It started quickly, which is the way things always seemed to happen on the trail. One moment Devlin was in her saddle, contemplating life's idiosyncrasies, and the next minute, she was in the middle of chaos. Off to her right, she saw Willie Abbott's horse rear up as the beeves bunched into a tight knot around him. The horse let out a few screaming neighs and continued to rear. The cattle were spooked, but not yet out of control. Devlin rode into the herd, kicking steers to loosen them up from around Willie's terrified horse.

By this time, the cattle at the back of the herd decided to join the restless group in the front. The constant flashes of lightning caused everyone's timing to slip. There would be two or three seconds of pitch black, then the sky would turn white for a second. The surreal effect panicked the milling herd. Their sounds became higher in pitch, and suddenly the cattle went into full-blown anxiety mode. They all tried to run away at once from Willie's bucking horse. The cattle from the back pushed in against Devlin, and she realized that she had to get out of the middle of them before Alto reared up in fright.

She tried to turn, but there was no s.p.a.ce to maneuver. She loosed her whip and cracked it over the heads of the advancing cattle. They shoved back a small ways, enough for her to turn Alto around, but the s.p.a.ce where she had been moments before was now filled with cattle. Some of the riders had joined the fray, but they stayed on the outer fringes of the herd. They cracked their whips and pushed and shoved cattle out of the way to clear a path for Devlin to break free. Suddenly, Hank was there, but he couldn't urge his horse into the sea of tightly packed steers. That's when the inevitable happened.

Willie still clung onto his saddle, but just barely. Something had spooked his horse, and at this point, it was crazed. It bucked as if a swarm of hornets were under its hide. Devlin could see the fear on Willie's face each time the lightning lit up the area. Even though he was an experienced drover, Willie apparently feared for his life enough to make a critical mistake. Devlin watched as he reached for a pistol tucked in the belt of his pants.

Devlin shouted out a warning in the hope that Willie would hear her over the sounds of the terror-stricken cattle, the screaming horses, and the rumbling thunder. She could only watch helplessly as Willie drew his pistol and fired it into the air. Two shots immediately brought Willie's horse under some semblance of control. He looked up at Devlin, and they both seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. The reprieve was short-lived, however.

Perhaps five seconds pa.s.sed since Willie had fired his pistol, not enough time for the echoes to die out. The cattle in the back pressed forward again, except now the steers in front were just milling about, not moving to expand the area the herd covered. The surging cattle from behind now seemed spooked by something, and the rear beeves attempted to leap over their milling brothers. Others imitated the acrobatic steers and soon the small area that Devlin and Willie were caught in was a swarming, milling ma.s.s of panicked cattle.

Devlin tried to keep her seat as Alto stumbled and faltered when the cattle pressed into them. The leaping and charging animals' horns came dangerously close to the horses trapped within the herd. Alto tripped again, and as much as Devlin dreaded it, she felt that if she didn't loosen up the herd, she and Alto would end up dragged to the ground by the hysterical creatures around them.

Devlin threw her arm up in an arc over her head and let fly with her whip. She laid the leather down on the backsides of the steers at the front of the herd. The high-pitched screams of the cattle that received her stinging blows prompted the other cattle into action. The herd loosened, but before Devlin could break for the outside edge, she found herself with at least two hundred head of cattle racing across the prairie.

Devlin's biggest fear became reality when she turned and saw the rest of the herd stampede along with the small rogue herd that she and Willie were caught in the middle of. There was nothing to do now but to try and outrun the cattle, get in front of them, and turn them. When cattle turned into oncoming steers, they naturally slowed down and milled into one another. It was Devlin's only hope at this point.

It was easier than she antic.i.p.ated to get to the outside edge of the stampeding cattle. Willie obviously had the same thought because he was already there. His horse was lighter than Alto and had adrenaline flying through her. They made a speedy pair and were perhaps two hundred yards ahead of Devlin and her mare. The crack of whips from behind Devlin grew fainter. She risked a quick look and the next flash of lightning lit up the landscape behind her. She saw the majority of the stampeding herd turn as the riders rode along the right edge and pushed the leading cattle left.

Devlin snapped her head back to focus on her own position. Alto slowed slightly and the herd seemed to be responding to Devlin's whooping sound, along with the cracks of her whip. Staring ahead, Devlin tried not to flinch as every few moments the lightning filled her vision with split-second light. A long moment of electric brilliance showed that Willie was racing along in front of her. The next time the lighting lit up the sky, Devlin had to blink in disbelief. She believed that if she had blinked a third time, her life would have been over.

