Warrior of the Lost Land (Preview)

Prologue

The calendar on the wall flapped in the breeze coming through the crack in the door. Six-year-old Danny watched it flutter, shivering under his blankets. The numbers flashed in the moonlight.

It was December 23, 1860. He blinked rapidly, wishing he could start a fire in the small hearth in his room. Voices floated in just like the breeze, but Danny tried not to listen. If the door was closed and he tried hard, he couldn’t hear those voices. Not unless Mama and Papa were arguing loudly. He could just think loud.

It was one of the coldest nights Danny could remember. Christmas was on the way, only a few days away. He was ready. He’d bought his mother a pretty brooch with the money his father had given him. And for his father, he’d bought a mustache comb with the money provided by his mother.

Danny was generally a happy little boy. He wasn’t afraid of much. Instead of running from animals, insects, or reptiles, he found them fascinating. Walking in the woods was one of Danny’s favorite pastimes. He knew every trail and path within a ten-mile radius around his hometown of Greenwich.

His mother’s voice lifted, capturing Danny’s attention. He kept his eyes on the fluttering calendar.

“Hush, Ellen,” Danny’s father hissed.

“I will not!” his mother responded. “It’s two days until Christmas! This is inexcusable. I can’t have you coming here, into my home, and treating us like peasants! Mark, you tell them to leave right now.”

Danny heard the visitors laughing. He didn’t like the sound of it. It didn’t sound like the joyful laughter his father bellowed when he thought something was funny. It didn’t sound tinkly and pleasant like his mother’s. It sounded almost mean.

Danny wouldn’t ever have thought laughter could sound mean.

Danny flinched when he heard a slap. He knew what had happened. His mother’s gasp, then her whimpering and crying followed the sound. There was no mistake.

“You keep her quiet, Mark, or we’ll make sure she doesn’t make another sound, you got that?” one of the visitors growled.

“She’s scared, Joe. That’s all. You can’t blame her. You’re scaring her. What do you expect? You come into our home and threaten us, and you expect us not to get upset?”

“Let’s get something straight, both of you.” The man’s voice was sharp as he spoke. “I don’t care if you’re scared. I don’t care what you’re thinking or feeling. The only thing I care about is that you do what I’m asking. How hard is that?”

“We can’t help you, Joe. We can’t. I’m sorry. I don’t know what more we can tell you. We’re out of that business. We haven’t been interested in any of that for a very long time now. You know that. It’s been years. Years.”

Danny wondered what was going on when silence came after his father’s words. He heard shuffling and pictured the visitor pacing back and forth. He’d been able to discern two voices but was under the impression there was a third visitor as well. One that never spoke. When they’d arrived, he’d heard three distinct boot treads as they entered.

He pulled the covers up to his chin and tried to keep as much of the air outside the quilt from getting underneath. When it seemed to do no good, he pushed back the quilt and slid out of bed, landing on the cold floor, feeling it even through his thick socks.

Trembling, he moved to the dresser near his bed and pulled open the second drawer as slowly and quietly as he could. The visitors were talking with his parents again and the tension seemed to have eased some.

He pulled a big, thick sweater his mother had made for him over his night shirt. It gave him instant relief and he breathed out a sigh. He could see his breath curling in front of his mouth. He proceeded to pull a pair of trousers over his sleep pants and another pair of socks over the first pair.

Danny was about to crawl back into bed when he passed the crack in the door and glanced through. Curious to see who was upsetting his parents, he moved slowly toward the light until he could peek through with one eye.

There were three visitors, just like he’d thought. Two of them were white men like his father. The other was a Native.

His heart thumped hard when one of the men leaned forward and grabbed his mother around her neck. He lifted her to her feet, screaming in her face that she was worthless and causing trouble.

Danny held his breath as his father jumped to his feet and began to fight with the man choking his mother.

Danny wrapped his hand around the cross necklace he was wearing, a present he’d gotten from his mother last Christmas. He closed his eyes and backed away from the door. His parents were in trouble and there was nothing he could do to help them.

For as long as Danny could remember, his father had taught him to be prepared in case of this very situation. Danny’s heart tore as he hurried to pull on his boots. He tried to be quiet, crawling under his bed and opening the small hatch underneath it.

He stared down at the ground, four feet from where he was. A tunnel had been dug under the house so he could get away if he needed.

