Morgan's Rescue Read online

  Culver gave her a questioning look but said nothing. Out of long habit, he began applying oil to the gun’s dark metal. Pilar sounded so convincing. If he hadn’t learned so painfully, firsthand, of her ability to deceive, he would have believed her statement. She looked sincere and a little in awe of the information he’d given her. Hell, she was just good at lying, he told himself angrily.

  “We’ve got enough to worry about right now,” he snapped. When he saw Rane flinch at the tone of his voice, he softened his words. “You do whatever you want to prepare for our little hike tomorrow morning. But I know that vision vine is hallucinogenic, and you’d damn well better not meet me tomorrow in a drugged state.”

  Glaring at him, Pilar whispered tightly, “I would never jeopardize your life like that and you know it!”

  “Really?” Culver allowed the sarcasm to drip from his voice. “You’ve got a funny way of looking at things, then.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’ve already killed me in a hundred different ways.”

  Stunned, Pilar drew in a sharp breath, pain shooting through her hammering heart. She felt Don Alvaro’s fingers move in a caressing motion on her arm.

  “Mi nieta,” he murmured, “there is much to do before you go. Leave Rane here with Culver. You will come with me, eh?”

  Blinded by agony, Pilar nodded. Easing her daughter from her lap, she set her in the chair and asked her to stay behind. Rane nodded and curled up in the chair, rocking it slightly with one slim leg. Unable to look at Culver, Pilar helped her grandfather to his feet. He took the twisted, dried jungle vine he used as a cane and leaned heavily on it.

  As they walked slowly through the sprawling village, protected beneath the trees’ stretching limbs, Pilar tried to steady her breathing. Her heart ached without relief, and as she gently steadied Don Alvaro with a hand around his upper arm, she said unevenly, “I don’t know why this happened, Grandfather.”

  “What?” he inquired, looking down at her kindly.

  “My being teamed up with Culver again. I—I thought he was out of my life—forever. I never expected him to walk back into it.” She rubbed her heart with her hand. Combating tears, she whispered brokenly, “I still love him so much. I’ve hurt him so badly… .”

  “Niña, child, you carry both his and your own burden in your heart. It is very hard to carry one’s own grief, much less another’s anger and hurt, eh?”

  Sniffing, Pilar fought back tears and pressed her head against his thin shoulder as he slowly wound his arm around her and drew her against him. “Y-yes, it is, Grandfather.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, looking toward the hut where he’d lived all his life, “when you drink of the ceremonial cup this evening, the winds of ayahuasca will speak to you in a vision that will make the way more clear. Perhaps—” he smiled at her gently “—your heart will be healed of the many burdens it has carried alone for so long. The secrets you carry are heavy, mi niña.”

  Pilar stared up at her grandfather for a heartbeat. Her grandparents were wise, and she allowed her panicked soul to find peace in his liquid, brown gaze, a soothing of the violent ache in her heart. Shamans were wonderful healers, she reminded herself.

  Pilar recalled one of the many stories her grandparents had told her when she was a child sitting in the hut at night, about how one had to undergo a near-death experience before receiving the calling to become an apprentice shaman. Since shamans traversed all the dimensions, they could not be afraid of such travels. Only those who had died could be admitted to these other worlds, and shamans were able to make such journeys and live to tell about it—because they themselves had died and returned to life.

  Don Alvaro brought Pilar into the hut where Aurelia was kneeling, grinding corn on a heavy, flat stone. Nearby, a small fire of coals was ready to cook the tortillas she was preparing for them. “Pilar knows of her path as a jaguar priestess,” he said as he sat down in his favorite rocking chair, crafted from scraps of mahogany.

  Aurelia stopped her grinding. “Eh?” She looked at Pilar, who took a seat at the rough-hewn table. Light from the four windows filtered in, accentuating the shadows. “Well,” she said busily, returning to her grinding, “we knew she would learn of it soon, anyway.”