In one instant, the storm illuminated Willie Abbott. He was still at least a hundred yards ahead of Devlin when he, his mount, and the cattle surrounding him appeared to hover in mid-air for an instant.

Devlin didn't need to hear the screams or see that man and animals were no longer there to realize what had happened. Instinct took place of thought as she pulled Alto's head hard and to the left, her gun hand wrapped around the ivory-handled Colt. As Devlin forcibly turned her horse, she shot the three closest steers. The sudden gunfire, coupled with the bodies blocking their path, caused the bulk of the herd to turn left along with Devlin and her mare. To keep them moving that way, Devlin fired her remaining bullets.

With no more fanfare than that, the cattle milled together into a small group, minus nearly half their original number. Perhaps another few minutes pa.s.sed before Hank and four other riders caught up with the breakaway herd. Devlin sat in her saddle breathing hard and feeling her heart pound against the wall of her chest. Her mouth had gone dirt-dry and she realized the cause was fear.

"Dev!" Hank held a lantern high in one hand as he approached her. "You okay? What happened to Willie?"

Devlin could only point ahead of them until she found her voice. "Up ahead. Careful...you'll need the light."

Hank's horse took a few tentative steps forward and Hank held the lantern aloft. "Good G.o.d!" he cursed. The terrain ahead of him disappeared into nothing. The ground simply stopped, dropping sharply into a crater at least two hundred yards below them.

Devlin collected herself and began shouting orders. "Get these beeves back with the rest. A couple of you ride to camp and bring back some long coils of rope and some lanterns." Devlin dismounted and found her legs shaky. She walked up beside Hank, placing her hand on his mount to steady herself. "We need to get down there and see if Willie's still alive."

"Don't be crazy, Dev. There's no way he could have survived."

Hank's voice was gentle and filled with concern, but Devlin was the trail boss. "I have to be sure."

Devlin's dispa.s.sionate tone was back in place as she walked over to an outcropping of sandstone and sat wearily. Ironically, the storm was moving past them now. Hank came over and sat beside his friend. Neither spoke, which wasn't much different from the way they usually acted, but something had changed for Devlin.

In that brief s.p.a.ce in time when Devlin saw Willie plunge to his death, she had felt fear. She had felt a fear of dying, of loss. Even now, her heart beat erratically at the idea of never seeing Sarah again. Devlin couldn't remember a time when she was afraid. When had it been last? When she was a child? Perhaps she had feared for someone else, but never for herself.

Devlin removed her hat and ran slightly shaking hands through her hair. That's what made her so good, wasn't it? Hadn't that always been her advantage over other people? Hadn't it always been because she knew the truth? The truth, as Devlin saw it, was that men didn't want to die, most men anyway.

Her power had been that she never cared whether she lived or died. She cared now. As she sat gazing into the dark shadows, Devlin Brown had to wonder if she'd lost her edge.

Chapter 16.

"Dev!" Sarah hissed as she bolted upright, pulled from her nightmare. Sarah looked around the chuka to see Hannah still tucked into her sleeping robes. Tima, as always, looked at peace as she slept.

Sarah crawled to the center of the chuka and added small pieces of kindling to the banked fire. Her heart was beating rapidly, as though she had been in a race. She took deep breaths to try to calm her nerves, shaking her head to clear away the last remnants of sleep and to remember the dream. She couldn't recall the visual images, which was unusual for her, but the residual feelings remained. At first, she felt that Devlin was in danger. Sarah could sense that the immediate threat had pa.s.sed, but now there was a sense of despair a.s.sociated with her. Sarah closed her eyes tightly, but try as she might, she couldn't grasp any more of the feelings.

Sarah adjusted the blanket that had slipped down to reveal the small tattoo on her right shoulder blade. Mantema had fixed the tattoo on Sarah's skin as soon as she had returned to the village on the last day of her quest. Mantema, along with Tima and the elders, had worried for Sarah when four days had pa.s.sed and Sarah had not returned. On the fifth day, Sarah came back to the village.

Mantema found it surprising that Sarah was able to walk back. As soon as Mantema prepared Sarah for her marking, she fell asleep. She slept for two more days, and when she awoke, the clan had a feast to mark her naming. From that day on, no one in the village used her given name of Sarah. To the Chahta people, Sakli was now a true member of the Thunderbird clan. She was now Chahta isht ia, Choctaw blood. Keeho had also announced to the village Sarah's secret name. This would be a name known only to the Thunderbird clan and which Sarah would use when she introduced herself during ceremonies. From that moment on, the clan knew Sarah as Sakli Alakofichi, She Who Heals.

