Chapter 3

 

 

It was bizarre. Truly bizarre. And Mairie wondered how she would ever relate this to Bryan when they were together again. How could she explain being hoisted like a sack of potatoes by three men and taken down the mountain? The grunts and laughter. The look of awe in the eyes of the Indian men when Delaney explained how he had found her. It didn't matter that she didn't understand the language, or that she protested and tried to interject reason. She could see in their expressions that they too believed that she came from… from heaven… like some angel, or something. Even Delaney must be questioning it, or why would he have sarcastically muttered that she certainly was heavy for an angel, even one with a bruised wing?

He introduced the two young men as his brothers and gave them names she knew she wouldn't remember, like Waits for the Sun, or something. They were shorter than Delaney and stocky, looking more like Mexicans than like the Plains Indians she had read about in her youth. Their hair was long and matted. Their clothing, shifts and pants, really, was made of crude fiber. They seemed very poor, and Mairie decided to be as polite as possible, until they reached this encampment and she could figure out her next course of action. Somehow, she must reach her brother and get out of this madness.

All plans seemed to evaporate when she saw the Indian camp. These were not the colorful and exotic tipis she had seen in pictures and movies. This was far different from the romanticized Plains Indian settlements. These Paiutes lived in brush shelters, lodges made from the earth, situated near a creek. Fires were already smoking with some morning meal. Men, women, and children were moving about, all dressed in the same poor clothing. It was quite depressing, and Mairie knew she would not find anything modern to communicate her distress to the outside world. She saw a horse attached to a line that ran from two mesquite trees and wondered if Delaney would take her to civilization with it. At least it was a mode of transportation, although provincial. She would ask later, but not now, not when people were noticing the returning men and beginning to walk toward them. Her body stiffened with apprehension as the tribe crowded around them.

She was lowered to the ground with surprising gentleness and everyone began talking at once in a strange language that Mairie thought was more like sounds than words. What did she know? She was at the mercy of a deranged mountain man and a tribe of Indians that appeared to have turned their backs on any modernization. It was as if she had stepped back in time.

No, she wouldn't think of that. She refused to consider that possibility, for then she truly would be mad and Delaney would be right about her. Instead, she tried smiling at the children who were staring at her with a look of wonderment. What were these men saying to their tribe?

She turned to Delaney and saw he wasn't pleased. "What is being said about me?" she asked, wondering if he would tell her the truth.

He shrugged, pushing the hair back off his forehead as if he were highly annoyed by her question. "My brothers are saying that you came from heaven as my gift. That the gods have smiled on us, and Wolf has outsmarted his brother Coyote in bringing a messenger of hope."

"Me?" She looked at the faces of the Indians and couldn't find it in her heart to contradict their words. If ever a people needed hope, these did.

Delaney spoke the dialect rapidly and she could see that the Indians were not pleased with his words. He turned to her and translated. "I told them that you insist you are not my gift and that you didn't come from heaven. I have said that you are … well, the best way to translate is… you are confused in your head."

She glared at him. "You told them I was crazy, didn't you? How could you?"

Again, he shrugged, and Mairie wanted to punch his shoulder. "I am not crazy, Delaney. I know where I come from. I just don't know how to get back… yet. You tell them that. Go ahead, tell them."

Delaney wasn't even listening to her as he spoke with an old man. A small child, a little girl dressed in a rough shift, bravely reached out and touched Mairie's leg and then retreated with a giggle. Looking down to the child, Mairie smiled, and when her gaze connected to the innocence of the girl, Mairie experienced an intense wave of compassion. What kind of life awaited this beautiful child? Her depression set in deeper and she stood quietly until Delaney turned to her.

"You are to go into the elder's lodge. There you will be given food and afterward he wishes to speak with you. He knows little English, so I'll translate."

Her back stiffened. "Delaney, I need to get off this mountain."

His eyes narrowed, as if he were speaking to a disrespectful child. "Look, this is an honor. You can't refuse his hospitality. It would disgrace him."

