A Fistful of Dreams Page 8

  One by one, the others packed out of the cabin and into the snow. They saddled horses from the small stable attached to the house and rode away. Noah remained, along with Jason and Buck.

  “You two going to be able to work together?” Of course the healer hadn’t missed the tension between them.

  “We’re going to have to, aren’t we?” Jason finally met Buck’s gaze. I do want to help her.

  “It would seem so.” Buck took a sip of his coffee. Prove it.

  I will.

  His father waited for him as soon as he drifted to sleep. “You know, this is why everyone thinks you know everything.”

  Quanto accepted the greeting with a wry smile and pulled Buck in for a quick, firm embrace. “I have watched your dreams since you were pulled away. You haven’t needed to speak to me before.”

  Bowing his head to the admonishment, Buck sighed. “Jason Kane has telepathic abilities—reading minds, casting his thoughts into another’s.”

  “So you have all said.” If the information bothered the shaman, he gave no show of it. “Yet, he troubles you deeply.”

  “To put it mildly, yes.” He paced over to the campfire. No snow decorated the ground nor did the air freeze his lungs. His father’s choice of the dreamscape and the mild summer night on the mountain was a welcome one. “Delilah is Fevered. She possesses a very specific ability—manipulating others with her voice. Okay, manipulation isn’t the right word. She enchants.”

  His father nodded once and took a seat next to the fire. A match flared and he lit a pipe, puffing it thoughtfully. Too restless to sit, Buck paced back and forth.

  “So you were right about that and that I was enchanted by her singing. When she realized what was happening, she—she sang something…” The content of the song continued to elude him, like some whisper on the breeze, too faint to make out. “It cleared up my mind.”

  “Yet you remain angry with the Kane boy.” His father missed nothing.

  “He supposedly helped her escape from people who used her as a weapon, but instead of actually helping her, she ends up working as a whore in a saloon. If not for Kid and Cody—” Yes, the thought didn’t bear completion. He didn’t want to imagine what could have happened. “And he returns, still says nothing to any of us about what she can do, and leaves her to suffer in silence.”

  Removing the pipe, Quanto studied him. “How has she suffered?”

  The question stopped Buck in his tracks and he whirled to face his father. “She hasn’t been able to speak.”

  “But you told me she can speak, which means she chose not to speak to protect everyone.” He made it sound so reasonable.

  “She shouldn’t have to make a choice.”

  “Who better? It is her voice. Her gift. Her choice. Is that not what we taught your sister? She loves the fire, she thrills to the heat, but to let it out could harm so many others and thus, she chooses to bottle what she can do.” The shaman puffed on the pipe. “The girl has a home, food in her belly, and protection. She is in no danger, none that any of my children would allow to touch her.”

  Sinking down to a crouch, Buck stared at his father. “But we could have helped her.”

  “And so you will. But make no mistake, Rami, she has choices. You do not make the choices for her.”

  Frowning, Buck shook his head slowly. “That is not what I am doing.”

  “You have already decided the blame for her failure to confide in you lies with the Kane boy. You are angry with him, despite being freed of the song enchantment. You are not being entirely reasonable.” No ripples bestirred Quanto’s calm demeanor and this only frustrated his son more.

  “No, I’ve decided if she couldn’t tell us herself because she was afraid to speak, then Jason could have been a voice for her. She wouldn’t have been isolated and alone. I can’t imagine how afraid or worried she’s been about discovery.”

  “Yet, now you do know. Now you can act. You are still angry, Rami, and this is not like you.” His father kept calling him little brother, reminding him of not only his youth, but also of their shared gift. His father was a powerful shaman, a seer, and a dreamwalker. If Buck lived to his father’s age, he could not imagine possessing even half his skills. Not only could he walk in dreams, and control them, he could also enter the dreaming from the living realm. He traveled through it—it was a closely guarded secret, and one Buck never mastered.

  “I’m worried.” He admitted. “I want to help her.”