This was the time.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the sound of gunshots ripped through the night, bouncing off the walls in his room. Danny looked back toward the door, wishing he could give his mother a hug one more time. Hoping she would live through this and come find him.

“When the time comes, Danny, you run, do you hear me? Run as fast as you can and don’t look back. We will find you if we can. And don’t forget, we love you with all our hearts. Your mama and I love you with all our hearts. Can you remember that?”

His father’s words rang through his mind when Danny jumped from the floor of his bedroom to the ground below, pulling the hatch door closed. It made a whacking sound that sent fear through his little body.

Danny scrambled out from under the house and ran toward the path in the woods his father had shown him. He didn’t look back. He just kept running.

Chapter One

Danny looked around, taking in the faces of the men surrounding him. They all looked somber as they talked to each other in low voices.

These were not his people, really. But he could barely remember what it was like before, when he was with his parents sixteen years ago in that large house on the outskirts of the nearest town of Greenwich, where his parents had been killed. He didn’t really remember it.

That was what the chief of the tribe that had taken him in and raised him until adulthood had told him. It was what his six-year-old self had described.

Now, Danny couldn’t remember any of it. He’d been too young. Faces he thought might be his parents’ drifted through his mind sometimes. Smells would remind him of his mother’s cooking or her perfume or his father’s cigar or pipe smoke.

For the most part, though, he couldn’t remember them. Chief Black Deer had told him the story so many times Danny thought of it as if it had happened to someone else. His earliest memory was asking his pia, the Native woman who acted as his mother, if they would have a celebration for his tenth birthday. Everything before that was just a blur of memory fog.

The feelings were still there, though. The fear he’d felt when he’d run away from the house where his parents were had never left him. He had been left with a lack of confidence that was necessary to be a Comanche hunter, a brave warrior, something that just didn’t seem to be in his blood.

Yellow Feather, the grandson of the chief, had tuned right in to this weakness in Danny and hammered it as much as he could. It had the desired effect, eroding what confidence Danny might have had in himself as the harassment continued over time.

“As expected, little Danny Two Wolves is over here brooding like a woman,” Yellow Feather said loudly in their native tongue, bringing Danny from his thoughts. His hazel eyes lifted to the taller young man.

Yellow Feather was an intimidating force, making Danny ashamed of himself simply because he was afraid of him. It made it worse that Yellow Feather knew what Danny thought of him.

It wasn’t just his physical presence. He was taller by about five inches and his chest was broad, with muscles in places Danny didn’t know existed. His dark red skin was flawless. His face was chiseled with features that made him look like a leader. He had a strong jawline and narrow, watchful eyes that reminded Danny of a hawk. His voice cut like a blade in Danny’s ears, constantly condescending.

“You were practically asleep with your eyes open, Little Danny. What are you thinking about?” Yellow Feather moved from the log he’d been sitting on and crouched so he was still eye-to-eye with Danny when he got close, one hand on the ground to steady himself. He tilted his head back and forth as if studying every aspect of Danny’s face. “You brooding? You thinking about your parents? Your dead parents?”

Danny grimaced, making Yellow Feather laugh.

“It is a pity they did not get to raise you, Little Danny. You are not a brave warrior. You are not Comanche. You do not belong with us.”

“That’s enough, Yellow Feather.” It was Red Boar who spoke.

As much as he hated that Red Boar felt the need to stand up for him, Danny was glad he did. Red Boar was his brother in the tribe, the son of their mother, their pia, who had adopted Danny into her fold when he was found wandering in the woods.

His brother wasn’t afraid of Yellow Feather, though he was not as big as the other brave, either. He was a few inches taller than Danny and a few inches shorter than Yellow Feather. His distinctive features reminded Danny of an eagle or maybe a parrot because of the bright feathers he always wore in his hair.

He was slender, with dark skin like Yellow Feather and the rest of the tribe, but had the muscles to stand his own in a fight. His dark brown eyes expressed his intelligence.

As much as he appreciated his brother’s confidence in him, Danny was certainly not a Comanche brave. He barely had what it took to be a hunter, much less a warrior. He was a remarkable shot with the bow and arrow, however. It was the only thing that redeemed him in many eyes.

Despite his ability with the bow and arrow, and the discovery that that skill spilled over into shooting a gun, he didn’t like hunting. He didn’t like killing animals. This made Yellow Feather and all the braves who looked up to Yellow Feather laugh at Danny on a regular basis.

