The Land of Burned Out Fires Page 10

  “Why not?”

  “It is too dark.”

  Why hadn’t she thought of that? Scared and indecisive, she watched as the three men came closer. And closer. It was her fault! If she hadn’t cried out, they wouldn’t know where to look.

  True Hand’s shoulder brushed hers. There was just enough starlight that she could make out what he was doing. He’d aimed the rifle at the men.

  “No.” Despite everything, she managed to keep her voice at a whisper. “You can’t—“

  “It is them or us.”

  How had this happened? She couldn’t watch someone get shot! Movies were one thing, but real life—

  “Please, no. You can’t—it's murder.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “Don’t you understand?” At the rate they were traveling, the men would be here in a minute. “I can’t be part of this. I’ve never—please, you can’t.”

  He still didn’t say anything. Although she’d never touched a weapon in her life, she grabbed the end of the rifle and pulled down on it.

  “They will kill me,” True Hand said.

  This was a nightmare! Insane. Civilized human beings didn’t, only sometimes sane people did try to kill each other. This was, after all, war.

  “There has to be a better way. Another way.” She didn’t dare speak above the faintest of whispers. “For your nephew’s sake, for mine, please don’t shoot.”

  True Hand moaned. “We will run. Run and hide like frightened animals.”

  She didn’t care if it felt like that to him. What mattered was that no blood flowed—and staying alive.

  “Run?”

  “Not together. Like mice hiding from a hawk. Now.” He clamped a hand on her shoulder. “Low to the ground as you did when you were going for the clothes. Do not stand until morning.”

  “I can’t—”

  “I will be nearby, but you will not know it. Now.” He pressed down. “Crawl. Hide.”

  She did as he ordered. Somehow she kept hold of the dress as she felt her painful way over, around, and through what she couldn’t see, but what her scratched and hurting hands told her were chunks of lava and bushes with thorns. When the ranchers were so close that she could hear their breathing, she pressed herself against the ground. Fear filled her throat, but she fought it by remembering what True Hand had said about staying close to her. She also thought about her bright and cheerful bedroom, and how her parents enjoyed fixing Sunday dinner together.

  Then one of the men shouted that he thought he’d heard something, and all three hurried off. Her chin rested on dirt. She could smell sage and other things she didn’t recognize.

  Had the men heard True Hand?

  Would they find him?

  Chapter Ten

  More awake than she’d ever been, Kayla wasn’t sure how much longer it would be until daylight. Darkness would help protect True Hand. At the same time, she felt powerless to come to his aid—if he needed it.

  She? Help a Modoc warrior? Was she crazy?

  When the other two ranchers rushed outside to join the one who’d called out, they milled about, talking so loud she learned that the man who'd been in the barn was called William. William continued to insist he’d heard one rock strike another, the sound caused because someone was about. Another man was equally convinced that William had been hearing things ever since the Modocs left the reservation and had better get over it. The one holding the lantern—the others called him Frank—snapped that they were doing so much “gal-darn talking” that they couldn’t hear a charging buffalo.

  Finally Frank ordered William to be quiet. If William was so all-fired sure he’d heard an Indian, where the heck was that Indian now?

  “I did, too, hear something,” William insisted. “I done been livin’ here long enough that I know the difference between what belongs and what don’t.”

  “It was a bear,” the nameless man retorted. “Pestering bear looking for a calf to carry off because he knows we don’t have a dog no more.”

  “Maybe,” William grumbled. “Maybe not. ‘The thing is, we ain’t got no calves now. Bears are smart enough to know that.”

  “So we got us a stupid bear.” Frank laughed. “It’s almost dawn. Mary’s up, and if we put it to her right, she’ll fix us some grub.”

  “Maybe,” William responded as they started back toward the house. “But she’s not going to be happy about us waking her so early.”

  If she’d slipped closer, Kayla probably could have heard more of what the men were saying, but she hadn't tried. All that mattered was that they were leaving.

  Several minutes passed before she took a chance on moving, giving her too much time to think about what might have happened. If the men had found her, they would have taken her inside–if they didn’t kill her first. She could have told them some story, if she could think of one. If they believed her, they might have shared their breakfast with her and given her some water so she could clean up. They’d certainly never in their wildest imaginations guess that she’d come from the future.

  How would she have explained about stealing the dress and sneaking around instead of just walking up and knocking on the door? Fortunately she didn’t have to. She was hidden, safe. So was True Hand, at least for now.

  Fear for his safety stripped the strength from her legs. After a while she managed to push her concerns to the back of her mind, but once she had, another thought arrived to replace it. She had no idea where she was, no idea how to get back to the caves on her own. There were bears and other large, aggressive animals out here. Morning Song and the other Indians and the people inside the house might be used to living in the middle of the wilderness–a wilderness without street lights–but she wasn’t.

  The horizon was just taking on a reddish glow when True Hand returned. She felt as if she’d been drawn through a knothole backward—one of her father’s favorite sayings. In contrast, True Hand looked none-the-worse for wear.