She gazed to the older man at Delaney's side and saw in his eyes an ageless wisdom. Perhaps this man could help her if Delaney continued to prove difficult. Besides, she wasn't about to stand here in front of all these people and argue with a delusional man who took drugs and thought he was an Indian and then a cowboy and is back being an Indian. Really … she had some sense of reality, even if he had lost all concept of the word. Nodding, Mairie reluctantly used her makeshift crutch and allowed herself to be led away.

Entering the largest dirt lodge, she was struck by a wave of pity while looking around the dark, humble shelter. A woman smiled at her and indicated she was to sit on a rug made of rabbit fur. It was soft and worn in places and Mairie gratefully sat down by the dirt wall, keeping her parachute by her. She looked around at the crude structure. Weapons or hunting tools were placed in leather. Baskets were filled and covered by the same rough material that was used for clothing. Looking up, she saw a small smoke hole in the top and was grateful a fire hadn't been lit. The last thing she needed was to be smoked out. Herbs hung from the wall, drying, and she smelled something pungent and slightly citrusy.

Soon she was joined by other women. Some carried in water and bowls of food. Mairie was stunned to realize that the baskets had been woven so tightly that they could contain water without leaking. She smiled her thanks to each woman and they squatted down on the opposite side to stare at her.

It took her only a few seconds to figure out that they were like women anywhere, at any time. They wanted her to taste their food and were waiting for her reaction. She picked up the bowl and looked at the mashed stuff. It didn't look appetizing. She again smiled as she brought it to her nose and inhaled. The women seemed pleased, and Mairie had to use every ounce of willpower not to show how distasteful the aroma was to her. How in the world was she supposed to eat this? Her stomach began rebelling even before she tasted it. For a moment she thought of the Luxor Hotel in Vegas, of the luxury and the delicious food, and felt guilty. She couldn't hurt the feelings of these women. Somehow she would do this.

Mairie scooped out some of the paste and stuck it into her mouth just as the women shouted and began covering their mouths to stop peals of giggles.

Mairie stared at them and almost choked as she held the lump of foul mass on her tongue. Gagging was a distinct possibility.

One of the women came forward and shook her head. She pantomimed spitting. Mairie didn't need further instructions. She spit out the paste and wiped her mouth and tongue with the back of her hand. Another woman came closer and covered the mess with dirt. Then the woman touched her own ankle and pointed to Mairie's.

It took only a few seconds for Mairie to get it. The paste was for her ankle. She giggled at her ignorance and smiled into the faces before her. Such a simple act of human kindness and frailty. Already she felt herself opening to these women.

Hey, maybe they could help her if a friendship could be nurtured…

She untied her Nike and gingerly slipped her foot out of the shoe. Inhaling sharply at the pain, Mairie placed the sneaker beside her and removed her sock. The women were murmuring at her actions, and now some gasped at the purple and green bruise that marked her ankle. Or maybe it was her nail polish. They were staring at her toes as if they'd never before seen painted nails.

The woman closest to her held out her hand, as if to show that nothing was inside of it, then slowly she sat in front of Mairie and picked up her heel. This stout woman placed Mairie's foot into the warm water and bathed it. The woman's focus was entirely on Mairie's ankle, as she created tiny waves in the water to run over the bruised part while whispering words Mairie couldn't understand even if she heard them. It was almost as if she were performing some sort of ritual. After a few minutes, the woman used her shift to dry Mairie's foot, then placed it in her lap and began scooping up the paste, lathering it on so gently that Mairie felt soothed by the delicate action.

Never before could Mairie remember someone being so selfless, so sincere in wanting to be of service.

"Thank you," she murmured, and the woman smiled compassionately.

Suddenly an anger rose up inside of her when she thought of all the history books she had read, all the movies she had seen while growing up, depicting all Indians as barbaric and uncaring. She had been in their camp less than a half hour and already they had shown her more empathy than if she had hobbled into a modern convenience store. She realized that for all society's so-called advances, this simple grace of personal charity had been lost. She wondered if we're so afraid of encroaching on another's space, of maybe being sued, perhaps we're afraid to reach out to another in need, to actually touch them? She had little time to ponder these thoughts as two more women joined them. One carried more water and another placed a basket by her side. This one definitely contained food. She recognized those cakes made from mesquite beans.

