THE BRIDE PURSUED
Coming April 2012
Seattle, Washington
September 2009
Shaye Montgomery stood with her hands on her hips in the middle of the Seattle apartment she’d shared for several years with her best friend, Rayne Green. A multi-platinum selling recording artist, Rayne had mysteriously disappeared two months ago after her sold-out concert in Chicago and Shaye was trying to find a clue as to why. Anything that might lead her to her friend.
“Shaye?”
Shaye glanced to where Trevor Miller, Rayne’s head of security, stood in her open concept kitchen. Six feet something and built like a brick wall, Trevor embodied the epitome of what many women considered the perfect man. Dark hair framed a square jaw, while olive skin emphasized his deep brown eyes.
He smiled at her and the dimple in his cheek deepened. “Do you want some wine?”
Trevor had stopped by to check on her, and found her surrounded by notepads and newspapers. In pure Trevor fashion, he’d forced his way in and offered to make dinner.
So far, he’d managed to open a bottle of wine.
“Sure, Trevor, thanks.” Shaye ran her hands through her hair with a sigh.
Trevor leaned across the kitchen island. “Any word from that Jared guy?”
“He just gave me the address in Chicago of where he’d last seen her. Now, he won’t respond to anything,” then added somewhat under her breath, “jackass.”
“Did you just swear, Miss Montgomery?” Trevor asked in mock offense.
Shaye sent him a pointed smirk. “They use the word ‘ass’ in the bible, so, no, I did not swear.”
Hearing the deep timbre of Trevor’s laugh as she slipped around the corner of the living room, she moved to the front of Rayne’s desk and opened one drawer, then another.
Nothing.
Slamming the last drawer shut with a growl, she kicked the desk chair in frustration. “Ouch! Dang it!”
Trevor rushed from the kitchen and nearly tripped over her sitting on the floor, injured foot in her hand. “What did you do?”
Shaye glanced up at him with a frown. “I kicked the chair.”
“Without shoes on?”
“Yes, Einstein!”
“Well, that was dumb,” he said, but tempered it with a sympathetic chuckle, before adding, “Einstein.”
“Thanks for the newsflash.” She reached out her hand. “Help me up, so I can get some ice.”
Hearing the sound of “I’m Too Sexy” break the silence as his cell phone rang, Shaye raised an eyebrow. Trevor grinned and grasped her hand, lifting her from the floor. He flipped the phone open, raised it to his ear—and scowled. “Oh, hi, Kimber.”
Shaye gave a quiet giggle and then whispered, “Don’t you have caller ID?”
Kimber LaRue, Shaye’s assistant—and she used the word loosely—was the record company president’s niece, and an all around pain in the butt.
“Yeah, Kimber, I don’t think that’s going to work.” Trevor rolled his eyes. “No, I’m at Shaye’s.”
Hobbling to the kitchen for an icepack, Shaye found the glass of wine Trevor had poured. She poured another one, walked back into the living room, and handed it to him before sitting on the sofa.
“No, we haven’t heard from Rayne,” he continued.
Laying the icepack on her foot as she sipped her wine, Shaye watched Trevor pace the floor.
“Kimber, tell your uncle there’s nothing to tell,” Trevor snapped.
Shaye noticed the vein on his neck bulge as he clenched his jaw. Nothing ever went well when Trevor got angry and it would appear he was rapidly achieving irritation.
This might take a while.
She picked up her laptop and pulled up her current Google News page in an effort to ignore his conversation. Rayne’s disappearance was still the number one story. Sipping her wine again, she was so lost in thought, she hadn’t noticed Trevor hang up the phone.
“Shaye?”
Shaye looked up in slight confusion. “Huh?”
“Are you okay?” Trevor frowned.
“Yes, sorry. I was just reading.” She smiled. “How’s the dingbat?”
He laughed. “Rayne’s rubbing off on you.”
Shaye gave a little shrug. “Maybe.”
“So? Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Really. I just want to find Rayne.” She set her laptop aside and rose to her feet. “But there’s nothing we can do tonight, so where’s that meal you promised?”
Trevor gave an unconvincing look of contrition. “You’re drinking it.”
Just then, Shaye’s stomach rumbled rather loudly. “Chinese?”
“Definitely.”
Grabbing their coats, they left to find an open restaurant.
* * *
Shaye woke the next morning with a plan in mind and a way to execute it before anyone realized what she was doing.