  “You’re safe!” she gasped. “I’ve never—I can’t believe I hid the way I did.” Determined not to let him know she’d fought panic for far too long, she asked if he was all right.

  “I do not want to be a mouse again,” he said. “It will not happen!”

  “What are you talking about? You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

  “A man does not hide with his belly on the ground.”

  There were a million things she could say in response, but she didn’t understand what was going on inside him or why he was acting the way he was. Maybe she was so tired she couldn’t think her way out of a paper bag.

  “What are we going to do now?” she asked. The thought of the long walk back to the cave just about did her in. One thing she couldn’t argue; he was in charge, the one who knew what needed to be done and how to do it.

  “Rest. But not for long.”

  How long is not long? Instead of asking, she walked over to a rock about the size of an overstuffed chair and plopped down, using the rock for a backrest. She stretched out her legs, but it was still too dark to see what shape they were in. The way she felt right now, scrapes and bruises were the least of her concerns.

  “True Hand?”

  “What?”

  “Have your people tried to work out a peaceful settlement? What if your leaders went to the generals and told them you didn’t mean to cause trouble by leaving the reservation? When our country–my country–has a problem with another country, the leaders often get together and draw up a contract.”

  “Contract?”

  “It’s complicated, and I don’t know exactly what’s involved, but–in my time we have weapons that could destroy tens of thousands of people. That’s why avoiding war is so important. Of course there are terrorists who–“ She stopped. How could she tell him about skyscrapers and planes deliberately being crashed into them and everything that had happened since then? “I just think the Modocs have to try. Why can’t they sit down with the military leaders and–“


  ”We have, but they lie. We do not trust their word.”

  They’d tried. “Aren’t you tired?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer. As she watched him walk around she realized that she’d stopped being afraid the moment she’d heard his voice. Sure, she’d once thought her parents were all-powerful and all-knowing, but she’d stopped believing that they or anyone else could assure her of a safe and secure world. Two senior boys she vaguely remembered seeing around at school had been killed in separate automobile accidents within a month of each other. When her sophomore gym teacher had stopped coming to school, she’d learned that the woman had cancer. Bad things happened to good people. But as long as True Hand kept an eye on things, she’d be all right. She could take a nap. And when she woke up, he’d get her back to the caves and make sure she got something to eat. What more did she need?

  Sleep pulled at her. Giving in, she closed her eyes and let her mind drift. She vaguely felt herself falling asleep, and then there was nothing. She became aware of bits and pieces of thought, dreams maybe.

  Then the bits and pieces came together. She was standing off to the side while hundreds of Modocs and whites squared off at each other. Everyone was on horseback, but the horses were so small that everyone’s feet dragged on the ground. First the Modocs had all the weapons, and they looked like assault rifles. Then she blinked or something and the Modocs were unarmed and facing a long line of cannons. One of the cannons exploded. A moment later the others went off, making machine gun sounds. A Modoc fell off his horse. Then another did, screaming as he hit the ground. He kept on screaming until she wanted to demand he shut up.

  Somehow she was no longer off to the side but had been plunked into the battle. Arrows whizzed around. She saw pistols being aimed, saw the bullets fly through the air, felt them hit. More people were screaming, and horses kept getting hit. When they fell to the ground, most of them rolled over onto their backs, their legs pawing. She saw blood, so much blood. Fear tasted hot in her mouth.

  Then night came, and it got colder and colder. She started crying and couldn’t stop. She wasn’t the only one.

  ****

  The sun was high in the sky when True Hand shook her awake. The more alert she became, the more she realized how thirsty she was. Her stomach rumbled. She sat up, and as she did, her nightmare flooded back. It felt disjointed, and she repeatedly told herself it had just been a dream, but she could still taste her fear, and she was sure she was smelling blood. Her ears hurt from all the screams and crying.

  Movies weren’t like this. Neither did the history books paint vivid pictures of what the word battle really meant.

  “Now we travel,” True Hand said, breaking into her anger over whoever was responsible for the stupid, deceitful history books. She waited for him to give her a hand up, but he didn't.

  “What's bothering you?” she asked after they'd been walking for several minutes. “You're mad because I didn't want you to shoot those men?”

  “That should be my decision.”

  “Your decision? I was part of it, in case you've forgotten.”

  He didn't respond, and she stared at his back, fantasizing about giving him a swift kick even though her comprehension of his world was growing by the minute. “True Hand, where I come from, people don't shoot each other. Well, sometimes they do, but not ninety-nine percent of the time, and when they do, they get in all kinds of trouble with the law.”

  “This is not your place.”

  “I know that. Believe me, I do.”

  “I am a man. A man protects.”

  “I—that's noble.”

  “The newcomers want us dead. It is not wrong for us to feel the same way.”

  This conversation was getting too deep, especially on an empty stomach and thoughts about how she was going to tell people about what it had really been like to be a Modoc.

  She didn't realize he'd stopped until she nearly ran into him. Startled, she looked up. When he was talking about his family, especially about his infant nephew, he was loving and gentle, but he wasn't either of those things now.