  Pilar ran her fingertips across the table’s worn surface. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Aurelia sighed, sifting the corn flour into a small pottery jar. Wiping her hands on her colorful red-and-black skirt, she slowly rose from her arthritic knees. “In order to become a priestess, you must almost die.” Aurelia halted in the middle of the hut and stared at her granddaughter. “You have not had that experience—yet.”

  “Once you had lived through the experience—passed to the other world and returned—” Don Alvaro added softly, “we would have told you. Then you would already have understood the death experience, and what we do as shamans.” Opening his hands, he said, “The journey you and Culver take tomorrow will place you in a life-and-death situation. You will have many choices along the way, mi niña. We pray for you. And for him. We pray that you return to us alive, but we cannot yet know if that will happen.”

  Aurelia came over and patted Pilar’s slumped shoulder. “Mi niña, the life path of a jaguar priestess is the hardest of all.” She smiled a little and touched her large, ample breast. “I serve the jaguar goddess myself. The first half of my life was filled with tests involving life and death—my own and others’. By the jaguar’s grace, I passed them and lived to work in her service as a shamanka,” she said, using the term for a female shaman. Her worn, plump fingers rested against Pilar’s hair. “Your heart carries many burdens, my little one. We ache for you as you do yourself. But a shamanka cannot heal others unless she knows what it is like to suffer in many areas as a human being. How can she understand another’s pain if she has not traversed that path herself? So you see, it is necessary, this painful process we undergo, to become worthy of the jaguar goddess’s attention.”

  Shaking her head, Pilar looked up into her grandmother’s round, brown face. She felt such peace and love radiating from the old woman that she opened her arms and slid them around her grandmother’s ample waist. Closing her eyes, she buried her face against Aurelia’s softness. The feel of her grandmother’s still-strong arms encircling her gave her courage and dissolved some of the lingering agony in her heart. “I’m so scared,” she whispered. “I’ve hurt Culver so much. I don’t know how I’ll get through this mission with him. Being around him is like holding my hand in a fire. I hurt all the time, Grandmother. Sometimes I hurt so much I can barely breathe.” Looking up, her eyes bathed in tears, she said brokenly, “Sometimes I wonder whether, if I quit breathing, the hurt would finally go away… .”

  “Ah, mi niña,” Aurelia scolded softly, framing Pilar’s face with her work-worn hands. She leaned over, her features bare inches from Pilar’s as she held her granddaughter’s gaze. “The jaguar goddess is hard on us, I know. And the love you carry in your heart for this Norte Americano is a blessing and also a curse to you. Is that not what being a shamanka is all about? You stand with one foot in this world, your other foot in the many other worlds. How can you know pain if you do not know pleasure? How can you know love if you have never loved fully? Your heart and soul were given to Culver. We do not question his love for you, nor yours for him.”

  With her thick, callused thumbs, Aurelia caressed Pilar’s smooth cheeks. “Mi niña, this is your final test before you can approach the jaguar goddess and ask her blessing to become an apprentice. This mission will be a test for you in every way.” Her voice dropped to almost a growl as she said, “Whatever you do, my little one, you must walk with an open heart. Do you hear me? Do you understand? Even though this man throws arrows of anger and hurt, you must not close your heart to him or anything around you. To do so is to fail this test. Be receptive. Continue to love without anger, guilt or shame.”

  Pilar’s eyes widened at those words. Looking into the wise, ve
lvety depths of her grandmother’s eyes, Pilar knew the old woman was aware of the shameful secret she’d carried eight years. Choking on sudden tears of gratitude, Pilar whispered, “I understand, Grandmother.”

  Aurelia smiled, her entire face radiating with a loving glow. “Tonight, we will hold an ayahuasca ceremony for you, to beseech the jaguar goddess on your behalf to protect and watch over you and this Norte Americano.”

  “Thank you,” Pilar whispered. “I want to pray for Morgan Trayhern, too, Grandmother. If anyone needs prayers, it is that brave man, not me.”

  Chuckling indulgently, Aurelia released Pilar and planted a swift kiss on her brow. “You make the jaguar spirit happy with such unselfish love for another, mi niña. That is why I pray strongly that your walk with death will not be final, that you can place your feet on the rainbow bridge, but also come back from it—back to your people. That you can give your heart again, without the clouding of the past as before.”