  Quanto nodded slowly, considering the issue. “You are worried because you told her you would help her and you are now uncertain you will actually be able to do so.”

  In a few short words the shaman summed up the shortcomings, which tied his gut into a knot. “It’s more than I am uncertain. I will volunteer to be someone she can enchant and release as she learns to master her gift.” He searched for the right words to express the misgivings of having Jason involved. “The others want Jason to help me with her because he is immune to her.”

  “An interesting twist. How is the telepath immune to a siren call?”

  The nice thing about the dream was if Buck wanted something to do with his hands, he had only to imagine it. He worked leather into a braid, stretching it as he went. “He says he has had many years to learn how to shield the influence of others from his mind.”

  Rubbing the pipe stem against his lower lip, Quanto frowned at the flames. “Then he has been shielding from his brother.”

  The same conclusion angered Micah during the earlier conversation. “I would imagine.”

  “How is the boy doing?”

  “Well enough. He’s burying his head again about coming to you. But there is so much to be done and so few of us to do it all.” Guilt nibbled at his soul. He’d not really given Kid too much thought. Despite how his brothers treated him, Kid was far from a child and they had many actual children who needed their help.

  “We are all responsible to each other, Rami, do not allow one desire to cloud another.” Quanto leaned forward. “Work with the Kane brothers—all of them. Reach out and make sure Kid knows he is not alone. I fear, he, like your Delilah, has lived too long in isolation with his gifts and it is not he who rules them.”

  The bitter taste still burned in Buck’s mouth when he woke the next morning. Had they done Kid a disservice in allowing him to put off the journey to the mountain? The snow continued to fall and the landscape was thick with a white blanket. Their first winter on the ranch had not been so fierce. But perhaps this was the way of the weather in this region. On the mountain, once the first heavy snows fell, they didn’t leave again till spring.

  No such option existed here on the ranch.

  The main room of the little cabin was cold, the fire having long since gone out in the night. Adding wood, Buck had coaxed the embers back to flame when Noah climbed down from the loft.

  “Do you remember it being this cold last year?” Noah rubbed his hands together and stamped his feet.

  Buck shook his head at his brother. “Not here, no. But it has been a hard year, too hot in the summer and now too cold in the winter. It may simply be the way of things.”

  “Let’s hope so.” Noah planted himself in front of the fledgling fire. “Or we’re going to have to get too cozy at the big house.”

  “It will give you an excuse to see more of Lena. I know you haven’t—”

  “Yes, I don’t want the excuse.” Noah shut down and pivoted away from the fire. He disappeared back up to the loft and Buck frowned.

  More trouble. Just what they needed.

  Chapter 7

  The barn Jason led her to wasn’t familiar, though she wasn’t terribly familiar with any of the barns on the property, but it wasn’t the main barn with its double-wide aisle and thirty plus stalls sitting within full view of the house. The ride took them nearly thirty minutes and down a trail buried beneath several inches of white powder. Thankfully, no fresh snow fell from the sky, but the cold numbed her fingers and her nose. She
bundled as well as she could, but Scarlett didn’t have much in the way of heavier clothes and most of the others dwarfed her.

  Are you cold? Jason glanced back at her.

  “We’re alone, you don’t have to do that.” She didn’t actually object to his ease with using mental communication, but it seemed to bother Buck.

  A lot.

  “I know we’re alone.” Her escort slowed his horse until they rode parallel. “But you’re not always comfortable talking, especially when you trained yourself to not talk for months.”

  Delilah’s shoulders slumped. It wasn’t an unfair assessment. “It was better I didn’t.”

  “I know. I understand why you made the choice. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t write it down and tell them another way…” His confused expression turned startled. She didn’t need his gift to know he heard her thoughts. “You don’t know how to write?”

  “Or read.” Everyone on the ranch seemed educated and familiar with these skills. She had never learned. No one ever taught her. She had one job and one alone—further Father’s agenda. He allowed for music lessons and insisted she rest her voice—preserve it was the phrase he used.

