The Man From Forever. Dawn Flindt
placed within her. Hips and breasts made to taunt a man. To remind him of how long he’d slept alone.
Breathing more rapidly than she should have a need to, Tory sped around yet another turn. The landscape whipped behind her on both sides, but although she’d come out here for the express purpose of observing the land before she had to share it with other visitors, she couldn’t put her mind to concentrating on it.
She’d seen—what? A Modoc warrior? She’d been asking herself the same stupid question for the past fifteen minutes until she was sick to death of it. Unfortunately, she still hadn’t come up with an answer. At least now that she was no longer staring into eyes as dark as night, the stark and unreasoning fear that had sent her running had begun to fade.
It must be some kind of joke.
Slamming her fist into the steering wheel, she again ordered the stupid words to stop ramming around inside her. Hand stinging, she again tried to find a logical explanation. Unfortunately, as before, her mind didn’t want anything to do with logic.
He’d looked so innately primitive, not at all like those so-called savages Hollywood slapped makeup on. She’d never been able to watch Westerns because the Indians looked so phony. Yes, she supposed that a lot of them actually were Native Americans, but they hadn’t belonged in the wilderness they’d been thrust into for the sake of the movie. Despite war paint and bows and arrows and little more than loincloths, there’d been something self-conscious about the way they presented themselves.
This man, this warrior, was as natural a part of his rugged environment as the eagle had been. That was what she couldn’t forget. That, and something in those ebony eyes that had found and ignited a part of her she hadn’t known existed.
A park-service vehicle coming from the opposite direction shocked her back to the here and now and away from absolutely insane images of herself willingly following the Indian back to wherever he’d come from. She thought about trying to flag the park employee down, but what would she say? That she’d had a hallucination about a nearly naked, absolute hunk of a man and wanted to know if it was a common occurrence around here?
There must be some kind of an explanation, logical and practical, so clear-cut that she’d be embarrassed for not having thought of it before.
Yeah, right.
After traveling another ten miles, she reached park headquarters, only then realizing what she’d done. She’d intended to spend the day poking around the lava beds. Instead, tail tucked between her legs, she’d hightailed it for civilization. Angry with herself and yet unable to come up with the fortitude necessary for turning around and going back the way she’d come, she eased her vehicle into one of the parking slots. The rustic cabin she’d rented was not quite a mile away, isolated but accessible via a well-maintained footpath. It came equipped with a two-way radio to be used in case of an emergency.
Some of the park personnel lived here year-round. While wandering around at dusk last night, she’d happened upon the paved road leading from headquarters to the small collection of houses within shouting distance of where she now sat. Although she hadn’t stayed around the residential area because she didn’t want to invade anyone’s privacy, she remembered seeing a couple of satellite dishes. Two girls riding bikes had waved at her, and when she’d asked them, they explained that they went to school in the town of Tulelake, which was “only” thirty miles away. They were on their way to the nearby campground to see if there were any kids their age staying there tonight. The girls were friendly and eager to talk; they’d argued with each other over whether they’d want to stay at the campground or where she was. One had always wanted to spend a night at the cabin. The other wasn’t interested because it didn’t have a TV or electricity and what would she do once it got dark.
Tory hadn’t bothered to tell them that once she got to the Oregon coast, she expected to spend months camping out without electricity. Because it hadn’t been the first time, she hadn’t had any trouble falling asleep last night with nothing except coyotes and owls to keep her company. Tonight, however—
She deliberately hadn’t told anyone of her ties to one of the central players during the Modoc War because she didn’t want to risk someone deciding to exploit that. Still, in the back of her mind rode the question of whether she’d thought she’d seen a survivor of that time because her great-great-grandfather had died here.
Like that makes any kind of sense.
“Will you stop it!” she muttered, and got out of the car. A strong breeze brought with it a hint of the day’s heat, the pungent scent of sage and lava and an almost overwhelming desire to walk away from this spot of civilization and out into the wilderness where he might find her again.
When she checked in yesterday, the parking lot had been filled with dusty, crammed vans, cars with out-of-state licenses, even a group of senior citizens on expensive motorcycles. This morning, hers was the only vehicle not belonging to park employees. She was surprised to see them here. Shouldn’t they be out doing whatever it was they did to maintain the lava beds?
She opened the door to the small visitors’ center and looked around. There was a small collection of Modoc artifacts behind glass on one wall, a large, rough-finished wooden canoe against another wall, shelves filled with a display of books, pamphlets and postcards. A sign above the information desk, unmanned at the moment, informed her that anyone interested in exploring the caves that honeycombed the area were encouraged to sign in here so they could be issued hard hats and flashlights.
There was nothing flashy about the room, no plastic trinkets. Still, it helped her put her incredible experience behind her. This was a place of telephones and probably even fax machines. There’d be computers somewhere, a park director whose credentials would put hers to shame. None of the dedicated professionals who worked and lived here would have seen a mirage from another time.
And neither had she.
Then what did you see?
Someone had played a joke on her—that’s what it had been. An elaborate and very good hoax.
Try telling your nervous system that.
Hoping to squelch her thoughts, she opened her mouth to call out when she heard voices coming from somewhere behind the information desk. She guessed there was a room back there. Maybe park personnel were having a meeting. If that was the case, she didn’t want to disturb them. Besides, what would she say?
A tiny tentacle of fear inched down her back, causing her to look toward one of the little windows. All she could see were weather-stunted trees and dark lava rocks—nothing to be afraid of.
What was she doing here?
Instead of forcing herself to answer what she hoped to accomplish by taking shelter under a roof when she should be out looking for a piece of her roots, she picked up one of the books about the Modoc War. She’d done no more than read the back blurb when the sound of raised voices caught her attention. Before she could decide what to do, she heard a door being opened. The voices became more distinct.
“People will see right through it. You can’t get away with something that cornball in this day and age. They’ll laugh us right out of the water.”
“No, they won’t. People love the unexplained. Besides, you already admitted you don’t have a better suggestion.”
“Only because I haven’t had time to come up with one.”
“The hell you haven’t. We’ve been staring at a budget shortfall for the better part of a year now. That’s what I’m here for. Why you’re being so…”
Two men came around the divider that separated the public area from the rest of the building. They stared at her, their conversation trailing off to nothing. One of them, a tall, balding man probably in his late fifties, wore the standard green uniform and a name tag that identified him as Robert Casewell, acting director. Tory guessed that his had been the deeper of the two voices, the one who’d told the other that his suggestion wouldn’t hold water. The other man, closer to her age, wore civilian clothing. If he’d