Her ankle was wrapped tightly in a long strip of the crude material that seemed to be woven from some kind of plant. She gratefully ate the meal cake, the crushed pine nuts, a few berries she couldn't name and drank the cool water. One of the younger women touched her Nike as if it were a curious thing, until an older woman chastised the younger and made a motion that all should leave. Mairie was given a primitive comb and left alone in the dirt shelter.

Sighing, she leaned back against the wall and figured it might be okay to stay for an hour or two and show her gratitude. She would talk to this elder, this chief, and maybe they could make some sense out of everything. Surely he would know about Las Vegas, about how she could get back to her own people. She ran the wide toothed pick through her tangled hair and waited. Soon… soon she would have her answers.

Less than fifteen minutes later, the elder entered the lodge, along with two other men and Delaney. They sat before her in a half circle and stared. Mairie stiffened her shoulders and stared back, waiting for someone to speak. Two middle-aged men sat on either side of the elder, whose face was wrinkled and leathered from the sun, like a shelled walnut. Yet his eyes were warm, friendly, hopeful. Delaney sat by the entrance, with the sunlight behind him. Finally, the leader sort of grunted and said something directly to her. She couldn't understand the language and looked to Delaney to translate.

"He said, 'Welcome to my humble home. We are honored that you would make your appearance to us."

She bit the inside of her lip, while her brain seemed to run wild in attempting to make sense of the words. "What does he mean, make my appearance?"

Delaney sighed, as if he were again losing patience with her. "It would be proper if you thanked him for his hospitality before you begin ranting."

She glared back at the man. It didn't matter that the sun was creating almost a halo around him, that he was so good-looking he could have been a western model. It didn't matter that at any other time she would have been struck by that haunted look in his eyes… none of it mattered in that moment. What did matter was that he was right. She should have thanked the man first and it galled her that Delaney's manners were better than hers.

"Yes," she murmured. "Please thank him for his hospitality. And tell him I am honored that his people would show such tender care to a stranger."

She watched as Delaney translated and saw the pleasure in the older man's expression. She had said the right thing. The man spoke and she could see Delaney didn't want to tell her the answer. "What did he say?" she asked, before Delaney could add his own words.

"He said, 'You are not a stranger. You have been expected. Generations have spoken of you appearing, coming from the sky. A messenger for the people.’“

She was stunned. This must be corrected before it got out of hand. "Tell him for me I am no messenger, that I am lost. That I need assistance in getting back to my brother, my people, and can he tell me how to do that? Does he know where there is a phone, or even a road I can use?"

"I am not asking him that." Delaney looked at her as if she were an escapee from an institution.

Mairie's back straightened with indignation. "Hey … you're just the translator here. You tell him what I said."

Their eyes locked in battle as he muttered words she couldn't understand. The elder seemed confused and then very pleased. He said something in an excited voice.

"You didn't tell him!" Mairie accused, frustrated by her inability to communicate herself. How maddening, to depend on a druggie hermit who seemed to be in his own delusional Dances with Wolves scenario.

"I told him you can only stay until you are healed and that you bring great blessings to his people. He is planning a celebration tonight for you, to honor your arrival." The last words were said with such distaste that Mairie felt as if he had mentally assaulted her.

"I can't stay the night," she whispered. "I must leave." Holding her hand to her heart, she looked at the old man. "Listen to me, please… I need to get back to my own people. Can you help me? Please, I need help."

All three men seemed confused by her words and looked to Delaney for translation. She didn't want to do it, yet she couldn't help following the old man's line of vision. What she saw wasn't reassuring. Delaney looked furious.

"You will stay and be honored. I will not disgrace my brothers by telling them that you are a madwoman, seeking to throw her voice out to the sky and expecting her brother to hear her."