“Oh, look. Red Boar has to say something for Little Danny.”

His stepbrother shot to his feet. He’d been sitting next to Danny on a thick blanket, facing the fire. When Red Boar stood up, he leaned forward and swept up one of the thick sticks in the fire that had only lit on one side. He swung the fire directly at Yellow Feather, making the young brave fall back so he was holding himself up off the ground on his elbows.

Danny reveled in the fear on Yellow Feather’s face as he glared at Red Boar.

“What do you think you are doing?” Yellow Feather barked, crawling backwards. “I will tell my grandfather!”

“You can tell the chief if you like, Yellow Feather,” Red Boar stated, “but I am sure he will be interested to hear that you have been going hunting in places you should not, like the river when the women are doing the washing. I have seen you, and you know that he will believe me because he knows who you are. You will leave Danny alone if you know what is good for you.”

Yellow Feather snarled at Red Boar but said nothing more, scooting back and away from them. Red Boar sat again, crossing his legs in front of him and watching Yellow Feather scurry away, stopping when he reached the seat he’d abandoned.

“Thank you, Boar,” Danny murmured under his breath, turning his head to look at his stepbrother.

Red Boar frowned at him, but Danny saw affection on his face, too. “You must learn to stand up for yourself, Danny. You are twenty-two years of age. It is not good for you to continue to need me to defend you. Chief Black Deer told me you were trained to escape when you saw trouble, and this is why you continue to flee instead of fight. You must get out of this habit. You must learn to stand up to Yellow Feather and his friends. If you do not, how can you fight in battle with the rest of us?”

“We may not ever need to go into battle, Boar,” Danny replied, knowing his stepbrother didn’t want to hear that excuse.

“You know as I do that we can never tell. You must stop fleeing and start fighting. I must work with you more. It is necessary. You might find yourself in a terrible situation when no one can come to your rescue.”

Danny knew Red Boar only spoke the truth. How could he possibly survive in a dangerous world if he expected someone else to come to his defense all the time?

He was a man. He needed to act like one.

Chapter Two

Three men hovered over him, looking down at him, snarling and sneering. Danny was afraid. He crouched down, hiding his face. He wanted his mama and papa.

“Danny…” He heard his mother’s voice calling him. “Danny, come to me.”

He looked up. The men were gone. He was in the woods. All alone. Where was she? He couldn’t see anything. It was so dark. There were trees to his left and his right, in front of him and behind. Where was the trail? Where was his mother?

“Mama?” he called out. “Mama?”

He moved forward, taking one step. Two steps. Three steps.

Danny stopped, looking down. The ground was so close to his feet. He wasn’t a grown man. He was just a child, a little boy lost in the woods.

“Mama!” He was beginning to panic. “Mama!”

Danny started to run. Dodging bushes and trees, searching for a path of some kind, a trail to follow, something that would take him to his parents. They had to be here. They had to be somewhere.

“Danny… Danny…”

Tears streamed down his face, pooling in his ears because he was running so fast. He ran faster than he’d ever run before. But he got nowhere. He was never out of the trees. And his mother’s voice… She was over there… No, there… No…

Danny skidded to a halt. He turned around in a circle. Soon it would be dark, and he would be all alone once again. Why bother to run? Why not just sit here and cry and wait for death’s arms to wrap him up and carry him away?

So that was what he did. He sat right where he was, folding his legs in front of him and leaning down so his forehead rested in his hands.

“Mama,” he moaned. His tears dripped down, splatting on his boots, cleaning them of the dust that coated them. “Mama. Papa.”

Danny felt himself being shaken and opened his eyes in a panic, forcing himself out of the horrible nightmare. He was looking into Red Boar’s concerned eyes. His stepbrother kept looking behind him, but Danny didn’t see why or what he was looking at.

“Wake up, pabi.”

Red Boar’s use of pabi or brother always made Danny alert. He tended to only use it when they were in danger of some kind. Even the smallest chance of danger brought that word from Red Boar’s mouth.

“I am awake,” Danny responded. “What is wrong?”

“You are having a night terror. You are calling out in your sleep. If you get louder, you will wake up the others and I will not be able to save you from the thrashing they will give to you.”

Danny was grateful and gave Red Boar a look that told him so. “You are a true friend and brother, pabi. Thank you.”