  Surrounded by the comfort of her grandparents’ love, Pilar felt her burden easing. They had been her nurturing support for so many years—since the deaths of her parents. She realized that she hadn’t visited them often enough or long enough in the past eight years. Her stays had generally been limited to weekends, two or three times a year, and Rane always cried when they had to fly back to Lima. Well, didn’t she want to cry at the thought of leaving, also? Looking around the simple thatched hut, and at the kind intelligence in the faces of her grandparents, Pilar felt a new stirring in her heart.

  “If I survive this mission,” she said in a tremulous tone, “I want to come home. I want to come back here and live with you. I’ve missed family so much—more than I’ve realized until now. And Rane needs the love and support you have for her. She needs to know her people, the source of her soul and blood.”

  Aurelia glowed in approval as she stood in the doorway. “We pray it will be so, mi niña. Nothing would give us more happiness than to have you here at the village with us. You will begin to apprentice with me and learn the ways of the shamanka.”

  Sadly, Pilar whispered, “I’ve been so blind, Grandmother. You were here all along. Why didn’t I realize that? Why did I have to spend two years in Lima alone after Fernando died, trying to raise Rane by myself? I’ve suffered so much by doing that. You know how our society looks down on a woman and child without a man. I have endured name-calling and accusing looks, as if I should apologize for living when my husband is dead. They insisted I should remarry, but my heart belongs to just one man…and I can never have him again… .”

  “Be patient, mi niña,” Aurelia soothed. “Though the spirit of the jaguar is harsh upon us, she is also bountiful in rewarding those who pass the trials she sets before us. Be patient. Perhaps all your dreams can be fulfilled.”

  Pilar got up, smiling brokenly. “I have no more dreams, Grandmother. They died when Culver almost died—for me. I don’t live for myself. I live because of Rane. She deserves a mother, someone who loves her fully. I don’t want to be yanked out of her life as my mother and father were from mine.”

  Frowning, Aurelia murmured, “We must pray very hard tonight.”

  Pilar left the hut, following her grandmother down the mountain. Aurelia was in her early eighties, spry despite her weight and age. The trees became thicker as they got farther from the village. Pilar knew without being told that her grandmother was going to a special spot where the ayahuasca vine grew wild. The day was warm, the sun shining brightly through wisps of clouds.

  Pilar knew that her grandparents had seen death many times. Ramirez and his men had slaughtered more than thirty people from their farming village in the past twenty years, and there wasn’t a family in the region completely unaffected by his atrocities. She also knew the chances of surviving the mission were small, as Culver had so coldly pointed out. As the breeze playfully lifted and twisted strands of her hair around her face, Pilar regretted so much.

  Chapter 7

  It took every vestige of Pilar’s control to hide her tears when Rane stretched her slim arms up around Culver’s neck. As he bent to say farewell to her, her daughter’s eyes were wet with tears. Culver had crouched and taken her into his arms, holding her tightly against him. He wore a heavy pack on his back and had to balance it during Rane’s unexpected embrace.

  “Keep Mama safe,” the little girl sobbed against his neck, her face pressed against him. “Don’t let her get hurt. I love her. She’s all I have left. Take care of her, Culver.”

  Culver patted Rane’s narrow shoulder tenderly. Unexpectedly, tears dampened his own eyes as he held her small form to him. This morning when he’d gotten up from the hut where he’d slept alone, he’d been in a foul humor. He’d grimly expected Pilar to be late for their agreed-upon 0600 meeting at the edge of the village. And he hadn’t expected Rane to be waiting at her side, gripping her hand as if letting go would be releasing her to her death. The look on the child’s usually joyous face softened his feelings, melting away the angry defenses he’d erected in his heart earlier this morning.

  Rane’s hair was soft and smelled freshly washed, hanging loose all the way to her narrow hips. She had placed a small pink orchid in her hair, attaching it awkwardly with a bobby pin, the delicate flower accentuating her innocent loveliness. Placing his hands on her shaking shoulders, Culver eased her a few inches away from him. The child sniffled and, with trembling hands, tried bravely to scrub her eyes free of tears as she looked up at him. Such emotion showed in her light brown eyes that he managed a small smile for her benefit.

