Apache Dream Bride. Joan Elliott Pickart
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He wrapped one large hand around the fork handle, jammed the prongs into the eggs, then jerked his hand upward, spilling the contents.
“Slowly, Dakota, gently. Try it again.”
“Mmm,” he said, glaring at her.
Kathy smiled as she watched him attempt to master the strange tool called a fork. He moved cautiously this time, and she could see him assessing the challenge with intelligence and determination. Yet, there was also an endearing, little-boy quality to the scene that caused a warm, fuzzy feeling to tiptoe around her heart.
“You did it,” she said, clapping her hands as Dakota chewed a delivered forkful of eggs.
He swallowed, then frowned. “This tastes terrible.”
Kathy shrugged. “If you don’t like it, don’t eat it. It’s up to you.”
“I need the nourishment. Bad cooking is better than nothing, I suppose.”
“Don’t push me, Dakota.”
“Push you?” he said, looking directly into her eyes. “I would never harm you, Kathy. I am an Apache. I respect women, I respect you. I wouldn’t push you, beat you or strike out at you.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean…”
“If you have your nose split someday, it would be by your choice.”
“Pardon me?”
“An Apache woman who commits adultery has her nose split so everyone will know what she has done, that she was not true to her man.”
“That’s gross. Just eat the awful eggs.”
They finished the meal in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
“Dakota,” Kathy finally said, “do you have any knowledge, understanding at all, of how to get the Dream Catcher to reverse what it did?”
“No.”
“Great,” she said with a sigh. “What if I have to actually dream about sending you back to where you belong? That would be impossible. A person can’t dictate to their subconscious like that.” She paused. “What if we both sat on the floor by the Dream Catcher and concentrated on the same message? You know, kept mentally repeating ‘Send Dakota back to 1877.’ ”
Dakota shrugged.
“Do you want to try it?”
“The idea has merit,” he said, nodding. “I must heed nature’s call first.” He got to his feet.
“Wait,” she said, jumping up. “I have to explain about bathrooms and…This is so bizarre. Oh, well, come on. I’ve got a nifty little room to show you.”
Two hours later, Kathy flopped back onto the living room carpet and closed her eyes.
“I’m exhausted,” she said. “Brain dead. I can’t concentrate anymore. We’ve been sitting on the floor forever next to this giant menace, and it’s not working.”
“No, it’s not,” Dakota said. “This plan is not the answer.”
Kathy got to her feet, then slouched onto the sofa. “Now what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Dakota, are there people worried about your disappearance. I mean, do you have a family? A…a wife? You said that you were riding alone through the wildflowers but…”
“I don’t have a wife. I have no one now,” he said quietly. “My people have gone to the white man’s reservation. I refused to go. I have been alone for many moons.”
Kathy straightened to look directly at him. “I’m sorry. You’re from 1877. Yes, I’m remembering my history. The Indians in this area were moved to reservations around 1875. Someone who wouldn’t go was called a Bronco Apache, meaning one who is alone, no longer a part of a tribe.” She paused. “I can only imagine what it has been like for you, Dakota. The image in my mind is so stark and empty. An existence of such chilling loneliness.”
Dakota stared at the Dream Catcher, but didn’t reply.
“Maybe I’m wrong,” she said. “I’m viewing it from how I’d feel. You were having thoughts about loneliness, but on the whole you may have been perfectly happy living like that. You might not need other people.”
“My body can survive if I am alone, but my spirit suffers. A man who is truly a man is complete enough within himself to have room for others. There’s an emptiness in solitude that goes on for too long. I have needs, Kathy. I have needs.”
He turned his head slowly to meet her gaze.
I have needs, Kathy.
His words echoed in her ears and a reply was whispered again and again from her heart. I have needs, too, Dakota.
Dakota nodded slowly, and Kathy registered a flash of panic, suddenly wondering if he could read her mind. If not, then what blatant message of desire was radiating from her eyes and visible on her face?
She felt stripped bare, vulnerable, with no defenses against the potent masculinity of this man.
I have needs, Kathy.
And wants? she thought. Was he as aware of her as a woman as she was of him as a man? Or did he see her as nothing more than an annoying product of the powers of the Dream Catcher?
Oh, Kathy, stop it, she admonished herself. What Dakota did, or did not, think of her was not important. Her reactions to him as a man meant nothing, would not be allowed to mean anything. No.
She had concentrated as hard as she could as they’d sat by the Dream Catcher, sending their mutual message that Dakota be transported back to 1877. She’d tried her best.
Or had she? she now wondered.
Had she held something back from the focus of her thoughts? Had the tiny portion of her heart that didn’t want him to leave…not yet, please, not yet…been more powerful than the truth of what must be done?
Oh, she didn’t know. She was confused, tired, excited, frightened, all in one jumbled maze.
She had so many questions with no answers.
Dakota suddenly rolled to his feet, startling Kathy back to attention.
“The Dream Catcher,” he said, “must be kept in a safe place. I don’t want to stay here, in this world, and if anything happens to the Dream Catcher, I’ll have no hope of returning to my own time.”
“We can slide it under my bed,” Kathy said, pushing herself off the sofa.
“Fine.”
Kathy stopped and looked directly at him. “I realize that this whole scenario is overwhelming. Your traveling through time, and encountering all the new and strange things that you’ve never seen before, must be very unsettling. Even so, I can’t help but wonder if you’ve considered staying here.”
“No.”
“Dakota, what would you be going back to, other than loneliness and danger? Do you really want to spend the rest of your life on the run, hiding from the soldiers, never able to settle in one place?”
He splayed one hand on his chest. “I didn’t choose the way of my existence, it was the white man’s doing. The choice I did make was not to go to the reservation with my people. I’m prepared to live with the consequences of that decision.”
“But you don’t have to, don’t you see? You’d be accepted here, judged only by who you are as a man,