Shadow Bones
Authors: Colleen Rhoads
“A typically uninformed comment. If we give our bodies the natural substances God made for us, we'd all be a lot better off. Even an Indiana Jones type like you.”
Instead of the comment irritating him like she'd planned, he grinned, a lazy smile full of self-confidence. “I'm glad you noticed.”
Skye glared at Jake. “I'd like to persuade you to abandon the idea of digging here. You'll disrupt my mining and destroy the environment in this area. There are less fragile places on the island to dig. I suggest you look around.”
“I have a feeling about this spot,” Jake said. “It could be a huge discovery. I'm sorry you don't approve, but your mother owns the land, so I don't think you have anything to say about it.” The final sentence was uttered with a gentleness that didn't extend to the grim look in his eyes.
loves to convey the compelling truth of God's love and grace through her fiction. Colleen and her husband reside in Indiana when they're not traveling the globe looking for new adventures to write about. Visit her Web site at www.colleencoble.com. She loves to hear from her readers! You can e-mail her at [email protected].
SHADOW BONES
For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.
â
II Timothy
1:7
For New Life Baptist Church
The place I'm most at home this side of heaven
Dear Reader,
I've always loved Indiana Jones and wanted to write an exciting male lead like him some day. I hope you like Jake Baxter as much as I liked writing him. He and Skye Blackbird make a good pairâonce they figure it out!
Ancient history has always interested me, and I love old secrets that play out in people's lives. Though Eagle Island is imaginary, the Ojibwa legends and lore are very real. I've been fascinated with my research into the legends of the Great Lakes. I hope you enjoy the excursion! Watch for the third book in the Great Lakes Legends miniseries coming soon.
I love hearing from my readers. Visit me at www.colleencoble.com and e-mail me at [email protected].
W
ilson New Moon hummed as he walked through the meadow with his balsam airplane. He loved to watch it soar into the clouds. Sometimes he was tempted to throw it with all his might and see if it could reach heaven.
The preacher said God was in heaven, and Wilson was curious about that. Did God sit on a throne? Did He like balsam planes? A big man, Wilson knew he wasn't smart like other men. He'd once heard a teacher say he'd always have the mental capacity of a twelve-year-old, but Wilson didn't think that was so bad. Twelve was practically an adult.
Wilson knew he wasn't supposed to be here. The mine area was
off-limits
. That's what his mother said. Wilson didn't quite understand what off-limits was, but his mom said the mine was dangerous. He wasn't a scaredy-cat, though. He loved this particular meadow in the springtime. Mushrooms would be popping up any
day now. He could take what he found to the hunting shop in town and sell them for enough to buy material to make more planes. This one was getting tattered, and The Sleeping Turtle in town needed more of his creations to sell.
He let the wind take the plane and shouted with exhilaration as it soared on the breeze. Capering in among the wildflowers, he screamed with the wind. He wished he could be a plane himself.
By the middle of the afternoon, he was exhausted. He tucked his plane under his arm. Maybe he should leave it here instead of hauling it to his cabin. Wilson had seen a cave around here somewhere. He scrabbled through the underbrush.
There it was. He uprooted a shrub and revealed the opening back into the mine. It was bigger than he rememberedâbig enough for him to explore.
Smiling hugely, he got on all fours and crawled inside. This could be his hiding place. He could play tricks on other mushroom hunters from here and scare them away.
He heard a sound, and his blood boomed in his ears. He looked behind him and saw a black face atop a figure dressed in black. White teeth bared, the creature reached for him.
A scream tore from his throat, and Wilson backpedaled as quick as he could. It was Asibikaashi, the Spider Woman. Weaver of dreamcatchers, Asibikaashi had always terrified Wilson. Though the Ojibwa were encouraged to protect and revere her, he wanted nothing to do with anything that had eight legs.
The shriek that issued from his mouth hurt his ears. He turned and ran for his life. Every moment he expected to feel the silken thread of the Spider Woman's web entangle him and the sharp sting of her teeth entering his back. He didn't dare look behind him as he ran for safety.