Sarah moved closer to the fire. For about the hundredth time, she wished for Devlin's warm body lying near her at night. She squirmed as the sleeping fur rubbed against her tattoo. The marking had grown a scab, and as the dried skin fell off to reveal the new skin underneath, it itched. Her power animal symbol looked out on the world fiercely from Sarah's back. She was unable to see the tattoo, even when she craned her neck as far as possible. Mantema had solved the problem by showing her a small piece of hide onto which Mantema had painted the design.

Sarah rubbed absently at the skin on her back. As she looked into the embers of the fire, Sarah thought about her power animal design. She had never raised the question as to how Mantema knew about any part of her quest. Sarah may have had doubts about the mysteries and magic of the Chahta people, but her quest silenced many of those thoughts. She hadn't said a word when Mantema handed her the image that was now a part of her body. A hawk's head stared full on with eyes that appeared fierce and gentle at the same time. The uniqueness of the tattoo was that the hawk didn't have the usual reddish-brown markings. Its face was half black and half white, in a diagonal design like the warrior in Sarah's vision.

She hadn't discussed any part of her quest with Tima or Keeho. The clan respected her actions, and no one brought up the matter. The Chahta considered visions private, and only when villagers needed interpretation did they go to see Keeho for answers. Sarah was fully aware that the Keyuachi had visited her in hopes of turning her away from her quest.

She knew that she would tell Keeho of her vision at some point to hear what wisdom he could shed on it, but now was too soon. Sarah's way of accepting everything that was so different from her previous beliefs was not to examine them too closely yet. She acknowledged what had happened to her as easily as if it had occurred at her ranch house. It was the only way for her to believe right now.

I am Ankahito...I have always been Ankahito.I am Chahta...I have always been Chahta.

Sarah pushed her hair away from her face and wrapped the fur more tightly around her shoulders. A strong chill pa.s.sed through her, and her body shuddered in response. She would have to ask Keeho soon why these words kept popping into her mind. She wasn't even sure who the Ankahito were, except that the dead shaman Taano had called them his people. She felt warmer now as her thoughts of the mystical transformed into thoughts about Devlin.

Sarah didn't know if she had imagined the fear she felt for Devlin or if the dream had been real, but in keeping with all she had come to believe of late, she chose the latter. She placed her hand on her chest and felt that the beat of her heart had returned to a regular rhythm. She took this as a good sign. Her earlier turmoil had disappeared. Now she experienced an odd feeling of resolution. While it wasn't exactly peace, it was a form of calmness. At any rate, perhaps it was enough to allow her to sleep the rest of the night.

"I need to learn what?" Sarah asked Tima in astonishment.

"Do I need to speak louder for you, Sakli?" Tima asked seriously.

"No, but I-"

"Then why did you ask me to repeat what I said?"

"It's more like disbelief than being unable to hear."

"Oh." Tima had understood her, but she found it hard to get Sarah to verbalize her thoughts. Because of that, Tima treated Sarah much as she had Devlin when Devlin was a girl.

"But, Tima, basket weaving?"

Tima stopped what she was doing and fixed an exasperated look on Sarah. She didn't have to say a word. Sarah breathed deeply and closed her eyes.

"I know, I know. I promised that I wouldn't question your training methods." They had reached this agreement once Tima decided to teach Sarah. The training was a preparation for Sarah's healing quest, during which Sarah would appeal to the spirits for a spirit guide. Hopefully, one of the clan mothers would accept Sarah's request and direct her in her medicine way.

"Sakli, some of the strongest healers in our clan have been basket makers. Hashtahli has given this craft to women alone. Some say it is a reward for the faithfulness that Chahta women have shown to their clans. Others say it is a way for women to excel, to show their imagination and power. I believe that it has a direct connection to the path you wish to follow. You are Chahta now, Sakli. This skill will teach you much about the ways of the Chahta women."

Sarah gave Tima a defeated look. "Why does it have to be with Oka kapa.s.sa? Why can't you teach me?"

"Because Oka kapa.s.sa is the best one to learn the craft from. She has the same natural ability with weaving as you do with healing. Why do you not want to train with Oka kapa.s.sa?"

"I...I..." Sarah paused and bit her lip nervously. "She scares me," she murmured.

"What?" Tima chuckled and Sarah found the action reminiscent of something Devlin would do.

"I said she kind of scares me," Sarah said more forcefully as she placed her hands on her hips.

"Why would you fear Oka kapa.s.sa?"

Sarah sat beside Tima. "I feel like a foolish child, saying the words aloud like this."

"Often what frightens us in the shadows of the night looks foolish in the light of the day."

"She watches me. It's unnerving. Am I crazy? You must have noticed it when she and I are near each other."