  “You do not understand,” he said. “You cannot. The newcomers think of us as animals. They care nothing about our hearts. They claim the land Sky Spirit created.”

  “I don't want it to be like that.”

  “But it is.” His mouth became a hard line. “It will not change because you put your hands on my rifle.”

  “I know.”

  “You will not do that thing again.”

  She tried but couldn't meet his eyes. “I was afraid.”

  “Fear weakens a man.”

  “I'm not a man. I'm a scared sixteen year old who wants back the life she had before she came here. Who has never seen a living, breathing person—especially someone she cares about—aim a weapon at another human.”

  Now I have, and I’ve been changed.

  True Hand didn’t say anything else, and Kayla didn’t make any attempt to break the silence. As the cave came into view, however, she asked him to stop.

  “I can’t see Morning Song right now,” she said as she handed him the dress. “Soon. But first, I have to go back to my world.”

  “No!”

  “I have to. My family—Surely you understand.”

  He stared at the dress. “You speak the truth? You will return? Soon?”

  If she came back, she’d have to do something so dangerous it scared her just thinking about it. And maybe her dream would become reality and she’d be part of it. “Some things are happening in my life right now,” she said instead. “Not as important as what you’re going through, but they mean a lot to me. Or at least they would if I hadn’t gotten caught in this–this crazy time warp.”

  “My sister and I cannot step into where you live and make you come with us.”

  “I know. True Hand, please don’t hate me. I just—I’m confused. Thirsty and hungry and tired.”

  “You do not want to be part of this war.”

  “No, I don’t. And I don’t think you do either.”

  “My people and I have no choice.”

  To her relief, she was able to leave without Morning Song or her parents seeing her. The last time she’d tried to find her way back to the present, she’d gotten a headache trying to keep time sequences right. This time she simply let it happen.

  As before, things changed slowly around her until the transition was complete. She wished she could say the same about herself, but it was too much to ask that she’d feel as if she’d had pizza for dinner and a good night’s sleep.

  Trying to ignore her watering mouth, she finally caught up with the fact that it had become late afternoon—just about the same time of day as when she’d taken off for the caves, thank goodness. It took more energy than she thought she had left in her to wash up in the lake and then climb onto the bike and peddle to where everyone was staying. The way she’d figured it, she’d spent a day and a night in the past, but if no search had been launched for her, maybe time had hung suspended in the present.

  It had. Either that or—as her headache threatened to turn into a migraine, she set her mind to simply accept.

  Someone was cooking something that smelled out of the world. It couldn’t be, but it was. Pizza!

  “Hey, wait your turn!” Joel teased when she reached across him to snag a piece the moment Rory placed the steaming pizza on the picnic table. “You’d think you haven’t eaten for a week.”

  “No, just a day.” It would have been polite to give him her piece and wait for the pan to be sent her way, but she didn’t. No one asked where she’d been and apparently she didn’t look so much the worse for wear that she raised anyone’s suspicion. Either that or they were getting used to her strangeness.

  Ms. Blush gave her a disapproving look when she started on her third piece. She couldn’t stop guzzling water.

  “You must still be growing,” Rory observed. “I figured, with models as my dinner guests, one pizza would be enough. Do you eat like this al
l the time?”

  “No,” she said around a mouthful. “Just—tonight.”

  She started feeling full before she’d finished the third piece. What did Modoc children have to eat? She’d give anything to bring them with her and treat them to whatever they wanted at the fast food restaurant of their choice. However, since they were unaccustomed to such things, maybe their stomachs wouldn’t tolerate sodas and pickles. Probably she couldn’t get them to try pepperoni. With a frown, she reminded herself that none of those things were good for anyone.

  After helping with the cleaning up, she excused herself, saying she wanted to phone her parents.

  “You going to break your news to them?” Rory asked.

  “News?” Belatedly, she realized that he was talking about the modeling job in San Francisco. “I haven’t decided. I just want to talk to them.”

  “Homesick?”

  In a way, she was. Maybe it came from seeing how much Modoc parents loved their children.

  “You’re home,” she exclaimed when her mother answered. “I thought you might be working late.”

  “I’m writing a counter offer while your dad’s getting the barbeque ready. You remember that ugly yellow house I listed way back last winter? It looks like it’s finally going to sell. How are things going, honey? You’re getting enough rest?”

  Just a few days ago she would have resented being seen as a child. Tonight, however, she simply found her mother’s question funny. “Sorry,” she said when she finally caught her breath. “I didn’t mean to lose it.”

  “And I didn’t mean to sound as if I don’t trust you. I’m just curious about what you’re doing.”

  Most of the time, her mother was so busy that Kayla had all but given up trying to tell her about her days. Besides, what did her mother know about things that interested sixteen year old girls? The last few days, however, were entirely different and impossible to explain.

  “I had no idea modeling would be so much work,” she admitted, dodging around deeper issues. “Or so interesting,” she quickly added before her mother could point out that modeling had very little to do with the real world. “I’m learning a lot about the history of the area,” she finished.