happen if he killed Charles? Hi was mulling that over when he heard the whisper of the canvas wagon cover being moved. He held himself completely still, waiting for the intruder to make the first move. * * * Valerie took a deep breath. This was harder than she expected. Twice, she had had to stop in fear of waking some of the men sleeping around the large campfire. Then, as the moon had slipped behind a dark cloud, she had trouble finding the wagon Hi was sleeping in. 188

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This was her third and last one. It would be her luck that he had decided to sleep on the ground. She pulled the canvas back slightly. It was even darker inside than outside. She thought she saw the outline of someone under blankets against the far side of the wagon. She frowned as she tried to gauge the size and shape of the lump. There was no help for it. She was going to have to climb inside the wagon and hope if it wasn’t Hi she wouldn’t disturb the person’s sleep. She lifted her foot to the high step, feeling the cold draft of air on her bare legs. She had decided against her normal undergarments because she had wanted to be able to tease Hi with her readiness. As gooseflesh pebbled her calf and moved upwards to her woman’s flesh, she wondered if she had made a mistake. She grabbed one of the ropes on the side and pulled herself into the wagon. She managed to climb inside with some of her dignity remaining and crawled over on her hands and knees to where the person lay, still as the dead. Excitement, and fear, made her breathless and just as she neared the man, the moon broke through the clouds. It was him, she thought triumphantly recognizing the fall of his yellow hair over his forehead and the gleam of his bronze chest. She sat back on her heels and just looked. This was her destiny. She knew it and yet the sight of him had the ability to make her shiver. His hair had grown slightly since the first time she’d seen him, but it was still much shorter than most of the men she knew. The way it fell with total abandon over his forehead caused a well of tenderness to rise inside her. Trying to keep her movements steady, she reached her hand to brush the hair off his face. With the first touch, Valerie was driven as she had never been before. Of its own will, her hand lingered in his silky, soft hair, her fingers becoming a comb. Trying not to wake him, her hand moved 189

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slowly over the side of his head, down to his ear. With only one finger, she traced the outline, closing her eyes as a picture rushed into her mind of her tongue following her finger’s example. She moved forward on her knees and did exactly what her mind had shown her. First, she dropped feather-light kisses on his brow, and then into the hair she’d run her fingers through. Then she ran her tongue around his ear. When she came to the lobe where the skin met with his face, she gave in to the impulse and followed her tongue with a gentle nip from her teeth. Even though Hi didn’t move a muscle, Valerie knew immediately that he was awake. The pounding of his heart was evident under the onslaught of her lips as they slid down his jaw to the sensitive place on his neck. Feeling the power of her womanhood flood over her, Valerie smiled slightly. She would see how long he could remain as still as a sleeping bear. * * * Hi knew almost the moment she climbed into the wagon that it was Valerie. Somewhere along the line, his body had developed a sixth sense of her. His nostrils flared in response to the clean, fresh scent of her body and the hair on his forearms and chest stood as if drawn by invisible static electricity. Knowing the last time he had misinterpreted her movements, he tried not to get his hopes up. She probably had only come to thank him. Hi prayed he was wrong. Keeping himself utterly still, he allowed her hand to brush his forehead. It was heaven. It was torturous hell. He prayed again, this time begging for her to never stop. It took every muscle in Hi’s body to keep from grabbing Valerie and pulling 190

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her on top of him. He had never known his ear could be an erogenous zone. It had certainly never been before. But at the first touch of her finger, he had felt as if he were on fire. When her tiny teeth nipped at the lobe and pulled it into her mouth as if she was sucking on a tasty morsel, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was only beginning to control his pulse when her attack shifted elsewhere. Her mouth and tongue moved with cat-like stealth down his neck, lingering on his collarbone. Had his skin ever been so tender? He wondered, feeling the tingle of goose flesh popping up everywhere she touched. As if she sensed his delight, her tongue went foraging again. This time, she attacked each tiny bump of excitement she could discover. He heard her murmurs as she tasted every inch of his exposed skin. While her tongue was busily tasting him, her hands were equally active. As light as a butterfly flitting from flower to flower, her fingers traced the hills and valleys his muscles formed over the bones of his shoulders and chest. Around and around she traced, as though she were a blind woman committing everything to memory. When her fingers touched his male nipples, followed by her warm wet mouth, Hi lost it. His control broke. Hands that had been fisted, opened and grasped thick strands of her hair. Rolling, he pinned her underneath him in a movement so quick it left her breathless. “I’m sorry,” she said on a laugh, licking lips that suddenly hungered for the taste of him. “Did I wake you?” Desire made his voice rough. “You are a vixen. I should make you pay.” Before she could respond, his lips were on hers. All teasing was gone. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t talk. All she wanted was to feel. 191

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His mouth, tongue, teeth and hands were everywhere; her eyebrows, her cheeks, her nose, her ears and finally, her mouth. His tongue rushed through the opening of her lips and mated with hers in a dance as old as time. She felt its desperate sweep inside and knew another part of their bodies would soon be joined like that. It was thrilling. It was terrifying. It was everything. She didn’t feel the cold air on her breasts until his mouth left hers and moved to suckle her nipple. Need and a desperate plea that he never stop pulled at the very core of her, though her skin mingled in the soft whimper that escaped her lips. Her head arched back over his arm under her neck and his mouth moved to her other breast, whose tender heart was already beaded as hard as a pebble. One hand came up and cupped the breast he had just left, rubbing his rough thumb over and over its apex. “God, I can’t stand it,” he moaned hoarsely. “Please, Valerie, touch me. Just once.” Her hand went down to his pants. Somehow he had managed to undo them and she could feel the strength of him through the soft underdrawers he wore. When she started to play with the soft material, he released her breast and pulled himself free of the constraints. Silk and heat were merged into a covering for steel, Valerie thought as she traced the length and shape of him. When her finger swirled the drop of moisture at its tip, he moaned as if in great pain. She stilled immediately. “Did I hurt you?” she asked, her voice a mere breath in the night. “No. God, no.” Hi rested his heated forehead against hers. He was breathing as if he had just run two marathons. He had to get control. “Just give me a moment. Please?” Valerie kept still. She remembered the beating he had taken from Dawsey and the others. The thought she was causing him more pain was unbearable. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have come to you tonight. I will leave if that is 192

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what you want.” She gnawed her bottom lip nervously. “Don’t you even think about leaving now, lady,” Hi growled. “I just need you not to touch me right there, right now. He glanced down to her hand wrapped around him. Valerie’s smile when she finally understood was wise as a married woman’s. “I see. Perhaps, it would be better if I explore elsewhere then.” Before Hi responded, Valerie released him and moved her hands around to his firm buttocks. She cupped and squeezed each side, feeling a delicious sense of ownership. Her hand then moved down each leg. Squirming, she worked herself out from under him and knelt again on her heels. “Let’s see if there are any injuries from your fight today,” she said, beginning her inspection with his toes and gently massaging her way back up his legs. She used a technique her father had taught her for horses at the end of a day of hard work. She rubbed, pulled and tugged on every part of him, except for the one demanding attention. “No damage here,” she murmured, feeling the excitement again begin to build inside her. Careful not to touch the essence of him, she moved up to his stomach and torso. Even in the darkness of the wagon, she could sense the tenderness around his ribs and knew there was going to be a large bruise there. Wanting only to provide relief, she began reciting a healing chant. She thought briefly about making an herbed poultice, but decided, for tonight, her touch alone would have to suffice. Gently, she stroked with both her hands and her mouth until she felt a different kind of tension invade his body. Taking her time, she worked her way over his chest, arms and shoulders, then up to his face. Here she felt the most damage from the fight to save her life. Tenderly her fingers traced the nose that had been broken. Wanting only to wipe out his pain, she touched the spot with her lips. 193

