Authors: Linda I. Shands
Blind Fury
© 2001 by Linda I. Shands
Published by Revell
a division of Baker Publishing Group
P.O. Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287
www.revellbooks.com
Ebook edition created 2012
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansâelectronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwiseâwithout the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owners. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
eISBN 978-1-4412-3954-9
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.
For
Kaili, Zane,
and Hannah
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Thank you Elsie Larson and Bobbie Christensen for your time and effort in critiquing this book.
Thank you Mrs. Theodora Kroeber for so beautifully recording Ishi's story.
“W
AKARA
W
INDSONG
S
HERIDAN
, you haven't heard a word I've said!”
Kara rolled her eyes, tossed another fork full of manure into the wheelbarrow, then turned to her best friend.
“Tia Louise Sanchez, I've heard every word you've said for the past fifteen minutes, but I have to get these stalls cleaned or we won't have any place to put the horses. It's supposed to get down into the thirties tonight.”
Tia flashed a guilty smile and set the Internet printouts on the nearest hay bale.
“Sorry. Guess I should be helping, huh? Then maybe we can go up to your room and look at the stuff I found out about your ancestors.” She grabbed a shovel and began scooping clean sawdust into Lily's stall.
“My supposed ancestors. Anne could be wrong, you know.”
Tia shook her head. “Anne is never wrong. If she says Wakara means
moon
in the Yana language, then she's probably right.”
Kara nodded. “I guess so. But that doesn't mean my great-grandmother was from the Yana tribe. The name could have come from anywhere.”
She set the rake down long enough to secure her thick, black braid to the top of her head with a banana clip and thought about the drawing hanging on the wall in her bedroom.
Back in 1932, Great-grandfather Harley “Irish” Sheridan had used chalk and charcoal to sketch a picture of his Native American wife. Grandpa Sheridan had given it to Kara along with a few pages from Irish's journal. She looked so much like her ancestor, they'd named her after the first Wakara. Irish's notes said that his fifteen-year-old bride was Nez Perce. That's what the entire family had always believed, until Anne, their Nez Perce cook, had come along and insisted Wakara was a Yana name. Now Wakara's background and Great-grandfather Harley's journal had become a mystery that she and her friend Tia were determined to unravel. In fact, Tia had taken it on as a project for her American History class. When she had discovered how much fun it was to do research on the Internet, she had become obsessed.
Possessed is more like it
, Kara thought. She traded the rake for a shovel and began tossing sawdust into the clean stall. As she spread the bedding over the rubber mats, she thought about Anne.
Two years ago, Mom and Dad had bought a guest ranch in the mountains and named it Eagle Lodge. Mom managed the kitchen and four guest cabins, while Dad and Greg took care of the horses and all the repairs needed around the place. Kara helped wherever she was needed. Looking back, she remembered it as being hard work, but fun.
Then Mom died in a car accident, and Dad had hired Anne, a Nez Perce woman from the reservation in Idaho,
to run the kitchen at Eagle Lodge. When Anne called Wakara “Little Moon,” it was as if she opened the lid on a boiling pot. Kara had been upset at first and wanted to believe Anne was wrong. Then, just three weeks ago, at the end of the summer season, Kara and her little brother had barely escaped from a raging forest fire. After that, she had realized it was who she was on the inside that counted, and she had tried to convince herself it didn't matter if her great-grandmother was Yana or Nez Perce. But in her heart, she knew it did. With Mom gone, Kara felt her heritage mattered very much. In fact, she had finally told her friends and family that Kara was an okay nickname, but she really liked people to call her Wakara.
“Hey, now who's doing all the work?” Tia waved her open palm in front of Kara's eyes.
Kara blinked, then laughed. “Sorry. Guess I was daydreaming.”
“Well you'd better wake up fast.” Tia pointed to the doorway of the barn. “Looks like Lily's been rolling.”
Lily, Kara's spirited six-year-old quarter horse, thumped at the barn door with a dainty black hoof. Her silky apricot-colored coat was now spattered with thick red-brown mud.
Kara groaned. “I can't believe itâI just groomed her this morning.”
Tia reached into the tack box and tossed her a brush. “You groom, I'll finish this stall. Maybe we'll get our homework done by next Tuesday!”
Kara brushed away the worst of the mud, then led her mare into the clean, dry stall and gave her a pad of hay. As she slid the metal door closed, she heard another horse whinny.
Tia beat her to the door. “It's Colin on Dakota. And Star's right behind them. Looks like we got done just in time.”
Colin Jones was Dad's hired hand. He had come here to the ranch in Lariat last spring to help with the string
of horses and the small herd of cattle that roamed over their forty acres of land. Colin had spent the summer with them as wrangler at Eagle Lodge, caring for the horses and taking the guests on trail rides. He and her brother Greg were friends, but Colin was also Kara's escort to the football game this weekend. She smiled as she thought about the fun they would have. Who cared if it wasn't a real date? She had another year to go before that. But when she turned fifteen last June, Dad said group dates were okay. The youth group at church was taking a busload of high school kids to the game. Colin wasn't even in high schoolâhe was getting his GED from a junior college, but he was going with them anyway. And she couldn't think of anyone she'd rather hang out with. He was so cute with his hair the color of sun-dried wheat and brown eyes with just the tiniest flecks of green.
“Earth to Wakara. What planet are you on?”
Kara shook away her thoughts and looked up into the real thingâgreen-flecked eyes sparkling with laughter.
She felt herself turn red from her hair roots to her toenails. “Sorry, Colin. Were you talking to me?”
He tipped his hat. “Well, Ma'am, you're the one blocking the door, and old Dakota here has a hankerin' for his dinner.”
Kara grimaced. There was that fake drawl. Between his and her little brother, Ryan's, fascination with old John Wayne movies, she was sick to death of the cowboy routine.
She stepped aside while Colin led Dakota into the stall. Tia hefted a pad of hay into the feeder, while Kara filled the last water bucket and hung it in place.
“Thanks, ladies,” Colin drawled as he limped out of the stall. “I sure do appreciate the help.”
“No prob.” Tia grinned, practically batting her eyelashes at him.
Kara shook her head and smiled. Tia was an outrageous flirt, but everyone knew she didn't mean anything by it. She was just . . . well, just Tia.
Colin coughed and grabbed his ribs. “Ouch. Man, that hurts!”
No kidding
! Kara thought. Colin was not supposed to be riding yetâ“Give those ribs six weeks at least,” the doctor had said, but Colin was as stubborn as an unbridled mule.
Kara and Tia looked at each other. Kara didn't like to think about the forest fire. She and Ryan had escaped with only a few scrapes and bruises, but Colin and Anne had been trapped. They could have been killed. Instead, they had survived, Anne with a broken leg and Colin with a dislocated shoulder, broken ribs, and some smoke damage to his lungs. Kara thanked God every day for saving them.
Star whinnied as a gust of wind whistled through the barn, blowing Ryan in with it.
“Hey, you guys, Dad says to get done and get up to the house. Pronto. There's a big storm coming. He heard it on the radio. Colin, Dad says get the lanterns, 'cause we might lose 'lectricity, and Anne will have to use the camp stove to cook, or we could have cold sandwiches or leftover pizza, and I get to help light the candles with matches from my survival kit.” He took a breath and glared at his sister. “I'm old enough. Anne said!”