Red Boar’s face eased some. Danny was still shaken by the dream, though he could remember very little of it. He knew he had seen the faces of the killers, the three men who had taken his parents from him. He always saw them. It didn’t take a dream to bring them to his mind while awake, either.

The rest of the dream was a distant memory. He wouldn’t be able to recall it no matter how hard he tried. The faces of the men stuck with him, but everything else faded the moment he woke.

“I am going for a walk,” Red Boar said quietly. “Would you like to come with me?”

Danny nodded emphatically, rolling over on his side and pushing up. He was on his feet quickly, glad he hadn’t taken off his moccasins.

Red Boar gestured with his fingers to indicate which direction he was going. There was a path ahead that led up a decent incline to the top of the hill that overlooked their home, the Golden River Village. Danny and the rest of the hunters were on their way back from a five-day trip to gather skins and meat from a buffalo herd nearby.

It was early morning and there was enough light for the two young men to see where they were going. They passed through a short stretch of woods where the trees were sparse, many feet between them. No real path was needed until they left the woods behind and started up the hillside.

At some point, there had been a lot of people traveling along this way. The decades of feet, animal hooves, and wheels had left the ground unable to grow grass. Trees had been removed so wagons could travel on it.

Danny knew the hill and the path well. He and Red Boar, as well as the two sisters they shared, had played on this hill many times. He thought back a few years and what came to mind made him smile. He felt a strong surge of affection for his brother. Red Boar had saved his behind more times than he wanted to count.

Unlike Danny, Red Boar was the epitome of his name. He was strong and aggressive like a boar and his skin had a distinct red tint to it that the chief said represented the temper of the young man.

Although Red Boar was temperamental, he also had an incredible ability to monitor and control how much of his anger he let out. He exhibited a great deal of love for Danny, despite having no blood relation to him.

Danny was convinced Red Boar would make an excellent chief someday, but he wasn’t in line for that job and said he didn’t want it anyway. He was a warrior, he said, through and through. Not someone who would be forced to sit in his tent and talk and negotiate. That wasn’t Red Boar’s style. He used weapons and his fists to dole out justice. He did what his chief told him to do. He was a guard dog, protecting those who needed it.

Sometimes Danny wanted to be like his stepbrother. Red Boar never needed anyone else. He was so confident, so capable.

Danny looked up and around him. They’d come out into the clearing and headed up the hill at almost the same rate as the sun rose. Danny gazed at the colorful streaks through the sky as the sun rose above the land on the horizon.

When they were at the top of the hill and able to look down and see their village, Danny wasn’t looking down. He didn’t see the village come to life as the women rose with their children and began to prepare for the hunters to come home.

He was looking up, wondering what life was all about. Why did this tragic thing that happened to him so long ago still weigh so heavily on his mind? Why did he feel like a failure, like a child still running from danger?

His heart was heavy as he stood next to his stepbrother, gazing out at the beauty of the world around him. Dew glistened in the grass, sparkling as the sun caught the drops of water and reflected off them.

Danny closed his eyes and basked in the newly risen sun. His heart was still heavy but glad that he was alive to experience the new day.

“You will be okay, Danny,” Red Boar said into the quiet morning. “I know you do not see it or feel it, but I do. I have faith in you. I know you will find your confidence somewhere at some time. I will help you, if you let me. Until you are ready, I will protect you. You know this?”

Danny nodded at his stepbrother, examining the man’s face, ashamed but grateful at the same time.

“Do you believe me?” Red Boar asked, sincerely.

“I do,” Danny replied. “I will keep trying, too.” He knew he sounded weak. He always did. He hated his own voice and the weakness it represented. “I will,” he cleared his throat and repeated in a stronger tone.

Red Boar rested one hand on Danny’s shoulder. “I know you will, pabi. I do.”

Chapter Three

Danny and Red Boar left the hillside ten minutes later, after watching the sun rise from the horizon. They were halfway down the mountain when Red Boar grabbed Danny’s arm and pointed without saying a word.

Danny narrowed his eyes to focus, seeing immediately what Red Boar was pointing out. There was a wagon approaching the campsite at the bottom of the hill. Danny could tell the driver of the wagon and the two men on horseback with him couldn’t see the campsite from where they were. They might even pass it on by without stopping.

But Danny knew why Red Boar had brought them to his attention. If Yellow Feather or any of the other braves saw the white men approaching, they would react swiftly and without any questions.