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“I am sorry to be the cause of your pain,” she whispered, her breath sending a fresh tingle of desire across Hi’s heated skin. “It wasn’t you,” he responded, pulling her astride his body and stroking his hands down her. He reached the apex of her desire and slipped a finger just inside the warm cavern. She was damp and ready for him and the scent of her was so enticing he nearly lost control again. He tentatively pushed his finger deeper inside her and felt her untried muscles protest slightly before allowing smooth entry. So tight. So damn tight. He knew she wasn’t quite ready. He should tell her that there would be some pain. He should tell her that any time she wanted him to stop he would. He couldn’t do any of those things. He withdrew his finger and pulled her down on his straining member. He broke through her maidenhead and felt the rigidity of her body that told him she was in pain. He knew he should stop. He knew he had to give her time. Then all he could do was thrust as he seated himself to the hilt. He was touching her womb and it was more than he could stand. He was home and it was heaven. He felt his seed spewing as though propelled by a rocket launcher. He ground her hips against him as he erupted in wave after wave of ecstasy. * * * Valerie felt as if she had been swept away in the torrents of a flash flood from a large river, except the river was so hot it surely was made of molten fire. She was hotter than she’d ever been before in her life. She rested her head on his sweat-slicked chest and could hear the pounding of Hi’s heart. It was keeping pace with her own. She couldn’t stop herself from running her hands over the satin covered muscles of her husband. Valerie knew she was an educated, intelligent young woman, and 194

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her mother and the other women of the tribe had prepared her well for the physical act of intimacy. She had known that Hi’s male member would grow and that it would be implanted inside her body. What no one, not even her mother, had prepared her for was the feeling of fullness and rightness she had felt when Hi thrust through her maidenhead. Nor had she been prepared for the feeling of possessiveness she experienced when he trembled within her arms. She noticed the stickiness that was seeping out of her body and grimaced slightly. When she started to pull away from him to cleanse herself, Hi’s hands on her hips tightened, holding her in place. That’s when she noticed that instead of growing limp, Hi’s member was still rigid inside her. She squirmed, wondering if something was wrong. “Don’t move,” he grunted, feeling her hips rocking deliciously on him. “Please, Valerie, don’t move, you’re killing me.” Valerie felt her newfound sense of power shrivel. In her inexperience had she somehow injured him? She stammered, feeling the rush of embarrassment from her bare chest into her face. “I am sorry, Hiawatha. I thought, I mean, it seemed you experienced pleasure just now. I didn’t know I was hurting you.” Hi felt himself grow even harder inside her. Here he’d taken her like a madman, and she was apologizing. He pulled her back down on his chest and sealed her words with his lips. “My dear, sweet, wonderful woman,” he murmured after long moments. “You did more than please me. In fact, I never want to leave the sanctuary of your luscious body.” He trailed kisses down her neck and nibbled on the pulse that was speeding there before continuing. “I have wanted you for so long, I wasn’t as careful as I wanted to be with you. You came to me a virgin and I know I caused you pain. I didn’t want to do that.” Valerie looked down at the man she knew would be her life for the 195

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rest of their lives and her husband in the eyes of the world shortly after dawn tomorrow morning. “My love, the pain was expected and was next to nothing. I am just glad you found your pleasure.” Valerie rested her cheek against his chest. “I am very glad I pleased you.” Hi ran his hand through her beautiful, silky hair and counted his blessings. “I promise you, next time, Valerie, I will wait until you have found your pleasure.” Valerie lifted her head from his heart. “I don’t understand. I had my pleasure. You know, before, you, er, we…” Hi laughed and wrapped his arms tighter around her. She was such a sweet, sweet, innocent. He certainly never expected to find a woman like her. He knew in his mind that he shouldn’t be enjoying this time with her. He also knew there was no way he could force himself to leave her now. At least, not yet. For once in his life he was on to something pure and special. He was determined to take time to enjoy it. He looked deep into her earnest eyes and felt joy bubbling up through him. On a chuckle he couldn’t contain, he said, “My dear, that was only the beginning.” Then, he proceeded to prove to her just how many degrees of pleasure there were between a man and woman.

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CHAPTER 19

Hi awoke to the sound of a soft rain hitting the canvas top of their wagon. He lay still for a moment, relishing the warm, soft feel of having Valerie’s small body using him for a pillow. He didn’t know when he had felt more replete or more at home. He knew he’d be happy spending the rest of his life waking up with Valerie at his side. The realization struck him so strongly he sat straight up, dislodging Valerie from his chest. “Hi, what is it?” Valerie found herself dumped on the hard wooden floor of the wagon. Last night was wonderful, but she couldn’t recommend this method of waking up. “Now, look here. I don’t plan on staying. I want to make some things clear to you.” Even though the confines of the wagon were dim, Valerie was still able to see the scowl on his face. It was not turning into quite the wedding morning she had planned. 197

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“I don’t understand,” she said, totally confused with his attitude and his words. “I am not going to stay here and play along with any scheme you may have planned. I am not your ‘Forever After’ kind of guy. Even if I wanted to be, not that I do, I can’t stay here.” Valerie bit the bottom corner of her lip. “Stay here? No, I don’t imagine we will stay here. We can’t live in a wagon forever. Hopefully soon, we’ll be able to build our own house. Until then, though, I am sure we can stay with my mother and father. They will not mind.” Hi felt his panic growing illogically. How could he explain this to her when inside he knew that what he wanted more than anything else was to promise her forever. “Maybe I’m not making myself clear,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “I don’t want you to think that what happened last night wasn’t special. It was. I just don’t want you getting any ideas about us, though. There can be no ‘us.’ You have to understand that.” “But—” she started to argue. “There can be no ‘buts,’ either,” he interrupted. “There are things you don’t know about me. Things that make a future for us impossible.” Valerie smiled. He was nervous. He was afraid she would find him wanting. She could help him. “Don’t you know there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you?” She went willingly into his arms, trying to wrap her love and support around him. She didn’t know why he was suddenly nervous. Now was the easiest part. Perhaps, if she was patient, he would tell her what was truly bothering him. “I love you. My family cares deeply about you and even the Wam^k tea has approved our match. There is nothing to worry about.” Hi frowned. They seemed to be talking about the same thing, but not having the same conversation. He took a deep breath and the amazingly fresh scent that was Valerie filled his nostrils. His body 198

