Copyright © 2006 Samantha Byrne
All rights reserved, Freya's Bower.
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The falcon soared in the cloudless blue sky, circling its prey. Ashkii watched it glide, envying its freedom. He glanced at the grove of trees by the stream over which the falcon flew. Signaling to his Navajo brothers to go on without him, he steered his horse towards the trees.
No breeze blew across the plains. Ashkii was a scout as well as a hunter and spent most of his time on his horse, away from the village. His wife and infant son were gone, stolen a year ago from him by a white man's disease, and he couldn't bear to be around the other families for long periods of time. He dealt with his bitterness alone. As eldest male in his clan, his responsibilities weighed heavily on his shoulders.
The village medicine man had performed a healing ceremony for Ashkii's lost spirit, hoping to guide him back to the clan and restore his spiritual imbalance. Ashkii did not trust in this ceremony. He did not believe Mother Earth would intervene on his behalf, but he participated out of respect.
His shoulder-length black hair flew behind him as he galloped towards the stream. Leaping off his horse, he studied the trees, trying to determine why this place disturbed him. Spinning in a slow circle, he surveyed the area. There. Something lying in the brush. Crouching low, he crept over to investigate, his eyes darting around, alert for signs of danger.
Instinct assured him he was alone. As he neared, Ashkii saw an arm lying behind the scrub bushes and undergrowth. Dark brown hair flowed over the arm, and the face and body were partially hidden by fallen leaves and the shadows within the trees. He eased a hand towards the face, pushing the hair back.
A woman.
His eyes scanned the area again. Why would someone leave this woman behind? He brushed the leaves and debris from her body and sat back on his heels. Through the smears of dirt, Ashkii saw dusky skin, tanned from the sun, dark hair, strong features and cheekbones slashing high across her face. One long braid ran down her back, though most of her hair had come loose. She must belong to someone. In his tribe, the women were revered for their wisdom and knowledge, having been given life from Changing Woman, the Navajo's powerful god. A woman would not have been left out to fend for herself in this harsh land.
* * *
Copyright © 2006 Samantha Byrne
All rights reserved, Freya's Bower.
Jack Conover shook his canteen and downed the remaining liquid. The stream ahead would provide all the water he needed to make the trip to Red Rock City. The dry, flat earth stretched for miles, empty except for the occasional outcropping of trees. He loved this time of the year out on the trail. The warm days and cool nights made for great sleeping weather.
Of course, this trip would be necessary regardless of the season. It's not every day his baby sister gave birth to her first child, and his natural protectiveness demanded he see that all was well. As soon as the baby was old enough to travel, Katherine and her family were moving in with him. Her husband would help Jack with the ranch, while Katherine managed the house. He had thought that Susie would be the one to assume that role, but he had been very wrong about her. Katherine was always matchmaking, expecting him to choose one of her unmarried friends as his wife. He had no desire to set himself up for more hurt and disappointment.
"Let's go, boy," said Jack. His horse, Wild, nickered and trotted up the trail. Jack grinned when Wild tossed his head impatiently. It never failed. The horse always wanted to run, refusing to do anything in half measures. Jack liked to think they were alike in this way.
The Conovers were a tight-knit family, and ranching life proved hard for even the most driven person. Damned hard. Life got even tougher for the family when their mother died birthing Katherine. Unwilling to remarry, their father had passed away a few years back, a broken, bitter man. Early on, Jack had taken over his father's responsibilities. Fifty ranch hands worked Jack's holdings. Many men with families depended on him for a living, putting a substantial burden on his shoulders.
He'd wanted Susie to marry him and raise a family together, but after a year of courting, she made it clear her plans didn't include him. Lately, Jack found himself as unpleasant and snappish to the ranch hands as his father had been. Maybe there was a curse on the Conover Creek Ranch, making it the owner's destiny to live alone in misery.
Shaking off his melancholy, Jack let Wild have his head for a while, and they galloped to the stream half a mile ahead. Leading Wild to the group of trees by the stream, he dismounted and let the horse drink. Sweat ran down the back of his neck as he stretched, gazing at the parched landscape. This was the only source of water for miles. Kneeling to drink, he squinted against the bright sunshine and spotted something out of place in the underbrush.
"What the Hell?" He crept over to investigate. "Oh, God. It's a body."