"I am not mad," she said through clenched teeth. "You tell him that. I am not mad."

Delaney said something and all of the men laughed. They rose to their feet and abruptly left. It was obvious the meeting was over.

"What did you say to him?" Mairie demanded, feeling a rush of anger creeping up her throat to settle on her cheeks.

Delaney leaned back against the dirt wall of the lodge and sighed. "I told him that you are like a wounded bird, yet you will dance with joy tonight for falling into the nest of such a great wise man… that your steps may be awkward since, by your costume, you haven't yet decided if you are a warrior or a maiden."

She could only stare at him as she attempted to repress the urge to crawl over and slap that satisfied smirk off his face. "Get out," she barely managed to mutter.

He raised an eyebrow in question, while lowering his head to stare at her. "I beg your pardon, madam? Since I have no lodge of my own, when I visit my brothers I remain with one of them. Until you leave, this is my lodge. We are both honored to share it this night and any refusal of such a gift will be seen as an insult. You're stuck with me, as I am with you, until this celebration is over."

She was stunned. "Wait, wait… you're telling me that you and I have to remain together—here?"

He looked like he wanted to laugh at her predicament. "Until the women come to prepare you."

"Prepare me? For what?" She didn't like the sound of this at all.

"You cannot participate dressed like that. You are a woman and tonight you will look like one. Everyone wears their best when they speak with the gods. To do less is to dishonor life."

"I want out of here." Her words were said with as much force as she could muster. Right, like she would be dressing up in some Indian costume to please him!

"And, quite honestly, madam, I want you out of here. Had you not injured your ankle, you would be on your way. But since you are unable to manage travel today, I was forced to bring you to this camp. If you think I am pleased by this turn of events, you are mistaken, madam. I cannot help that my vision of you falling from the sky signals to my brothers that you are a messenger for them. But, you will go along with it, and you will give these people a message of hope."

She looked around her and nearly shrieked. "Hope! These people don't need hope. They need a miracle. Look at them, look at their poverty. This way of life is disgraceful… it's below poverty level."

He sat up straight and glared at her. "What do you know of these people? What they have gone through? You are blinded by European standards and you cannot see beneath the surface of your vision. What you see as acrid, barren and inhospitable, the Paiutes see as a land of great variety… if you have eyes to see and ears to hear the earth. They gather pine nuts, mesquite, screw beans, Indian spinach, agave. They plant corn and squash. They hunt rabbits, desert tortoises, bighorn sheep, deer, quail. They weave baskets from the grasses by the creeks. They make jewelry. They're farmers, husbands, wives… families. They're peaceful, wanting only to live and feed their children, even though the white man has come in and driven them from their traditional grounds. You see them as a poor and simple culture. I see them as the most resourceful people on earth. And the most balanced. They see the earth as our mother, providing us with food, the air we breathe, clothing—even this lodging." He touched the dirt wall with reverence. "And now traders come, miners, and wagon trains heading for California. They run their herds over the land and damage the delicate plant life. They camp at the Paiute home sites near the springs and streams and shoot at the Indians to keep them away. They kill the game and deplete the supply. They even kidnap Paiute children and women and sell them as slaves in New Mexico and California. And yet the hearts of these people remain pure."

He looked at her and slowly shook his head. "Disgraceful, you say? No, Mairie Callahan. The Paiutes are full of grace… if you are willing to open your eyes and really see them. How they live is heroic."

She felt like a properly chastised child and lowered her eyes to the dirt ground as she felt him stand and move to the opening.

"You will find a way," he said, in a low, controlled voice. "You are their messenger. And tonight you will give them hope." He left without another word.

As she sat in the dirt lodge, her depression slowly became anger. Nothing was turning out as she had thought. She was too isolated. Maybe Delaney really had kidnaped her, and she was just now realizing it. This entire thing was ludicrous. Why were there no airplanes or helicopters looking for her? She knew Bryan must have notified everyone possible. Her brother would not abandon the search for her. He wouldn't. Something was very wrong, and at that moment Mairie was too angry to analyze it further. Now she was pissed. She needed to become proactive. Instead of sitting around waiting for women to come prepare her for some Indian dress-up dance or for Delaney to come back and insult her, she should just get up and walk over to that horse outside and ride the hell out of here.

