Treasured
Dreams
The Rivers Brothers
Book Three
Lynn Landes
By:
Lynn Landes
Published by:
Landes Publishing
Cover art by:
www.roseannawhitedesigns.com
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, and events portrayed in this novel are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Lynn Landes
http://[email protected]/
All rights reserved.
Other titles by Lynn Landes:
Mercy's Promise
Savannah's Promise
A Question of Faith
Delta's Dawn
Dust & Dreams
Stolen Dream's
Perilous Dreams
Chapter 1
“Ahote is staring at you,” Nashca teases, while she ties the grass skirt around Kimani’s waist.
Kimani glances over her shoulder, and her green eyes widen in surprise. Gone is the childhood friend she used to play with. In his place stands a fierce warrior. Her eyes scan his muscular body, golden in the firelight, Ahote is breathtaking. Wearing only a loincloth, Kimani can’t help but appreciate his strength and masculinity.
“The cold doesn’t seem to bother him,” Nashca teases.
Kimani smiles at her, “It will not slow me down. He will need more than a small snowstorm to catch me.”
His watchful eyes narrow, but he doesn’t look away. His determined glance is highlighted by the ceremonial red face paint of vertical stripes.
“Why is he wearing war paint?” Kimani asks tearing her eyes from his. Butterflies erupt in her stomach and her sister giggles.
“Dyami said he is determined to catch you. It is his way of showing his intent.”
Nerves erupt, and she glances at her sister. “Dyami?” She nudges her sister and waits for her to turn around. “When did you speak to him?”
“Last night.” She smiles at the surprise on Kimani’s face. “He spoke to our father and made an offer. Mother said it was a good one.”
“Nashca, is he the one you want?”
Her brown eyes light up, and she grins, “With all of my heart.”
“I’m so happy for you, little sister.” Kimani hugs her and presses a kiss to her forehead. Adopted by the tribe at two years old, Kimani can now see over the heads of most of the women in the tribe. At five-foot-seven, she is taller than most and equal to some of the men. Her height will only be a problem during this game.
The drums beat a signal of the setting sun and the beginning of the game.
“Hurry, Kimani.” She finishes tying the skirt tight around her waist, and the young women gather in the center. “I can’t wait for Dyami to catch me, he can warm me up.” The promise of snow is threatening to end their fun.
Excitement and laughter flicker through the group of young women. The drum beats grow stronger, and the young warriors dance around the circle of women. Red flames from the ceremonial fire flicker over the bare muscular chests. It is a game as old as the Shoshone.
Chief Nashoba stands in his ceremonial headdress and lifts his hands. Instantly, the drums stop, causing Kimani’s heart to jump. Over two hundred Shoshone fall silent and turn towards him listening for his words.
“Each year we meet for the Spring Tribal to give thanks to Mother Earth and Father Sun. Renewal is at the center of the Shoshone ways. With each Spring we find new life, and we say goodbye to another year. This year the spring rabbits are determined to escape capture. Drive them Sons into the grass and seek them as you would your own spirit. For that is what they are.” The warriors hoot and chant as the drums begin again. Dancing and stomping they drive the women towards the grassy field.
Nashca grabs Kimani’s arm and laughs as the group of fifty-three women are pushed towards the entrance. “Don’t run too fast, sister. I heard Ahote lives up to his name, the Hammer.”
Kimani laughs and shoves her sister, blushing bright red. Thankful for the cover of night, she once again wishes she did not look so different. Nashca had tied her wavy brown hair into two braids and beaded them beautifully. The turquoise beading across the shoulders of her buckskin dress highlight her stunning eyes.
Again, the Chief raises his hands. “Run little rabbits. You will have a head start but hide well or be caught by the wrong hands.”
This game is a favorite of the single women of the tribe. Kimani sighs and risks a glance over her shoulder. Ahote’s dark eyes pierce her, and he moves closer to her. He raises a muscular arm and points at her, shouting, “Run, butterfly! I’m coming for you!”
The drumbeat rises, and the warriors separate allowing the women to see the field before them. Kimani’s heartbeat accelerates. Freedom beckons and a cool breeze blows, causing the tall grass to sway like a river. The drumbeat swells faster and faster, finally stopping, dramatically.
“Hanravuih!” Run, Chief Nashoba shouts.
The wave of women run straight into the field, laughing and sprinting as fast as they can. Kimani leaps into action, determined to follow the path she has run for the past few years.
“She’s fast on her feet, Ahote.” His friend, Yuma teases. “Do you think you can do what none have done before?”
“I will,” he says with a confident grin. He moves with the warriors, his eyes never leaving her. “Her height and hair give her away. I have waited two years to claim her,” he stops speaking when she pauses in the middle of the field and turns back to look at him.
In a blink, Kimani drops disappearing into the tall grass. Yuma laughs at the look of shock on his friend’s face. “This butterfly is not so easily caught.”
Ahote quakes with excitement. “We shall see.” His eyes