“M
other, what were you thinking?” Skye Blackbird wanted to stamp her size seven foot and proclaim this a hill she would die on, but one look at her mother's face convinced her she'd be left bleeding on the hillside.
She fought back the impulse to burst into tears. This was her father's dreamâand her ownâthat was about to vanish. Her mother had to listen to reason.
She jerkily tied a knot in the dreamcatcher on her lap, but not even keeping her hands busy kept her emotions from churning her stomach into knots.
Her shop, The Sleeping Turtle, was empty of customers this beautiful May morning. But even if tourists had packed the narrow aisles filled with herbs and Ojibwa paraphernalia, she wouldn't have been able to hold her tongue. Luckily, the bulk of tourists wouldn't be riding the ferry out to Eagle Island for another month. Then the small island in Lake Superior would be burgeoning with sightseers.
Mary Metis, Skye's mother, tucked one black lock behind her ear. “You're not being reasonable, Skye. Letting the man look for dinosaur bones won't hurt the running of the mine. I don't tell you how to operate your business, so don't tell me how to manage mine. I get enough of that from Peter.” Her voice vibrated with suppressed anger.
Skye hurried to smooth things over. “Are you mad at Peter? He's just trying to look out for you.”
“I'm not a child.”
“You're just ticked at him right now,” Skye responded. “Peter has been good to you and to me. He always knows what's best.”
“The mine belongs to me, not to you or Peter,” her mother went on. “It's about time I start taking back some of the decision-making about it.”
“But you don't even know these people,” Skye protested. “We know nothing about them.”
That wasn't exactly true, and she knew it. This paleontologist, Jake Baxter, was Mrs. Baxter's grandson. The Baxters had practically owned the entire island for years, though that knowledge did nothing to endear the man to Skye. She liked things to stay the same.
“We've known the Baxters for years,” her mother said. “I don't understand your attitude. Jake Baxter merely wants to poke around a bit, see if he can dig up any bones.”
Skye hadn't met this particular Baxter yet, but she already disliked him. “We've always been told some of The Old Ones are buried on our property. What if Jake disturbs their bones?”
“On
my
property,” Mary said. She laid down a bundle of dried chives, tied with twine. The pungent odor permeated the shop and mingled with that of chamomile, comfrey, mint and other herbs.
“Okay, on your property. And besides, I've been running the garnet mine for you for the past four years. I think I should have some say. I can just see people swarming all over the place and disrupting the operation of the mine.”
“He'll be on the slope, not actually in the mine,” her mother pointed out.
Skye finally voiced her real objection. She didn't even want to think about it. “And what happens if he finds something important? He could close us down while he digs. Permanently! I'll never find the diamonds if that happens.”
Her mother's face softened, and she reached out to touch Skye's face with gentle fingers. “Skye, there are no diamonds. Your father combed every inch of that mine in his search and found nothing. I often think that disappointment was what drove him away.”
Skye knew better. If she'd been a better daughter, her father wouldn't have left. If she could find the diamonds, maybe he'd hear of it and come back. “Please reconsider,” she said in a low voice that quivered, no matter how much she tried to keep it steady.
“Let it go, Skye. This is just for the summer. Jake will be gone before you know it.” Mary fished a sheaf of herbs out of the basket by her feet and began to prepare another bundle.
“That's what he's telling you, but I have a bad feeling about this.” Skye hung the finished dreamcatcher in the window beside the others she'd completed so far this month.
Dreams, that's what some would say was all she had in this shop, and that was all she would ever have. But she'd prayed and prayed for this shop, and she wasn't ready to give up on it yet.
“You'll see what a nice man he is for yourself,” Mary said. “I want you to run an errand for me this morning and go see Jake.”
“I need to watch the shop.” The last thing Skye wanted was to see the man face-to-face.
“I'll watch it. I told Jake I'd have you bring out the lease for him to sign.”
Skye almost couldn't speak. “You're giving him a
lease
? Mother, please don't do this.”
