Shadow Bones (6 page)

 

It felt like a woodpecker had taken up residence inside her skull. Skye suppressed a groan and opened her eyes. Her vision seemed blurry, and she blinked to try to clear it.

“Almost there,” Jake said. He reached across the seat and touched her cheek.

The roughness of his fingers sharpened her senses, and almost without thinking, she leaned her face into the caress. His fingers stilled, then his thumb traced the curve of her cheek. The sweetness of the moment was almost more than she could bear. Who would have thought she and Jake Baxter would share some strange attraction between them?

Maybe she
was
concussed. She straightened up and pulled away. “Did you get the sheriff?”

“Yep. I told you, but you wouldn't wake up.”

He turned the corner onto Houghton Street and stopped in front of her mother's house. A four-square brick home, it had been built at the turn of the century by one of the Welsh fishermen who'd immigrated to the
United States and settled along Superior's shores. When this part of the island had been deeded to the Ojibwa tribe, her great-grandfather had taken possession of this property and everyone in town called it the Blackbird house.

Someday it would be hers.

But not for many years, she prayed. Jake opened his door and came around to assist her. She felt dizzy as she stood and leaned on his arm. He helped her to the house and pressed the doorbell.

The sensation of his muscular arm around her waist was more disconcerting than she would have liked. Skye held herself stiffly, afraid of the way her pulse raced and her mouth felt as dry as the arid Windigo spring.

Her mother opened the door. “Skye, what on earth?” She grabbed her daughter and helped her inside.

Peter came through the door from the garage. He hurried to help and swung Skye into his arms. She leaned her head against his chest. He'd been the best father he knew how to be. She shouldn't be comparing him to her own father so much. “I'm okay now,” she said, smiling up at him.

“Good thing I just got here from the bank,” he said. “I thought you were going to faint for a minute. What did you do to her?” he asked, looking at Jake.

“He saved me, that's what he did,” she said. “Someone knocked me out at the mine. Then when we came out, someone tried to stone us.”

Peter's eyes widened. His gaze darted to Jake again. “It appears I owe you my thanks. This girl is special to
all of us.” His eyes misted with tears. “We'd better call the sheriff.”

“Jake already did.” Skye eased to the sofa and leaned her head against the back. “Mother, could you take a look at the cut on my head and see if it needs a butterfly?”

“Don't you think we'd better call a doctor?” Jake's voice sounded worried.

“I shall tend to my own daughter.” Her mother moved to Skye's side and began to probe her head.

Jake backed away. A knock came at the door. “That's probably the sheriff,” he said.

“I'll let him in.” Peter hurried to the door and ushered the sheriff to the living room.

Sheriff Mitchell frowned as he saw Skye. “What's going on out at that mine?”

“I wish we knew,” Jake said, his mouth a grim line.

“Wait, where's the box?” Skye asked. When Jake brought it to her, she opened it and scanned the contents. “His eagle feather is gone!”

“Eagle feather?” Jake asked.

“It was his most prized possession,” her mother said. “He won it in a Grass Dance. I never understood why he didn't take it with him.”

“It's gone now,” Skye said, closing the box. “It has to be Tallulah. She asked to buy it from me several times last year. She told me she wanted the power from it. She probably threw the stones to drive us off so we would leave the box.” She told Mitchell about Tallulah's behavior since her son's death.

“Let's not jump to conclusions,” the sheriff said. “I'll talk to her.”

Skye nodded. “Just get my eagle feather back.”

S
kye found her wariness around Jake lightening up, and the sensation was somewhat akin to being adrift on Superior in her father's old boat, now lying scuttled in the barn. The holes in her armor were not of her own making, and she managed to summon resentment toward him for that. He was in her thoughts often over the next few days, no matter how she tried to fill her time with making dreamcatchers.

“Skye, I'm running out of some of our herbs,” her mother told her on Wednesday morning.

