The Man from Forever by Vella Munn Read Free Book Online Page A

wouldn’t be alone.
    Guided by instinct, he ran his hand over his people’s entire history, ending with the winter when the army burned a small village and forced them to take shelter in caves under land capable of sustaining only rabbits and mice. The men, himself included, had searched for food to fill their families’ bellies and when, in desperation, they’d killed some of the enemy’s cattle, they’d known they were doing something that would never be forgiven. There were no drawings of that because what today’s enemy called Captain Jack’s Stronghold was far from this sacred place. There was only what he’d created last winter—proof that the Maklaks weren’t all gone after all. He remained.
    Alone.
    Â 
    She should have come to Canby’s Cross yesterday. Loaded down with fresh film and a container of water, Tory left her car at yet another of the areas designated for vehicles. As she’d done yesterday, she’d chosen early morning so she could absorb the area’s essence without interference from her fellow travelers. Yesterday, compulsively taking pictures and finding people to talk to, she’d kept this particular site at the back of her mind. However, as she was waking this morning, she decided to make coming here the first order of business. After all, this was why she’d come to the lava beds, and activity, particularly this activity, should bury last night’s dream.
    Maybe.
    It took no more than a couple of minutes to walk the short distance to a large white cross designating where General Canby, her ancestor, had lost his life. She stood looking up at it, reaching out with her senses for something of the man. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted distant Mount Shasta, the rising sun painting it gold and red. She became aware of closer landmarks, such as the rocky outcropping toher right, where armed Modocs had hidden while peace talks took place in the flimsy tent General Canby and the other peace commissioners had set up.
    The army’s headquarters, a hastily erected tent city, was several miles away. Even farther away was Captain Jack’s Stronghold. From what she understood, the site where she now stood had been chosen because it had been seen by both sides as a neutral location.
    But appearances were deceptive. The land lay in desolation all around her, perfect for friend and foe alike to conceal themselves while the principals argued and postured and tried to find grounds for compromise.
    It hadn’t worked. The Modocs, led by their chief, Captain Jack, and the young killer, Hooker Jim, had ambushed the whites. In a matter of minutes her great-great-grandfather and a minister had been murdered, and former Indian superintendent Alfred Meacham left for dead.
    Not sure of her emotions, Tory turned in a slow, contemplative circle, trying to imagine what the general had seen and felt during the last morning of his life. She couldn’t recall when she’d first heard of his role in history. As a child, she’d thought that being killed during an Indian war was a noble way to die. As she grew older, she occasionally thought of him with a sense of sadness because he hadn’t lived to see his grandchildren. But most of the time he never entered her mind. Standing here now, she knew he would always remain a part of her.
    Although she’d brought her camera with her, it dangled from her fingers. Taking a picture would reduce the experience to something one-dimensional when she wanted to keep her senses alive and alert.
    Once again she turned to take in her surroundings, this time not so she could gain a greater perspective on her ancestor, but because that feeling had returned.
    The wind blew across the grasses and flattened them until they reminded her of a vast gray carpet. Dark lava rocks punctured the carpet and created the only contrast in color.A faint gray haze coated the sky and made it difficult for her to gauge