This wouldn’t be the first time Danny and Red Boar had intervened when white men were in danger. It stood to reason why they were the only ones in the tribe who cared what happened to men who stumbled onto reservation land innocently. Sometimes they weren’t so innocent, and the Natives had paid the price. Their women were especially vulnerable, and Yellow Feather was fiercely protective of the women in their tribe.

While Danny and Red Boar couldn’t fault Yellow Feather for being protective, they did find fault with the way he reacted to all white men. He wasn’t the kind to ask what they wanted or where they were headed. They were the enemy before they introduced themselves and gave their destination or intent. He didn’t want to know who they were. He just wanted them to pay for being on their native land.

It would forever be a mystery whether Danny’s presence in the village for the last sixteen years had made Yellow Feather react the way he did. He was a jealous man, that was clear. But no one  told him not to be that way. In fact, Danny often suspected Tahini, Yellow Feather’s father, had raised his son to hate the white man, Danny included.

“Let us go turn them away,” Red Boar said in a low voice. Neither of them could see the campsite and whether the other hunters were awake, but chances were good they were or would soon be up and moving. They all rose with the sun, including Danny.

Danny nodded at his stepbrother. He pointed to another trail. “We can take that one. It will lead us around the campsite and right to where the travelers are.”

“We must hurry,” Red Boar stated urgently. He and Danny scurried toward the path and dashed down it, making their footfalls as quiet as possible. They made it through the woods and came out in a clearing right in front of the strangers.

“Whoa!” the man in the wagon called out, pulling back on the reins to make his slow-moving horses come to a complete stop. Danny saw the fear on their faces, fear that changed to confusion when they looked at him.

He didn’t look like a Native nor did he look like a prisoner, as he was dressed in Indian attire, all but a headdress, which was reserved for the chief. He did have feathers in his hair, which was held back in a pony tail, and wore a beaded vest. He probably looked like quite a strange sight to the men.

“Good morning,” one of the men on horseback said. “Do you speak English?”

Danny nodded at the man. “I know the English language, yes,” he said without an accent. A memory flashed through his mind when the chief, who had made sure to continue Danny’s lessons in the English language as well as the Comanche dialect they used in his tribe, had laughed about the accent he used for Comanche. “Where are you going?” he asked.

The three men looked at each other. It was the man driving the wagon who answered.

“I am Dr. McNabb. This is Dr. Clark and that is Dr. Manchin. We travel from town to town, offering our services to those who are injured or ill. We have medicine and bandages and anything someone in peril might need. Do you have the need of a doctor?”

Danny liked the pleasant confidence the man had when speaking. It was in stark contrast to the look of terror that remained on his face.

“We do not need any medical help,” Danny responded.

“What do they want?” Red Boar asked. Danny told them who the travelers were. “Tell them to get away from here before Yellow Feather and the others see him. They will kill them, you know this.” He turned to the men and used the few English words he knew. “You must leave. You are not welcome here.”

“My brother says you must leave, and I say this as well. You are in danger if you stay here. You will be the ones who need your bandages and medicines. Or an undertaker.”

He moved his eyes from one man to the other. He pointed to a path going away from the village. He was nervous, his heart thumping hard. He was certain these men would be seen and might be shot right in front of him. He spoke with urgency.

“Thank you for your offer of assistance. Please go in that direction and follow the path to the nearest town. You will be out of Indian territory, and you will be in less danger there.”

“We sure do appreciate the advice, mister. What can I call you?”

“I am Danny Two Wolves. This is Red Boar Two Wolves, my brother in the Golden River tribe. Our brothers will not take kindly to your presence. Please. Go now. We do not wish for you to come to any harm.”

“As long as you’re sure we can’t be of any help. Do you need any supplies?”

Danny’s anxiety strengthened, his chest tightening. He couldn’t help glancing toward the camp.

“You must go,” he said earnestly. “We do not wish for you to come to harm. It is important that you go. Quickly. Please.” He held out his hand to indicate the path he’d pointed them to before, almost ushering them on. “Please,” he said one more time.

His motions and the urgency in his voice must have persuaded them because the man in the wagon tipped his hat and nodded once. He slapped the reins and turned the wagon in the direction Danny had pointed.

They rode away, Danny and Red Boar looking after them. Danny felt a great sense of relief—and from the look on Red Boar’s face, so did he.