A Rare Breed by Mary Tate Engels Page B

yeah? You like camping with no adequate clothes or equipment?"
    "True. It would have been better if this had been a planned trip. But life doesn't always work that way."
    "You're learning." He finished the shoe part of one moccasin and started on the ankle section. "Where did your great-grandmother's story take place?"
    "Not so far from here, actually. Bonnie ran a trading post somewhere on a remote stretch somewhere between Arizona and New Mexico."
    "Is it a good story?"
    "Very. It's mostly a love story." Brit thumbed through a section she'd just read. "What's strange is that she writes about their monsoon rains and her descriptions are quite similar to the storm we had yesterday. Violent and cold. She even mentions the fresh way everything smelled afterwards."
    "What does she say? Read it to me."
    "You sure you want to hear it?"
    "Yeah, I like history. I explore it every day."
    "Yeah, I guess you're right." Brit scanned several pages until she found the one she wanted to read aloud.
    " Knife Wing warned me about the dangerous monsoons ."
    Brit paused to explain. "Knife Wing was a Zuni leader and friend who saved her life that first winter by bringing food. I don't think they're lovers yet at this point."
    "They become lovers?"
    Brit nodded.
    Jake motioned for her to go on.
    Brit cleared her throat and read.
    " But I thought I would have enough warning before a bad storm, so I took Sara, who was almost two, in the wagon to a small canyon to gather sunflower seeds. Before I knew it, the sky turned black and a cold, vicious wind blew away the summer's hea t."
    She looked up at Jake and smiled. "Sound familiar?"
    "Exactly." He let the moccasin rest in his lap while he listened. "It's been that way for centuries. The weather patterns, the sight of rain or lightning in the distance, the rainbows arching from horizon to horizon, all are part of what gives us our connection with the people who lived here in the past."
    "In a way, knowing gives me a connection with Bonnie, too. Now I know exactly what she's talking about. And I'm glad so that I can understand her better." Brit turned back to the book.
    " I tried to reach the wagon, but it was too late. Ice pellets beat down on us, and I couldn't see the road. Out of the cold mist Knife Wing appeared and hid us in a small cave where we were protected from the storm. Rocks crashed around us as if they were a scourge sent from the heavens."
    Brit paused to smile at Jake, then went on. " And when it was over, our world was washed clean. Even the bushes gave up their sweetest fragrances in thanksgiving for the much-needed water, and the creek swelled with happiness ."
    Jake returned to his crude sewing. "That's great, Brit, a real part of history. What I wouldn't give for an account like this from the natives I'm studying who lived in this area."
    "There's nothing?" Brit let the book rest in her lap.
    "Nothing written. Only petroglyphs."
    "Petroglyphs? What are they?"
    "Etchings in stone that depict animals they encountered or killed and certain elements of their lifestyles, like tribal or religious figures, enemies, or symbols."
    "I'd love to see them."
    "You can. When we go to the ruins tomorrow." Jake snipped the last thread and held the finished product up for her inspection. "One down."
    "Hey, that's remarkable. It actually looks like a moccasin." Brit sat up and scooted closer. "Let me try it on."
    "Let me help." Jake reached for one foot and slipped the soft leather sheath over her toes. Cupping her heel gently with his hand, he worked the body of the boot snugly onto her foot. "There, how's that?" As the moccasin slid over her ankle, his hand naturally moved to her smooth calf.
    "Feels wonderful." She admired the handcrafted boot. "And it fits. I'm impressed."
    "So am I." When she raised her leg to inspect it closer, his hand slid further upward. He tried to concentrate on her foot, but his imagination surged to other parts of her anatomy as his fingers touched her knee.
    "Are