  “It’s going to be all right,” he said, defying his own hard-and-fast rule about not underplaying the danger of any given mission. Gently taming errant strands of hair back from Rane’s damp cheek, he placed them behind her tiny ear. At seven-and-a-half, she wore petite diamond earrings that made her look even more feminine.

  “M-Mama says you’re a w-warrior from long ago,” Rane stammered between sobs. “She s-says you saved her life once before.”

  Culver’s gaze flicked to Pilar, standing a few feet away. Another lie. “Well…” he hedged, “our lives were saved because we worked together like a good team.” Actually, Pilar had saved his miserable hide. That was the truth of the matter. Still, deep within himself, Culver could understand why Pilar had turned that particular fact around to offer her fearful daughter solace. He saw tears glittering in Pilar’s own eyes, her hand pressed to her mouth as if to stop a sob struggling to break free.

  Culver leaned over and kissed Rane’s damp, pale cheek. Throwing caution and his conservative training to the wind, he said, “Listen, your mama underwent a sacred ceremony last night and it will give her protection. She’s going to be all right, Rane.” He hoped to God his words would prove true.

  Hiccuping through her tears, Rane reached out and touched his recently shaven cheek. “Y-you promise?”

  Culver hung his head, avoiding the child’s innocent eyes. How the hell could he promise such a thing? Her small hand, so delicate and soft, rested against his cheek, holding the same kind of warmth he’d always noted in Pilar’s. Pilar came from a family of healers, and he’d guessed that was behind the heat radiating from her hands, so he wasn’t surprised Rane possessed the same warm touch. Oh, what the hell.“Yeah, Rane, I promise I’ll bring your mama home alive. How’s that?”

  Instantly, Culver saw Rane’s expression change. She was like a chameleon, in a sense—just as Pilar was. Culver knew Peruvian shamankas were known as “shape-shifters,” able to turn themselves not only into animals, but into other human forms as well. Rane obviously possessed the rudiments of that ability, he thought, as he watched her small face lighten, her eyes glow brightly with relief and hope.

  “Oh,” she cried, flinging herself back into his arms and wrapping her own as tightly as she could around his neck, “thank you, Culver. Thank you!” Excitedly, she tore from his grasp, touched the orchid resting in her hair, then worked for several moments to free it. “Here, I want you to take this with you. G
randmother says I have orchid medicine. She says that if I give a person an orchid, he will be healed and protected. I want you to be safe, too… .” Rane became somber as she leaned over and eased the small bloom into Culver’s left shirt pocket, which she studiously buttoned so the flower couldn’t be lost on their trek.

  “There,” she said seriously. “I will go to my altar that Grandmother helped me set up in our casa, and I will pray for you, too.”

  Reaching out, Culver caressed Rane’s hair. “Now I do feel safe,” he said to her in a husky tone. The love shining in the child’s eyes rocked him. Rane tilted her head, watching as he straightened and rearranged the heavy pack straps pulling at his shoulders.

  “It’s time to go,” Pilar called gently. She caressed Rane’s hair, leaning down one last time to hug her daughter tightly, before releasing her. Out of nowhere, her grandparents appeared. Though they were both old, their features worn by life, Pilar saw the gentleness glowing in their weathered faces. A fog hung just above the jungle, and the humidity was high. She fought tears again as Rane ran to stand between the aged couple. A ragged breath escaped her as she gazed at her family. Chances were good that she would never see any of them again.

  Her heart nearly broke with grief. What would happen to Rane? As Pilar looked over at Culver, she saw that his expression remained tender from the child’s unexpected attention. Rane had magic in her touch, but then, her heart was pure and she was innocent, and Pilar knew how easily Culver responded to that combination. Once, she had been like that.

  “Come on,” he rasped gruffly as he passed her on the well-beaten trail leading down the slope toward the jungle.