The Dove (Prophecy Series) (24 page)

Yaluk came up behind her, clapped a hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming, and then turned her around.

When the little woman saw who it was, she swung the stick she’d been using to stir her stew and hit him on the side of the shoulder.

“Yaluk! Crazy man! Why are you here? You know you do not belong!”

He would have never tolerated being struck by a woman and let them live, but Nelli was his little sister and he needed a favor.

“I am sorry I frightened you,” he said. “I just needed to make sure you would not cry out.”

Nelli glared. She was small, even by their standards, and married life had turned her body to fat. Sweat was running out of her hair and between her heavy breasts. But the stew she’d been cooking outside was done, and she wanted to get in the shade, so she’d brought it inside to keep the camp dogs out of it. She was already angry with her husband for giving her a beating last night because her blood was flowing and he could not lie with her. Now her disgraced brother had come sneaking into her home and made everything worse.

“You do not belong here,” she said. “You need to leave before someone sees you.”

“I will leave soon, I promise, but I need something first.”

“I have nothing,” Nelli said.

“I want nothing from you, but I need you to do something for me.”

She frowned. “What?”

“Is Cualli still medicine man?”

She nodded.

“Go to him and get a talisman for me against witchcraft.”

She gasped. “What have you done?”

“Nothing, I swear. But there is a presence about me I do not like and I want to protect myself.”

She was still in shock. “I cannot go to the medicine man. Everyone will know and then they will want to know why. My husband will find out and beat me again.”

Yaluk frowned. “I will kill him for you.”

Nelli shrieked and then clasped her hands over her mouth. “You do not kill my man! Who would take care of me... you? You are an outcast from your own people.”

“Then I will not kill him. Stop shouting,” he said.

Now Nelli was afraid to turn him down for fear he
would
do exactly that. “I will do as you ask, but he will need payment.”

Yaluk nodded and pulled a gilded bowl from his pack and handed it over.

Nelli squawked again. “I cannot give him this. He will know the talisman is not for me.”

Yaluk frowned. “Then what?”

She pointed to the ring on his little finger with the red gem.

Yaluk wanted to object. He’d fought the man in hand to hand combat who’d been wearing this and considered it a well-earned trophy. But he wanted free of the spirit-witch worse and ripped it off his finger.

“Here. Take it, but hurry back.”

She glared and then pointed at the stew. “Do not eat all of my stew or my husband will beat me.”

Yaluk glared. “You let him beat you, but you don’t want him killed. You are a stupid woman, I think.”

“If you were a woman, you would understand,” she argued and waved the stick at him again. “I mean it. You do not eat my stew.”

Yaluk threw up his hands in pretend defeat and smiled.

She curled her fingers around the ring and scurried out.

The moment she was gone, Yaluk picked up a shell and scooped a generous serving from the stew pot and proceeded to eat it, savoring the fresh taste of cooked vegetables.

While Yaluk was sneaking her food, Nelli was scurrying through the village. So much for not calling attention to herself, she thought. By the time she got to Cualli’s dwelling, she was in a panic.

When he approached her, she burst into tears and then grabbed his hand and slapped the ring into his palm.

“I am sorry to intrude, but I have a need. This came from one of the strangers many years ago who gave it to my father. Now my father is dead and I want to trade it for a talisman against witchcraft. Will you help?”

Cualli frowned. “Who in this village is practicing witchcraft? I will put a stop to it at once.”

“No, no, not here, not here. I cannot say more.”

Cualli fingered the ring thoughtfully and then tried it on several fingers before he found one it would fit. That seemed to sway his decision.

“I have such a talisman. You may have it.”

Nelli’s relief was great, but her name meant truth, and she’d just voiced the biggest lie of her life. She wanted to faint.

“Thank you, oh great Cualli, thank you.”

“Wait here,” he said and walked into an adjoining room, only to come out a few moments later with a small leather bag tied with a strip of braided corn silks and three tiny black feathers at the knot.

“What’s inside?” Nelli asked, as he put it in her hands.

“Look and you will die,” he said.

She gasped, clutched it against her breasts, and scurried out as quickly as she’d come in.

It was most unfortunate for Nelli’s husband that he chose to come back into their dugout while Yaluk was eating their stew.

Yaluk didn’t know he was there until he heard a quick grunt. He spun around, the shell full of stew still in his hand.

“Who are you? What have you done with my wife?” the man shouted.

Yaluk dropped the shell, and before the man could move, shoved his knife into his belly, then stabbed him in the chest.

The man was still in his death throes when Nelli came into the dugout. Yaluk grabbed her again, once more slapping his hand across her mouth.

“I am sorry. He gave me no choice. Did you get it? Did you get the talisman?”

Her eyes were wild as she struggled to get free, and when he asked for the talisman, she threw it on the dirt floor at his feet.

He frowned. “You are a good sister. But your name has cursed you. You would never have been able to tell two lies.”

Still holding her from behind, he thrust the knife into her chest over and over until she bled out in his arms. Then he dropped her where she stood, wiped the blood from his hands and arms with some of their bedding, and took the talisman as he left.

He paused outside their doorway, pulled a small branch off of a nearby bush and began wiping out his tracks all the way down into the arroyo, and then all the way back to the ridge above the settlement.

Only once did he look back, and when he was satisfied there was no cry of discovery, he returned to his camp.

****

When Tyhen woke again, she could see the beginnings of daylight about to push away the night. She stretched and rolled over, only to realize Yuma was already awake. She saw the want on his face and without a word, rolled back onto her side, making way for him to take her from behind. With little movement and his very skilled hand between her legs, Yuma quickly brought her to a climax.

The release not only filled her heart, but healed a walk-weary soul. It was a good reminder there was still joy to be had.

