Chapter Two

 

 

Wyoming Territory - June l, l876

 

The Lakota warrior scratched on the side of his elder’s lodge, then entered.

“Black Hawk, I have gone on the hanbleceya, vision quest to the top of the hill and have done what has been told of me. For four days I stood before our god, Tunkashila. I wore my robe. I ate no food. Drank no water. I held the sacred chanunpa pipe in my hands. Now I come to speak with you.”

The holy one nodded without raising his glance, as the warrior moved beside him and sat before the fire. Black Hawk closed his heavy eyelids in meditation. He puffed on his chanunpa and a curl of smoke rose high into the air. “Tell me of your vision.”

“There is a wolf, eyes the color of the sky and a woman surrounded by a white light. I cannot see her face. She has traveled far and is lost. I see two moons in the clouds of darkness and a golden circle with four sides.” The warrior shook his head. “I do not understand this that I have seen.”

Black Hawk listened quietly. He took another puff on his pipe, then opened his eyes. “So when the spirit of Tunkashila comes, we do not ask questions. If you do not understand just hold onto what you have seen, the answer will come.” He stood. “So, from now on you shall be known as Two Moons as spoken by your vision.”

Black Hawk ran a roll of smoldering sage along Two Moons’ head, then up and down his body. “I, too, have been on many a hanbleceya. So, at those times I have had to have courage, patience and endurance. I have had to have alertness.” He patted the smoke into Two Moons’ body with an eagle feather. “All these you must have to be an Earth Man.”

After the purification ritual was completed, Black Hawk took his place once again beside the fire. “So, I had learned and you must learn. We go into the Tunkan lodge on all fours to be humble,” Black Hawk’s voice was calm and steady. “So, one must be humble, to see past his own blindness. It is of these I speak.”

Two Moons hung his head. Black Hawk spoke the truth. His quickness of tongue had caused many a fight with another. The hardness in his heart over the white blood that ran through his sister’s son, he knew, caused the boy much sadness. As for being humble... He raised his chin up a notch. He left that for the women. But-”

“When the Spirits deem it so, you will understand their message. Now go.” Black Hawk gestured toward the tipi’s opening. “Gather those spiritual items that are to be kept in your sacred bundle.”

With a final puff on his pipe, Two Moons knew Black Hawk would say no more.

 

 

Two Moons looked ahead to the sacred mountains known by his people as Papa Sapa, the Black Hills. It was there he would begin his search for the medicine charms that were to be placed in his sacred bundle. Only then, with the protection from his own medicine would he have the power to fight off danger. Only then, would he be invincible to his enemy's arrows and have the strength he needed to be an even greater warrior.

He nudged his big gray forward and began the long climb up the narrow canyon and steep cliffs lined with ferns. Creeks heavy with water rushed along his trail. Giant cedars and larches, their needle-like leaves clustered and heavy, towered over his path, allowing very little light to penetrate. The air grew cool.

Tugging the corners of his vest up against his neck for warmth, Two Moons rode into a clearing, where the mountain ledge met a gunmetal sky. A storm approached. He could see it in the heavy dark clouds, could feel it in the winds that had suddenly become angry and whipped at the treetops.

Already the flakes were beginning to fall. One after another, faster and faster, they tumbled down from the clouds, building in their intensity, just as hurried and frantic as his growing impatience.

“Wakan Tanka, Great Holy Spirit.” Two Moons raised his arms to the sky in prayer. “This warrior does not understand what you have shown me. Why a wolf of white with eyes like the sky? A sacred animal not of this world? How am I to fulfill my medicine if I know not where to search for such a beast?”

Sitting astride his horse, monstrous cold, wet flakes plummeted madly against his eyelids; they beat against his chest. “And where am I to find a coin with four sides? How can I find that of which, I do not understand? Even now, though it be the moon when the ponies are fat, when the warmth of the sun should shine upon me, you throw snow upon Mother Earth, making my journey a hard one. Am I to kill the sacred beast told only to me in the tales of the old ones?” His face to the sky, he listened for a reply. A silent hush, a breath, whispered no answers in his ears.

His heart heavy, Two Moons opened his eyes and glanced to the horizon where a large black hawk flew low through the heavy snow. The bird's ragged shape soared through the white, battling the lashing winds.

“Anpo Wie, my old friend,” Two Moons reached over and patted his horse's mane. “We must look for shelter.” With a gentle heel in Anpo Wie's flank, Two Moons turned his mount around and sought sanctuary in the darkness of the woods.

 

****

 

Roy Prescott shivered from a sudden draft, though the sun beat down upon the tent like a hothouse. God, he hoped he wasn't getting sick. There was a story here, he could smell it. The last thing he needed to drag around with him was a cold. He pulled his collar up around his neck and peeked outside. Good. No one had seen him. He wasn't in the mood to explain to Gabby why he was poking around in her things-spying.