The more she thought of it, the better it sounded.

All she had to do was get up and sneak out of this lodge. If she kept to the woods, she could circle the camp to where the horse was tied and take it. She would only be borrowing it. It wasn't really stealing. Okay, so she hadn't ridden a horse since she was thirteen years old at summer camp, but she knew she could do it. She had to, for she couldn't see any other means of escape from this madness. Better to take a horse, get back to civilization, and make a donation to these people than lie to them about a hopeful future.

A small part of her brain told her that she sure knew how to rationalize her way out of a tough situation. She stood at the entrance of the lodge with her bag in hand. She'd have to leave the helmet, since Delaney had been carrying it and she didn't know where it was. Big deal. She'd either get it back later or pay for it. The only thing that mattered now was making her escape.

It was like she was in some freaky cartoon, for as she stood watching the Indians who were preoccupied with preparations for the celebration, Mairie felt like she had two angels on her shoulders. One dark. One light. One whispering to take the horse and ride as fast as possible, and the other telling her to stay and honor her hosts.

Go or stay?

Steal or honor?

Dark or light?

"Madness or sanity?" she whispered, hating the fact that her conscience was pushing toward one end of the polarity. When she saw all the tribe running toward a hunter who had entered the camp with a small lifeless deer across his shoulders, she muttered a profanity and slipped out of the lodge.

It must be the right decision, she thought, as she quickly hobbled her way through the mesquite trees to the horses. No one had seen her. She scratched her thigh against a thorn and her legging snagged, but she couldn't take the time to indulge in pain. She had to untie the horse, who was shying away from her approach.

It was a lot bigger than she remembered from her teenage years at camp. Big and powerful. How was she supposed to ride the thing without a saddle? She hadn't thought of that.

"C'mere, horsie," she whispered, reaching out her hand. The brown-and-white-spotted animal snorted heavily and backed away from her. "It's okay," she continued in a soft voice, taking baby steps closer. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to ride you for a while. You can take me away from this craziness and then I will return you. I promise."

Was she certifiable, or what, talking to a horse like that? She couldn't think about it now. Later, when she was soaking in a warm Jacuzzi, she could decipher her precarious state of mind.

She teetered closer to the horse and managed to grab hold of its rope bridle. "Come on, big boy, you and I are going to take a little ride." She untied the rope from the line and started to walk it toward a fallen tree. Now, if she could just climb up on the thing and pull herself onto the horse's back.

Trying to mount the horse, while it jerked back and forth and she hopped on her good foot with an unwieldy parachute sack slung over her shoulder, was nearly impossible. She'd have to leave the sack, she thought regrettably. It was either ditch it, or never mount up. Besides, the skydiving school was responsible for her mishap. Something weird had happened and it wasn't her fault. She would contest the charges if they attempted to bill her for the equipment. Throwing the bag behind a clump of brush, she took a deep breath and turned back to the nervous horse. "Okay, buddy… you and I are going to do this. We're going to be pals… amigos, and whatever the Indian word is for we're stuck and in this together."

Using the horse's back for balance, she steadied herself on the large log, walked up the incline to a higher level, and grabbed hold on the horse's thick, coarse mane. She raised her leg and had to bite her bottom lip to stop a yelp of pain as her ankle throbbed in protest. She couldn't do it. She was too short for her leg to reach.

Damn, her mind screamed in frustration. There was no other choice. She have to throw herself onto its back and then straighten out. She told herself that she could do it. On the count of three, she would hurl herself up onto the horse and hold on for dear life until she could turn her body and swing her leg into place.

"One…" If she could jump out of a plane at thirteen thousand feet, she could make it onto a horse's back.

"Two …" But look what had happened when she jumped!

"Three…" Do it! Just do it!