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immediately hardened making him want to forget about talking. “No,” he said, pushing her a little away from him. “I am not going to get sidetracked now.” “I am sorry, my dearest,” Valerie said. She could tell by the look on his face that he was serious. She couldn’t help it though. She was so happy at the thought of them spending the rest of their lives together it was making her feel giddy. Since he appeared so intent, she tried to school her features into an appropriate frown. “I will listen to your concerns. Then they will become mine.” Hi was so still that for a moment she didn’t think he heard her. When he finally began speaking, it was if he was talking to himself, not realizing she was still there, waiting. As had happened once or twice in her life, Valerie had a sense of experiencing a waking dream. Her breathing hitched and a dampness formed instantly on her bare skin. She knew whatever Hi was about to say was going to change her life forever. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it. “I really don’t know where to start. Do I begin when my Porsche broke down on the road, or when I realized I was in the wrong time? “It was strange, really,” he continued. “One minute I was wondering if I was going to survive the tornado and the next, Corporal Dawsey was waving an antique pistol in my face and calling me ‘Injun.’ Then I came upon your family and I thought you were just a bunch of loony re-enactors.” Valerie’s skin became clammy with fear. What spirit possessed him? She had heard stories of an evil sickness that overtook people after times of great pain and grief. It was sickness of the mind that sometimes made the people go mad. She prayed that wasn’t what ailed Hi now. He continued talking, as if he had forgotten she existed. “At first, I thought it would be a kick, you know? I could maybe meet my ancestors. Then, I thought I could help the People through a 199

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tough time. I thought I could make a difference.” He finally looked at Valerie. He could see the disbelief on her face. What had he expected? “You think I’m nuts, I mean, crazy, or loco or whatever you folks say these days. I guess I don’t blame you.” Suddenly, it was imperative to Hi that Valerie believe him. He searched his mind. He needed hard, visible proof. He reached in his jeans’ pocket and pulled out his lighter and a handful of change. “Here, we go. This will prove I’m not crazy,” he said. He moved the coins and laid them flat on the palm of his hand. “Look at these Valerie. Have you ever seen anything like them?” Valerie looked at the coins in his palms. She shrugged. “Of course. We have been dealing with the white Americans for years. Those appear to be the money they make.” Hi frowned. Then he knew the answer. “Look closer. Look at the writing on the side and the portrait of the man on the coin.” Valerie looked in the dim light at the thin piece of cooper she knew as a penny. The one Hi held appeared lighter in weight than the ones she had seen previously and a little smaller. She looked closely at it and traced the outline of a man’s face. Then she saw the words “In God We Trust” and a date, 2000. “The man on the coin is, I mean was, I mean will be, a president of the United States. His name is Abraham Lincoln. He was elected somewhere in the 1860’s and is considered one of the greatest presidents this country ever had.” Valerie was still stroking the penny with her fingertips, silently, almost reverently. Hi sighed. He wasn’t convincing her. He pulled out his lighter and laid it on his palm. “Look. Look at my ‘tinderbox,’ as you called it. It is actually called a cigarette lighter. Inside it is filled with a fluid, which burns and makes the flame. When the fluid runs out, I can go to any grocery store and buy more. I can also control how high the flame goes 200

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by moving this little button here on the side.” Hi demonstrated, making the flame very small and then, miraculously, grow larger with a movement of his thumb. “But that isn’t the important thing,” he said. “This lighter was presented to me by a good friend when I made it through boot camp with the Marines. Read what is inscribed into the metal.” Valerie looked at the shiny silver case of the tinderbox and read the words printed there. “To Hi, congratulations on surviving eight weeks of hell. Sept. 12Nov. 7, 1982.” Valerie stared in awe, then looked up at Hi’s triumphant face. “How could I have things like this coin and this lighter unless I am telling you the truth?” he asked. She shook her head slightly. It was too much to understand. Hi turned away from her, afraid to see the fear and confusion on her face. “I know it is hard to understand. It’s hard for me to understand, and I’m living through this. I was transported from the future back to this time. I know things that I shouldn’t know, and I know that telling you could change the future. God only knows what would happen if I did that.” Valerie finally found her voice, “I…” “This is pretty unbelievable, isn’t it? I could tell you things that would make even the coin and lighter seem tame. “For instance, I could tell you that even though the government has promised that this land we’re on now will be yours forever, in less than twenty years, that will all change. I could tell you that soon there is going to be a war, a civil war, that is going to pit brother against brother and family against family, over the issues of slavery and state’s rights.” “And,” he added, softly as if to himself, “I could tell you that after that, your life will never be the same.” Valerie’s face was awash with pain. His words were unbelievable, 201

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but had the ring of truth about them. Could they be real? Could he truly be a messiah with a prophecy from the future? “How will our life wall never be the same?” she asked. “Oh, Valerie, don’t ask me specific questions. It’s hard enough to remember the big things without trying to remember all the little ones.” When she just stared at him, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know all the details, but I do remember reading somewhere that there will be strife among your people now. At least for a while. I think a group assassinates some of your leaders. They feel they were betrayed into giving away your homeland.” Valerie drew a sharp breath. Several images flashed in her head. She remembered seeing men gathered around wagons and campfires, talking in low tones, only to hush when they realized she was near. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Who?” “I honestly don’t remember. It was only a small part of my history lessons and that was years and years ago.” Feeling fear-induced strength, she walked over to him and gripped his wrist. “Who?” she demanded. Then, “Not my father?” “Oh, no I don’t think so,” Hi said, realizing the pain in her eyes was fear. “I know I never heard your father’s name mentioned in connection with it. I believe it had something to do with the men who signed a treaty.” Valerie breathed a sigh of relief and then one word, “Boudinot.” Hi grinned. “That’s it. That was the name.” At this point it didn’t matter to Valerie if Hi was crazy or a prophet. She knew they must go to her father and tell him this news. Perhaps, they could prevent the assassination from occurring. “We must tell father,” she said, gathering up her clothing and frowning absently when she found Hi’s shirt mixed with her skirt. She looked up when Hi’s hand gripped her arm with enough force 202

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to cause some pain. “We aren’t going to tell anybody. Not now, not ever. Don’t you understand? We can’t. I don’t know what will happen if I change history. I might never be able to get back. Worse, there may be nothing left to go back to once I get there.” Valerie stared at Hi uncomprehendingly. “How can you say that? We can save lives. The lives of important men. Men who can lead us safely into the future.” Hi’s hands clenched as anger began its slow roll. How could she be so dense? Then he realized there was no way she could know about paradox or the physics of time travel. Hell, he wasn’t sure he understood them. Somehow, he knew he had to try and explain them to Valerie now. She had to understand why it was necessary to keep his knowledge secret. But how? He opened his mouth and closed it on a snap. There were no easy explanations. None she would understand. He fell back on what he knew best. “Trust me, I know what I am talking about. Even if we went to your father and the elders, they wouldn’t believe us. I’m not sure you even believe me.” Realizing he was still gripping her arm, he released her and took the shirt she was holding. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s get dressed and then we’ll take a walk. We’ll see what we can find out. Maybe my memory of history is inaccurate.” Valerie looked into his eyes and knew that no matter what, Hi would not help her stop the assassins. It was up to her. When he turned back to pick up his shoes, she whirled and left the wagon. It was up to her to save their leaders and the people’s future. It was her destiny.

