The tribes bride the nec.., p.1
The Tribe's Bride (The Necklace Chronicles), page 1
The Tribe's Bride
The Necklace Chronicles
By: R.E. Butler
Copyright 2012
The Tribe’s Bride (The Necklace Chronicles)
Copyright © 2012 by R.E. Butler
License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
**Cover Design: Deer Watson Media**
This e-book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locations is coincidental.
Disclaimer: The material in this book is for mature audiences only and contains graphic sexual content and is intended for those over the age of 18 only.
* * * * *
Many thanks to Alexis Arendt at Word Vagabond for editing this book. Her guidance and insight were invaluable. Thanks also to Deer Watson Media for the fantastic cover.
For BB, who bought a fishing boat so I could have weekend mornings free to write, and to BL who continues to be my biggest supporter.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Contact the Author
Chapter 1
"So just what does one do with a degree in ancient Native American languages and cultures?" The man across the desk from Carrie folded his hands slowly, resting his arms on the blotter. The look on his face was one she had become accustomed to since graduating.
Ignoring the “are you an idiot?” look he gave her, she swallowed her sarcastic comment that he was the Human Resources recruiter and therefore should have an idea of where a person with such a degree could work within the college. Instead, she said, "I'm hoping to take on a Teaching Assistant post while I pursue my master’s in education."
He gave her a puzzled look. "So you can teach languages that no one has used for many, many hundreds of years?"
"Yes, sir." She mentally checked out of the interview. Bradford University had no department even close to her degree program and they certainly weren't going to open one for little old her. She’d known her major choice was a gamble, but she just loved ancient languages and learning about primitive cultures. She was grasping at straws, really. But she would take a TA job in any department to get her master’s.
He perused her resume again and then set it down. "Unfortunately, Miss Wade, we don't have any TA positions available that match your qualifications. I'll keep your resume on file for ninety days and let you know if something comes open."
She stood up and hid her frown behind a false smile as they shook hands. He walked her out of his office and down the long, winding corridor towards the double doors that led outside. He was at least a foot taller than her five-foot-three frame, and his legs were long enough that she had to jog to keep up with him. He swung the door open for her and gave her a tight smile, and she jumped as the door clanged shut behind her.
What a fucking rotten day.
Her shrew of a great-aunt had passed away three years ago when Carrie was nineteen, and the only nice thing she ever did for Carrie was name her the beneficiary of her life insurance, which was enough to pay for an undergraduate degree in the subject she truly loved - ancient Native American civilizations. The odd thing was that there were some ancient civilizations that were acceptable to study, like Egypt. Tell people you wanted to go dig around in pyramids and they'd write you a check and tell you to watch out for curses. But say that you wanted to learn how to speak Indian languages that had died out sometime in the 1600s and they looked at you like you had sprouted horns.
The main tribe that she had studied had disappeared in the late 1600s. They settled in the Badger Claw Mountains of Montana, and were a fierce group known as the Bloqui, or the Blood-Ones. A small tribe, they were nearly wiped out by disease and those that remained left the area and eventually joined other groups of disbanded tribes to form a loose conglomerate. Eventually the melding of the various smaller tribes meant that very little remained of the originals and that always made her a little sad.
She wasn't really sure where her love for Native American culture came from, but learning about it had become nearly an obsession. Unfortunately, it wasn't exactly a lucrative profession, and her great-aunt's money was starting to run out.
It would have been nice to work at Bradford, but there were other colleges to apply to, so she wouldn't give up. She had hoped to be placed in the linguistics department at her own college, but there were no openings. Gathering her coat around herself to stave off the spring chill, she walked away from the college and decided to stop for a bite to eat on her way home to the small house she had shared with her aunt in Elizabethtown. She saw an exit sign on the highway that said there was food ahead, and she pulled off the highway and into the small town of Jamboree.
She sat down at the counter in Edna's Diner, tossing her long, dark brown hair over her shoulder. After ordering the special, she plucked her cell from her purse and checked to see if she had any messages. Her neighbor and closest friend, Bea, had texted her, asking about the interview. Bea was a recently divorced thirty-something travel writer with three cats. Carrie texted back that it was a bust and Bea promised that she would take her out when she got back from the Caribbean. Carrie told her the kitties were fine and that she was jealous of her job.
Carrie had been raised by her elderly Great-aunt Ellen after her parents died in a car accident when she was twelve. Ellen was the only surviving member of her family. Neither of Carrie's parents had siblings, and their own parents had died before she was born. With no siblings of her own, and then suddenly no family, Bea had come into her life at just the right time. She purchased the home next door just weeks after Ellen died and took Carrie under her wing, acting like the older sister she had never been blessed with.