At least, that was her hope.
Her working lunch with Trevor, scheduled for just after twelve, meant she only had an hour to get on the road before he’d try to stop her. She packed her backpack and made her way out to the awaiting taxi. She wrinkled her nose as she stepped outside of her building and was greeted by sheets of rain and a sudden gust of wind. Luckily, she’d grabbed her jacket, scarf, and gloves before she left the apartment.
The driver dropped her on the sidewalk of SeaTac’s departing flights and after paying the man, she made her way inside the terminal and found the airline kiosk where she entered all of her information. Tapping her foot as she waited for the boarding pass to spit out, she grabbed the piece of paper, almost before it stopped printing, and took off for security.
“Shoot!” She took her place at the end of the line.
Her flight was scheduled to leave in thirty minutes and if this line didn’t move faster, she’d never make it. Pulling out her driver’s license, she wrapped her boarding pass around it in an effort to be prepared. Her cell phone rang as she readjusted her backpack. “Hello?”
“Where are you?”
Shaye rolled her eyes. “Hi, Trev. What do you mean, where am I? I’m at home.”
“Uh, no you’re not, ’cause I’m here and you’re not.”
“Oh,” she whispered. “You’re early.”
“What are you doing, Shaye?”
“Miss? Right over there,” a security guard interrupted her and guided her to a shorter line.
“Are you at the airport?” Trevor sounded mad.
Shaye shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Are you going to Chicago?”
She grabbed a plastic bin and set it on the metal table. “Maybe.”
“What the hell are you thinking, Shaye?” he snapped.
“I need to find my friend, Trevor,” she said as she removed her shoes.
“Why? It’s not like she’s worth the hassle.”
“Trevor! Don’t say that. I know she can be difficult at times—”
“At times?” he groaned.
“Yes. At times,” Shaye stressed. “Something’s not right here, Trev, and I need to find out what.”
“You go above and beyond, Shaye.”
Dumping her shoes into the bin, she shrugged off her jacket, and settled it on top. “She’s my other sister. For all intents and purposes, anyway.”
“I would have come with you.”
“I know you would have and I appreciate that, but this is something I need to do on my own. Can you at least understand that?”
“Not particularly.”
Shuffling behind a large man who apparently hadn’t heard of deodorant, she sighed. “Look. You have the Shaunessy concert tomorrow night and I’m not sure I’ll be back by then.”
“I could have found someone to cover for me.”
“That would have started rumors and innuendos up the wazoo and you know it.”
An incomprehensible string of words filtered down the phone line.
“Keep the lines moving, please,” the security guard bellowed in her direction.
“Hey, you’re breaking up and I need to go, okay?” She slid her bag and bin into the x-ray machine. “I’ll see you in a few days.”
Shaye hung up the phone and set it in the plastic basket one of the security guards held out to her. “Thanks.”
Hearing it jingle just as she walked through the archway, she rolled her eyes, and ignored it. Grabbing her items off the roller table, she sat down on one of the benches to tie her shoes, and then made a mad dash for her gate. She arrived at the plane with seven minutes to spare, but the flight attendant still gave her a dirty look as she ushered her down the gangway.
Finding her seat, she sat down, turned her cell phone off, and popped a piece of gum in her mouth. She had a fully charged iPod, so once the all clear was given by the pilot, she stuck it on random, leaned back, and tried to relax. She almost laughed when the first song to play was her favorite Rayne song.
* * *
Shaye’s plane landed at O’Hare International ten minutes early. She exited the gangway and hit the ground running. Finding the signs for ground transportation, she made her way to a taxi stand.
Handing the driver the address where Jared said he took Rayne, Shaye’s heart raced as he pulled the cab out onto the freeway. She was close. So close, she could taste it. Wiping her sweaty hands on her jeans, she looked to the heavens and prayed. She was going to find Rayne today. She was certain of it.
“This is it.” The driver pulled up to a boarded up building. “Are you sure this is the right place? It looks dangerous.”
Shaye nodded slowly. “Yes, it’s the right place. I’ll be fine.”
“That’ll be thirty dollars and seventy-five cents.”
Shaye handed him a fifty. “Would you be able to wait for me, please? I doubt I’ll be very long, and there’ll be another fifty in it for you.”
He shrugged. “Sure.”