She stood there breathing like a defeated hurdler, wanting to slap herself for her lack of courage. She could do this. She had to! It was fear, that's all. Was her fear of falling worse than her fear of being caught? Determined, she squared her shoulders and counted again.

"Three!"

Using her good leg, she pushed off the log and flung herself at the horse's back like a crazed trapeze artist. She landed with a thump and the horse started prancing in protest. Mairie hung on, grabbing its mane, and struggled to bring her injured foot over its rump. They went around and around in a circle, and even in her panicked state, she knew she must look like a fool.

It took every ounce of strength to right herself and when she finally managed, she collapsed against the horse's neck in relief. "Oh, thank you," she gasped, trying not to cry. "We did it. We did it…"

From somewhere over her left shoulder she heard that dark angel whispering to stop feeling sorry for herself and get moving. Gathering what little composure remained, she reached down for the loose rope and sat up. "Okay, horse… let's go."

Nothing.

She tried moving her behind up and down in a riding stance. "Giddiup, come on."

The horse refused to move.

Damn… what if this was one of those horses that refused to obey commands if they didn't come from the owner? What kind of luck was this? It was too incredible to believe that she had gone through all this for nothing!

All thoughts of bonding with the animal vanished. Desperate, she kicked her heels into its belly with more force than she'd intended and was startled when it jumped and broke into a frantic run. Gasping for breath, Mairie felt her entire body become rigid with the whiplash jolt. She held on for dear life as branches lashed her face and shoulders, as if punishing her for her actions. It was almost as disorienting as when she was pushed out of the plane. She couldn't think of anything, except not being thrown to the earth, as the horse ran wild… straight for the creek.

From somewhere behind her, she heard yelling, and then a shrill whistle pierced her ears as she desperately tried to hold her balance.

Suddenly the horse stopped abruptly, as if a switch had been turned off and all motion ceased. Like a rag doll, Mairie found herself flailing though the air, in an eerie silence of terror. Her only thought was oh, shit… before landing with a huge splash into the stream.

It was deep enough to break her fall, and she gasped at the shock of cold water that filled her nostrils, making her brainstem feel as though it were burning, the back of her throat on fire. She felt herself floundering like a trapped fish, as she attempted to stand up upright and lost her footing. Down again she went, fighting the water and her own inability to remain above it.

It felt as if the strong, secure hand of God had reached down and grabbed hold of her upper arm, pulling her to the surface and life-giving air. She sputtered and pushed her hair out of her eyes only to see Delaney standing right next to her. Coughing, she tried to pull her arm out of his grasp, yet was unsuccessful as his iron clasp tightened. The animal was standing right next to her, as peaceful as if that had been its intention all along, to wander into the creek for a drink.

"What did you think you were doing, stealing my horse?" he demanded, as if she were a juvenile delinquent.

"I… I didn't know it was… yours," she gasped at her captor. Trying to regain some measure of composure, she tried to still her pounding heart. "I have to get away, Delaney. I have to find my brother." She wiped at her nose with the back of her hand. "You can't understand. Whatever this is you're living in, isn't my place and time. I have to get back to my own time. My own people. My own version of … of reality." The tears were burning her eyes and she felt helpless to fight them and him together.

His blue eyes darkened with more annoyance, if that was possible. "Time? What madness are you talking about? There is no time but right now."

Pushing her hair back again, she sniffled while noticing that most of the tribe was gathering at the shoreline and watching. She knew she was making a spectacle of herself, yet it didn't matter. "Something's happened. I don't know what. Either you're mad or I am, and I have to get out of here and away from you to prove it isn't me!"

He stared at her as if she were speaking a foreign language. His gaze traveled down her body, and suddenly, Mairie was acutely aware of the thin wet Spandex outlining every detail of her breasts. Every detail, and she cursed her body's reaction to the cold water.

Delaney's eyes darkened with something more than anger and she managed to pull her arm free, crossing both arms over her chest for protection.

