THUNDER PEAK, page 1
AMBUSH FROM ABOVE
So that’s it?” Casey finally whispered.
“That’s it,” Jonas answered. “Pearlwood. Not many of them around.”
“The tree,” Casey said with the muted urgency of a mouse dashing off under a bed of leaves. “Its bark sparkles in the sunlight just like your harmonica!”
“It should,” her father said without looking. “This is where I got the timber for it.”
Casey frowned. Looking around again she tried to see what her father was seeing and made an important observation, or at least she thought it was important: “It’s quieter here—than on the other side of the river.”
“Yes,” he said in a pleased tone, eyes still darting around. “Yes, it is. And the way seems suddenly darker somehow, like we’re walking into an ambush.”
The moment after her father said it, Casey drew a knife from her sash. By mere chance she glanced at it and saw the grisly blue face hurtling down on her from above.
Casey rolled with a shout, thrusting the knife high, and the scaly creature impaled itself with a screech and crumpled on top of her. A second later it flared brightly into blue dust.
“Cave demon!” Jonas shouted, getting to his feet and waving the noisome vapors away with both hands.
When the smoke cleared, Jonas scanned the woods.
“We’re surrounded,” he hissed, lifting Casey to her feet.
Looking around, Casey saw reptilian faces appearing and disappearing in the brush and peeking around trees. Then, realizing that they had been discovered, the horde began to creep closer, teeth clacking, claws flexing.
THE TAMM CHRONICLES
BOOK I
THUNDER PEAK
UPCOMMING:
BOOK II
THE GALLOPING GHOST
BOOKS BY TRAE STRATTON
TO HAVE AND TO HOLD
FOR MORE ABOUT THE AUTHOR PLEASE VISIT
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©2021 by Trae Stratton
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
For Violet
PART I
StarFall
1
The Seen And The Unseen
The rumble started low and distant.
Casey tensed, looking left and right.
Concentrating on finding the source of the steadily rolling tumult, she barely heard her friend Savannah ask, “Do you hear that? What is that?”
The oldest of their trio, Savannah’s brother Nash, took off his hat, a worn Stetson with a cattleman crease handed down from his father, and looked up through the dense pines and aspens looming over them. “Might be a storm coming.”
Casey focused on the trail behind them. “I don’t think so.”
Something was coming through the woods.
Something large.
Something fast and dangerous.
The rumble began to swell. Still looking up, Nash and Savannah covered their ears.
Darting into the nook formed by a trio of aspens, Casey tried to shout over the deafening roar racing toward them through the forest, “Look out! Look out!” But it was too late, and Casey could only watch as a stampede of horses erupted over a low hill and hurtled toward her witless friends. “No!” she screamed, fully expecting both of them to be trampled.
But they weren’t.
Time slowed for Casey as she watched the herd storm through the timber at a pace more suited to the open plain. Though the herd was thirty strong at least, they didn’t seem to hit anything. Not a branch, not a bush, not a leaf or even a blade of grass. It was the most amazing thing she had ever seen.
Right up until one of the rushing steeds discovered her hiding spot.
It was for the briefest possible moment, but long enough for her to see a flash of rainbow in the horse’s eye when their gazes met—and the glistening silver horn on its head.
Then they were gone.
Casey stood frozen in the tree stand, incredulous that her friends were not only still alive but also oblivious to what had just happened.
Growing up in the ominous shadow of Thunder Peak, all of them were acquainted with sudden storms that seemed to arrive out of nowhere and disappear just as fast, storms that most folk living across the Arizona Territory and beyond considered tall tales.
After another few moments of stillness, Nash shrugged, looked at Savannah, and said, “I reckon that’s the longest, loudest thunderclap mine ears have ever heard. And not even a drop.” Then he saw Casey, breathing heavy and still backed against the sheltering aspens. “What’s with you?”
“I, uh…” Casey stammered. “Didn’t you see?”
“See what?” Nash asked, striding over.
Savannah picked up the hem of her blue chambray dress and closed the distance between them with sure-footed steps. “You okay?”
Casey took a deep, steadying breath. “So fast,” she whispered, peering through the trees. “Come and gone in a flash.”
“You saw a flash?” Savannah asked.
“Probably lightning,” Nash said. “Did it hit close?”
Casey pursed her lips while an image of Old Hickory swept through her mind.
Old Hickory was an ancient Indian living in nearby Storm Town, and he told wild stories about the mountain and the forest. So wild that everyone said he was touched. Then she thought of how everyone treated Old Hickory, how they laughed at his tales of tree spirits and mysterious animals.
She laughed too because she wanted to hate Hickory. Indians had killed her mom and dad, and she wanted to hate all of them. So why she felt bad about laughing afterward was something she just couldn’t understand. Times she had thought too much about it had even made her cry. And crying was stupid, so better just not to think about it.