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CHAPTER 20

When Hi turned around, Valerie was gone. It didn’t take a genius to figure what she was going to try to do. He hurried out of the wagon, hoping to be able to catch her before she made a fool of herself in front of her father and the elders. As he jumped lightly to the ground, he could see signs that the camp was coming to life. He could also see signs that it wouldn’t be long before the wagons and tents were replaced with the sturdy trappings of a town. He felt a surge of pride at the resilience, strength and courage his people showed. Hi looked around at the milling people preparing the communalstyle breakfast for any sign of Valerie. There she was, bending over a pot on an open fire. Knowing it was risky with all the people milling around, but feeling a lightness in his heart that made it worth it, he strode quickly up behind her and gave her a little pinch on her delectable rump. When she jerked around, he leaned closer to whisper. “Gotcha. I 204

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wanted to tell you how special…” The woman that turned to look at him had Valerie’s face and even the midnight hair, but the eyes were wrong. Hi felt the blush rush up his face. “I’m sorry,” he began, wondering who this woman was and why he was just now meeting her. It was almost as if he were looking at a twin of Valerie. “Mister Craft,” Mary said, trying to hide the gleam of humor in her eyes. It was obvious the night before had gone well for him. “I am Valerie’s sister Mary. We haven’t had a chance to meet before. I’ve been tending the sick in the other group.” “Er, uh, I am sorry,” he said, realizing he was repeating himself. “I thought, that is, I assumed you were Valerie.” “Yes. Well, that is fine,” Mary said, biting on the inside of her lip to keep from laughing. This whole thing was hilarious, but as she got her first close look at Hiawatha Craft, she knew now why her sister was so enamored. He was a dashing, handsome man with a strength of character that was as natural to him as the way he walked or talked. And the tint of embarrassment coloring his face gave him a healthy dose of boyish charm as well. It was going to be a wonderful match. First, though, the couple was going to have to discover the best way to deal with one another. She had seen her sister leave only moments ago. From the harried look on Valerie’s face, things may not have progressed as well as she had hoped. Mary, however, had hope. After all, Valerie had stayed with Craft all night, so maybe their problem this morning was something small. Finally, she took pity on him as his embarrassment grew with each silent moment as she looked at him. “People mistake us often. Would you like some breakfast?” Hi looked at the bubbling pot of food. The grumble of his stomach answered for him. Making love to Valerie had definitely burned up 205

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some of his excess calories. Mary heard the telltale rumble and without waiting for his reply, reached for a plate and filled it. Hi shook his head as she started to hand him the food. “Thanks, but I have to find Valerie first. You haven’t seen her this morning, have you?” he asked. Mary nodded. “Yes, I saw her leave your wagon and head over to where our father and the elders are meeting.” Hi’s hunger vanished. She was going to tell the council what he had told her, obviously in hopes of stopping the assassination. Without taking the food, he thanked Mary for her help before turning and striding quickly to the building where Joseph was organizing the men for today’s work. Hi wasn’t going to let her do it. Mary was staring after him when Abigail glided up beside her. “Where is Hiawatha going,” the Wam^ktea asked. “I needed to talk with him about procedures for the wedding.” Mary grinned. “I think your discussion will have to wait. I believe Hiawatha has gone to rescue his bride-to-be from herself.” Abigail’s smile was slow, then burst into full-fledged laughter. “Perhaps we had better go tell your mother and the women to begin cooking the wedding feast now. It will be dusk before we know it.” Mary nodded but the smile on her face faded a bit when she saw Doctor Crawford walk across the path to talk with Charles. Her anger still rose at the things he had said last night. If she had any pride at all, she would leave the good doctor alone. After all, she couldn’t force him to see past his fears to the life they could build. The thought, though, of letting him believe he was right was enough to make her temper flare as hotly as her passion had when he’d kissed her. She knew she loved him and that her love was stronger than anything the world could throw in their way. She also felt his love was equally strong for her. She just didn’t know how to make him see it. Maybe, if she were as 206

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resourceful as her sister, a wedding feast would be in her future as well. When Valerie had first talked to her about going to Hiawatha last night, Mary hadn’t been sure it was the right thing to do. Now she knew. Not only was it right for Valerie, but it was right for herself as well. Abigail followed Mary’s eyes as they lingered with an almost tangible hunger on the young doctor who had recently joined their group. There was no doubt that the Spirits had been right again. There was another romance blowing in the wind and even though this one was certain to cause an uprising among the people, it would be true. The roots had already shown it. Maybe they ought to make tonight’s feast a double ceremony. As though her path were suddenly clear in front of her, Mary murmured an apology to Abigail and hurried across the path to meet Crawford. There were some things she wanted to say and do to that man. When she was through, Doctor Crawford wouldn’t know what happened to him. * * * Hi stood on the threshold, unable to stop the pride surging through him at the sight of the solid, well-built reality of the tidy little facility. It wasn’t fancy, but he thought it would last for years and years and could be used for lots of community gatherings. When the men had finished it just before the ceremony last night, he had mistakenly suggested calling it a Community Center. He had bitten his tongue, wishing he could call the words back, but surprisingly Joseph, the other men and even the women, had seemed pleased with the name. Self-satisfaction left in a rush as he realized Valerie had succeeded in gaining her father’s attention. He was about to move in to limit her damage when he realized that wouldn’t be necessary. * * * Valerie felt the impatience simmering inside her. It had taken her precious minutes to find her father. She had been further thwarted by the presence of all the elders and other men with him. She didn’t relish 207

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telling Hiawatha’s outrageous story in front of everyone, but it almost seemed as if she were going to have no other choice. When one of the men talking to Charles turned around, Valerie couldn’t help sucking in a deep breath. It was Elias Boudinot. The man Hi had said was about to be assassinated. Boudinot, a scholarly man, had established the Cherokee Phoenix newspaper in 1828. The paper, printed in both Cherokee and English, had tied the nation together in the ten years before they were forced away from their lands. On the trek west, Boudinot had babied his printing press in hopes he would be able to restart the newspaper in their new home. If Hi’s history were correct, who would take over Boudinot’s dream? Valerie lowered her eyes from Boudinot in an attempt to hide her feelings. How could she not save this man’s life? Finally, she got her chance. “Father, it is important that I speak with you.” She spoke softly, hoping Elias, who was standing close by, wouldn’t overhear her. Joseph turned, a smile of pleasure at seeing his eldest daughter lighting up his face. His heart swelled. He remembered when he’d first seen her and Mary. It had been an experience he would never forget. Now, he knew the time had come to let her go. He was about to give her away to another man. Yet Joseph knew he was indeed a lucky father. He wasn’t giving his daughter away, but gaining a strong, wise son who would help lead the people through the tough struggle to rebuild their lives. “Valerie, shouldn’t you be helping your mother prepare things?” he asked, covering her small hand with his own. He tried not to think about the calluses he felt there, nor about all the things she had done on the trip west to earn them. “No, father. It is important that I talk to you,” Valerie said. She looked over her shoulder and saw Hiawatha enter the room. She must hurry before he could stop her. 208

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“Father, it’s about Hiawatha,” she blurted, causing Elias to turn from his conversation with one of the other elders. Her father’s stillness was marred by the creasing of his forehead. “He… he told me this morning that he knew the future. He told me that he was from the future.” Joseph’s frown immediately erased. He sensed the problem here, romantic boasting and maybe some nervousness on the part of the bride. He could understand Hiawatha’s teasing. After all, a man wanted his woman to think he was special. He could also understand his daughter’s innocent fears. “Now, now,” he soothed, patting her hand lightly. “We all know that at first we thought Hiawatha could have been a god. We were wrong. We know he is only a man. A good man. You have nothing to worry about, my dear.” Valerie sensed Hi moving closer to her. Her opportunity was fading fast. She started to protest when she heard her father say, “Ah, Hiawatha, we were just talking about you.” Feeling as if all her hopes and dreams were crashing around her, Valerie spun and ran from the group and out the back door of the building. She had never been more embarrassed in her entire life. Hi started to follow her immediately, but Joseph’s hand on his arm stopped him. “We would like your feelings on our plans for the village,” Joseph said, pulling Hi closer to the group of men who stood clustered around a small table. “The elders want to erect as many houses as we can quickly.” Hi looked away, trying to follow Valerie as he heard another man ask, “Do you think we could finish one more each day?” He took his eyes off Valerie’s fleeting back and nodded before answering. “Sure, if we all work together. I’d have each family head pick out a piece of land and mark off where they want their houses built. We won’t be able to do anything fancy, but each family can make 209