When her food arrived, she tucked into a thick slice of pot roast, freshly mashed potatoes, and hot buttered rolls. Edna herself brought a piece of apple walnut pie and refilled her coffee.
"You new to town, darling?" she asked, peering over her half frame glasses. Her thick black hair was streaked with gray and curled around her ears, giving her a decidedly pixie look.
"Passing through."
"You should check out the antique shops on Dulcea. Turn left at the stop sign. Some of them have some real interesting things. Jewelry and whatnot."
She smiled politely. "Thank you, Edna, I'll check it out."
Paying the bill, she got in her car and stopped at the stop sign. Going right would take her back towards the highway, but the mention of jewelry made her heart go pitty-pat. She did love jewelry. And she did love antiques. Turning left, she parked at a meter on Dulcea and fed a few quarters into it.
Her sensible heels clicked on the sidewalk as she window-shopped. She passed a window display for a consignment shop that boasted clothing from several decades, as far back as the twenties. She stopped and faced the window and looked at a flapper dress hanging from a plastic, headless mannequin. The dress was fun and flirty, but made more for stick-figured women and not those like her, with lush curves that no amount of dieting would take away. She cast her green eyes down the window and saw something more her style, a simple peach sundress with a ribbon at the waist that would accentuate her curves.
She wandered through the various antique stores for about an hour, not seeing anything that didn't look like it hadn't come from someone's grandmother's basement. Mildly disappointed, she was heading back to her car when something caught her eye in the window of a store.
It looked like a heishe necklace. She pushed open the door of the shop as her excitement rose. "Can I help you?" the older woman behind the counter asked.
"Is that a heishe necklace?"
"Oh, yes. How did you know?" She put down the magazine she was reading and walked around the counter to the display in the window. Carefully, she pulled the necklace from the display to show her.
"I studied ancient Native American culture in college. May I?"
"Of course." She handed Carrie the necklace and she held it reverently. Small, hand-carved beads made of bone and wood were strung on a narrow strip of leather to make a necklace. They were often used for trade, although she had read that some tribes, including the Bloqui, used them as gifts from a man to his intended bride.
"Oh, it's just lovely."
"It's very old. I came into possession of it a few years ago at an auction. It was in a false bottom of an old wooden jewelry box. Some of the things came from colonial times and even earlier. It was quite a find."
It felt warm in her hands, as if it was a living thing. The small beads were multi-colored, from the pale white of animal bone to the honey and amber colors of different types of wood. Although it appeared delicate, the weight of it in her hand was comforting. She suddenly wanted it as badly as she'd wanted anything in her life.
"How much?"
The woman gave Carrie a c
Her feet itched to run out the door with it.
"I can't afford that much. It would wipe out my savings and I'm without a job right now. I couldn't go higher than two thousand."
The woman reached for the necklace to take it back and Carrie felt the hot press of tears in her eyes. Suddenly, the necklace was everything for her. "No, wait, please. I'll, I'll pay."
The woman's face softened suddenly. "Two thousand is fine. I've already made up what I paid for it anyway by selling some of the curios from the box. Come; let me wrap it for you."
Heaving a sigh of relief, Carrie gave the necklace back to her and followed her to the counter. She wrapped the necklace in a slip of white cloth and tucked it carefully into a long cardboard box. Tying the lid with a black ribbon, she took her check and smiled sweetly. "Enjoy the necklace, dear."
"I will, thanks."
Carrie laid the precious package in her lap as she drove home and couldn't wait to look at it.
Once home, she opened the box and looked at her treasure. Hundreds of years ago, a man had carefully cut and polished the beads and strung them on the leather, with a special woman on his mind. The idea of one of the warriors of the Bloqui tribe doing something so purely sweet sent shivers down her spine. With a happy sigh, she carefully laid the necklace back inside the box and set it on her nightstand, heading into the shower to wash the stink of failure from her body. Yes, she now only had a little over a grand to last her until she got a job. That wasn't good news. But she did have a standing offer to wait tables at a coffee house nearby, and that would pay the bills. The house was thankfully paid for, and she was sure her degree would pay off eventually.
Wiping the steam from the mirror, she looked at herself critically and wondered what people saw when they looked at her. She turned away from the mirror with a sigh, deciding that, right now, it didn't matter what she looked like because no one was looking at her anyway. She hadn't had a date in months. She always appeared to be a studious bookworm, and guys just didn't see that underneath the proper clothes was a sex goddess just waiting to be released. She was pretty sure, anyway. The only action she'd seen between the sheets lately was between her and her vibrator.
Tossing on a pair of pajama pants, she pulled a sweater over her tank and went to feed Bea's cats. When she got back, she called the owner of the coffee house and accepted his offer. He wanted her to start the next day. Knowing that she would spend twelve hours the next day on her feet, she settled into bed and drifted off to sleep, thinking about the necklace.