Shaye opened the door, slid out of the seat, and made her way toward the building. It took her several minutes, but she found a loose board and pulled it aside, thankful she had her thick gloves on. She couldn’t get through the small opening with her backpack on, so she took it off and eased her body through the hole. Once she was in, she reached back and grabbed it.
With no light in the building, she rummaged in her bag until she felt her penlight. Pulling it out, she twisted the top, and let out a sigh of relief when the light came on. She settled her backpack on her shoulders, made sure it was secure, and shined the light in front of her.
Taking a deep breath, she walked slowly down the hall, found a door and opened it. Met with the sight of a large mirror stretching the length of one wall, a bar attached to it, and the hardwood floor, Shaye deduced it was the dance studio.
This is where Jared said he last saw Rayne.
Walking into the room, Shaye strolled the perimeter, frustrated that there was nothing necessarily evident. Just cobwebs and a strange smell. Yuck.
Her cell phone peeled in the echoing silence and she jumped slightly as she pulled it from her pocket. “Hello?” she whispered.
“Have you checked your messages?” Trevor snapped from the other line.
She rolled her eyes. “No. I just landed.”
“Why are you whispering?”
Shaye cleared her throat. “No reason. Just a frog in my throat from the flight.”
“Where are you?”
Shaye glanced around the room. “Chicago.”
“Shaye!” Trevor’s irritation was evident in his voice. “Where are you specifically?”
“You’re breaking up, what was that?”
“Don’t play that game with me, Shaye,” Trevor said angrily. “I know you can hear me. Where are you?”
Shaye pursed her lips into a thin line. “I’m looking for Rayne.”
“You didn’t go to that building did you?”
Walking into a cobweb, she scrunched up her nose and tried to pull the silk from her face. “That would have been really dumb, Trevor, don’t you think?”
“And dangerous.”
Something crossed her foot and she couldn’t stop her scream.
“Shaye!”
She felt sick…deep breaths, Shamus. “I’m okay, I’m okay. It was a rat. A large one, mind you, but still only a rat.”
Trevor let out an expletive. “You did go to that building.”
“It didn’t make a difference.” She sighed. “There’s nothing here.”
“I’m coming to get you.”
“No, Trevor, don’t. I’m leaving. I’ll catch the next flight out, okay?”
“You call me when you’re ready to board and I’ll pick you up at the airport.”
“I’ll just catch a cab.”
“Shaye,” he growled. “I’ll pick you up.”
“Fine,” she huffed. “I have your hoodie, by the way.”
Trevor swore. “I don’t give a damn about my sweatshirt, Shaye. Just get your ass on a plane.”
“Bossy much?” Shaye snapped. “I’ll call you when I get a flight. Bye, Trevor.”
Hanging up the phone, she threw it back in the front pocket of her bag, walked out of the room, and back down the hall. “This isn’t right,” she said aloud.
Turned around and not sure how it happened, Shaye spun in a circle and tried to focus. She had an almost flawless sense of direction and could always find her way back to wherever she came from, even if she’d only been there once. She opened door after door, until she came to the one that opened to a stairwell.
“This wasn’t here before.” Moving further into the small area, the door quickly closed and locked behind her. “Shoot,” she grumbled, but decided to go up the narrow staircase, rather than down. Going to the basement felt entirely too much like something out of a horror movie, so she made her way up, gripping the banister as she pulled herself up each step and found another door. It opened. “Thank you, Lord.”
Pushing the door further open, she looked down to find her footing and noticed something on the floor. Bending to pick it up, she gasped. It was the diamond snake wrap Rayne had worn around her upper arm the night she went missing. Shaye straightened, staring at the piece of jewelry as questions flooded her mind. “So, you came up here at some point, Reggie...but where did you go after that?”
A cool breeze ruffled her hair. Shaye shivered and looked around for the source of the draft. Her mouth dropped open as her gaze lit on an open door.
Moonlight filtered through the opening, its beam forming a path on the scuffed wooden floor. The soft glow acted like a magnet, drawing Shaye closer. Hesitant, yet powerless to resist, she followed the moonlit path to the open doorway. She blinked. What should have been another room was instead an expansive field. At the far side of the tall grass stood a cluster of trees and the sky above them twinkled with a million stars.
Shaye shook her head. This couldn’t be. She leaned past the threshold and her world spun and then darkness engulfed her.
