11 
THE HIDDEN TRUTH

By seven fifty, Justine was perfect: no traces of puffy eyes, no shaking hands, no wet dress. In the small restroom near the main arena, she checked herself in the mirror, fixed her hair, refreshed her makeup and was good to go. Her secret was safe and would never turn into a lie unless spoken and then denied. Darrius was good at reading her; hopefully, not that good.

Justine could see the stick-frame teepees in the distance near the main entrance as the setting sun cast its last glow upon the earth. Behind the teepees stood her photographed caves that looked to be carved in the center of a large mountain. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember photographing caves. Then where did the pictures come from? She had to have taken them. As if in slow motion, she walked toward the caves, wanting to see the images on their walls; remembering seeing sketchy figures on the photos. Would they be petroglyphs? She hoped so. There were risks, though, either emotional or physical. Did she still want to go? Yes, but for her own knowledge.

Justine saw the rope and sign barring everyone from getting closer to the teepees and caves; nonetheless, she was about to slide under it when she heard her name.

“Justine!”

She spun around and saw Darrius holding his hand out to her and looking from her to the teepees. “Darrius?” It was exactly eight. “Right on time, aren’t you?”

“Apparently. What are you doing over here? This is forbidden. Don’t you see the ropes and signs?”

“I…yes, but—”

“Come on. I’ll take you to another set of caves later, ones we can go inside.”

She looked at the cave before her. “Why is this one so different?”

“Unsafe, mainly.”

She accepted his answer. Yet, her questioning persisted. “But since you were supposed to meet me at the entrance by eight, what are you doing here?”

“Since I’m on the board of directors for the park, I scout around at times, making sure everything is in order—like the caves you were about to violate.”

“I’m really sorry. Forgive me?”

“No sweat. They’re a mystery to every outsider.”

Outsider! By now, she hoped she was more than that to him. She let it pass, knowing how he truly felt about her. “So, what’s up for tonight?”

“Buffalo stew, for one thing. I’m hungry. Have you eaten—?”

Her eyes winced. “Buffalo stew! That sounds so…well, not appetizing.”

He pulled her toward a food stand. “No different from the buffalo burger you had the other night.”

“I suppose that’s safe to say.”

“Don’t knock it until you try it. It’s just as good as anything made with cow meat. They’re both animals. We honor the buffalo by partaking. Come on, you’ve gotta try it. Besides, I’ve been waiting to have dinner with you all day.”

Darrius led her to a secluded little picnic table and went to get their food. He returned with two heaping bowls of stew, sodas and corn muffins. Savoring the stew’s rich aroma, he told her it had been made with Indian ingredients he had grown up on. “My mother makes it all the time.” He handed her a spoon. “Eat up.”

He watched as she tasted her first spoonful of stew, expecting to see signs of distaste on her face. To his surprise, a pleasant smile appeared instead.

“You like?”

“Surprisingly. I thought it would taste—”

“Bland and gamey?”

“Yeah!”

“It can, if it’s not made correctly, as would be the case for any food, right?”

“Right, and it goes well with the bread.”

They ate in silence for a while. And then Darrius’s eyes met hers, locked in position as if reading them. “What did you see out here today? I know you’ve taken great pictures for us to develop in the morning.”

A coy little smile appeared on her face. “Would that mean I would have to get up early and drive to your house to develop them or—”

“I think you know the answer. You will stay the night, won’t you?”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “I don’t know. Any man who makes out on a horse might not be trustworthy.”

A slight hint of tongue moistened his lower lip. “Umm, I’ve been thinking about that all day, too. It was a blast.”

“I’m not afraid of horses anymore, if that’s any consolation.”

“It is.”

“Good, so you know I’ll stay the night, Darrius. To answer your question, I did a few things. I went to a few buffalo dances and—”

“The spirit of Famine scared you, didn’t he?”

His abruptness took her aback. “Yeah, he did. I’ve never seen a famine character look so—

“Scary?”

“Yes. I’ve seen people play that character at the Arizona powwows, but this guy was something else.”

“That actor is Anderson Healy, a very well-known actor in this area. He’s actually had bit roles in native movies like Dances with Wolves and Geronimo.”

“Really?”

