By Lisa and Melissa
PROLOGUE
I knew his day would come. The day my neighbors would turn against me and blame me for their misfortunes. I was tried, convicted and sentenced to hang. The year was 1692, and twas not a good time to be different in Salem, Massachusetts. My name was Morgan Richardson and I was called a Witch, and as one I would not be allowed to live, for as I was reminded consistently throughout my short imprisonment "Thou shall not suffer a witch to live."
Of course, the truth of the matter was that I did indeed practice the Craft of the Wise, as my mother did before me. Of course I tried to be discreet, and it was during one of my secret forays into the woods that I met the man I knew I was destined to be with. "Savage" some called his kind. Kind and loving was what he was. He watched as I cast my circle and began the ritual of the full moon. I sensed him there, and sought him out. He emerged from the cover of the trees and stopped just outside of my circle. His name was Red Eagle, he was the most handsome man I had ever seen. His dark hair hung to his shoulders and his brown eyes were the warmest I had seen since arriving in this small town with my father five years before, he wore a breechcloth and buckskin leggings and shirt. I closed my circle and approached him. We spoke for several hours, he told me he had learned the white man's tongue from a man who chose to live among his people, he said he had been watching me for a long time.
We met there every night, well every night until the night Mrs. Hawthorn accused me of casting a spell on her, causing her to lose her child. You must understand that Mr. Hawthorn did not really try to hide his amorous intentions towards me. Then again, according to him, I had cast a spell on him as well - a love spell. So the virtuous Mrs. Hawthorn's accusation stuck to me like molasses, it didn't matter that the reasoning behind the accusation was jealousy.
Three days later I found myself here being led to the gallows. Former friends and neighbors spat at me and called me names, God fearing they called themselves, but they were nothing but murderers to me. I was glad my father had died two years prior and didn't have to see the hangman tighten the noose around my neck. As the reverend prayed for my eternal soul, I prepared myself to feel the hatchway drop and with it my body. I was grateful I had been given a quick death, some of the others were not so lucky. Some were drowned and others burned at the stake. The good reverend finished his prayer and the crowd once again took up the now all too familiar chant of "Kill the Witch! Kill the Witch!" I prayed to the Goddess for help, and just before the hangman pulled the lever that would have ended my life, a war cry carried to my ear.
As the crowd ran for their lives, Red Eagle stealthily ran through the trees and up to the gallows, upon which he freed me. Together we ran into the woods towards the area where his tribe had made camp. I stood there in his protection for many months and was treated with respect, for I was a Shaman in their eyes. I studied under their Medicine Man and was considered one of their own. I should not have to tell you, I fell in love with Red Eagle and we were married a short while later.
Several months later, I felt it safe to travel into the wood. For now word had reached us that the barbaric punishments being given to innocent women and men in Salem had come to an end. I was out gathering berries to make our meal special that night for we were celebrating the fact that I was carrying Red Eagle's child, and herbs for medicines for the tribe. Humming to myself, I was unaware of another presence. I was grabbed from behind, gagged and blindfolded. I never knew who my attacker was. The next thing I knew I felt the weight of the noose around my neck. Then the tears started. For I now knew two things for certain, first that I'd never live to see my husband again in this lifetime and second that he'd never know the child I was carrying.
As the hatchway dropped, I took solace in the knowledge that I would be reborn again, as would he, and I could only pray that I would find my love again, for ours twas special. How could I know it would take 170 years before I would see my beloved again on the street in a town called Rock Creek. His name was not Red Eagle, as my name was no longer Morgan Richardson. For in those 170 years we were reborn to different parents in different circumstances. But just as I knew I could remember what my past life had been like, I also knew that the man walking out of the Marshal's office had no idea of what he was to me then. For all he knew he was and has always been Buck Cross. But to me he would always be my love… my savior… my husband.