Her mother set her jaw. “I have already agreed to it, Skye. I'm a woman of my word.”
“Peter won't like it, either.” Skye crossed her arms over her chest. Peter would talk sense into her mother. He'd apologize for whatever tiff had caused this problem.
“We've already discussed it, and I'm not changing my mind. The more the two of you hound me, the more determined I am to do what I think best. I'm not a child, Skye, though you and Peter like to treat me that way.”
Her mother sounded on the verge of tears, and Skye decided to back off. Her mother had been fragile ever since her husband, Skye's father, had walked out on
them eight years ago when Skye was sixteen. If not for Peter, Skye didn't know how she would have dealt with all of it. But even he knew better than to cross his wife when she was this set on a course of action.
Skye leaned back against the chair and rubbed her forehead. “How long is the lease?”
“Just for the summer.” Her mother's voice held a trace of smugness. She leaned down and pulled a handful of papers from her purse and gave them to Skye.
Skye took them, glancing through the terms. “This clause says he can extend the lease if he finds something of significance to science.” She wanted to fling the lease in the trash and set it afire.
Her mother shrugged her slim shoulders. “You can't seriously think he'll find anything here. It's a summer pastime for Jake, nothing more.”
Skye had heard of Jake Baxter's expertise in the field. He wouldn't be wasting his time if he didn't expect to find something. “Look at this clause, Mother. At least change it,” she pleaded. “Make it for the summer only with no extension.”
Her mother hesitated. “If I do, will you quit fighting me on it?”
Skye bit her lip. She wasn't sure she could hold her tongue. “All right,” she said.
“Fine.” Her mother took a pen and crossed out the clause then initialed it. “I want you to go out now,” she said, handing the papers back to Skye.
Skye nearly groaned, but she rose instead. “Where do I find him?”
“On the southwest slope.”
“That's my favorite spot! I love to walk through the wildflowers there. He's going to ruin my whole summer.”
“Skye, show a little graciousness,” Mary called after her as Skye stormed from the store.
Skye climbed in her 1962 Dodge pickup. Though the paint didn't shine anymore and the seats were cracked, she felt close to her father in this truck. He'd restored it once upon a time, but he'd left it behind like a discarded toy. Just like he'd left his family.
But she would never leave this island as he did. Her mother needed her, and Skye needed the blue twilight in Lake Superior's depths on a lazy summer afternoon. She needed the way the sun glinted off the white cliffs in the winter and the harsh sound of the gulls fighting for a morsel of fish. This land was in her blood, just like it had been in her ancestors'. She was her father's daughter, the daughter of an Ojibwa chieftain. But she would prove more faithful than he.
The truck's tires kicked up a cloud of dust behind her, and the back end fishtailed on the gravel road. She realized she was clenching the steering wheel so hard her fingers were numb. Her jaw ached, and she forced herself to try to relax. She wanted to appear calm and in control when she tried to talk Jake Baxter into giving up this crazy scheme.
The mine was ten miles out of town. Surrounded by pine forests interspersed with stands of white birch, the garnet mine had been her focus ever since she took over
management three years ago. She pulled into the parking lot in front of the mine. Two other vehicles were parked there. She'd never seen either one of them. The beat-up truck was probably his. It held picks and other digging tools.
She got out of her vehicle and slammed the door behind her with more force than necessary, though the action failed to relieve the tension coiled in her gut.
Following the trail of crushed wildflowers, she stalked up the slope to the site her mother had told her Jake intended to dig up. The path to the meadow was always dangerous, as it narrowed to only a foot wide at its steepest, most treacherous part, and in her state of mind, it was hard to take the care she should.
As she neared the rocky outcropping, she could hear the murmur of voices. The man's deep voice sent an odd thrill up her spine, a reaction that made her grit her teeth.
She paused to assess the enemy before stepping around the final boulder barring her way.