“I'll search for more,” Skye said. Maybe a trek in the forest would keep her thoughts from wandering to the way Jake had tried to protect her from the assailant. She'd never had anyone show such sacrifice for her.

She took her canvas sack and drove out to Windigo forest, a vast tract with native trees that had never seen the lumberjack's axe. She parked along the side of the road and entered the woods.

This was her favorite part of her job. Secrets lay in the forest, meadows with herbs and roots that could help her people. The cool rush of shadow and the fecund scent of wildflowers and decaying leaves lifted her spirits.

She walked along a path her people had used for decades, then plunged through brush along a new trajectory, stopping to check her compass occasionally. By noon her bag was bulging with herbs and roots, and she felt cleansed, reborn by the forest.

She had turned to head back to the road when she heard the rhythmic chop-chop of an axe. She followed the sound. No one was supposed to chop wood in this forest.

Pushing past a tangle of forsythia, she stepped into a clearing and found a lean-to. Drying animal skins hung on a rack beside the structure, and a curl of smoke rose from a firepit that held a spit with a rabbit cooking over the low flame.

She should probably leave. Whoever was living here was doing so illegally and might not take kindly to being discovered. She could tell the park ranger to check it out. The chopping had stopped, and only the drone of insects disturbed the quiet of the deep woods.

A frisson of panic assailed her for no real reason, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Skye winced as her retreating footsteps crunched dead leaves.

A form materialized from the shadows in front of her. “I know you,” the man said.

Skye nearly screamed. She took a step back. “Wil
son, you scared me. What are you doing out here?” She felt almost giddy with relief.

“I live here.”

She hadn't seen Wilson New Moon in nearly two months, she realized. The forty-year-old mentally challenged man often stopped by her shop to talk about his hobby of balsam airplanes. She sold them in her shop, and he eked out an existence on the income.

“I wondered why you hadn't been in the shop lately. I have some money for you,” she told him.

Wilson scratched insect bites that reddened his balding pate, then hitched up his baggy jeans. He looked like he'd lost weight. Skye frowned as her gaze took in his filthy plaid flannel shirt. She'd never seen him look so unkempt.

He blinked. “Be careful, Skye. She hates you.”

“Who hates me?” Skye wondered if she could coax him out of the woods and into town, where Dr. Bobber could take a look at him.

“Her.” Wilson shuddered. “I seen her watching you.”

“Wilson, have you been eating?” Skye didn't like the feverish look in his eyes or the gray pallor of his skin.

He nodded. “Want some rabbit?”

“Why are you out here?”

He glanced around in a furtive way that made Skye's mouth go dry. “She told me to come out here.”

“Who is she?”

“Asibikaashi. The Spider Woman.” Tears sprang to his eyes and trickled down his face, leaving dirty tracks in their wake.

Skye was growing more alarmed by Wilson's manner. “You know there's no such thing as Asibikaashi. Jesus has saved us from the old superstitions.”

She couldn't figure out why he was so frightened. The old Ojibwa legend of Asibikaashi was that of a kindly spider who wove a web to help the sun find all the dispersed Ojibwa people. Her people loved and revered the legend.

Wilson had accepted Christ in church about six months ago, and she didn't understand why he'd slipped back into some of his old beliefs.

He shook his head mournfully. “I'd thought so, too, Skye, then she came. I was in my tent, and she whispered to me and told me what had to be done. I wish Jesus would kill her.” More tears slipped down his face. He looked into the woods. “You have to get out of here.”

Skye would like nothing better than to get out of here. Adrenaline still made her feel jittery. “Come with me, Wilson,” she urged. “We can get your money.”

He shook his head. “She'll find me if I leave.” He backed away, then turned and plunged through the woods.

Skye called after him, but he jumped a stream and disappeared from view. She thought about going after him but knew it was useless. Wilson was the most woods-savvy person she knew. If he didn't want to be found, it would be like trying to catch the smoke rising from the cooking rabbit.