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additions after everyone is settled.” All the men nodded their heads in agreement and the planning continued in earnest. * * * Valerie was barely able to hold back her tears long enough to put a saddle and bridle on one of the horses and ride briskly away from her loved ones. Why did everything always work against her? She had wanted to accomplish so much in her life. A week ago, maybe two, she would have blamed this latest calamity on Hiawatha’s shoulders. After last night, she couldn’t do that. He’d been caring, kind and gentle, and the tender lover she’d always hoped to find in the man she chose for her husband. She could even understand why he was hesitant to tell anyone of the things he knew. They were unbelievable and most spectacular. Maybe that was the problem. They were unbelievable. The man she had fallen in love with, the man her father had chosen to become their next leader, could well be unsound in his mind. She let her horse slow to a trot and then walk steadily down the slight bank that led to the river. They crossed the rising, but slowmoving river as Valerie pondered the thought. “No,” she muttered to herself. The horse’s ears perked as if understanding her words but continued his brisk walk. “I saw the truth in his eyes. I heard it in his voice. He believed he had been brought here from the future. I believe it too.” Knowing that in her heart and mind enabled her to realize that rushing off to tell the information to her father had been a tremendous mistake. She had to take Hiawatha’s knowledge of the plot and plan the best way to keep it from happening. Leaving it to the horse to pick his own way, she lost herself in thought. Hi had said that history revealed there was to be an assassination of 210

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Boudinot and others. But that history hadn’t been written yet. Boudinot was alive and well just this morning. Hi was afraid to try and change history himself. She wasn’t. * * * It wasn’t hard for Hi to follow the tracks Valerie’s horse had left in the early spring dew-moistened grass and mud. He had seen no signs of other horses leaving though, so he knew she had left alone. He should have been relieved, Hi thought as he followed her tracks east across the river. She was probably just heading somewhere quiet to nurse her tears. He should have been relieved. He wasn’t. Hi had had all he could stand of Valerie’s impetuousness and mulishness. If he were going to hang around here, she would have to learn to take his word for the way things should be handled. Funny, until right now, he hadn’t planned on staying around. He still wasn’t, not forever anyway. He could stay around for a little longer though, and if he did, he wanted to be able to use his knowledge of the future. He’d even help Valerie be the one to bring about the changes that would make the future easier. But she was going to have to do it his way. He thought wryly about how receptive she’d be to that idea. Then he thought about how receptive she’d been to his touch last night. His body hardened at the memory and he shifted uncomfortably on the horse. Her skin was like the most expensive silk he’d ever known, taut and vibrant with health. Her lips were so full and soft that he had gone back repeatedly to drink from them as if he had been without water for his whole life. Once inside those lips, he was sure he had reached heaven, for she was sweeter than any candy he’d tasted. Lips and skin, though, weren’t causing him to push painfully against the zipper of his jeans. Nor was it even the feel of her response running over him as she reached a climax in his arms. 211

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No, what he would always remember was how it felt when the most sensitive part of him had touched her womb for the first time. He’d always called the moment of climax the “little death.” He’d never known what it truly meant until last night. In his heart, he knew he’d never know that feeling again with any other woman. Damn it, I am not going to fall in love with her. I can’t stay here and I won’t put her through what might happen when I try to go back myself. He spurred his horse on faster, feeling his anger rise with each pounding hoof. A sudden thought had him yanking hard on the reins. She could already be pregnant with my child. I won’t leave her alone to deal with that. I won’t leave my son or daughter without a father. I won’t. He looked out over the horizon and saw the slow-moving horse in front of him. He recognized the horse as one of the stock animals. He recognized the midnight black hair of the rider as well. And he recognized the feeling of joy rushing through his heart. Damn her for making him feel this way.

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CHAPTER 21

A thundering sound behind her caused Valerie to look back. What she saw made her heart pound. Hi was racing across the plain on a blooded stallion and even though he was a long ways away from her, she was reminded of the savages her people had once been. She knew she had no reason to fear him. She knew she should stay and stand her ground in face of his anger. Instead, she dug her heels into the sides of her own horse, spurring it into a bone-jarring gallop. Hi saw her horse start to gallop away and bent lower over his stallion’s neck, urging him to go even faster. It wasn’t the same exhilaration he’d felt driving the Porsche, but it was close. It was so close to the feeling that he couldn’t contain the laugh. It was his laugh drifting over the wind to Valerie that told her she was lost. It touched her skin like a physical caress. She knew he would follow and catch her no matter how far she ran. She knew that she wanted him to catch her. She slowed her mare from the head-long run to a trot and then to a 213

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walk. Both Valerie and the horse were breathing hard when they finally stopped. She turned her head as Hi and his stallion came abreast of them. “Well, wasn’t that…” Her words were caught and caressed by his mouth and tongue. The fires inside her body flared like dry grass touched by lightning. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she felt his surround her waist. Then she felt him lift her off her horse. Valerie didn’t know how he had gotten them off his stallion, but the next time she opened her eyes, she saw the sky tilt above her and then the darkness of his gaze as his head blocked out everything. She felt the smoothness of grass beneath her back and the hard contours of his body as it pressed closer to hers. The fires inside her raged out of control as his mouth released hers and slid tantalizingly down her throat and fastened on her breast. Even through her dress and chemise, she felt the heat of his mouth and rasp of his tongue on her. The beauty of it was too much to bear. She cried his name even as she pressed him closer to her as the first wave of passion swept over her. Hi was driven by a surge of need he’d never known before. He felt her response, sensed her instinctive fear of it. Still, he didn’t stop. He was determined to imprint his touch, his taste and his memory on every inch of her. Keeping one hand on her breast, his thumb and forefinger rolling the nipple into a hardened bud, he worked his way through the layers and layers of her skirt and underwear until he found the true, wet center of her heat. He slipped two fingers inside her tight cavern and touched the core of her desire. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. Releasing her breast, he pushed her skirt above her waist and brought her hard against his mouth. Ambrosia. He felt her body tighten like a bow ready to launch a thousand arrows. He knew what she 214

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wanted. What her body begged for. He also knew she was capable of much, much more. He was going to give it all to her. He slowed his movements, letting her body relax just a little. Then he began it all again, using the strength of his hands on her hips and the tender power of his mouth to control. Soon, much too soon for either of them, it was only his mouth controlling her as her hips ground into him and her legs encircled his head. It was too much, she thought as he again and again brought her close to the edge of all that she had discovered last night, only to stop just short. She couldn’t bear any more. If he didn’t soon give her the release she needed, Valerie had no doubt that her spirit would leave her. Amazingly, she didn’t care. As if he read her thoughts, he came to her again and this time his tongue pushed her over the top. The pleasure was so intense she screamed, and the blue sky above her head faded to black. Before she even had time to catch her breath, he came inside her in one swift, full stroke and she felt him pouring his seed into her core. * * * Valerie gradually became aware of several things. Hiawatha was sprawled on top of her, his weight a surprising comfort, and he was still embedded deep inside her. Her skirt was bunched tightly around her waist and the metal buttons of his pants were digging into her bare legs. She could hear the sound of their horses chewing winter grass nearby. She didn’t care if they stayed here for the rest of time. She had believed he’d taught her everything there was to know about love between a man and woman last night. She knew now she had been wrong. She ran a hand up his back and felt his shiver even through his clothes. She smiled. Just touching him pleased her and gave her a sense of power she’d never known. 215