While she was still riding the ripples of pleasure that he’d given her, she felt him shudder, then bury his face against the nape of her neck to keep from crying out. There was, after all, a courtesy to be followed in making love in a crowd.

When the last aftershock of lovemaking had passed, he whispered softly against her ear.

“You are my heart and the breath that I take.”

She sighed, replete. “Thank you, my Yuma. You know how much I love and trust you. I could not do this without you at my side.”

“I promise you won’t have to,” he said and gave her a quick hug.

“I need to get up,” she said.

“I will go with you and stand watch.”

She scooted carefully from the tent. When she saw her shift draped across it all clean and dry, she slipped it on with a smile.

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome,” he said, then glanced around the area as he quickly fastened his loincloth. People were already stirring. Some, like them, were heading into the jungle to seek a few moments of privacy while others squatted where they were to relieve their bladders and thought nothing of it.

Tyhen was barefoot, but when they came back to their camp, she went straight to her pack and dug out the moccasins that Wesley Two Bears had given her.

“They will be better protection,” she said when she caught Yuma watching.

He was already wearing moccasins that he’d made months earlier. They laced up past his calves with fringe all the way down the back. He’d made them in honor of the fancy dancers he remembered from the powwows of his childhood. He had always been fascinated by how the fringe danced with them as they moved. He’d made them especially for the walk, telling himself he was simply dressing to return to his roots. Now it would appear that he would most likely wear these out before he ever caught sight of his native land.

Tyhen saw Shirley Nantay approaching and waved.

“A little something to start your day,” Shirley said and handed them each a piece of warm bread. “I don’t have a lot of the ground corn left, but we need to eat it up before it gets wet in a river, or I lose it running from yet another hunk of some mountain.”

“Thank you so much,” Tyhen said as she took the bread in her hands. “I hope that we have run from our last landslide, but I will not promise anything about not getting wet.”

Shirley laughed. “As long as we’re alive to face the next day, I will not complain. Here, Yuma, this one is for you.”

He took the bread and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Shirley.”

“No. Thank
you,
both of you. I will see you later.”

She hurried away, leaving them to enjoy their treat.

Later, as they began to pack up their tent for the journey ahead, Montford Nantay came running back, out of breath and wet up to his thighs.

“I think I found a safe place to cross,” he said. “It’s only a couple of miles downstream. The riverbed narrows drastically, leaving only a short crossing in water, and it’s not deep. I walked all the way across and back to make sure.”

“You make a good scout,” Yuma said.

Montford shrugged off the compliment. “We still need to stand watch on both sides. There could be a crocodile in the water at any time.”

Tyhen shuddered and said nothing, remembering Yuma’s near-death experience with one because of her.

“So we go now,” Yuma said. “The faster we get everybody to the other side of this river, the better I will feel.”

Soon the New Ones were on the march with Montford Nantay in the lead. As they strung out, walking in twos and threes all along the riverbank, their numbers covered more than a mile. But there was a bounce in their step that hadn’t been there last night. This was a new day and they were ready to move on.

At first people were talking, and then as the reality of another day on foot dawned, they saved their breath. When they reached the crossing, they cheered.

Montford, Johnston, and Shirley locked hands and started across to show the others the path to take. There would be no wandering up or downstream in a hurry to get more across. Just three at a time and three behind, keeping a steady line moving through the cold, running water.

A few of the younger men armed themselves and crossed next so they could stand watch for crocodiles at the crossing, while another group armed in the same manner stayed behind for the same purpose.

Yuma, Tyhen, and an older man crossed next.

Tyhen flinched as she stepped in. The water was swift and cold, flowing immediately over the tops of her moccasins and up to her thighs. But they kept their footing and quickly got across. When they reached the other side, the first thing Tyhen did was take off her moccasins and dump out the water before putting them back on. They would dry on her feet and it wouldn’t matter.

Once the people saw what was expected of them, they quickly organized and moved down the slope, stepping into the water without hesitation.

But now that they were finally crossing, the urge to get to the other side caused some to panic, and the rush to get in and out made them careless. More than once they were cautioned by guards to slow down.

More than half of the people had already crossed when a man and wife stepped into the water with their young son between them. The boy was twelve, but small for his age, and when he suddenly slipped and went under, the mother panicked, lost her grip, and began screaming. Before disaster could strike, the father yanked the boy back up and then glared at his wife.

“I know you were scared, but the scream did not help. Next time, don’t turn loose,” he said loudly.

Shaken, she could only nod.

Tyhen frowned, thinking his words were harsh. She understood a mother’s fear.

But Yuma had seen Tyhen’s expression of disapproval and leaned forward, speaking softly in her ear.

“His words reflect the greater fear. He doesn’t want to lose either of them and yet it could have happened in a heartbeat.”

And just like that, she understood that the father’s fears had made his words too loud, and that he’d said them out of love, desperate to make them understand this was not an ordinary walk. Yesterday life had ended for many of them. He didn’t want his family to be next.

She glanced up at Yuma. The sunlight was behind him, making his skin appear to glow, but she could still see his dark eyes searching her face, always watching, making sure there was no misunderstanding.

She nodded and held out her hand. He pulled her up then stole a quick kiss that made her smile. But the smile quickly ended when she looked back to the west. The sky was getting dark. Rain was coming, which would make the water deeper and swifter, which would make crossing dangerous; maybe too dangerous. The last thing they needed was to become separated.

She pointed behind him.

“Rain comes. They have to hurry.”

“Don’t move,” he said quickly and headed toward the river at a lope. As soon as he reached the shore, he shouted to the people on the other side.

“Rain is coming. The water will become too deep to cross. Move faster.”

All of a sudden the crossing took on a whole other meaning. Being separated would become a nightmare. And to make matters worse, a guard had just spied their first crocodile coming downstream.