“Yes. He’s very good, because I can see uncertainty in your eyes.”

Is it fear from Famine or the damn mountain that she was so curious about? Whatever the case, she definitely had been scared of something. Keeping quiet about going up the other side of Red Rock was her only choice. To avoid any more talk of the terrifying character, she took another sip of her drink.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“I took more stills of dancers, walked around, ate a little, watched more shows.”

“What else?”

His eyes were penetrating hers as though he were reading her soul. “Nothing else.”

“You did something else, Justine.”

“I haven’t had time to do anything else, Darrius. After being scared by the famine dude, I just settled back and took it easy.”

“He is a hard act to swallow; beautiful young women are usually frightened by him. You could have called me. I’d have come sooner to comfort you.”

“Who would have watched your store?”

“Derrick. He hung out with me today. He was taking it easy because he’ll be doing a lot of dancing for the main powwow over the weekend.” He studied her a little closer. “You sure you didn’t do anything else?”

“Darrius! Cool it. I had fun today.”

He settled back and finished his drink. “I’m sorry. I just want to protect you.”

“From what?”

He knew he was scaring her, causing her more grief by being so persistent. “Nothing. Forgive me for being protective. I get weird like this sometimes, although I haven’t been this way since my last girlfriend. She was also a hard one to protect, always wanting to do her own thing. You know the kind, right?” His brow arched playfully.

“Perhaps. What was she like?”

“Fun-loving, kind. Most of the time.”

Justine saw a hint of something on his face, leading her to ask, “Did you love her?”

“Yes.” He then did his best imitation of Dracula to break the tension of having to talk of a past lover. “But I love you more. She may have had all the qualities I just mentioned, but so do you. In the end, she was way too aggressive, never listened to advice and eventually got into some trouble with the law.”

“What did she do?”

“Something I never would have suspected. She held up a liquor store. I knew she liked to drink, but that was carrying it a little too far. Funny thing, I never got vibes from her about that.”

“I’m sorry, Darrius. You won’t have that to worry about with me. I hardly ever drink liquor—and I’m scared of guns.”

“Good girl. Guns and liquor will kill ya.”

However, something he said did concern her: the willfulness of his last girlfriend. She was willful as well, having gone up Red Rock after he had asked her not to. She decided she would try to rein in her willfulness.

He kissed her hand. “What are you thinking about?”

“Oh, uh…just you, as usual.” That’s right, play it off well and he’ll suspect nothing!

Darrius helped her up from the table. “Let’s see more dancing. Once the sun completely sets, we can go back to the smaller caves at the back of the park—the safe places—and talk, show you what’s inside. Your picture showed up a few things.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“You’ll see. You can take more pictures.”

“I almost have enough. Some things should remain sacred, right?”

“Yes, some things.”

Justine was glad that he hadn’t pressed the subject of Red Rock’s other side, hadn’t confronted her with what she knew she shouldn’t have done.

By sundown, the arenas filled with jingle, grass and buffalo dancers, among others. Tantalizing aromas, from incense to a variety of native foods, wafted through the air. With her hand in his and their hearts attuned to one another, Justine was happy. During open dances in the main arena, she danced in line with the other participants. Holding her cameras, Darrius waited on the sideline. She still wondered what his real reason was for not dancing. It had to be more than what he had told her earlier.

She kept step with the others, dancing, listening to the dancers chanting, being one with a nation. Yes, the children in her neighborhood were Native American and that is where she learned things about the culture. They taught her a little about the kachina dolls, told her about the powwows they went to, the things they did while there and also about the dances. As she grew older, her quest for knowledge about the Indian culture grew and the children who had remained in the area were able to explain more aspects of the culture to her. So, her experience with native people went far beyond the games they played as children. She became one with them as she learned more about the culture. Even her best friend, Fara, had told her a great many things about Native Americans since her mother was Pawnee, but now she was learning even more about their culture by being at one of the biggest powwows in the west.

By moonlight, Darrius led Justine to the restricted cave area in the back of the park where hardly anyone went, and lifted the rope. He saw the confused look on Justine’s face and explained, “I’m on the board of trustees of Red Rock, remember? That gives me certain privileges. I know these caves like the back of my own hand. We’re safe.”

“Then why is the rope around it?”