As she made her way out of the forest, she puzzled over Wilson's cryptic comments. She was tempted to
dismiss his warning as the fabrications of Wilson's childish mind, but remembering the sound of rocks slamming into Jake's SUV convinced her there might be something to Wilson's ramblings.

Maybe she should talk to the sheriff about it. And Jake. He could help her figure out what was going on. Skye realized she had more faith in his ability than in the sheriff's. Jake was a real man in every sense of the word, and his strength drew her. She knew she had no chance of attracting him. He'd seen beautiful women from every far-flung corner of the globe.

She smiled wryly as she reached the road and got back into her truck. Of course, she was as helpless to stay out of Jake's path as a fly buzzing furiously to get out of a web. Jake could be just as deadly to her future happiness, too.

 

Jake pulled his damp shirt away from his chest and wiped the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his arm. He'd succeeded in excavating another clutch of eggs, and the round shapes lying before him were worth every drop of sweat. Kimball Washington would be impressed when he arrived tomorrow.

Jake glanced at his watch. Nearly two o'clock. He had a good five hours of daylight left to work. The soreness in his muscles had disappeared, and he felt good today, relishing the hard work at the dig.

Wynne stood and stretched her back. “I'm ready for some water. Want a bottle?”

“Sure.” He watched her go to the cooler. “I appreci
ate your helping me this summer, Wynne. I know you turned down a pretty attractive project.”

She smiled as she handed him the water. “How did you hear about that?”

“Becca told me.”

“She's a blabbermouth.” She uncapped her water and took a swig.

“I know, but if you want to accept it and go, I'll understand.”

“No, you wouldn't. You think digging up eggs is the most important job in the world.” She grinned and poked him in the stomach. “And I'm enjoying being with my big brother. We don't get time like this very often. Besides, you need my help.”

“True. I don't know what I would have done without you these past couple of weeks. I'll be able to get some funding to finish out the dig once it's announced, though. And if you want to go then, I won't yell.”

“Becca would.” Wynne sat on a rock and wiped her forehead. “But seriously, Jake, I'm enjoying it.”

A sound caught his attention and he looked around to see a truck pull into the parking lot below them. “Skye's here.” The lightness he felt when he saw her truck surprised him.

“I think you're a goner, Jake,” Wynne said, her gaze lingering on his face. “Your roving days are about over.”

He shook his head. “She's just a friend.”

“Go ahead and deceive yourself a little longer,” Wynne said. “I've never seen that look in your eyes be
fore. I hope you'll like living on Windigo Island. Skye will never leave here.”

“You're nuts. I have no intention of staying here the rest of my life.”

“I don't know, this dig might take years to fully excavate. By then, your wanderlust might be gone.”

Jake knew himself well enough to know he'd always be drawn to new discoveries, new horizons. Though this dig was exciting, there were more sites out there waiting to be uncovered.

He shook his head. “You're wrong, Wynne. I'm never getting married.”

Wynne raised an eyebrow. “Never say never, big brother.”

Her certainty irked him, and he felt his temper rising as he saw Skye coming up the path to the dig. He'd show Wynne she was wrong.

 

Skye could hear the sound of voices as she hurried up the path. She recognized Jake's deep tones and the higher ones of his sister, Wynne. She'd hoped to find him alone. She wasn't sure Wynne entirely approved of her.

Jake stood watching her approach. Skye thought that might be wariness in his expression, though what he had to be wary of in her, she didn't know.

“Looks like you've been working hard,” Skye said, taking in the dirt on his face and the damp streak on the chest of his shirt.

“Yeah.” His dark eyes watched her. “You feeling okay?”

“I wondered if I could talk to you a minute.” What on earth was the matter with him? He almost acted like he was mad at her. They'd parted on good terms, especially after he'd saved her life.

“I guess I can spare a few minutes.” He glanced toward Wynne, who seemed to be watching with great interest.