  “I had no idea.” He sagged in the saddle and rubbed a hand against his face. “I sent you off into the world and you don’t know how to read…”

  “Jason.” She summoned a smile. “You didn’t do anything. You offered me a way out and you offered to go with me. I took the ticket—I went.”

  His mouth tightened. “Because you thought I was compelled by your voice no matter what I said.”

  Heat stung her icy cheeks. How could he not be? She’d never met anyone immune to her. Not even Father. He never wanted her to speak more than a few words to him to protect his clarity of purpose. She grew up in his household. He wanted to see her practicing, he wanted her devotion, but he never wanted her to speak or to sing unless he directed.

  Shoving those memories away, she studied the barn they approached. Men moved around the doors—men and children. Jason took her to where they trained the younger ones. Oh, how her heart ached for them. She understood the loss of a parent, the grief and the confusion. They’d barely recognized her talent—she and her mother—when her mother left. The lonely ache in her heart never truly healed.

  “I don’t think I should be here with all of them. They are innocent and uncorrupted.” If she had any real idea of where she was, she would have turned the horse around and headed back to the house. Her sense of direction wasn’t the best and, with thick drifts of snow everywhere, all the landmarks looked the same.

  “Actually, this is exactly where you should be.” Jason cleared his throat. “This is Buck’s plan, and not mine. You need to see how the children are learning—the basic lessons, the control. It’s different for everyone, or so I’m told. Consider it an education for both of us.”

  With the absolute control Jason demonstrated, how could it be an education for him?

  “I never had anyone train me, Delilah.” The distance in his voice silenced her irritation at his answering the question before she even asked it. He was comfortable in his abilities and comfortable enough to keep plucking the thoughts from her mind. “And no, I am not particularly comfortable with it. But one of my tasks is to monitor you, help you know when you’re using your gift, and how to tamp it down.”

  Reining her horse in, Jason rode forward another three strides before he slowed his horse and turned the animal around to face her. Despite the brutal bite of the cold, she wanted a few more minutes before she went into the barn to see what they’d devised. “How can you have so much control if no one ever taught you?”

  “Because I could read thoughts from a young age. I don’t really remember a time when I couldn’t. It became impossible—all these other voices in my head—people think a lot of things when they believe no one else could possibly hear. Horrible, awful things. So I learned how to make a noise with my mind to block them out—”

  “Noise?” Intrigued, she leaned forward on the saddle horn. “Like music?”

  He shook his head. “No. It’s more like a hum. A kind of droning hum. Have you ever been on a train?”

  “Once. I didn’t like it.” The swaying of the cars and the speed they traveled made her uneasy.

  “Do you remember what the wheels sounded like? The swishing noise?”

  “Vaguely.” It didn’t stand out to her. She rode the train with many others, several talking, some laughing and others trying to sleep. It was hot, uncomfortable, and the engine whistle—the splitting scream of it—jerked her awake whenever it sounded. Beneath it all was the hum of the wheels on the tracks.

  Closing her eyes, she pictured the train, imagined the sway, and hummed. The swish, swaying, pitch low and monotonous…

  Stop. Alarm snapped through the word and she ceased. Blue flashed in Jason’s eyes, bleeding out to drown the white. Ice clutched her spine and she leaned back.

  “I’m sorry.” The words barely made it to a whisper.

  He held up a hand, silencing any further apology, and turned his too vivid gaze away. Uncertain of what else to do, she let the horse sidle away. Maybe her nervousness communicated to the animal. The mare gave a snort and pawed the ground, nearly unseating Delilah in the process. Jason nudged his horse forward and caught the bridle, settling the mare down. His eyes seemed normal when he looked at her again.

  “We should go.” Cool, remote, and bordering on unfriendly.

  “I—of course.” She nodded. Their horses fell into step and he led the rest of the way to the barn. Tension knotted her insides. The air seemed colder, if that were possible. Unease shivered down her spine. I shouldn’t have agreed to stay.