* * *
Baltimore, Maryland
November, 1864
Laughing Crow pushed his horse to near breaking. He was late. His last assignment had been a particularly difficult one and coming off the mountain took longer than expected. His appointment, imperative in his opinion, required he ride straight from the authorities. That meant no time to dump his saddle back at the prison.
Saddles slowed him down and now he was late. Crow swore. He was due for dinner and he knew he would never make it in time. The familiar site of two, ten-foot tall iron gates came into focus as he rounded his way out of the trees. Less than a mile.
Slipping the hinge, he guided his horse through the barrier and dug his heels again, running his horse more than might have been wise. As the expansive porch and lit sconces of the Powell farmhouse came into view, a sense of calm settled over him. He fully expected to hear an earful from Rayne Powell and Victoria Butler for arriving an hour late, but even the promise of chastisement couldn’t distill the peace welling within him.
He arrived at the Powell’s barn and handed his Pinto off to a groom before jogging up to the front porch. The door opened before he could raise his hand to knock. Samuel’s housekeeper Tandy smiled and clasped her hands in front of her.
“’Evenin’ sir,” Tandy said.
Crow smiled as he removed his hat and gloves. “Good evening, Tandy.”
“Everyone’s in the dining room waitin’ on ya.”
Crow nodded. “I’m certain they are.”
Tandy held out her hand and Crow shrugged out of his heavy winter coat. “You’s can wash up in the back ‘afore you’s go in. I lef’ a towel and soap by the basin.”
“Thank you, Tandy.”
Crow took the time to wash up and then made his way back to the dining room. He strode through the door and met Sam’s eyes over his wife’s head.
“Where have you been?” Rayne Powell’s ice-blue eyes flashed in accusation. A lock of blonde hair fell over her forehead as she leaned toward him.
“Angel,” Sam admonished.
Crow shrugged. “I was held up.”
“At gunpoint?” Rayne asked sarcastically.
“Of course not.” Crow took her hand and kissed it.
“Then, what’s your excuse?” Victoria whispered.
Crow turned and smiled. Moving to greet her, he was met with pools of violet as she stared up at him. Her allegations were far subtler in the expressions on her delicate face.
“Rebel,” Quincy whispered. “We’re here for one more day, do you want to spend the limited time you have to visit with Crow chastising him?”
Quincy and Victoria owned a town home in Washington, D.C., but had spent the last week with Samuel and Rayne.
Crow smirked when Victoria shot a warning look toward her husband.
“Don’t start, Gus,” she warned and then turned back to Crow. “We have been worried sick.” Victoria’s voice grew in intensity, although, not volume, her southern accent heavy, indicating her distress. Crow studied her as she shifted in her chair, her tiny stature nearly swallowed by the large piece of furniture.
“All right, ladies, leave the poor man alone. You’re acting like his mother.” Samuel pointed to the chair he had saved for Crow.
“Someone should,” Victoria snapped.
“It’s dangerous out there. How would we know if he was hurt? He’s the best tracker in the immediate area, so it’s not like we could use him to find him. He could very well be lost forever,” Rayne continued as though she hadn’t heard her husband.
Doling out a spoonful of potatoes onto his plate, Crow sat back and waited for Victoria to carry on. She and Rayne were masters at finishing each other’s sentences.
Victoria dropped her fork with a clutter. “He could be lying dead on the side of the road and we wouldn’t be able to find him.”
Crow shrugged. “There were no roads.”
“Crow!” Quincy and Sam reproached at the same time.
“Excuse me?” Victoria asked.
Quincy patted her hand. “He was in the mountains, Rebel.”
Standing quickly, Victoria’s black hair fell from its pins, and Quincy had to grab for the chair she nearly knocked over as she turned and glared at her husband. “You told me he wasn’t doing anything overly dangerous!”
Quincy stared at her and smiled, love and admiration evident on his face.
“I asked Quincy not to say anything,” Crow explained.
She whipped her head around. “Why would you do that?”
“Because he didn’t want you to worry, sweetheart,” Quincy said. “Now, please sit down.”
“Not the point,” she snapped as she reluctantly took her seat once again and tried to fix her chignon.
Victoria Butler was kidnapped shortly after her marriage to Quincy. Crow was able to track her and Quincy shot the man who took her. Since then, Victoria considered Crow part of her family and refused to let him hide from them.
“He is obviously here and feeling well, so why don’t we finish dinner so that the plans for Thanksgiving can be finalized,” Sam suggested.