“To keep spectators out. Many don’t know the story of Red Rock or the lesser-known stories of the fascinating things found here—like the caves. Open access would invite exploitation.”

“I was about to a few minutes ago.”

“True. You’re naturally investigative.”

Holding a flashlight in one hand and her hand in the other, he lifted the rope and led her into the cave.

Justine entered the semi-darkness and looked around. Without Darrius guiding her, she touched the walls, ran her fingers over the petroglyph drawings, feeling their depth. As she explored the cave, her mouth went dry from excitement. Awestruck, she turned to him. He looked calm, serene, as he watched her.

She said, “This is a different cave than the one in your pictures.”

“Right. We can’t go into that one because it’s not as safe as this one is—though, we really shouldn’t be here, too, because of the cracks here—and then over here.” He pointed to a few gaps on both walls. “We can stay for a little while, though.”

“I—I can’t believe this. It’s so interesting here.”

“I take it you’re happy with your find.”

“I’m happy with everything here.”

He came up behind her and kissed her neck, pressing her body against his. “I have more delights for you, my love.”

“Really? What? Making out on the horse again?”

“I think he’s safe in his stable.” Darrius moved his hand down her dress, stopping at the juncture of her thighs. She was already moist for him, and he wanted to play, plunder, spread her across continents and delve inside. “What we did on my painted glory was fun, but this will be as well.” He turned the flashlight on, uncovering a large blanket, a bottle of white wine and a few throw pillows. He whispered in her ear, “Does that look inviting?”

Were her eyes deceiving her, or had Darrius been there earlier than planned? Had he been witness to her stupid trek up the other end of Red Rock? If so, why hadn’t he chastised her? So many questions flooded her mind as she turned and faced him. “How long can we be here tonight?”

“Maybe long enough to make out, talk.”

“Or do a little more,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

“I don’t know about that. The park closes at a certain time, you know. But we’ll see.”

“How long have you been here tonight?”

“Ten minutes early. I promise I wasn’t watching you, because I knew you had work to do. I just wanted to make our night together special, talk to you about the caves, the kachinas, the—”

“The Koshari? I would still like to hear his side of the story from you instead from out of some book or remembering what the kids in the neighborhood told me.”

“Sure. If you want to hear the story.”

“You’re a hell of a man, Red Sky.”

His nose nuzzled hers. “I’ve been told that, my love. Come, let’s sit on the blanket so I can answer all the pondering questions.”

Justine wiggled between his spread thighs, feeling the heat of his swollen erection already willing and anticipating contact with her. She liked that, loved the idea of a man so ready for her that he could barely think of anything else. For her, that was living.

His breathing lulled her, making her a slave to any and all things he could possibly do to her. His voice drew her in as he told her exactly what animals were on the walls, what the stick-like people were doing and how hunts were so great back in the day of the roaming, plentiful buffalo. He told her the story as though he had actually been there. Maybe he had been. Reincarnation was more than just a word, and with Darrius’s sixth sense, who knew what to believe—or disbelieve. But she believed because he was a master in every sense of the word.

His voice took her out of her pleasant reverie and made her pay attention. He poured her a glass of chardonnay. “Do these walls live up to your expectations?”

“That and more.”

He nibbled on her earlobes, making her ready to completely relax with him to let him take her right then and there, but he was reluctant to. The place wasn’t right enough to make it real to her. She deserved more than a blanket, a musty cave and only a flashlight as ambiance. Justine was the luxury suite type of woman as far as he was concerned. But for the time being, he was glad to tell her stories, do a little making out and just spend some quality time together.

He massaged her nipple through the thin cotton dress and ached to kiss her in so many places, but again, she deserved more and he planned on giving her only his best. To not concentrate on how much he wanted to make love, he lowered to her ear. “Want to hear a story?”

“The Koshari one? I know a lot about him, but not enough.”

“Not him—not this time. I have another one; one that’s so grand in scale it makes Koshari pale in comparison.”

“Yeah? What story could surpass Koshari?”

“The one about Red Sky.”

“Hmm. I’m beginning to like the sound of that. Where did your last name come from, anyway?”

He nuzzled against her ear. “What will you give me in return for delivering my sordid story?”