Chapter 1
As Buck walked out of the Marshal's office, he had no idea that he was being watched. Teaspoon had been called out of town for a few days, so he did what he always does : he deputized the riders. It was Buck's turn to put up with Barnett, but there was just so much that he could take at once. He needed some fresh air. Buck walked over and sat down in the chair, right outside of the office. He leaned back on the two back legs and rested his feet on the hitching post in front of him. It was a clear, crisp autumn day, and as Buck closed his eyes, he drew in a deep satisfying breath. Suddenly he felt something tickle his face and he raised his hand to wipe it away. Not two seconds later he felt it again, and once again went to wipe it away.
Damn mosquitoes, he thought to himself. Won't leave me alone. When it happened a third time he opened his eyes and was going to look for something to smack it with, but instead was startled by a pair of gorgeous, twinkling brown eyes staring into his.
"Gotcha!" Lily laughed as she gently brushed his lips with hers.
"Lily!" Buck looked up in surprise. "I wasn't expecting you, but you are just what I needed." He smiled warmly at her. After a day of putting up with Barnett, seeing Lily seemed to bring some sanity back into his life. He brought the chair back down on all four legs again, and opened his arms, inviting Lily into his lap. Lily smiled back and accepted his invitation. She curled up in his lap, and nestled her head in the crook of his neck. She breathed in deeply, inhaling the leathery, musky, masculine smell that she loved so much. She sighed contently and thought to herself about the past few weeks.
When she thought about it, she couldn't believe that it had only been three weeks since the incident out on the prairie, three weeks since she had met the man of her dreams. After returning to Sweetwater, she had nursed Buck back to health, not willing to leave his side until she knew that he was going to be okay. It had only taken one look into his deep brown eyes for her to realize that this was the man for her. Even after everything that had happened in Spirit Canyon, she loved him like she would love no other. And what was more important was that she knew he loved her just as much, if not more. This was the man that she had been wishing for since she was a little girl, and it was just a simple twist of fate that had brought them together. For the past three weeks, they had spent their time learning about each other and each other's pasts, and enjoying spending every minute of their time together.
For the other riders, it was taking some getting used to seeing Buck like this. As long as they had known him, there was always a part of him that seemed reserved and he always kept to himself. Then after Ike died, Buck seemed to pull into his shell even more, not wanting to talk to anyone or do anything. Now he was like a new person. There wasn't a day that went by where Buck wasn't seen laughing and smiling, and it was clear to everyone how strong his and Lily's love was.
Lily closed her eyes and Buck did the same. Together they basked in the late afternoon's warm rays of sun, and daydreamed about their future life together.
'Buck! Buck, where are you??" called an annoyingly loud voice.
Buck opened one eye and looked over his shoulder, where Barnett was rushing out of the Marshal's office. He opened the other eye and looked down at Lily, where she was staring up at him with an amused expression on her face. She giggled and kissed him again. "Duty calls."
"Yeah, yeah, don't remind me." Buck grumbled. "He probably shot himself in the foot."
Lily laughed and playfully hit his arm. She went to climb off of his lap, and he unwillingly let her go.
"Will you still be here?" he asked her.
"Do you want me to be?" she grinned.
"Don't tease," Buck smiled mischievously. "Or you'll pay later." He walked over to her, held her arms at her side, and just stared at her for a minute, taking in her beauty and reveling in the knowledge that she was his. "I love you," he said softly as he leaned down to kiss her again.
Lily looked up at him with sheer happiness in her eyes. "I love you too Buck Cross." She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him again. "Now you go take care of Barnett before he has a nervous breakdown."
Buck laughed, his entire face lighting up as he turned to walk into the Marshal's office, just as Barnett bellowed for him again.
"Buuuuuuck!"
"I'm-coming-Barnett!" Buck grumbled.
Lily laughed and walked over to the chair where she sat down again. She smiled as she looked around the town that she had grown to think of as home. So far, with the exception of the shopkeeper Mr. Thompkins, she had been greeted warmly by the townspeople. But Buck had warned her to Thompkins' prejudices against Indians, so she really wasn't too taken aback by him. She sighed again and was about to get up and check on Buck and Barnett, when she got the prickly feeling that someone was staring at her. She looked around and was about to give up when she caught a glimpse of a young girl fleeing behind the Doc's office.