The girls grumbled, but let the subject drop, and dinner was finished without further incident. Afterward, the men moved into Samuel’s office and the girls went to Rayne’s private parlor. Sam handed the men a glass of scotch and then they sat to discuss their trip to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.
“When are you leaving?” Quincy asked Crow.
Crow stared into his glass briefly and then glanced at Quincy. “Tomorrow. I’ll need that time otherwise I’ll arrive after Thanksgiving, instead of before.”
“We have a bag packed for you that we’ll take on the train with us,” Sam said.
Crow raised an eyebrow. “I don’t own any luggage.”
Quincy chuckled. “Victoria purchased something for you.”
Crow smiled. “Thank you.”
“The ladies are incensed you won’t be on the train with us.” Quincy sipped his drink.
“They don’t understand.”
Crow had endured years of prejudice. His Indian name was Laughing Crow, but when missionaries came through their village and discovered his mother was white, he was given a white man’s name. From that day on, the whites knew him as Douglas Smith.
He learned quickly the missionaries wanted to change him and teach him the white ways. For the most part, he played the game, but in one last show of defiance, Crow refused to cut his hair and it was now halfway down his back. Different than most of the Creek warriors, but still just as frightening when he was shirtless and riding bareback.
His tribe continued to call him Laughing Crow, whereas his close friends call him Crow. Sam met him five years ago when working on a missing child case. Crow was able to track the little girl to a remote area in the mountains and they rescued her.
It was Sam, however, not Crow, who was given a hero’s welcome. Sam complained loudly that he had nothing to do with it, but in the end, it didn’t matter and Crow was happy to stand in the back and let Sam take the glory. They formed a close friendship and because of that fact, Sam had lost a few friends and colleagues. Through Sam, Crow had met a few individuals who accepted him fully. The Butlers for one.
“No, they don’t.” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose.
Crow laughed. “I thought this was a time of celebration.”
“You don’t have to hear our wives express their disgust over the inequality you have been shown,” Quincy explained.
“They will forget about it eventually. Females usually do.”
“You have so much to learn about women,” Sam said.
“Yes and apparently more to learn about our particular women,” Quincy added.
The men chuckled and continued their plans as the night grew darker and colder.
* * *
Shaye felt a chill on her face. Slowly opening her eyes, she frowned as she watched the sky come into focus. The darkening blue was blanketed with stars and a half moon, just like her vision, and she noticed her breath, white in front of her face.
How long have I been out?
Sitting up carefully, she realized she still had her backpack on and Rayne’s jewelry firmly in her grip, but no indication of where she might be. Looking around she shivered, unsure if it was from the cold or the fact that not only was she not in the building anymore, she wasn’t even near the building. In fact, she wasn’t near any building. All she could see was a vast countryside in front of her.
“Where am I?” she said aloud.
The little puff of white and another shiver told her that if she didn't find shelter quickly, she'd be up a creek. She didn't have adequate cold weather gear. She noticed what looked like a little cabin in the distance, but no light coming from it.
Unsure if anyone would be there, she decided to at least check it out and made her way toward the structure as she looked around her again.
Where the heck am I?
She put one foot in front the other, shivering with every step, feeling like she was trapped in a strange dream. Every inch she moved toward the cabin, it seemed to move further away. It took several minutes before she reached the steps to the little porch and knocked on the door. “Hello?” She peaked into the only window, but without any kind of light, she couldn’t tell if anyone was inside.
This is so seriously like something out of Friday the 13th.
She didn’t hear any traffic noise and wondered just how remote she was. “Can someone help me, please?” she called into the window. “I’m lost and I’m hoping I can borrow your phone to call for help.”
Without warning, she was slammed against the side of the cabin and a large hand settled over her mouth. She screamed in fright, but it made no difference. The hand simply pushed harder and her scream was muffled in his palm. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt tears slide down her cheeks, the coldness of the night connecting with the wetness. She took a deep breath hoping to bolster her courage, and looked up at her captor. “Please don’t hurt me,” she mumbled.
The man loosened his grip slightly and pushed her into the small cabin as she let out a ragged breath. “I won’t scream.” He stared at her but didn’t speak, so she asked, “Are you going to hurt me?” He paused and then shook his head. For some, unfathomable reason, she believed him.
“What do you want?” he growled.
“I’m lost. I was just looking for somewhere warm for the night, or a phone to call a cab.” She frowned as he continued to gape. “Where am I?”