“My soul?”

“That’s a start.” His hand moved down to the V of her thighs, tracing the thin panty line, rubbing the pad of a finger across the center and against the swelled nub of opulence. She shuddered at what one stroke could do to her.

“I know you love what I’m doing to you. Don’t deny it.”

“I can’t deny it, Darrius. You make me insane.”

“What about the rest of you? When do I get this?” He cupped her slick passage.

“After I get my story. Deal?”

“Deal.” He settled against the dirt cave wall and unfolded the generations-old tale of a family. “Legend has it that on the night of my great-great-grandfather’s birth, a storm raged; it raged like never before, with streaks of gray and yellow lightning illuminating the sky. Alone in her village, except for her grandmother, a young woman gave birth to a son, and at the exact moment of his arrival the heavens opened up, seemingly wanting to swallow the Earth. In its wrath, the sky turned bright red, hailed, boomed. The birth was a difficult one, rendering her almost dead, yet she held on to give life to a nameless baby who she knew would be great in his days on this planet.”

Justine was spellbound. “Did she die soon after naming him?”

“She survived and named him after something more powerful than himself—the elements; thus came the name Red Sky. He was the first of three sons and a daughter born to the young woman, and all turned out to be powerful in his or her own way. My great-great-grandfather, along with his brother, went on to become a legendary hunter of the Bear Tribe. The other son became a powerful medicine man. As for my great-great-aunt Nereid, she became known as a notable sea-maiden.”

“Are you serious, Darrius?”

“Very. Thus my great-great-grandfather’s name stuck, using his name as our last name. I don’t know who decided that, but it stuck. Throughout my family history, there have been powerful men and women.”

“Like you.”

“Hardly. I’m just a man.”

“You’re more than a man, Darrius; you’re someone I could get lost in forever.”

The tip of his tongue played at her ear, savoring her feel and aroma, getting hungrier for her with every move she made, every word she spoke. He captured her lobe, pulled on it, tugged softly, feeling his nature aching to be set free to overpower her, and in such luscious ways. “I guess I have been on the hunt for you since looking into your eyes.”

“A hunter, are you?”

“When I want to be.”

“Really, though. Do you hunt?”

“I can but I don’t. It’s not my calling. I believe most of what I have came from my shaman ancestors. I love getting to the truth of things, seeing and talking of greater things than us humans, trying to understand forces that I know are way beyond our scope. I’m the religious one of the clan.”

“What about Derrick? Is he religious, too?”

“He’s the one we call the fool, but we mean no harm by it. He’s the one who amuses, takes away plight, brings levity to sad situations. He’s the dancer.”

That was the very word that could bring Darrius to his knees. Dancing. Justine sensed there was more to his story than the dances being exploited by visitors to the various powwows. He could never make a living as an actor. He was too down to earth, too anxious to get to the heart of things; he could never successfully hide what he was thinking. But what was he thinking? What was the reason behind his lack of dancing?

Her demeanor became solemn, she knew he was touchy about the subject and could quite possibly turn away or evade it by any means necessary. Yet, she had to know. She stroked his cheek, feeling his cascading hair brushing her skin. Was it her way of buttering him up? Who knew? But it was worth a shot.

“Don’t kill me over this, but it’s something I really need to know. I want the total truth—all of it. Okay?”

The “okay” was shaky, and he heard the quiver in her voice. His arms encircled her small frame. “Why so serious all of a sudden? Just ask me. I told you I’d answer anything you want me to.”

“Truthfully?”

“There’s no other way, is there?”

“I hope not.” She hesitated a bit and then plunged ahead: “Well—tell me the real reason why you don’t dance anymore, Darrius.”

His body shifted and he released a husky breath. A husky breath from deep within his soul. “Ah, sounds like another one of those questions.”

“What questions?”

“The kind of question that requires me getting something for my efforts. What will you give me for the answer?”

“I’m serious!”

“So am I. That’s a touchy subject. I gave you an answer.”

“Yes, but not the answer, not the answer that gets to the root of the question.”

“You really are some woman, Justine. Okay, but if I tell you, you have to promise not to get scared.”

That alerted her. “Scared? Why would a story about you no longer dancing scare me?”

“Because my dances have been known to kill!”