Tima wanted to scoff at Sarah's accusations, to tell her that this was all foolishness built up in her mind. Tima wanted to rea.s.sure Sarah, but she had seen it, too. She understood her sister's looks, but how could she explain the truth to Sarah without breaking her word to Devlin?

"Sakli, you are not crazy. I have seen the way Oka kapa.s.sa gazes at you when she thinks no one sees her, but it is not to try to frighten you. She can't help herself, I suppose."

"I'm not sure I understand, Nali. Why can't she help herself?"

Tima sighed and looked upward. Why hadn't her daughter told Sarah the truth? Devlin had promised Tima before they left the village the last time that she would explain the story of her mother and father to Sarah. Tima suspected her fearless daughter had blanched at baring her emotions, even to her mate. She could not go against the pledge she'd made, however.

"Oka kapa.s.sa cares for Redhawk very much. I believe my sister worries for my daughter. She worries that something will take Redhawk from the path of good that she has so recently committed to."

"And she thinks I'll be the one to do that, to lead Dev astray in some way?" Sarah was surprised at Tima's explanation.

"I think," Tima paused, searching for a way to phrase her feelings. "I think that Oka kapa.s.sa's worries are not so much about you and your commitment to Redhawk, but because your world is down in the valley. She fears that your world will become Devlin's world instead of the other way around."

"But haven't I proved my love for this world?"

"Sakli, you have never had to prove anything to me. You have earned my love and my respect because you are the woman of my daughter's heart. I need nothing more to convince me."

"But Oka kapa.s.sa does." Sarah looked off into the distance and thought for a moment. "I need to show her who I am. I need to show her that I'm Chahta, in here," Sarah placed her hand over her heart, "and that no matter where we live, the Chahta ways will always be a part of our family."

Tima smiled at Sarah. Sarah had such a way of examining the world around her. "You will become a basket weaver then?"

Sarah returned Tima's smile. "Nali, I'm going to become the best d.a.m.n basket weaver I can!"

"Welcome to my chuka, Sakli."

"I'm honored that a weaver of your talent has agreed to train me, Oka kapa.s.sa," Sarah said.

The two women sat outside Oka kapa.s.sa's chuka in the spa.r.s.e shade of a small cedar tree. A mutual respect existed between them but nothing more. Oka kapa.s.sa was determined not to allow herself to be swept away by Sarah's charm. She had seen how Sarah's natural charisma, something Sarah wasn't even aware of, drew in others of the clan. Oka kapa.s.sa could see what the others had seen, but she steeled her heart against it. She resisted the temptation to open herself to Sarah. She had to be sure. She couldn't let history repeat itself.

Sarah felt as if she was studying under her childhood schoolmaster. Back in that one-room schoolhouse in Kentucky, she'd learned many a lesson at the end of a hickory switch. Her rebellious nature caused her to clash with the schoolmaster until they'd finally called a truce. It wasn't until Sarah had swallowed her pride and treated the man with respect that she opened up to the lessons he taught.

Sarah tried to take the same hard-learned approach with Oka kapa.s.sa. Days went by as Sarah bit her tongue at Oka kapa.s.sa's remarks, some of which she knew were meant to hurt. The one thing that kept her going back for more was the way Oka kapa.s.sa treated Hannah. Her transformation from aloof instructor to loving caregiver when Hannah came into view was amazing. It was obvious that Oka kapa.s.sa's troubles were with Sarah alone. Although she was naturally quiet and reserved, she seemed to hold back her sting for Sarah. Sarah, on the other hand, was determined to prove herself to this woman, to prove that Devlin had made the right choice in a mate.

"Well, it didn't turn out quite the way I had in mind." Sarah looked at the design on the basket that she had just completed. "I just don't think I'm good enough yet. What am I doing wrong?" she asked in exasperation, looking longingly at the beautifully shaped baskets in Oka kapa.s.sa's chuka. Small and large, platters and bowls, the detailed work was flawless. Displayed in a place of prominence was a large oval platter. The design told a story. The weave of the center of the platter was so decorative and detailed that Sarah was convinced she could never duplicate it.

Oka kapa.s.sa held Sarah's platter. Her fingers caressed the coils of plant fibers like a healer examining a patient. She searched the platter and felt each imperfection. They were not always visible; some were in the spirit of the object. Oka kapa.s.sa smiled approvingly at her student. Sarah's technique was sound; she had learned the fundamentals well. Oka kapa.s.sa knew that it was time to move on to the next step.