He crossed him arms and stared down at her. “You don’t know where you are?”
His low deep voice washed over her, and she had to force herself not to tremble. She squared her shoulders and tried to stand taller. Even at her 5’6” height, the man towered over her. “I wouldn’t ask if I did, Einstein.”
He cocked his head. “Who is Einstein?”
“You can’t be serious.” Despite her fear, she forced her body to relax. She took a quick look around the room, hoping to find an exit strategy. She could hardly see anything due to the lack of light, however, she did see a small lantern in the corner. “Is there a light switch in this place?”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s a simple question.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “Is there light in here?”
“Yes,” he said, but didn’t elaborate.
“Well, then, could you turn it on, please?” Again, the man didn’t speak and Shaye wondered if he was touched in the head. “Where am I?” Glancing down, she pulled her cell phone out of her backpack. She flipped it open, but there was no signal. “This is weird.” She scrolled her phone down to Trevor’s number and pushed the ‘call’ function, but got nothing. Looking up, she saw the man had moved to the other side of the room, his back to her, and he had removed his hat. She watched him flick a match against the wall and light the lantern.
“Hellooo?” she snapped as she threw her cell phone back into her bag. “Where are we?”
“York.”
“Exactly which part of Chicago is called York?” He turned to face her again and she let out an audible gasp as the light caught him. His face was badly beaten. Her hand went to her mouth and she moved toward him. “What happened?”
“Don’t.” He held up a hand.
She stalled. “Were you in a car accident?”
The eye that wasn’t purple narrowed. “What is a car?”
“Are you trying to be funny or playing dumb?”
He frowned. “Neither.”
Shaye chuckled nervously. “Why do you look like you’ve been hit by a truck?”
“What is a truck?”
Shaye pursed her lips into a thin line. “Okay…let’s try something different. Where are we?”
“We are in York, Pennsylvania.
Her head whipped up. “I was just in Chicago. There is no way I’m in Pennsylvania. Where am I—really?”
He looked at her intently and crossed his arms. “You are in York, Pennsylvania. You are on the land of an acquaintance of mine.”
Shaye’s hand trembled as she fisted it at her side. “You’re really scaring me. Please, just let me know how to get out of here.”
The man shook his head. “It is dangerous for a woman to travel alone. You will stay here.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “I was just in Chicago. I was looking for my friend, Rayne. She went missing a month ago and no one has seen her.”
“Rayne is married to Samuel.”
“What?” she squeaked. “Who’s Samuel?”
“A friend.”
“Oh, thank you for the clarification. Who’s Samuel?” He didn’t respond and Shaye’s heart began to race. “Where am I? How did I get here? I don’t remember anything. I don’t know if I was drugged.” She looked up at him in accusation. “Did you drug me?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“I’ve never seen you before, have I? Were you at one of Rayne’s concerts? Is that how you know me? Do you have some kind of fixation or something? Please take me home. I just want to go home.”
“I will take you to Rayne.”
She shook her head. “I should have listened to Trevor,” she muttered to herself. “This is so dumb!” Glaring at the man again, she watched as he crumpled to his knees and then to the floor. She let out a shocked squeal, but once she got her wits back together, knelt beside him. His pulse thumped steady and strong, but he was face down and heavy, so she wasn’t sure how she was going to move him.
“I can’t even have a meltdown without interruption! This sucks!” Taking a deep breath, she wiped her tears away, and used all of her energy to roll the man onto his back. She reached inside her backpack, pulled out her penlight and, as she shined it on the man’s face, gasped again. Dark bruises and dried blood covered the right side of his face. His left eye was starting to swell and turning a nasty color darker than she’d noticed before in the unlit cabin. His lip was split and bloody. Her heart turned over. “Who did this to you?”
Shining the light in her bag, she found the bottle with the rest of her water in it, along with a couple of t-shirts she’d packed. She grabbed her darkest one and poured the liquid on it. She gently wiped the dried blood from his face and loosened his collar. He came to after being out for almost ten minutes. “Shh. Careful.”
“I am fine.” He grabbed her hand to stop her ministrations.
“Yes, the fact you fell on your face a few minutes ago is evidence of that.”
He sat up and then stood quickly. Jumping up beside him, Shaye wrapped an arm around his waist. A very tight waist. She looked around the room and saw a small bed in the corner of the room. Maybe if she laid him diagonally he would fit.
“I don’t need to be carried like an old woman,” he snapped and pulled away from her.