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He moved slightly and her breath caught. There was power and then there was this, she thought as she began moving gingerly beneath him. His hands dove into her hair, holding her steady as his lips begin to worship hers. As their tongues danced in primal hunger, their bodies began to rock in gentle unison. At the moment of completion, he looked deep into her eyes and murmured words that caused her heart to still. “I love you, you know. I will always love you,” Hi whispered again when their breathing had calmed once more. “And I love you, my anima,” Valerie replied. Hi, who had been running his hand through her hair and down her back, stopped. “You do?” he asked. Valerie laughed quietly and shook her head. “Yes. I think I began to fall in love with you when Corporal Dawsey first brought you to my wagon.” Hi gave a whoop of delight then rolled them over, pulling them apart, but keeping her next to his body. Remembering those days brought a frown to his face. Valerie touched his mouth lightly with her fingertips. He answered her unspoken question. “I know you probably think I’m nuts.” “Nuts?” she asked. “Yeah. You know, oh, crazy.” When she continued to look at him blankly, he added, “Sick in the head.” Her eyes widened and she nodded to show she understood. He continued speaking. “Anyway, I know you think I was probably crazy telling you all the things I did this morning. I wish there was something else I could do or say to prove to you it’s true. I am from the future and I don’t know why I was sent back to this time.” Valerie placed her hand over his mouth, stopping his rush of words. “I believe you,” she said. “I believed you this morning. So much so that 216

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I was going to tell my father in hopes that we could stop what you said was going to happen to Boudinot and the others.” Hi frowned. He had known she wouldn’t be able to resist using his information. “I know you think it callous of me not to try and stop that. It’s just that I don’t think, even if I could remember exactly when and where the assassination attempt is going to be made, which I can’t, that we could change history. “The People are hurt, Valerie. The only home they loved is gone. They believe Boudinot and the others who signed the agreement that gave up the land are the reason for it. Do you understand what I am saying?” Valerie nodded. “Yes. I realized that while I was riding out here. It’s just so hard to look at Elias, who is such a nice man, and know that he is about to die—and to know there is nothing we can do to stop it.” Hi hugged Valerie tightly against his body. She was crying softly. “I know,” he soothed. “Hush now.” He raised her face from his chest and wiped away the tears streaking her cheeks. “I hate to tell you this, but the Boudinot assassination is only the first of many things the people will have to face. The next fifty years or so are going to be rough on the Ani’-Yun’ wiya and on all people in this land.” He was silent as he thought of the Civil War, and then the endless injustices forced upon the Native Americans still to come in the century following it. “But there are lots of good things to come as well. Things even more amazing then my tinderbox.” Valerie smiled. She appreciated his effort to erase her sadness. He was right. Now was not the time for tears. “Tell me,” she laughed, going up on her knees in the grass and looking tenderly down at the man she loved. “Tell me about something better than your tinderbox.” Hi looked up at her and started to reach for her to pull her into his arms again. There was nothing better he could tell her about the future 217

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than the feel of her loving tenderness wrapping him as warmly as a down-filled jacket. Before he fell willingly into the warmth of her eyes and smile, he looked off on the horizon. God, he prayed, you brought me here, please let me stay. As if in answer, the wind picked up, bringing a blast of cold air roaring down around him. Feeling goose bumps bead on his skin, he looked frantically around them. He had felt this way only one other time in his life. When he saw the black funnel cloud barreling towards them, Hi knew that once again God had given him an answer. But it wasn’t the answer he wanted. “Valerie,” he spoke urgently. “Go get the horses. Quickly.” Valerie stood and looked at the huge black devil moving across the land. She could see bolts of lightning arrowing from sky to land and back again. She knew that this was the kind of storm Hi had talked about when he had first come upon the people. Trusting him, she did as he asked. Hi held the nervous mare for her while she mounted and then mounted his own, using only the strength in his legs to control the frantic animal. He looked once at her and shouted over the increasingly howling wind. “I don’t think we can outrun it, but at the very least maybe we can find a better place to ride it out.” With those words, he dug his heels into the sides of his horse and she did the same. They went racing back across the plains as if the hounds of hell were on their heels. Hi hoped they were going to be able to reach the river they had crossed earlier that morning, but he wasn’t sure how far east they had wandered, nor was he sure if the river even followed a direct southerly path. If they could find the river, maybe its banks would protect them from the force of the storm. He wasn’t going to take any chances with Valerie’s safety. Not now. Not when he had finally found her. If necessary, he’d dig them a 218

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ditch with his bare hands. His hopes that they would go out of the tornado’s path by moving east were dashed when he glanced back around. As if drawn to them by a magnet, the storm had already turned away from the place where they had just been and was following them like a hungry falcon swooping on a rabbit. Unfortunately, this falcon was likely to kill them both. Knowing his time was running out, he began to search desperately for any shelter. There. There it is, he thought triumphantly when he finally spotted the muddy hole. Pulling his horse to a stop, he helped Valerie down from her mare and slapped both animals on their flanks. He suspected the likelihood of their survival was slim, but he wanted to give them as much of a chance as he could. He grabbed Valerie’s hand and ran to the spot he had seen. It wasn’t much. It was hardly big enough for the both of them. What had looked deep from the back of the horse, now looked like it was level with the rest of the surrounding land. The sky was black, a black that was anything but beautiful to Hi’s eyes. The force of the wind was brutal as it whipped around them and tore at their clothing. There was no time. No time for anything but lying down and praying. He pushed Valerie to the mud, face down and covered her body with his own, feeling debris carried by the wind hitting his back and arms with constant stinging force. Valerie felt the breath leave her chest when Hi flung her to the ground. She tasted mud and as she bit into her bottom lip to keep from crying out, tasted the sour bitterness of her own fear. Valerie heard what sounded like a thousand steam engines roaring over them. She felt hail the size of walnuts pelting the top of her head and a fullness in her ear drums that made her want to cover her ears to stop the wailing the wind was making. She closed her eyes tightly and began to pray. Somehow, through it all, she heard Hi’s vow. 219

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“I’ll always love you,” he whispered. “Now and forever.”