"Hmm," Lily said to herself as she stood up. "Wonder what that was all about? Oh well," she said as she shrugged her shoulders and turned to walk into the Marshal's office to see what was going on.
*************************************
Devon Morgan rode into town thinking about the last few weeks.
I don't know what led me to this small frontier town. Maybe it was the dreams? My dear grandmother told me I should heed what they told me. So after she passed on I packed what little I had and headed west. In the three months since I'd left Boston, I managed to save enough money to buy a home and start up a small farm. More than once, I had been told, mostly by men, that I should settle down and get married. I knew I couldn't do that, I had to find him, the man I'd been dreaming about for the last three years. The one my grandmother said was my husband in a past life.
At first I thought the herbs we had been collecting at night had affected her differently than it did me, but I knew there were things grandmother knew that no one could explain so I listened and learned from her. She told me to listen with my heart to what the dreams were showing me, and when I did, I realized she was right. I always knew our beliefs were different from those around us. To stay safe grandmother and I practiced our religion late at night, away from prying eyes. It wasn't until I began dreaming of my husband and ultimately my death, that I realized why it was done and why we must be cautious.
The dreams of my death always began as I leave Red Eagle sleeping to go into the wood to gather herbs for medicines. Although I never saw who ambushed me that night. His voice was all I needed to recognize the man that hanged me, the man who left Red Eagle never to know his unborn child or to ever see his wife's smiling face. Tears ran down my cheeks as I remembered the sadness I felt as he strung me up. I had yet to meet this man in this lifetime, I dreaded the day we might came upon each other.
Grandmother told me I had nothing to fear. She said most people never remembered their pasts, it was only a special few who did. She told me that even if I did find Red Eagle in this lifetime, he might not remember me, what we shared, or worst of all he may never feel the same way about me. As I rode into town, I remembered telling my grandmother I understood, I actually believed I accepted those facts, . . . and then I saw him.
He was sitting just outside the Marshal's office, and though he was wearing white men's clothes and not a breechcloth, I would have recognized him, he was still lean and handsome. I stood watching him for some time after I tethered my horse. It was as if everything I had felt for him as Morgan Richardson came flooding back to me, it was as if we had never been separated by 175 years. It was an omen, that since arriving here three weeks ago I should come into town today and see him here.
Then it was as if all of the air left my lungs at the same time, I could not catch my breath. A young woman approached him, sat on his lap and kissed him. I wanted to scream out, but he kissed her in return. He enjoyed it! They spoke for some moments then someone called him from inside. As he rose to see what was wrong they laughed together and he spoke the three words I longed to hear him say to me. My heart shattered. I turned and ran.
I ran without direction and without thinking. Suddenly I hit the solid form of a man. I was crying so I didn't look up into his face at first. Instead, I occupied myself with the task of wiping my eyes as he steadied me.
"Whoa there," He said, "You should watch where you're going."
The voice! It was the voice from my nightmares. I looked up slowly and saw the man who caused my death. I pushed away from him and screamed a soul-shattering yell, and ran the way I had come. I didn't notice the group of people who had gathered in the street after hearing my cry. In one fluid motion I untied my horse and was on it riding toward my homestead.
Buck, who had run out with Barnett just in time to see a mass of black curly hair ride off on a horse, looked at Lily questioningly. She looked up at him and shrugged. A man came from behind the doc's office looking ale and confused, he approached the two deputies.
"What was that about?' Barnett asked him.
"Got me." He answered.
"Know her?" Buck said.
"Can't say I've ever had the pleasure of meeting her before, but she does seem familiar."
Buck smiled at the older man, "Don't feel bad. Sometimes I have the impulse to run from you too Thompkins."
To Be Continued...Chapter II
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Copyright 1999: Not to be reproduced without written permission from the author.
The Way Station
Campfire Tales
