Chapter Six

 

 

A breath, hot and heavy fanned Gabrielle’s cheeks. A warning sounded in her ears. Gabrielle awoke with a start. Yellow eyes stared down at her. She choked back a cry, frightened, afraid to breathe. He was so close, nose to nose. She could smell his animal odor. She clenched her hands. The ropes that held her immobile tightened against her wrists. Paralyzed, her body numb with fear, she kept her attention focused on the beast hovering over her and silently prayed the wolf would leave. Bending his head to her chest, he sniffed her. She cringed. Where was her captor? She knew without turning that he no longer slept by her side. Had he left her to die? Was this to be her end, like this? Torn apart limb by limb by this beast? Please Dear God, she prayed it wouldn't be so.

The wolf raised his head. His cold, wet nose touched her ear. She shivered, clenched her eyes tightly, then - screamed. Her blood-curdling cries shattered the silence. The wolf backed away.

A thud, a bright flash of morning's sunlight startled her. She twisted her head, glanced over her shoulder. The front of the tepee open, a crowd of nameless faces peered in at her-laughing.

She heard her captor’s cool, authoritative voice above all the chatter. She watched as he pushed his way through the crowd, the only face she had come to know. Walking over, he knelt between her and the wolf and cut the ropes that held her prisoner. His dark eyes filled with sympathy, he said not a word as he held out his hand. Gabrielle scrambled to her feet, ignoring him and ran to the door of the tepee.

“Get out of my way.” In vain she tried to elbow her way through the opening. Like a solid wall, the crowd wouldn't budge, not one inch, not one person.

She didn't want to run to her captor like a frightened child, didn't want his protection, but she ran to him anyway, without knowing why he'd protect her. And when his strong arms wrapped around her and she laid her cheek against his chest, she felt safe-not just from the wolf, but from all of those who found humor in her fears.

“Kopegla sni yo.” Although the words he spoke were foreign, the degree of warmth and concern in his tone, settled in around her like a well-worn blanket. Her heart slowed to a steady thump. Surprised this man whom she hardly knew could have such an effect on her, she raised her eyes to his. The look of pleasure glistening in his dark pupils was the last thing she had expected to see. Or want.

Embarrassment turned to rage. She jerked her body from his and took a step back. “Damn you!” How could she be so stupid? How could she even at a time like this be attracted to him; this stranger, this person from another world whom she knew nothing about?

“I fail to see the humor in all of this.” Her voice rose an octave, mingling with the raucous sounds of laughter. She spun around on her heels and faced the crowd. “Stop it -- all of you!”

A small boy, no more than four of five, stepped through the opening. His face round, his cheeks chubby, he looked like the little Indian dolls she’d seen in the reservation shops back home. A head of glorious dark brown wavy hair, which didn't quite fit the picture, cascaded down his shoulders in wild disarray.

“Do you speak English?” Silently she prayed, that being half white, he might understand her.

In the depths of his hazel eyes she saw his lack of comprehension. She bit her lip until it throbbed. Anguish and desolation extinguished any spark of hope. His smile, a genuine honest smile, said without words what everyone else around her already knew. The wolf belonged to the boy. And when the child wrapped his arms around his pet and nudged the beast to follow him, she felt like a fool.

“Get out of here. Leave me alone,” she screamed. “I-I don't belong here.” Emotionally drained, her voice weakened. She sighed and drew her body away. Her shoulders sagged in hopelessness and defeat.

Her captor studied her silently before he glanced over his shoulder at the crowd. He issued what sounded like a command. Then, with a wave of his hand, he shooed his tribes people away, all but the small boy and his pet.

Their gaze met. Her heart jolted. He reached for her wrist and held her firmly. His guttural words were soft as he urged her closer to the wolf. “Kola.”

Was he crazy? “No. Please. I don't want to.” She pushed his hand, trying to break his hold. He brought her fingers still closer to the wolf's head.

She pulled back.

He stopped her.

“Kola.” Once more, he encouraged her to touch the animal's head. Friend or foe, she didn't care. She yanked her hand from his.

“I said no. Now why don't you just leave and take that beast with you?”

He opened his mouth to speak, changed his mind and clamped his lips closed. Anger lit his eyes. Taking the boy and his pet with him, his strides quick and furious, he left her to stand alone.

Surrendering to her exhaustion, Gabrielle collapsed to her knees. What was she doing here? These people hated her and it wasn't really her, they hated, but the woman whose body she’d been switched into. A woman who she knew nothing about.

Lonely, overwhelmed, frightened by the unknown, by the mystery of quantum physics that had catapulted her back through time, she cradled her face in the palm of her hands. Had she lived this life before? Was the skull the key, her look-a-like? Was she here to change someone's destiny, or merely to die?

Her mind whirled, making her dizzy, as multitude after multitude of questions accosted her from all directions. Did anybody realize she was missing? Did anybody even care?

Roy! He'd be looking for her. His bloodhound instincts wouldn't give up, that much she knew.

Her head pounded and she pressed her thumb knuckles into her temples. She was grasping for straws. Her current situation was scientifically unrealistic, there was no explanation, but she was sitting here, wasn’t she?

A stab of guilt lay heavily on her chest. She’d pushed him from her thoughts so many times, like she did anyone who wanted to get close to her. Would she ever see him again? Would she ever get the chance to tell him about the attraction she had buried deep inside, or would she be stuck in this time warp forever? Please Roy, find me.

A warm hand on her knee jostled her from her thoughts. Hastily she withdrew her hands. An astonishingly beautiful young woman, with finely sculptured high cheeks, a delicate small chin and huge almond-shaped eyes stared back at her. She looked like she could be a model for Vogue Magazine.