Casey hid the thought behind making an adjustment to the long brown braid that fell down her back. Then, with no hint at what she’d really seen, Casey pointed in the direction the horses had run. “Yonder a ways.”
“Let’s go look,” Nash said, and off they went.
They searched most of the afternoon for the place where the bolt might have hit (and Casey hunted for a hoofprint of some kind), but to no avail.
Still keeping her thoughts to herself, Casey began to question what she had seen. It was hot, and realizing it had been a while since she’d taken a sip from her leather water bag, she paused and took a long drink. Sun shadows through the trees, she decided. Sun shadows and thirst. That’s what it was. Just seemed real ’cause of the long sky rumble. That’s all. Crazy to think more of it.
The fruitless search for the lightning strike continued until they reached the hilltop remains of a fallen tower who’s only standing feature was a crumbling, curved wall stabbing thirty feet into the sky. The elegance of the arc suggested the fort had been sculpted like a lighthouse. A very unusual design for the West, and one that had inspired Itza Chu Canyon residents to call it Point Lookout; but its true name, along with its purpose and the identities of the people who would build such a thing in the deepest corner of a hidden valley, was just another Thunder Peak mystery.
A crisp, clear stream burbling down from the peak vanished under the rocky hill supporting the ruin, then reappeared on the opposite side and meandered away through the trees. For as long as Casey could remember, her father had issued stern warnings that the woods got much darker and dangerous on the other side of it and still made her promise every time she went exploring not to cross it.
Casey wore a long knife on a belt fastened around her buckskin pants, and Nash wore one around his dark jeans, but she knew enough about bears, mountain lions, and other wild animals to know it wouldn’t be enough if it came to a fight, and so she had never broken that promise.
Alien and unique as it was, the hilltop debris field was an endless source of natural delight for Casey and her friends. Each time they explored it, they seemed to find something new and mysterious. Sometimes it was a strangely colored rock. Other times it would be a piece of pottery, a carved stone, or even a piece of steel that looked like it could have been an arrowhead, a spoon, or anything in between.
Nash was especially curious about the foundation stones. The shattered white marble blocks the tower had been constructed with were unlike anything in wood-timbered Storm Town, and while the girls looked for hidden treasures, he levered and turned the heavy stones in search of the mysterious markings he sometimes found on them. Staring hard at the chiseled lines, he would try to memorize the shapes so he could add them to the book he was making back home.
As interesting as the symbols were, what fascinated Casey most was a small window near the very top of the crumbling wall that had miraculously survived whatever had befallen the tower.
A window full of color.
Eager to know more, then eleven-year-old Casey had asked her teacher if she’d ever seen a colored window and was told that many churches had them, especially in Europe. They were called stained glass windows and often held pictures that told stories.
Wondering what its story might be, Casey had looked up at that unreachable window for years.
Then, in the spring of 1885, Casey turned fourteen, ushering in a sudden, thrilling change. The planting season had kept them all away f
Staring up at the window, Casey gritted her teeth. The six previous attempts she’d made through the long hot summer had met with varying degrees of success, some getting her closer, some ending in abject failure.
Abject failure defined by scrapes, cuts, sprains, and other hurts.
“Let it be, Casey.” Savannah cut into her thoughts. “Before your stubbornness cracks your head and turns you into worm food.”
Casey pulled her eyes from the window to peer at Savannah, three years her junior.
“Oh, I know that look like a bee knows honey,” Savannah shook her dark curls. “Nash! You better get over here and help me talk some sense into Casey before she goes for her angel wings again.”
Nash huffed and looked over at them. “C’mon Casey,” he said. “Last time you twisted your ankle. Time before that your whole hand swelled up. Time before that you lost your grip and skinned both your arms sliding down. Savannah’s right. What’s it going to take?”
“I just.” Casey’s voice fell away as she looked back up at the window. “I just want to see it.”
“It’s probably nothing,” Nash said. “A trick of the light.”
“No.” Casey shook her head with certainty. “No way. It’s a picture glass.”
“All right, so it’s a picture glass,” Savannah threw her hands in the air. “What difference will it make? You can’t take it with you.”
“I don’t want to take it with me.” Casey’s eyes grew wide with exasperation. “I just want to see what the picture is.”
Nash followed Casey’s gaze. “What we need,” he said as the answer dawned on him, “is a rope! Next time we’ll bring a rope, and I’ll hold it down on the other side while you climb up.”
“Shiny idea!” Savannah exclaimed. “A rope. For next time.”
“Shiny swell,” Casey said, nodding in agreement. “So good we should have thought of it long before now. But…” Casey’s voice faded.
“But what?” Nash asked. “It’s the best thing for it.”
Casey shrugged her shoulders. “A rope feels like cheating. I don’t want to mizzle out.”
“Mizzle out!” Savannah cried. “You done tried enough times that courage got nothing to do with it.”