  For once, Jason didn’t respond to her thought.

  She didn’t know whether to be glad or more worried.

  Buck pushed the barn door wide and walked out to meet her. He caught the mare’s bridle easily and gave her a steady, reassuring smile. “Thank you for coming.”

  She felt a little better about staying.

  “Ready?” He patted her mare’s neck and held out a hand, inviting her to dismount.

  Not even close, but she slid off the horse anyway.

  “Go ahead and show her around.” Jason swung down out of the saddle. “I’ll take care of the horses.” He took the reins of both and walked off without another word.

  Buck frowned after him. “Everything okay?”

  Lifting her shoulders, she didn’t try to hide her bewilderment. It had all been fine until she sang.

  As much as she loved to sing, it always led to destruction.

  And they want me to learn to control it.

  Silence is better…silence doesn’t kill.

  * * *

  The interior of the barn was far more interesting than the exterior. Snow hid the odd shape of the building. The main aisle was twice the width of the one near the house with long extensions jutting off north and south. Stalls lined one section and Jason led the horses there. Buck closed the main door and the interior was far warmer than she expected, as well. Two large fires blazed cheerfully in the huge hearths at opposite ends of the building. The deeper inside they went, the warmer the air became.

  A dozen children ranging in age from young to nearly grown sat in a half-circle near one of the hearths. A dozen gazes swung in her direction and their expressions filled with everything from boredom to frank interest. Hanging back, she was reluctant to approach them.

  Having her practice anywhere near them could be dangerous.

  Buck took her hand, preventing her escape, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay. We’re not practicing today. Today you meet everyone and you get to watch them practice.”

  Confusion twisted through her. Watch them practice?

  “C’mon,” he nodded to the group. “They are excited to meet an adult as confused as they are.” His tone coaxed and cajoled. The hint of a grin tilting up the corners of his mouth transformed the fierce planes of his cheeks addi
ng an almost playful eagerness. Squashing her misgivings, she let him draw her through the building.

  Like her, most of the children were bundled in warm coats. Some wore gloves and others wrapped scarves around their ears. While most of the group were boys, some girls sat in their midst. Buck drew over a hay bale and Delilah sat down, aware of all those gazes watching her. One of the smallest girls bounced to her feet and rushed over to climb into Delilah’s lap. Surprised, she steadied her and wrapped an arm around her. She’d been wrong about the ages—this one couldn’t be more than five.

  A braid pulled her strawberry-blonde hair back from her face and the little girl possessed the widest pair of cornflower blue eyes Delilah had ever seen. “Hi.” Her sweet voice lacked any artifice and the siren wanted to hug her and keep her safe.

  “This is Cate,” Buck chuckled, taking a seat next to the two of them on bale. “As you can see, she is very shy.”

  Cate giggled and hid her face against Delilah’s coat. Grinning, Delilah gave into the urge to hug her. It seemed to be the right thing to do, because those tiny arms wrapped around Delilah’s neck and gave her a fierce squeeze.

  Mariska appeared at the mouth of another long hall jutting off from the main aisle. She was in her human form—one Delilah had only seen a couple of times. The she-wolf was a striking woman with thick black hair and equally dark eyes. Her easy smile and graceful manner always made Delilah feel welcome. Her clothing was far more exotic than the others, from the lean fit of her britches to the flowing shirt and tightly fitted vest. The laces were pulled taut. A pair of high riding boots ended below her knees. She wore a wicked looking knife strapped to one thigh and a gun holster—complete with gun—on the other.

  “I prefer to fight with my claws, but it still takes me time to change.” Mariska’s husky voice answered her unasked question. She took a spot to Buck’s left and clapped her hands. The quiet murmurings amongst the children ceased and they turned their attention to the she-wolf. Cate cuddled closer, but watched Mariska as expectantly as the others save for one sullen, older boy who kept his distance from the others.