Wynne smiled. “Hi, Skye. Are you feeling okay?”

Skye's tension eased a bit at the other woman's friendly tone. “My head's still a little sore, but I'm okay.” At least Wynne had seemed concerned, unlike her brother.

“Good. I've been praying for you.”

Skye was taken back a bit at Wynne's comment. How kind of her. She could use all the prayers she could get. “Thanks.”

Jake said nothing, and Skye frowned. Had he been praying for her? She'd assumed he was a Christian since he'd come to church with the family. She studied him with new eyes. Why had she never noticed that cynical twist to his mouth? She needed to find out more before she got any closer to him. She decided to spill her request and get out of their way.

“You want to talk in private? I need to run to town after some more water and I could do it now rather than at dinner,” Wynne said.

“No, that's fine. I could use more minds on the puzzle,” Skye said.

“Puzzle?”

Jake sounded interested now, but Skye was fast los
ing any real desire to share her problem with him. She'd come this far though, and there was no graceful way to escape.

“I don't know if you've seen Wilson New Moon around—he's a mentally challenged man in his forties. He's generally dressed in jeans, a flannel shirt and suspenders?”

Wynne frowned. “I don't think I've seen him, but Becca has mentioned him.”

Skye nodded. “Molly, Max's daughter, loves him and his balsam airplanes.”

“What about him?”

The boredom in Jake's voice suddenly infuriated Skye. “Never mind,” she said, not caring what he thought of her. She turned to go back to her truck. She'd talk to the sheriff about it.

Jake caught her arm. “Sorry, I'm a little distracted today.”

Skye stood with her head down, not looking at him. “I need to get back to town.”

“I said I'm sorry. What about this guy?”

“He's been a bear all morning,” Wynne said. “Don't mind him. He's not mad at you. I'm the one who ticked him off.”

“I'm not mad!”

Skye and Wynne looked at one another. Wynne rolled her eyes, and Skye giggled.

Jake snorted. “If you two are going to make fun of me, I'll get back to work.”

He didn't sound mad anymore, so Skye sneaked a peek at him. His firm lips quirked up on the ends, and
he was regarding her with an amused expression in his eyes.

“So what about this Wilson?” he prompted.

His tone had changed, and the tension eased from her shoulders. The old Jake was back. “I ran into him in the forest today. I'd wondered why I hadn't seen him around in a while.” She explained her relationship with him, then plunged into her fears. “I think he might know who attacked me the other day.”

“Me, you mean,” Jake corrected.

“I don't think you're the target, Jake. Wilson warned me about Asibikaashi.”

“Asibikaashi. Who's that?”

“It's an old Ojibwa legend. The goddess Asibikaashi is a Spider Woman who brought the sunlight and is the authoress of the dreamcatchers. She's not something to fear, but Wilson is terrified.”

Wynne shivered. “Sounds creepy.”

“Of course, we know there's no such thing, but Wilson is convinced. He has to have seen or heard something. Skye rubbed her hands up her arms, suddenly cold in spite of the hot sun beating down.

“You think it could be that Tallulah woman?” Jake wanted to know.

“That was the first person who crossed my mind,” Skye admitted.

Jake glanced at his watch. “I think it's about time she and I had a talk. I got plenty of work accomplished today anyway.”

In spite of his words, Skye heard the regret in his
voice. “Why don't you go ahead and work while it's light? We could go see her after supper.”

“No, it's fine,” Jake assured her. “I want to get to the bottom of this. If this woman is really dangerous, we need to know about it. The sheriff was going to talk to her, but he's not likely to spill what she had to say.”

Wynne glanced at Skye. “Did you tell the sheriff about what Wilson said?”

Skye hesitated then shook her head, her cheeks burning. She knew what Jake's sister would think—that she'd come straight to Jake instead of the sheriff. She could only hope Jake didn't read her as easily as Wynne.