Linda Conrad - The Gentrys - Abby

“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.”

Drums? “Tell me about the drums,” he demanded in a hoarse whisper. “Did they seem to come from everywhere at once? Did you feel them seeping inside you like they belonged to the air and the wind?”

She nodded sharply, then stared at him. “Do you know what they were? Did you hear them, too?”

He sat forward and leaned his forehead into his palms. Man, his head hurt.

“I thought I must’ve been dreaming,” he groaned.

“Tell me about it.”

“I have to think.” He rubbed his temples. “I can’t think.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right, Gray. We can talk about it later. You’ve been through a lot.”

His chin jerked up. “You know my name? But I don’t know who you are. I remember your help in the dry wash, but I can’t remember ever meeting you before.” The frustration was evident in his dark-rimmed eyes.

Abby swallowed the small ego buster. She clearly remembered the time he’d knocked Bigelow Yates off his horse when that bully had decided to use her as a lassoing post. A few of the dumber adolescent boys had oftentimes made her the brunt of their jokes back then. Probably because she’d fought back and refused to flutter her eyelashes and cry like the other girls.

But although Gray had been her hero that day and had always treated her with respect, there was no reason on earth why he should remember. It was a long time ago, and they’d both changed over the years.

“I’m Abby Gentry. We’re neighbors. And…we went to high school together for a year.”

“Abby Gentry?” He shook his head and wiped a palm over his mouth. “As in the Gentrys? I can’t…” He rubbed at his temples again.

“Don’t…don’t try. I doubt if I was very memorable.” She sympathetically placed her hand on his shoulder but quickly withdrew it when the feel of his bare skin sent a shock down her arm. “Let’s, uh, try something easier. What were you doing in that dry wash without a horse? And how on earth did you let that rattler get the best of you? Don’t you know better than to turn your back on a snake?”

He grimaced and rubbed his hand across his mouth again. “Can I have a little water?”

Abby was startled. How cruel could she be? Here the poor man had been near death and fighting for his life until just a little while ago, and instead of treating him like a patient she was interrogating him.

When she looked a little closer, she saw the dark, purplish circles under his eyes. “Sure. I’m sorry. Don’t talk. Rest. The paramedic helicopter should be here soon.” She quickly got him a cup of the bottled water.

He took a sip, cleared his throat and handed the cup back to her. “I owe you an explanation.” His gaze landed on her eyes, and his scrutiny made her nervous again. “In fact, I owe you much more…. I owe you my life.”