Chapter 2
The necklace beckoned to her as she dressed in a black skirt and a white shirt, the "uniform" of the staff at CoffeeBeanz. She picked up the box and took the necklace out, letting the beads slide over her hands and twist lightly between her fingers. Putting it away, she chided herself for even considering putting it on. It was hundreds of years old and had drained her savings. It wasn't a trinket she'd picked up at the mall.
She arrived a few minutes early for her first shift at CoffeeBeanz, covering a yawn. The owner, Brent McCoy, smiled at her as he made an espresso for a customer and handed it across the counter. Moving behind the counter, she watched him while he attended to the handful of customers in line and then asked another young man to take over for him.
Several hours later, she was quickly learning the coffee house lingo, and her feet ached even though she'd chosen to wear her most comfortable flats. The other waitress, Angela, who also worked the 7-to-7 shift, was Carrie's age and friendly. When work was over, she and Angela went out for ice cream and talked about everything but coffee.
The topic slid from the latest movie to dating. Carrie admitted she'd never been with a guy long enough to fall in love, and that she'd had a few one-night stands that she wasn't exactly proud of.
"What is an unintentional one-night stand?" Angela chuckled, her blue eyes dancing.
"I mean I met him and I went home with him, but I totally thought he'd call the next day."
She arched a brow in confusion and then laughed, covering her mouth with her hand when a few customers glared at them. Carrie amended her statement, "But there were a few guys that once I test-drove them, well, I wasn't interested in a repeat performance."
They both laughed at that, Angela wiping tears from her cheeks as both of them struggled to rein in the fun. Carrie hadn't laughed so much in a long time.
She dug her spoon back into the two-person sundae filled with four different ice creams and several toppings. "Anyone special in your life?" She asked Angela.
"Nah. My last boyfriend wanted to marry me."
"You don't want to get married?" She asked.
"Well, yeah, sure I do. But I mean, we're young. Could you imagine being married at twenty-two?"
Carrie smiled. "Actually, I could. I mean it would have to be the right guy, but if I loved him I'd want to be with him forever."
"Right guy? Is there such a thing?" Angela snorted, rolling her eyes.
"Somewhere. He'd have to be strong so he could protect me. Funny so he could make me smile. Sweet and attentive, and gorgeous, of course. And it wouldn't hurt if he could cook, too."
"And don't forget the bedroom." She winked, making Carrie chuckle.
"Heaven forbid."
"I think that's a tall order," Angela put her spoon down with a sigh. The sundae was nearly gone and Carrie couldn't eat another bite either. "You might find a man with one or two of those qualities, but not all seven."
"Maybe." She shrugged and split the bill, leaving a nice tip for the young man who had made the sundae.
They walked back to their cars in the parking lot of the coffee house and said goodbye. Carrie headed home, checked on Bea's cats and went into her house. She stopped at the kitchen counter and looked into the bowl at her goldfish, Rex. He swam lazily to the top and she dropped in a pinch of food and watched him eat.
A long, hot bath and a glass of wine called to her, and she relaxed until the water cooled and the glass was empty.
The next few days followed much the same, with long hours on her feet handing out steaming mugs of coffee and small plates of biscotti, muffins, and Danish, and evenings with nothing much to do. She and Angela made plans for Saturday, their mutual night off. Dancing was in order, according to Angela, and since Carrie hadn't been dancing in a long time, she happily agreed. Bea came home only for a day before she set off to Canada to document some kind of secret fishing spot that could only be reached by a tiny plane.
Carrie continued to send out her resume to other colleges, not ready to accept that she would have nothing to do with her degree except look back at all the money she had spent going to college.
On Saturday morning, she pulled out a book she hadn't read for a long while, about the myths of many of the lost tribes, including the Bloqui. Many myths explained things such as the creation of the world or their various gods and goddesses and connections to the spirits of their ancestors. She especially liked the Bloqui's explanation of the sun and moon. The sun was the god of the day, providing light and warmth to his people. The moon was the goddess of night, sister to the sun, and guardian of her people while they slept.
She was so engrossed in the book that she forgot about lunch, until her grumbling stomach reminded her that she needed to eat. She'd grown hungry for something comforting, so she thawed a plastic tub of beef stew and made a small pan of cornbread.
The day passed slowly but pleasantly, and she eventually headed back to her bathroom to take a shower. When her long hair was dry, she wrapped the towel around herself and went to the closet to find something to wear. While she rifled through her things, a poem from the mythology book she had been reading floated through her mind.
Give me your hand and I will sing of us forever
Give me your heart and I will never die.
I give you all I have to hold in your hand,
