The Gentrys: Abby

But where…who…would be smoking? The first real sense of panic grabbed at her gut, sending adrenaline shooting through her veins.

Quickly she barred the windows and barricaded the door, listening all the while for a sound from Patsy that might mean another horse or some intruder was nearby. But the complete silence of the darkness worried her even more than those sounds might have. Where were the night sounds? The usual whispers of tree frogs and crickets and the soft spring breeze through the leaves? All those normal noises were strangely quiet.

Abby picked up her rifle from its place in the corner and sat down in the chair she’d dragged over beside Gray’s cot. She wrapped her arms around her body, as if doing so would hold the world together, no matter what.

The silence was deafening. And the smell of tobacco smoke was stronger than ever.

Instinctively, she set the rifle down beside her and reached a hand to place against Gray’s forehead, to satisfy herself that he was still breathing. He seemed peaceful enough, and his skin was cool and dry. But just then, a low drumming beat suddenly began pulsing through the night.

Drums? The distant sounds set fire to her blood. Soon the vibrations rang inside her body. The pounding snaked through her, almost as if a living, breathing creature inhabited her arteries, taking over the beating of her heart.

She closed her eyes and held on tightly to her sanity. Another sound, the magic sound of an ancient flute, drifted through the walls, haunting her unconscious mind.

Keeping her eyelids shut against whatever evil might befall them, she reached out toward Gray. She needed the touch of another human being.

When her hand touched only emptiness, her eyes popped open. Right before she fainted in a heap on the hardwood floor, Abby’s brain refused to believe what her sight had clearly revealed.

The cot stood cold and empty. Gray was gone.

Two

“Come with me, Gray, my son.”

“Father? Ahpi?” The very strong sensation of fingers gripping his forearm confused Gray. Was this really his father beckoning him to follow? Impossible. His father had died years ago. Did that mean Gray had somehow also died from the poisonous snakebite? Had his brother the rattlesnake sent him into the land of his ancestors?

Gray didn’t want to die. Intrigued by the memory of the girl who’d fought to save him, he wanted more time. He remembered her heroic efforts, even though he hadn’t been able to talk to her or help himself. The echoing feel of her cool hands on his feverish body continued to calm his spirit.

Gray looked around but saw only dark images, swirling clouds of ghostlike shadows. “Father, where do you take me?” He heard the shrill call of the red-tailed hawk and beyond that, the ever-present drumbeat of his own heart.

“Nemene, our people, wish to speak to you through the misty shrouds of time. You will listen with your heart.”

“Yes, Ahpi. As you wish, but…”

Before Gray could finish his sentence, he noticed the image of his own mother, standing next to him. The sharp pain of grief was the first arrow to enter his heart.

“Mother.”

“No, my son. I am Pia, the mother of all the people, come to you in an image that will imprint itself on your soul. Banish the pain of your grief, Gray Wolf Parker. Your mother wishes it. Open yourself to the wisdom of the ancient spirits.”

Gray shook his head. This had to be some kind of weird dream or hallucination brought on by the snakebite. Or…maybe he really was dead.

“No, son.” The old woman answered his query without him having to give voice to it. “Your body has not left our earth home. We’ve come to give you puha…great medicine. We’ve come to give you your vision.”

“But why? Why me?”

Gray could feel the smiles of many, even though suddenly his mother’s image had disappeared and he could see no one through the wispy mists.

“You are one of the people. That is enough,” the shadowed figure said. “You work to bring the herd back to the land of the ancient hunters. The council honors you as chief…as you honor us in deed.”

Another voice spoke without being seen. “You will live to finish your quest. You will have a long and fruitful life, give many braves to the nemene. Your vision has been decided.”

Gray was confused. He still couldn’t understand what they were trying to tell him. “But, father. I don’t…”

“Remember that a chief of the people provides protection and loyalty. Honor, my son, above all things will provide great medicine and long life to you.”

The voices and the low drumbeat began to fade. Once again Gray felt the pain. Funny. He hadn’t noticed the throbbing ache in his leg until now.

His ancestors had one more whispered thing to say. “Honor, Gray Wolf Parker. Do not forget. Honor always the one that has been chosen.”

And then they were gone.

Gray took a deep breath and realized his eyes were closed. When he opened them, it took a few minutes of struggling to focus on his surroundings.

The dim light from the lantern illuminated the tiny cabin where he found himself lying on a low cot. He tried to make out the forms and furniture, whirling in the flickering shadows from the lamp. But his head swam and his heart raced.

He slowly swung his legs over the side of the cot and felt the burning sting in his thigh. Gritting his teeth, he put his feet flat on the floor and sat up.

When he was sitting upright on the cot, he took a short inventory of himself and the place. He noted that his shirt was gone, his pants leg had been removed and someone had put an elastic bandage tightly around his wounded thigh.

The girl? he remembered. His eyes became accustomed to the darkness, and he checked his surroundings to see if someone else might be nearby. And that’s when he saw her.

He’d practically stepped on her as he moved his feet to sit up. Sprawled out on the floor below him, she appeared to have passed out. With a sudden spit of panic, Gray reached down to touch her cheek. Warm, satiny and very much alive. He breathed a low sigh of relief.

He smiled at her relaxed form. Through the haze of pain and delirium of the past twenty-four hours, he remembered her fighting strength and the gentleness she’d used to help him. Gazing at her now, he noticed she looked much smaller and finer boned than he’d imagined at first.

Her hair shone with red highlights in the lamplight, and he could see the freckles streaking across her nose. She appeared to be more of a child than seemed possible, given all that she’d accomplished to save him.

What was she doing sleeping on the floor?

Gray reached for her. “Uh. Excuse me. Are you comfortable down there?” He shook her shoulder with as gentle a touch as he could manage.

“Wha…?” She pulled away from him and sat up.

Her hair spilled over her eyes. She brushed it back with her fingers and blew the rest of the strands out of her face.

“You’re here! And you’re—” she took a deep breath “—alive?”

“Yes, of course, thanks to you. I remember you saving my life, don’t I?”

Her eyes widened, and she seemed struck dumb. In the deep shadows of lamplight, he couldn’t quite tell what color they were but they looked like they might be green. Green eyes had always fascinated him.

“I only did what anyone would’ve. But I thought…” She squeezed her eyes tight, and when she opened them again they fixated on his face. “Do you mind if I touch you?”

The question sent a chill running down his chest, exploding with a surprisingly intense heat deep in his gut.

“What’s the matter?” he ventured, as he took her hand. “You look pale. Are you ill?”

She placed her free hand against her forehead. “No. But when I smelled the smoke and heard the drums…and then…you were gone.” With the help of his extended hand, she got to her feet, standing over him as he sat on the edge of the cot. “Only I guess that’s impossible, isn’t it? I must’ve been dreaming.”