His stride quick, he moved away from the tent flap. He jerked the camera strap over his head and strode, camera in hand, over to her workbench. He had a job to do. A job he couldn’t afford to lose.

So what the hell could she have found at the site earlier in the week that had caused such a commotion? By the significance of that hole, they had dug up something big. He hadn't been able to zoom in close enough with the crowd standing around her.

Gently he pushed aside an array of small brushes, picked up some clay and squashed it in his palm. The soft substance oozed between his fingers. So she was working on another skull. He grinned with satisfaction, then dropped the clay to the table.

He had seen a piece on her work awhile back in a magazine. The article even printed a picture from some historical society that resembled the fellow who had lived back in the 1800's. The damned sculpture had looked like a real person staring back at him.

But why all the hush-hush? Either it was some poor old fellow from another century, or some poor dead guy missing from last month. Either way it was news.

The lens cover popped off beneath his fingers. He hurried over to a table scattered with papers and books, and started snapping pictures. A list of names caught his eye. He zoomed in for a closer look and shot. Never overlook anything. That was the sign of a good reporter. And God knew he had to prove to dad, he was up there with the big boys. He shot a few more pictures, then glanced around for other clues.

It has to be here somewhere. Rummaging around in a stack of wooden cartons that were piled in a corner of the tent, he found one that looked promising. With wild anticipation his heart pounded. Once again, he glanced toward the tent’s opening.

She’d be mad.

He fingered the lid.

Strawberries and coffee weren’t gonna cut it.

“Ah, hell.” He opened the box. It would be worth getting caught if for nothing more than to see the fire in those lovely blue eyes.

Wrapped in individual bags, rusty, broken pieces of metal that looked like junk, were labeled and numbered. Disappointed, he carefully placed the bags back where they belonged. Quickly he opened another box.

Wrapped in a white cloth he found a large bone that looked like part of an arm. He shot a picture, wrapped it back up and unwrapped the package that lay beside it. Another bone.

He wiped his sweating palm on his shirt. What a rush. Gabrielle had hit it on the head earlier. He loved the hunt. The excitement of searching out a story, then seeing it in print with his name at the top of the page. Adrenaline surged through his body. That was good; it kept him alert. Kept him on his toes. Again, he glanced around. No one had discovered him yet. He still had time.

He took a few more pictures from different angles, then dropped the lid back on the box.

The skull had to be here somewhere; he could feel it. He moved to the next carton. It was sealed tight.

Bingo! Pay dirt.

He found a metal crow bar and inch by inch, he pried open the lid. Being a reporter he’d seen a lot of things that should have surprised him, but damn. What was Gabby doing? He stared at the face, which, at the moment, stared up at him. This certainly couldn't be what he was looking for.

He snapped a picture. His instincts were usually right. Why was Gabby wasting her time making a model of her own face? It wasn’t like her.

Before he got a chance to dwell on his find, the tent flap thumped open. He dropped the lid and turned around.

“What are you doing here?” George asked, his face ashen. His gait jerky, he hurried around the table toward him. “Miss Gabby, she ain’t gonna like you in here. You’re not supposed to be here.”

As casually as he could, Roy took a step in his direction. “See, that’s the thing. I’ve been looking for Gabby. Have you seen her?”

“She’s not here.” George’s gaze fell. He stepped away. “You're not supposed to be here. I could get in a lot of trouble.” He glanced over to the stack of boxes, wrung his hands together, then glanced back. “Miss Gabby’s gonna be mad at me.”

Roy knew what it was like to be a little slow, to be an adult with the mind of a child. His own mother, when having bouts of schizophrenia, often regressed to her childhood. The last thing he wanted was to upset George.

“No, she won’t be mad at you,” Roy reassured him, with a gentle tap on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. She’s going to be mad at me.”

George shook his head like a child who knew he had done something wrong. His eyes widened. His brows arched. “I don’t want to get you in trouble Mr. Prescott. I like you.”

“I like you too, George. I’ll be fine, don’t you worry. Now, you wouldn’t happen to know where Gabby is, would you?”

George backed over to the table as though he was trying to shield the papers that lay about. “I don't know if I should tell you.”

If his instincts were right, something was very wrong. And it wasn't about the story anymore. He took a step closer to George. “You know I like Miss Gabby, don't you?”

“Yeah.”

“I won't hurt her, or get her in trouble now, would I?” He placed his hand on George’s forearm in a reassuring gesture.

George shook his head.

“That's right. All I want to do is talk to her.”

“She's…” George hesitated. He jangled some loose change in his pocket. “At the reservation,” he added in a huff. “Said she was gonna spend a few days there.”

“Which one?” Frustration strained Roy’s voice.

George shrugged.