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CHAPTER 22

When it finally stopped, Valerie waited for Hi to move off her. When several minutes passed and he didn’t, she turned her head slightly and looked at him. His eyes were closed and there was a small stream of blood running down his forehead. It took some doing since Hi’s lifeless body was pinning her as effectively as if he were a large rock, but Valerie managed to squirm out from underneath him. Once free, she ran her experienced hands over his body. Although deathly silent he was still breathing. She could tell by the faint movement of his chest. There was a sizable lump on the back of his skull and a gash on his forehead, not to mention cuts and slashes on his bare back. She looked around, hoping to find their horses. She needed to get him back to camp and have Doctor Crawford take a look at him. She was beginning to become frantic when he moaned once. “Valerie,” he groaned, reaching blindly for her. Not finding her under him snapped him into consciousness. He sat up quickly, ignoring 221

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the immediate dizziness that followed. “I’m here, Hi,” she said, kneeling beside him. “Please be careful. Yes, you’re bleeding,” she hastened to tell him as he reached a hand up to touch his head. “Something from the storm must have struck you.” She calmly ripped a strip from her skirt and tied it around his head. “You also have a lump on your head and some scratches on your back. Do you feel any other pain?” Hi, dazed, took a few seconds to understand her words. “No, I seem fine. How are you?” “I am fine as well. I haven’t been able to find the horses, though.” Hi grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap before she could continue. “Damn the horses,” he growled, covering her mouth with his. His love, his fear and his relief all came through in the kiss. He lingered, letting his mouth and fingers trace every inch of her face. Even so, he ended the sweet caress much to soon. He turned his head to the sky and laughed. “We made it! I can’t believe we made it!” Then he kissed her again. Hard. When she could breathe, Valerie laughed with him. He was right. They had faced death. And won. It was truly a wonderful feeling. They sat for a few more minutes enjoying the warm sun and the gentle breeze that drifted around them. Finally, she spoke. “Do you think we’ll be able to find the horses, or will we have to walk back,” she asked. Hi saw the hopeful expression on her face and hated what he had to tell her. “I don’t know, a^nima,” he said, hugging her to him again. It seemed he couldn’t get enough of touching her. “I don’t even know how close we are to your family.” Valerie’s heart thudded at the sound of the endearment on his lips. It was the first time he had spoken such an intimate word to her in their language and the warmth wrapped her like a fuzzy wooly blanket. Then 222

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his other words registered. She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. “Do you believe we have gone to your time?” she asked, seeing through to his thoughts. “I don’t know,” he answered. “There’s only one way to find out.” Hand-in-hand, they started walking. * * * Hi, dressed in a suit, tried not to fidget as he stood in front of his friends. When was this thing going to get underway? he wondered impatiently. Women always had to make a fuss out of everything. He already felt he was married to Valerie. He figured when they had made love in a sun-warmed meadow and survived the tornado that God knew it too. And approved. Still, he hadn’t really minded the chance to prove to the rest of the world that Valerie belonged to him. It was just all the trappings that went with it that bothered him. The people surrounding him in a semi-circle grew suddenly quiet and parted as if given a silent signal. An old man, dressed in oldfashioned leather and with his graying hair braided with feathers, walked forward, followed by Valerie’s sister, Mary and her mother, Charlotte. Sally Black Cloud followed, tossing herbs into the air. As the old man came to a stop in front of Hi, his eyes narrowed. “Abigail?” Hi asked incredulously. “I done tole you, you had to watch out for that un,” Nathan said from his left side, trying to hide his chuckle from behind his hand. “I’se tried to explain to you the Wam^ktea wasn’t your average woman. His name’s Abe Gale.” Hi saw the gleam of humor in Abigail’s… er, Abe’s eyes and knew he had been had. He turned to Nathan and the grinning Doctor Crawford and started to hiss, “I’ll get you both, man. That’s a promise.” His threat died as he saw Valerie walking towards him. When his 223

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eyes met hers and their hands touched, he knew he had finally found what he had been searching for. * * * “Are you sorry?” Valerie asked hours later as they lay beside one another in the house the people had cleared for them this night. Hi knew immediately what she was talking about, but took his time answering. She deserved to know what was in his heart. “When we found the river and saw the people, I was both happy and sad,” he said. Valerie sighed. She was afraid of that. She wished with all her heart that she could give him the power to go back to his time. She was even willing to go with him. For he was her heart. “I am sorry, so sorry, my love,” she said, stroking her hand down his sweat-slicked chest. “I would have gone with you, you know. I would go anywhere with you.” Hi covered her hand with his own and brought it to his lips. He placed a soft kiss on her palm and then placed both their hands over his heart. “No,” he said, “let me finish. I was sorry because I’d like to have shown you some of the wondrous things of my times. Things like airplanes that carry thousands of people in the sky across land and even oceans. Things like electricity and telephones and my Porsche. Oh, you would have liked my Porsche. It is like riding on the wind.” He felt a moment’s regret at never again driving that car. Then he saw the disappointment on her face and pulled her astride him. “But, I was happy because I was still here with people who have become more important to me than things. I was happy because I was with my heart. Don’t ever think I want to go back. My life is with you. Always. Understand?” Hi sealed his promise with a kiss and for a few moments the only understanding either cared about was the giving and taking of true love. Finally, when they broke apart, Valerie rested her head against his 224

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shoulder and drew an interesting pattern around the hair that arrowed down his chest. “Would you tell me something?” Hi, contemplating whether his bride was up to another session of lovemaking, tried to control his raging hormones. “Sure, but I thought maybe you’d had enough talking.” Valerie laughed and nipped his nipple. “Well…” she drawled with just a touch of the deep south coming through in her voice. “Go ahead, ask.” Hi commanded as his heart speeded up with the feel of her tongue and teeth on him. “Would you explain to me again about the Porsche,” she purred, spreading light kisses down his stomach. He moaned and rolled them over. “Later,” he promised thickly. “Much later.” * * * Present Day Allison Calhoun drove slowly through the little town of Dora, Arkansas and grimaced at the sight. It looked like a war zone. She stopped at an intersection where a lonely stoplight was hanging limply from a power line. On each of the four corners was evidence of the carnage. She could see large trees uprooted and listing haphazardly into smashed mobile homes. There were power lines down everywhere. Following the directions given to her at Fort Smith where she had rented the car, she turned left and drove a mile and half down the street, dodging limbs and road signs that hadn’t been cleaned up yet. The low brick building she finally spotted was the only one still standing. She parked in front and walked up the littered sidewalk to the front door. There was one woman sitting at a desk, talking on the phone. She held up one finger, motioning Allison to hold on a second and then 225

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finished her call. “No, governor. It looks like things are pretty well under control now. The National Guardsmen from Fort Smith got here within hours after the tornado passed through. They’ve been a great help. No, we still don’t have a final count on the dead yet, but Sheriff Hopkins hopes to know before dark. Okay. I’ll tell him you called. Thank you again.” The woman hung up and sighed. She looked at Allison through blood-shot eyes and managed to get out a “May I help you?” before the phone rang again. Ally waited for her to deal with the caller before she asked her question. “Yes, I’m looking for Sheriff Hopkins. My name is Allison Calhoun. I called from Tennessee this morning.” “Oh, my. Yes, I’m sorry ma’am, I’m the one you talked to. You were worried about your friend.” “That’s right.” “I hate to tell you there has been no more word on your friend Mister Craft. But why don’t you have a seat and wait. Sheriff Hopkins should be back in a few moments. I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you himself.” Allison nodded and settled herself in a plastic chair in front of the desk. She wondered if the numbness would ever go away. She had warned Hi. Told him he should be careful. He, typically, had laughed at her fears. Then, she had heard about the tornado. When forty-eight hours passed and she hadn’t received a call from Hi, she had known he’d been caught in it. That’s when she decided to travel to Dora, Arkansas. The place he’d been when she last talked to him. Ally waited for close to an hour before a tall, bulky man came into the office. He spoke briefly to the receptionist and turned to face her. “Ms. Calhoun, I’m Bob Hopkins. Won’t you come into my office?” Ally took a moment to study Hopkins’ eyes. He looked like a man 226