"It's high time you bathed," he muttered in a thick voice. "You saved the women from doing it. Now, get back to the lodge. I will think about taking you tomorrow to the Las Vegas ranch, but tonight you are the honored guest of these people and you will not insult their hospitality."

Knowing she was defeated, Mairie tried walking, but stumbled, and Delaney reached out to help her. She shrugged off his hand and hobbled a few steps through the water when the horse, as if startled by her action, moved its rump into her shoulder and down again she went under the surface. Within seconds she was lifted not only out of the water but up into the air and flung like a sack over Delaney's shoulder as he walked out of the creek.

"Put me down!" she demanded, with a punch to his back. Outraged by his macho behavior, Mairie tried kicking him with her good foot. "How dare you? How dare you treat me like this?"

She felt a muffled grunt from her assault and then her legs were captured in a tight hold as Delaney walked out of the creek and back toward the camp. His shoulder cut into her solar plexus with each step and Mairie whimpered her useless protest. She tried pushing her hair away from her face, yet since her face was upside down, it too appeared useless, and besides, it helped to hide her shame, for she could hear murmurings and even a few chuckles from the spectators.

She would get Delaney for this. She vowed that somehow she would get even.

He dumped her in front of the lodge, allowing her to slide down the front of his body, and held onto her waist for just a moment too long. Mairie felt his strength, his power, rushing from his large hands and racing through her body.

"You will go inside and wait for the women," he said with a deep breath which hinted to more than exertion. "I'm posting a guard here, so don't even think of making another attempt." His eyes scanned her face, as though searching for sanity.

Mairie felt his gaze move over her and suddenly she knew exactly how to get even. Her lips moved into a smile of shy surrender and she whispered, "I'll behave, Delaney. But you'll take me to the ranch tomorrow? You promise?"

He seemed startled and suspicious by her sudden change of mood. "I said I would think about it. I will come when the women are finished preparing you. Do not disgrace yourself or me, madam. Or that promise to think about it is null and void."

"You needn't threaten me," she whispered. "I'll be good."

"Hmm… well, that would be a welcome change, now, wouldn't it?"

She could tell he didn't believe she was capable of such behavior, so she merely smiled again, trying to hide the rush of pleasure that ran through her when she saw Delaney's reaction. Now why didn't she think of this before? Feminine wiles…

Turning without another word, she entered the lodge and sat down to formulate her plan.

A throughly modern woman, she felt it went against her principles to resort to hormonal subterfuge. She knew all about the communication war between men and women, about sexual harassment and intimidation, and all that was fine and good when one was in a sane, or near sane, environment. This was neither. This was not a place of equality. Here a man had power over her, not power she had given, power assumed. This must be how women had felt before laws had tried to protect them against such abuse of power. So since the scales were unequal, and so out of balance, she would simply use what women had used for thousands of years… her innate feminine power.

Now, how was she going to do that, since Delaney was convinced that she was a crazy woman? She thought for a few moments and then smiled as she flipped her wet hair off her face. Hah… as hard as he'd tried to hide it, she had seen that look of male interest first at the creek with the wet top and then just now before he left. He might think she was crazy, but it was obvious he was not above being attracted to a crazy female. It was kind of flattering, since it had been so long since she'd even entertained the thought of male interest, and she had to be honest… he was gorgeous, but he was also nuts, so she'd have to proceed cautiously.

First things first, she thought, as she looked around for the primitive comb. Spying it on the rabbit skin rug, she reached down and started dragging it through her damp hair. Well, soon the women would come and she'd figure out what else she might use to transform herself into an Indian maiden. She already had the black hair. All she needed was a little help, and…

Her thoughts stopped and her hand froze midway through her hair.

A part of her didn't like the plan. It was deceptive, and she knew enough about cause and effect to know that whatever she gave out could have a boomerang effect and come around to slam her in the back of the head. But what were her options? She simply had to get him to promise to take her to that ranch tomorrow. She had to find civilization again. A phone. A car. A modern person! Enough was enough, and she'd played by his rules way too long.

Now it was time to even out the playing field.