“Well, don't worry. I'm going to leave now and go find her. Okay?” Roy forced a smile.

“Ask her if I did good,” George shouted as Roy flipped open the tent flap and stepped outside.

 

****

 

It was growing dark when Two Moons left the cave once again in search of his medicine charms. His failure thus far stung like a thorn in his side. And with each futile attempt made, each hour he searched in vain, that thorn cut deeper and deeper, making him want to scream from the mountain tops. Only once he had found what he needed, could he return to his village with pride.

He could hear the trees creaking as they struggled against the howling wind. Then in the distance, a different kind of howling pierced the air. Two Moons’ heart pounded. His body taut-erect, he stood rooted to his spot and listened. His eyes sharp, his senses alert, he moved quickly through the deep snow drifts. Aware of everything around him, of every branch he passed laden with snow, he took each step in silence. He inched closer and closer until he could see the wolf.

With a quickness born from experience he drew an arrow from his quiver, placed it in his bow and aimed. The arrow whizzed through the air, straight and sure. Two Moons’ spirits lifted. At last, part of his vision would come to be. This was a good sign. At last Tunkashila had heard his prayer.

The joy in his heart fell, as his arrow missed its mark. The wolf with the speed of the wind took to the shadows of the trees.

Two Moons ran, ran as though his life depended on it. All the pride, all the hope he had felt earlier tumbled around him. He would not let it. He would not let his spirit lose faith. He would not let the wolf win.

Through the high snows he struggled, up the steep incline. Sliding down the other side. Sure of foot. Sure of his purpose. Again the lone white wolf stood before him. His bow ready, Two Moons aimed.

A night hawk screeched from up above. The bird's large wings flapped like thunder. The wolf raised his head to the sky, then in a flash, he disappeared through the trees.

Perhaps if his quickness of thought hadn't gotten the best of him, he wouldn't have screamed his anger like a wild cat caught in a hunter's trap. He wouldn't have stomped at the ground in frustration only to lose his footing and find himself now sliding out of control down the hill. His breath slammed from his chest in a rush. Dizzy, he landed belly down at the foot of the hill.

A tangled web of long wet hair clung to his face. He growled, wiped his eyes clear, then shook his head in disbelief at the sight that lay only a few steps before him.

A woman lay deep in the snow.

Her long black hair appeared stiff, clumped with ice. She wore the cloth of the white man, Two Moons thought with disgust, noticing the long red skirt that clinched her ankles and the long sleeved shirt gathered at her wrists.

He got up, trudged over to her. Her chest rose and fell in a faint, but steady rhythm. She was still alive, but for how long?

The wolf howled in the distance, his deep wail echoing off the mountains.

Two Moons began to pace, making deep grooves in the snow. The desire to run to the beast surged through every inch of his body, yet he knew he could not. To leave the woman here would mean her death.

He raised his gaze to the distant woods. “Another time, my old friend. Another time,” he promised sadly as he bent down and scooped his find up into his arms.

 

 

He spied the markings on her moccasins. She was his enemy-a Crow. Enemy to his people. Yet, it was growing increasingly difficult to remember that, as Two Moons, knowing she would die from the cold, sat in the dimly lit cave, peeling layer upon layer of wet, frozen cloth from her damp, limp, body. Dark lashes fluttered for a moment, then lay still against her closed lids. He brushed her cheek lightly with the back of his fingers. Her skin felt like a softly tanned hide, smooth, dark earth brown and hot with fever. Her full, lush lips quivered as he drew his hand away.

His heart raced. His breathing heavy and swift, he yanked down her skirt, trying to focus his attention on the bright colored cloth clenched between his fingers. He threw the skirt aside, wiped his dry mouth with his hand, then rubbed his taut neck with his palm. In the distance the wolf howled, tormenting him. Challenging him to battle. Calling him a fool.

Two Moons’ rage began to build as hot as the need burning between his legs. Always before had he been a man in control of his body's desires. He, Two Moons, warrior of his people could have any woman he wanted, yet he chose a higher path in which to follow.

He glared at the woman before him. He should have left her to die. It was his right as her enemy. Yet, even as he thought those words, he was drawn to her. Kneeling by her side, he stripped the last layer of cloth from her body, for not to do so, would mean her death.

Her skin in the fire’s light seemed to glow like the golden embers. He dragged his gaze away from her breasts, to her flat stomach. He smiled. Knotted around her waist she wore a small protective rope that continued down between her legs, barring any man's entry to that part of a woman, which all men sought. Pleased, she had not yet been touched, he fingered the cord that lay against her thigh.

With a jerk he drew his hand away and lay down beside her. He gathered her tightly in his arms and pressed his hot body against the cold threat of death hovering over her. Then he reached beside him to his robe of fur and with a heavy sigh, drew the blanket up around them.