Jake Baxter stood with his feet planted on the ground as though he owned it. A red denim shirt and well-worn jeans outlined his tall, rangy form. Skye's gaze traveled from his scuffed boots to the Indiana Jones-style hat that topped his shaggy black hair. The man had to be at least six-four.
He stood tossing a rock from hand to hand like a quarterback would play with a football. The woman on his left wore the same determined expression, and her dark hair matched Jake's. The other woman was blond and
blue-eyed, the antithesis of the other two, and Skye recognized her as Becca Duncan, who frequented her shop.
The three stood deep in conversation, then Becca turned and saw her. “Skye, I'm glad you've come out. You've never met my brother and sister.”
When Jake turned and his dark eyes focused on her face, Skye wanted to run. Even from here, she could see the determination in his jaw and the piercing expression in eyes the color of the walnut trees that grew in the forest.
He wouldn't intimidate her. She lifted her chin and stepped from behind the rock. “Hello, Becca.” Her tone measured, she advanced to the stone outcropping.
Jake's gaze swept her and rested on her face. “You're Skye Blackbird? Somehow I'd pictured someone dressed in gauzy skirts and wearing crystals around her neck.”
“Oh?” At least her linen slacks were still spotless. She smoothed her red jacket over her hips.
“I've heard you're the island medicine woman. You look too much like a modern woman to believe in herbs and roots.”
“A typically uninformed comment. God created everything in this world for a purpose. If we give our bodies the natural substances God made for us, we'd all be a lot better off. Even an Indiana Jones-type like you.”
Instead of the comment irritating him as she'd planned, he grinned, a lazy smile full of self-confidence. “I'm glad you noticed.”
Skye gritted her teeth but managed to keep silent.
“You look mad enough to kick a boulder in two,” Jake said. “Was it something I said?” His grin widened.
Becca's smile faltered. “You okay, Skye?”
“No, no, I'm not.” Skye folded her arms over her chest. She narrowed her gaze and glared at Jake. “I've brought the lease, but only under duress. I'd like to persuade you to abandon the idea of digging here. You'll disrupt my mining and destroy the environment in this area. There are other, less fragile, places on the island to dig. I suggest you look around.”
She tossed out the final comment with a challenging tilt to her chin.
Jake shoved his hands in his pockets, and the amusement in his eyes died. “It's not that easy.”
His deep drawl raised Skye's hackles even more. “Sure it is,” she said. “You pack up this equipment and saunter off to some place that wants you.”
“I have a feeling about this spot,” Jake said. “If I'm right, it could be a huge discovery. I'm sorry you don't approve, but your mother
has
given her permission. She owns the land, so I don't think you have anything to say about it.” The final sentence was uttered with a gentleness that didn't quite extend to the grim look in his eyes.
Heat rushed to Skye's cheeks, and her jaw ached from clenching her teeth. “Don't get in the way of my workers,” she snapped.
“I don't intend to. Now if you'll give me that contract, I can sign it and get to work.”
“Mother made a change.” She dropped her backpack, flipped it open and then pulled out the lease. She wanted to crumple it into a ball and toss it over the cliff, but she forced an impassive glare and handed it to Jake.
Skye pointed out the crossed out clause. “The lease is for the summer only with no extension.”
Jake sighed. He took off his hat and rubbed his forehead. “That's not acceptable to me. We had an agreement.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed. “Mrs. Metis? Jake Baxter here. I really need that clause in the lease. I can't jeopardize the dig with time constraints, and you gave me your word.”
As soon as she heard his cajoling voice and the way he reminded her mother of her promise, Skye knew her mother would cave. Mary Metis prided herself on being a woman of her word. Besides, Jake had a way of presenting his view that seemed so plausible.
He handed her the phone, and she listened while her mother told her to reinstate the clause. Skye knew better than to argue. Nothing was more important to her mother than her word.
She clicked off the phone and handed it back to Jake. She crossed out the correction her mother had made, though it pained her to do so.
“May I borrow your pen?”
For a moment she was tempted to tell him no, but that would just delay the inevitable. She held out a pen without saying anything.