He screams and releases the hand railing, leaping to the ground below. Desperate to escape he rolls in the gravel dropping his gun in the fall. Groaning, he scrambles to his bloody knees and runs back towards the town.
The second howl is a bestial, hungry, roar that demands retribution. Barclay’s heart hammers in his chest and he runs, drawing his second pistol. He spins, firing wildly into the night before turning to run, once more.
A large black shape lopes along behind him, almost driving him towards an unseen destination. Growls, grunts, and low howls cause him to stumble along. Barclay screams for help and shoots the last of his bullets behind him before stumbling and falling to his knees.
“What is happening?” he rages and beats the dirt with his bloody hands.
The foaming feral breath drips on the ground in front of him, and Barclay stares at the massive black paws of the beast. When the drums start, he jumps and throws himself backward to scramble away.
Red eyes gleam from the supernatural beast and when it shifts taking on the shape of a man Barclay grins and shoves his pistol to his temple. The Indian smiles at him knowing what happens next.
Click. Empty.
Around him in the light of the moon, Indians appear from a heavy mist., They surround the creature who slaughters for fun. Barclay begins to tremble. He pulls the trigger, over, and over. The only sound is his hysterical rambling and the click of his useless gun.
Ahote, leaps, and shifts back to the beast, spearing Barclay in his chest, straight into his heart. One by one the surrounding Indians, do the same, piercing him to his soul and gifting him with the experience of each of their deaths. He feels each bullet, drowning, rape, and knife slice. When his heart finally ceases to beat, they seize his spirit and hold him down taking turns mutilating and scalping him, making sure that he feels it all. Death is not always a release; in some cases, it is the beginning of a private hell.
Chapter 39
Harris saves the letter for their wedding night. It is a simple ceremony held at the main lodge with the family and friends who work the ranch. Vanessa found that she could honor her family traditions by using the skills they taught her. Her wedding dress was hand beaded by her, though Harris wasn’t happy about waiting until she completed it. Basket weaving became a past time that she taught the children on the ranch and they were beautiful works of art that she was able to give as gifts.
Grandma Jenny gave her supplies for painting, which she used painting images from a Spring Tribal as it should have been and had been before the massacre. When she revealed it to the family, they all wept together and once more she felt tiny threads healing the wounds in her soul.
“What’s this?” Vanessa asks when he hands her a letter.
“Read it,” Harris sits beside her in the small log cabin they are calling their home until the new house could be finished.
“It’s from Blood Eagle!” her hands start trembling as she reads the short letter. “I can’t. Tell me what it says,” she whispers.
“General Barclay suffered a massive heart attack at the fort. His body was recovered and returned to Washington. He was buried in an unmarked grave and stripped of all his commissions when witnesses came forward and reported him for his atrocities. Blood Eagle stayed on at the fort refining all the oil they can pump from the land, and he’s using the money to help set up reservations, schools and more for many different Indian nations.”
“I’m free,” she whispers.
“Yes. Your free to be happy, loved, and live a long peaceful life, wife,” he teases and tugs her into his arms.
“Can we start now, husband?”
“Demanding? I like it!” he grins.
“I love you, Harris Rivers,” she says softly.
“I love you more, Vanessa Rivers.”
Epilogue
Long brown waves blow in the wind as she giggles and runs through the field of lavender flowers. A surge of butterflies erupts and ripple across the sky just out of her tiny grasp. Laughter bubbles from her soul, and Vanessa watches her daughter chase them.
“Mama, look! Butterflies!”
“Run, little butterfly,” Harris roars and chases her squealing through the field. When he tosses her into the air her silver-blue eyes sparkle with joy.
Vanessa doesn’t flinch when she hears the remembered name. Instead, she rubs a hand over her swollen belly and wonders at the turn her life has taken. “Thank you,” she whispers, and peace fills her soul as she lifts her face to the wind.
Two red eyes watch from the woods. His black fur ripples from the breeze, and he turns, running into the darkness of the trees. Shifting to a spirit, he walks into the light that waits for him, this time he is ready.
The End.
Before you go!
If you enjoyed this title
you might want to check out
another book by Lynn:
Perilous Dreams
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About the Author