"It is not your ability that prevents your vision of the weave to come through, Sakli. To weave the everyday items that we Chahta use, the materials we have in store are appropriate. For a basket maker to create something that they see within their own mind's eye, the weaver must harvest the materials themselves. You need to approach the plants and the trees with this vision in your mind, with the knowledge that they are as much a part of the sacred hoop as you are. Then you wait for the spirit of the item to speak to you."

"The materials that want to a part of my basket will tell me?"

At first, Oka kapa.s.sa thought Sarah was patronizing her. It would not be the first time someone scoffed at her for her belief in the ways of the medicine wheel. The children who had yet to go on their first quest, who did not yet know of the magic within the clan, did not often understand the complexities of the circle. Oka kapa.s.sa stared hard at Sarah, who looked intently at her. The expression on Sarah's face took her by surprise. Oka kapa.s.sa saw a genuine belief for the magic in Sarah's eyes.

"Yes, Sakli, that is precisely what they will do. Each living thing, even plants and trees, have a spirit and a place within the sacred hoop, just as we do. Even knowing this is not enough. Until you come to the place where you believe that no spirit is greater than another, you will be unable to hear other spirits calling to you."

"But I do, Oka kapa.s.sa. I have learned to believe this way," Sarah said. "Will you show me how to harvest for the baskets?"

Sarah seemed to have forgotten the natural animosity that existed between them. So caught up in her desire to learn this new aspect of Chahta life, she put aside her pride to take advantage of Oka kapa.s.sa's wisdom.

"Then tomorrow morning we shall begin," Oka kapa.s.sa said. She found herself smiling at Sarah's enthusiasm and delight.

Sarah kissed a sleeping Hannah goodbye before the sun rose the next morning. She shared a warm mug of tea with Tima before leaving the healer's chuka.

"You seem very excited with basket weaving now," Tima teased Sarah.

Sarah grinned in embarra.s.sment. "At first, I didn't want Oka kapa.s.sa to know she was bothering me. I didn't want her to win. Now there's something in what she's teaching me, something so much more that I'm willing to set aside my personal feelings. I can't explain it any better than that."

"You have come very far in so short a time, Sakli. You have changed much. I think Redhawk will be very pleased."

Sarah had a moment of doubt. "Are you sure? I mean, you don't think she'll be displeased with the ways in which I've changed, do you?"

"Sakli, Redhawk is Chahta. I truly believe that she would love you no matter what, but to know that the woman she loves has become a Chahta woman...that is a gift without price."

Sarah's smile returned and she squeezed Tima's hand. "Loving Dev has not only given me what I've always dreamed of, but it's also brought me a family and a people. I think I'm the one who has been given the gift."

Sarah sat in Oka kapa.s.sa's chuka just after sunrise. The basket maker offered prayers to the spirits as she tossed sage and sweetgra.s.s into the fire. "No life force means more than another or is more valuable. We ask the spirits to give themselves up for our use. They all fit together, along with our essence. We are all a part of one another within the sacred hoop. We depend on one another for survival. It is not our right to use the materials of Mother Earth simply because we are faster or stronger. She gives these things to us as gifts. The Chahta people accept no gifts from anyone, other than the spirits."

Some time later, Sarah trailed along behind Oka kapa.s.sa. The woman was twice Sarah's age, but her legs were as long as Devlin's and Sarah had to hurry to match her stride. So far, Oka kapa.s.sa had spoken to Sarah about the spiritual aspect of harvesting the plants. Now as they walked along the edge of the woods, she explained some of the more universal aspects of basket making.

"As a healer, what has Tima taught you of the use of sweetgra.s.s?" Oka kapa.s.sa asked.

"We use it for purification. We burn it to send up smoke in many of our Chahta ceremonies."

Oka kapa.s.sa nodded. "Do you know why we make baskets of sweetgra.s.s?"

"I-" Sarah stopped short. She wasn't sure and something told her not to guess. She shook her head and Oka kapa.s.sa couldn't help but smile.

"There are many reasons, but no one reason is any more important than another. Because of its ceremonial use, we reserve sweetgra.s.s for the baskets in which we place a newborn baby's birth cord. Because of its sweet smell, we store clothes and furs in baskets made of sweetgra.s.s. Because it dries extremely light, yet st.u.r.dy, we are able to create long-lasting storage."

"I never realized all that. I suppose I've grown up taking certain things for granted, just like I never thought about how much we use baskets."

"It's true, Sakli. We use the many shapes of our baskets for gathering, harvesting, storing, and cooking. You are not alone. Even many Chahta people take their daily lives for granted. They think that what we have now will always be. We buy blankets in the white man's store instead of weaving our own, we trade for guns to replace our bows, and we take mates outside the clan. They do not realize that every time we go outside, we lose a piece of ourselves."