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who had been working on too little sleep and way too much caffeine for several days. If she wasn’t so worried about Hi, Ally might have pitied the man. Hopkins closed his office door and settled on the corner of his desk before he spoke. “I’m sorry to tell you this, Ms. Calhoun, but it seems Mister Craft was one of the victims of the tornado.” Ally felt her heart drop. Hopkins, feeling like he had been to hell and back in the seventytwo hours since the tornado, hoped he never had to say these words again. “We’ve found pieces of his car in several different places alongside the road. No body yet.” He trailed off, lost in the horrors of all he’d seen the last few hours. “Strange about that. Usually, people who stay in their cars are found trapped there. That is, if we find any pieces at all.” He paused, realizing the woman probably wouldn’t want to hear about that now. “Anyhow, we don’t know for sure if we’ll ever be able to find his body. The nearest the weather service can tell, Mister Craft was in the exact spot where the storm touched ground for the first time. There’s nothing left there. Not likely to be either.” Ally, feeling like she was a walking zombie, thanked Sheriff Hopkins and rose to leave. “Ms. Calhoun,” he said, stopping her. “If you want, you could go over to Joe’s Junk Emporium on East Second Street. I understand Earl over there and a young mechanic at the A-1 garage were the last folks to talk to your friend. It might give you some comfort.” Ally nodded and left. She sat outside in the rented car for a long time and just cried. Then she started the car and, following Sheriff Hopkins’ directions, drove to Joe’s Junk Emporium. Joe’s Junk Emporium was part of a two-building wide spot in the road on the outskirts of town. She first tried the A-1 garage, which looked like a photograph from a book on 1950’s Americana, but it was 227

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locked up. Despite her repeated pounding, no one came to the door. She was ready to give up when a grizzled old man came around the side of the building. “Sorry, miss, we’re closed today. Are you having car trouble?” “No, actually, I’m looking for information. Maybe you can help. I’m looking for Earl. Sheriff Hopkins sent me.” “Oh, well, I can help. I’m Earl. What can I do you for?” Allison explained who she was and Earl immediately nodded his head. “Sure, I remember that fella. He seemed like a real nice guy. Why don’t you come on in my store and we’ll talk. Don’t know how much I can tell you though. He was only in here a short time.” Earl led her onto the porch and unlocked the front door of Joe’s Junk Emporium. When he saw her looking at the wooden Indian, he laughed. “You know, that thing almost killed your friend. It fell down almost as if somebody pushed it. But look at it now. Not even the storm could knock him over. It was kind of strange, I don’t mind telling you.” Earl let Allison into his store and she coughed slightly at the dirt that whirled around inside. “See what I mean. The tornado blew out all my windows and blew in darn near all the dirt in this county. But it didn’t knock over Smokin’ Joe out there.” As if sensing Ally didn’t really want to hear about that kind of thing, Earl grew serious. “Like I said, not really much I can tell you. He was having car trouble and walked over here to waste some time. He was awfully interested in my collection on Cherokee artifacts. Would you like to see them?” Ally nodded and followed Earl around the piles and clutters of souvenirs to the low-slung display case. “Hi was Cherokee, you know.” “Yeah, I think he mentioned that. I told him he ought to drive on up to Tahlequah, Oklahoma. They’ve got a real nice setup there. I believe 228

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he was thinking about trying to see if his kin was listed there.” He scooted around the back of the case and reached for the keys hanging from his belt. He blew a layer of dust off the top and Allison got her first good look inside. “Haven’t been here since the storm hit, you know. I’m a volunteer fireman. We had lots of work to do.” Ally murmured a polite response, keeping her eyes on the case while trying to withhold her grief. This was probably the very place Hi had phoned her from. There was war memorabilia here. Ally saw a purple heart from World War II along with several newspaper articles describing the homecoming for some local boys. She examined a few guns and knives in the case as well, probably from the 1940s, before going on to appraise some things that looked much older. She leaned lightly against the counter top and read the typewritten card under the artifacts. Donated by the Redhook family, circa. 18401860. Then her gaze landed on the two final items on the shelf. The first was a slightly grainy photograph. She felt her heartbeat speed up and she asked to see it. It was Hi. He was dressed in a strangely tailored suit and his hair was quite a bit longer than he normally wore it. But there was no question in her mind that it was Hi. Sitting beside him in the photograph was a lovely dark-haired woman. She held an infant in her arms and Hi held a small boy, dressed exactly like him, on his lap. It was several moments before Ally realized Earl was speaking to her. “Now, ain’t that strange. I wonder how that thing got in here.” Earl was reaching for a silver-plated Zippo cigarette lighter. “I don’t ever remember seeing that before.” The tingle that had started at Ally’s neck when she saw the picture raced the rest of the way down her spine. “May I see that for a moment?” she asked, reaching for it before 229

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Earl could refuse. She turned it over to read the inscription on the bottom. “To Hi, congratulations on surviving eight weeks of hell. Sept. 12-Nov. 7, 1982.” She had known he wasn’t dead. This proved it. She clicked the top of the lighter open and pushed on the igniter. It flared briefly and brightly. She was about to snap it shut when she noticed something was keeping the top from closing completely. A yellowed piece of paper folded into a thick, tiny square was stuck in the top. Earl, who had become occupied by the ringing telephone, was moving away from her. Feeling her heart race, she unfolded the paper with shaking hands. She recognized the heavy scrawl immediately. —— Allison, if you’re reading this, then I know my hunch paid off. And my kids, grandkids and great grandkids followed my orders, for once. Grandkids and great grandkids. What a hoot. Did you ever think I’d be proud of having ’em. Well, I am. I digress in my old age. I don’t know how to begin to explain this to you but I wanted you to have something. I wanted to tell you how I got caught in a tornado and sent back in time. Now, don’t cry. It was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. I’ve found my heart. I’ve found my life. Don’t worry. —— The note was signed Hiawatha Craft and dated 1864. Allison felt the tears rushing down her face. Then she heard Earl walk back her way. She had to have this lighter. She didn’t know what 230

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she would have to do, but this lighter was going to be hers. She turned to face him, ready to plead her case. “Well, that was mighty strange, I don’t mind telling you. That call was from the Redhook family. It seems they’re all living down at Fort Smith. They want you to have this picture and the lighter too. Don’t ask me how they knew you’d be here today, but that’s what they said. They’re sending a messenger over, should be here tomorrow, with the papers and all.” Earl scratched his head. “Do you know what this is all about?” Ally, laughing and crying at the same time, replied, “Yes, yes I do. It’s about a dear, dear friend finally finding his way home.”

231

KAREN TROXEL

Life is a journey! That’s the motto for Karen’s work and life. “I’ve been blessed to live and work around the nation and enjoy different cultures. But what has always interested me is how within each life there are layers. These layers are like a map. Every person chooses which road to follow and each choice leads to a different place and a new adventure.” So, please, come along for the trip. You’ll find stories of science fiction, suspense, and comedy. You’ll find contemporary and historic settings, real and fairy-tale. All will be based on heart-stirring romance. Why romance? Because Karen believes that along with enjoying the trip, “everyone deserves a happy ending.” *

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