flew past an exit marked Indian Nation Turnpike. Within seconds after passing it, a car came out of nowhere and cut in front of her so quickly that she almost wrecked. It took a few moments for her to get the Harley under control, and when she did, she pulled off the highway onto the shoulder of the road.
Her heart was hammering against her chest and she was drenched in sweat inside the leather she was wearing. She sat until she could breathe without thinking she was going to throw up, and got off the bike.
She took off her helmet, then removed her leather vest. Despite the passing traffic, she removed her shirt, leaving her in nothing but a sports bra. Without paying any attention to the honks she was getting from the passing cars, she put her vest back on. Then she wound her hair back up under her helmet, jammed it on her head and swung her leg over the seat of the bike.
The engine beneath her roared to life, then settled into a throaty rumble as she took off.
Less than a mile down the highway, a deer came bounding out of the trees at the side of the road. Sonora had to swerve to keep from hitting it. This time, when she got the Harley under control, she began to look for a safe place to cross.
She might be hardheaded, but she wasn’t stupid. For whatever reason, she’d gone too far east. She thought of the exit she’d just passed, and the odd feeling that had come over her as she’d read the words.
Indian Nation Turnpike.
For the same reason that had taken her this far east, she felt she was now supposed to go south. She waited until there was a break in the traffic, and rode across the eastbound lanes and into the wide stretch of grass in the center median. She paused there until she caught an opening in the westbound lanes and accelerated.
It didn’t take her long to find the southbound exit to the Indian Nation Turnpike, and when she took it, it felt right. Pausing at the stop sign at the end of the exit ramp, she took a deep breath and then accelerated.
The moment she did, it felt as if the wheels on the Harley had turned to wings. The wind cooled her body and she felt lighter than air.
* * *
Adam loaded the last sack of groceries into the seat of his pickup truck and then slid behind the wheel. As soon as he turned it on, he noticed his fuel gauge registered low. He lived too far up into the mountains to risk running out of gas, so he backed up and drove to the gas station at the end of the street.
As he pumped the gas, a sweat bee zipped past his nose, then took a second run back at his arm. He took out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow. As he did, he heard the deep, throaty growl of a motorcycle engine and, out of nothing but curiosity, turned and found himself staring into the simmering fires of a setting sun.
For a moment he was blinded by the glare, unable to see the rider or the bike. Quickly, he looked away, then shaded his face and looked again.
His breath caught at the back of his throat.
The bike and the rider were silhouetted against the heat and the sun as it paused on the horizon of an ending day. Despite the heat, Adam shivered. Although he knew it was an optical illusion, both rider and bike appeared to be on fire.
He was still staring when the illusion faded and the rider wheeled the bike into the empty space beside Adam’s truck. He heard the pump kick off, signaling that his tank was full, and still he couldn’t bring himself to move.
He didn’t know when he realized that the rider was a woman, but he knew the moment she took off her helmet and turned to face him that he’d been waiting for her all of his life.
When their gazes connected, she gasped, then staggered backward. If Adam hadn’t reacted so swiftly, she would have fallen over her bike. And the moment he touched her, he flinched as if he’d been burned.
“You came,” he said softly.
Sonora looked down at his fingers that were curled around her bare arms. She could feel him. She could see him. But that had happened before. The test would now be if she could move.
She took a step back. To her surprise, her feet moved. In a panic, she wrenched away from his grasp.
“I’m awake,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. She rubbed her arms where he’d been holding her, then looked up.
“Do you see me?”
He looked at her face as if trying to imprint every line and curve into his mind forever. There was no mistaking who she was, or why she was here. But from the little bit she’d just said, he suspected she was not in on the deal.
“Yes, I see you,” he said softly.
Sonora exhaled a shaky breath. She didn’t know what to say next.
“Do you know why you’re here?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“And yet you came?” he asked.
She thought of the nights and days of hallucinations and was halfway convinced that this was nothing but a repeat of the same.
“It seemed I had no choice,” she muttered.
“Your father waits for you,” he said.
Sonora jerked as if he’d just slapped her. She was disgusted with herself for being so gullible. Whatever had been happening to her, now she knew it was a dream.
“I don’t have a father,” she said angrily.
“But you do,” Adam said. “Have you ever heard your mother mention a man by the name of Franklin Blue Cat?”
She snorted in a very unladylike manner, and added a succinct curse word to boot.
“Mother? I don’t have one of those, either,” she said. “I was dumped on the doorstep of a Texas orphanage. The details of the ensuing years are hardly worth repeating. And now that this little mystery is over with, I’m out of here.”
Adam winced. Franklin would be devastated by this news, and he couldn’t let her leave. Not until they’d met face-to-face.
“You’ve come all this way. Don’t you at least want to talk to him?”
“Why? He never bothered to look me up.”
Adam heard old anger in her voice. The story wasn’t his to explain, but if he didn’t convince her of something, she would be gone before Franklin got a chance to state his case.
“Franklin didn’t know about you. He still doesn’t.”
Sonora shook her head. “You’re not making sense. And by the way, who the hell are you?”
“Adam Two Eagles.”
She tried not to stare, but it was surreal to be standing here having this conversation with a specter from her dreams.
“So, Mr. Two Eagles, what do you do for a living…besides haunt people’s dreams?”
Adam stifled a gasp of surprise. He’d been
