Chapter 12

Shadow Valley, Texas 1870

As the dinner progressed, Halona found herself retreating into silence, the lively conversation swirling around her like a current she couldn't quite catch. Fiona's voice, sweet as honey but sharp as a tack, dominated the table, her words carefully crafted to exclude Halona while drawing Buck ever closer.

"What do you think Halona?" Buck asked.

Halona looked up, startled. "Hmm?"

"Well of course she's going to agree with you she's an Indian." Fiona said and rolled her eyes.

"She's not Kiowa." Buck said as though that should explain that Halona wouldn't just agree with his views on things.

"An Indian is an Indian in these things Buck." Fiona countered.

"Wow," Halona muttered as she shifted uncomfortably on the chair.

"What?" Fiona looked at her.

"What's the question?" Halona ignored her.

"The army has increased their soldiers at the fort and are sending out troupes to the villages," Buck explained.

"It's because of the massacre," Fiona said simply. "That entire family was brutally murdered and three of the children are missing, assumed that they were taken by the Kiowa."

"I don't understand." Halona looked at Fiona and then at Buck with a confused expression on her face.

"The army has killed several warriors," Buck clarified.

"Red Bear?" Halona asked quickly.

"No," Buck said. "He moved the village further into Oklahoma."

"Buck told me you lived with his brother's tribe," Fiona interjected.

"I did." Halona replied.

"I imagine it felt quite like home," Fiona said, her smile sugary-sweet.

Halona couldn't help but scoff internally. Fiona, with her picture-perfect looks and thinly veiled disdain, was Regina George personified.

"I heard that President Grant may come to Fort Sill himself if the Indian agents don't get the trouble under control," Patricia chimed in.

"Let's talk about something else at the dinner table." Buck interjected.

"Wait, I'm sorry." Halona coughed. "President who?"

"Ulysses S. Grant," Patricia repeated, enunciating each syllable as if speaking to a child.

Fear tore at Halona's chest. Disorientation washed over her. The room seemed to tilt, the clatter of forks on plates morphing into a deafening roar. Unable to hold it back any longer, she bolted from the table. The cool night air hit her face, but it did little to quell nausea rising in her throat. Reaching the safety of a large oak tree, she doubled over, emptying her stomach. Dry heaves wracked her body as she clung to the rough bark, the world spinning wildly around her.

A gentle hand touched her back. "Halona?" Buck's voice, laced with concern, cut through the fog.

"Needed air," she rasped, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

He grasped her arm as she swayed, his touch centered her. Pushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his brow furrowed in worry. A shaky breath escaped her lips, and then darkness claimed her. The last thing she registered was strong arms scooping her up before everything faded to darkness.

Disoriented, Halona blinked awake to the familiar comfort of her bed. The past few weeks her thoughts were plagued with questions. Was she dead? In a coma? Can a person spontaneously become delusional? Whatever had happened there was a major glitch in the matrix.

As the events of the previous evening replayed in her mind, a shiver ran down her spine. Every science fiction movie she'd ever seen seemed laughably tame compared to her reality. Could this be the answer she'd been searching for all along? Insanity seemed more probable.