Shaye released him and settled her hands on her hips. “Perhaps not, but you still haven’t answered my question.”
He blew out a quick breath between his lips. “You asked several. Which one are you referring to?”
“Who did this to you?”
He shrugged. “Men who objected.”
“Come over here.” She wrapped an arm around his waist again and tried to lead the tree trunk to a chair. “Objected to what exactly?”
He sat down and shook his head. “Not important.”
“Oh, okay.” Shaye was losing her patience at a rapid rate. “Good. Well, if you could let me know where your phone is, I’ll call a cab and be on my way.”
“What is a phone?”
Shaye chuckled. “Good to see you have a sense of humor.” He looked at her strangely, so she pulled out her cell phone and showed it to him. “See? No service. I need a landline, because for whatever reason, there’s no cell service here in ‘York, Pennsylvania.’ ”
“How does this work?” He took the device and turned it over several times.
“Seriously?” she asked incredulously. “You haven’t been in prison or something have you?” Shaye bit her lip. “Although, you would have had a TV in prison, so you would know what a cell phone was.”
She showed it to him and he held it for several minutes before handing it back to her. “I told Sam you people were different.”
Her hands went to her hips. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
He stared at her. “What is your name?”
“You first.”
He paused for a minute before answering. “Laughing Crow.”
Shaye’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“Laughing Crow,” he repeated slowly.
Shaye raised an eyebrow. “You’re Native American?”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know what that means? Your nations are considered Native Americans.” She wagged a finger toward him. “You should know that.”
Laughing Crow shrugged. “I am a half-breed.”
Shaye gasped angrily and pointed a finger at him in admonishment. “Don’t call yourself that!”
He shrugged. “It is the truth.”
She settled a hand on her hip. “Well, it’s offensive and I won’t stand for it.”
“You have no say in the matter.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Don’t speak to me like a child you need to placate. I do have a say in it. Sometimes I feel more Creek than white.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he whispered ominously. “You would be shunned.”
Shaye crossed her arms. “By whom?”
“Society.”
Shaye let out an inelegant snort. “I have flown from one coast to another without incident. I think I can safely say, so far so good.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You grew wings and flew?”
“Funny.” She threw her water bottle back into her bag. “Do people call you Laughing Crow?”
“Crow.”
Shaye pursed her lips in consideration. “You must have been a very serious child.”
“Why?”
“To get that name.” She smiled slightly. “Has that changed?”
“What is your name?” He ignored her astute observation.
“Apparently not.”
“Your name?”
“Shaye Montgomery.”
Crow’s face showed surprise. “You are Shaye?”
Shaye’s heart raced. “Do you know me?”
Crow nodded. “Rayne speaks of you often and highly. She misses you and spent much time in an effort to go home.”
“You expect me to believe you know Rayne?” Shaye gripped one of the chairs in the small space. “Where is she? And again, who is this Samuel person?”
Crow laid his hand flat on the table. “Currently, she is on a train with Samuel, her husband, on the way to Harrisburg.”
“Not likely. Rayne is not married, so you couldn’t possibly know her.” Shaye zipped up her backpack, hands shaking.
“She is married, Miss Montgomery. To Samuel Powell of Maryland.”
“Why are you saying this?” She backed slowly toward the door. “Are you going to hurt me?”
Crow stood slowly, which didn’t help Shaye’s nerves. It reminded her how huge he was. “You are safe here.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That didn’t really answer my question.”
“I will not harm you.”
“How do I know that? Because you say it?” she snapped. “There is no way Rayne is married. She never mentioned a boyfriend, let alone a fiancé, and believe me, she would have told me.”
“I am not telling you an untruth.” Crow crossed his arms. “She is married and they are on their way to Harrisburg.”
Shaye mimicked his actions. “Why Harrisburg?”
“We are joining there for Thanksgiving.”
Shaye’s eyes widened in surprise. “Excuse me? Thanksgiving is in November.”
“Yes.”
“It’s September,” Shaye said.
“No, ma’am, it is November.”
Shaye narrowed her eyes in observation. “Did you hit your head?”
“What do you think the date is?”
“September 15, 2009.” As he looked straight through her, Shaye shivered in fright. “You are really scaring me.”
“Miss Montgomery, it is November 20, 1864.”
Grasping the handle to the front door. “Right. Okay, well, I’ll just find my way to the main road now.”