“Savannah’s right,” Nash said evenly. “If anyone’s gone and mizzled out, it’s me, a long time ago. But that’s no bother. I asked my pa and he told me, ‘Courage in the heart gets a body kilt what got no smarts behind the eyes.’”
“You’re right,” Casey said. “You’re both right. But I want to do it. I have to try one more time.”
“Nothing but a sack of flusteration—that’s what you are, Casey Tamm.” Nash waved his hand at her. “Good luck, then.”
Casey’s eyes fled from the window to find Nash’s back as he walked away. The sight of it opened a pit in her stomach she didn’t quite understand.
“Nash, wait.” Casey’s voice brought his head around, and she flashed a smile that made him pause. “Last time, okay? If I don’t make it, I’ll wait until we get a rope to try again. I promise. Don’t leave.”
Nash sighed. “You just want me here to carry you again if you get hurt.”
Casey looked up at the window and smiled again, this time to herself. Nash had insisted on carrying her the day she hurt her ankle. About halfway home she knew her leg was fine but found being in his arms too surprisingly delightful to have him set her down. She couldn’t tell him that, of course. That thought was scarier than climbing up to the window.
“Would that?” Casey stammered suddenly. “I mean, is that so bad? If I wanted, not if you don’t want to.”
They locked eyes for a long moment. Then a change came over Nash, and he shook his head. “All right. Last time, though. You promised.”
“I did. I do.” She nodded quickly, and deciding it was best to stop talking, Casey sent him another smile.
Then she was off, dancing from stone to stone through the long-stemmed garnet and gold blooms that only grew around this particular hill, eyes darting over the wall, trying to find enough handholds to get her to the window. Her starting point chosen, Casey wasted not an instant on second thoughts and began to scurry up.
Wait a minute, she thought, whirling around to look back at the flowers now ten feet below her. This is where we were. The day Dad told me about…
Casey’s back stiffened.
Eyes peering suddenly into the past, she fell completely in thrall to an unlocking memory.
How no one can explain why the flower petals here change colors every morning. And if I ever saw something as unique as these flowers…
So deep in memory was Casey that her left hand slipped free, but before the danger could snap her away, some distant part of her mind told her not to worry. That she could still hold on. Because this was more important than falling.
Important…
Casey stared at the flowers, dangling by one hand.
The horses…were not just horses. They were invisible horses—with horns! Not sun shadows…and not crazy!
“Unique!” Casey laughed out loud and abruptly broke the memory spell with the sound of her own voice.
Stunned by the sudden realization that she was hanging by one hand, Casey twisted back around in a panic and mashed her nose into the wall. Ignoring the blood running into her mouth, Casey spotted a decaying seam in easy reach. Her left hand darted out, but before she could grasp it, the crack she clung to with her right broke away under her weight and she fell.
Casey landed with a grunt amid the flowers below. Distantly she heard Nash and Savannah shouting as they raced over.
She lay still, as if dead, her eyes focused on a flower just inches from her aching nose.
Her heart was pounding. Pounding on the door holding back the rest of the memory until finally it splintered and shattered.
Casey had been adopted by her father as an infant. Long ago, when he took her to the tower for the very first time, he promised that if she ever saw something as unique as the flowers growing there, he would tell her a secret about her parents.
“Casey!” a voice called, but she wasn’t ready yet.
Beset by the intrigue of it all, she had tried many times to trick him, but her father was sharp as a tack and always seemed to have an explanation about her discoveries—and could tell when she was fibbing. And those fibs had been punished severely with extra chores until eventually she gave up trying to trick him. Shortly after that she stopped searching too.
“Casey!” the voice called again.
That was all years ago, before she’d even turned ten, and something she had nearly forgotten.
Casey’s eyes lit up.
Nearly, not completely.
“Casey!” a smaller voice pleaded, and a tremble went through her body, replacing the window and everything else she knew with one desire: to get home as fast as she could and speak to her father. To tell him all about the invisible horses with horns on their heads and find out what he knew about her parents.
“Casey!” Nash shook her again. “Can you hear me? Can you move?”
“Yeah.” Casey shook her head, clearing away the last of the memories. “Yeah, I’m all right.” She sat up slowly. “Just a little…dazed.”
Nash was on his knees and sat back on his heels, eyes wild.
“That was,” he said, shaking his head. “That was—”
“The scariest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Savannah exclaimed. “Eyes open and empty like a dead body! You’re a durn fool, Casey Tamm. Serve you right to be kilt right now!”
Casey nodded. “I am a durn fool, Savannah. I am, and I’m sorry for scaring you. Both of you.”
Casey tried to smile at Nash, but his face was frozen, as if he were looking at a ghost.
“Your rope idea is the ticket.” Casey stood and looked over at Savannah. “With a rope, we might be able to get you up for a look too.”
The younger girl just stared back at her, eyes wide.
“Your face is all bloody,” Nash said, getting to his own feet. “You sure you’re all right?”