With gentle fingers she brushed a strand of hair from Gabrielle's eye. The warm and compassionate smile that touched her lips, shattered the last of Gabrielle's self-control, and she broke down and cried. The woman gathered her in her arms like a doting mother, shouldering her pain.

When the tears subsided, Gabrielle drew away slightly, embarrassed. ”I… I didn't know the wolf was a-,” she hiccupped, “a pet. And-whatever his name…”

“Two Moons.”

Gabrielle brushed a tear from her cheek. “Well, he… he…” A tear fell on her lip and she wiped it away. “The scars on his back-all night I thought… I thought I was going to die.”

“Shh. Dry your eyes and have no fear. Those scars you saw are the marks made by the pale faces. It is not our way. No harm will come to you.”

“You --” Gabrielle stared, dumbfounded. “You speak English?”

“Yes. Many of my people have learned the way of the white man from the men who trap the beaver. My mother taught me, as I will teach my wakanyeja…” she paused, searching for the English word. “Children, my children.” She smiled. “My name is Chahanpi.”

With the back of her hand, Gabrielle wiped away her remaining tears. “Mine's Gabrielle.”

“Gab-ree-l.” Chahanpi struggled with the word. “Pretty. I am named after the juices that flow from the tree. ‘Cha,’ meaning tree; ‘hanpi’, sap. Why are you called by your name?”

Gabrielle sat back on her haunches and took a deep calm, reflective thought. Native Americans did not necessarily keep the name they were born with. Each name had a special meaning associated with a brave deed, or a personality, or a sign, something that said something about the person. What did her name mean? She shrugged. That was a good question. “My mother named me after the angel Gabriel.”

“Angels. Once I saw a picture book with a beautiful woman with wings.” Chahanpi said, in a soft, gentle tone.

Looking at her, Gabrielle was reminded of spring rain, light, warm and refreshing.

“Do they not come from the land above?” Chahanpi asked before she could answer.

“Yes. I guess if you believed in spirits, they'd be up there.”

Chahanpi's luminous black eyes widened with awe. “You are truly blessed with such a special name.”

Blessed wasn't the word that came to mind when she thought about her life. Losing her brother and her father wasn't being blessed and what about Jeffery, her childhood friend and Robert, her fiancé? She had thought they would be around forever. Fool.

Wasn't it fitting though, she thought with a touch of cynicism, that given her luck with men, her mother had named her after some guy.

 

****

 

“It is true then.” Kills Pretty Enemy grabbed Two Moons' arm. “You have brought a woman with blue eyes to your lodge.”

Two Moons gently pried her fingers off him and placed her arm by her side. “It is of no surprise. I heard your laughter above all the others,” he answered in a low composed voice.

Kills Pretty's mouth took on an unpleasant pout. “You will give her away.”

“No.”

“You cannot mean to take her as your first wife. What about me?”

Two Moons studied Kills Pretty for a moment. She was indeed a beautiful, strong-looking woman, with a proud tilt to her square jaw and generously full curved lips. Her long braided hair was as dark as a starless night. She would make any warrior proud, would bear him many fine sons. Even her name was one of bravery. Having no brother of fighting age, she had gone into battle and had killed a young man, avenging her younger brother's death. Any man would be lucky to call her his own.

He picked up a long dark braid, and fingered its softness between his fingertips. “Do not concern yourself with what I chose to do.” His voice calm, his gaze steady, he continued. “It is not your place to question me.” He dropped her braid and turned.

“I have waited many moons for your presence at my lodge. Have listened through the night's air to hear your song.”

Two Moons stopped in mid-stride. He had never even considered having a flute made for her. To share a blanket for talk was one thing, but the flute's magic was so powerful it might lead to marriage. No. He was not ready for that.

“Do not wait for me at your door.” He turned. “Listen for another's song.”

“I will wait for your song,” she answered stubbornly.

“Then you will wait many moons.”

A soft rattling from behind made him turn. His mother walked toward him. Pausing for a moment, she wrapped her elks-tooth blanket more snugly around her shoulders. A picture of his father came to mind. He had given her the very first elk's tooth to sew on that robe. Now that he was dead, Two Moons made sure her blanket was covered with the teeth of the elks he had killed. She wore it constantly, even when the sun was high in the sky. He guessed it made her feel as if a part of Walking Proud was always with her.

She glanced up. Her gaze found his. The pride that never wavered in her eyes whenever she looked at him, shamed him. He did not deserve to be placed high in her heart. If it hadn't been for him, his father would still be alive.

“Where is that no-good girl?” She stepped up to his side. “I could have fetched the water faster myself. Some help you have brought me. I cannot even speak my mind to her. Do not the Crow speak in sign as we do?”

His gaze shifted from her, to Blue Eyes, who was trying to balance heavy water bags over her shoulders without spilling them. Weariness settled under her eyes. Her steps were slow and unsteady.

She had gotten no sleep last night. He knew because he had been awake most of the night himself. Every move she had made, he had felt. Every sigh, every breath had set his body on fire. Her closeness had been unbearable. It had taken every ounce of strength to fight the need to wrap his arms around her, to taste her lips, to feel her body once more beneath his, this time surrendering to his desires. The desire he had seen in her eyes as she had openly examined his body had set his blood aflame.

Blue Eye’s tripped on the edge of her skirt.

Two Moons’ heart lurched. His breath held. She caught herself, straightened, and only then did he breathe.

Aware of Kills Pretty's laughter and his mother's voice, aware of the snickers of the other women, he kept his attention on Blue Eyes. His mother's words rang in his ear. “Watch her.” He would watch her like a hawk, if for nothing else than to make sure no knife found its way into her back.