News Alert: Some much-needed rain is heading California’s way. The drought is over.
Chapter One
Damian Royan stood on the promontory and stared out over the lake, enjoying a warmer than usual day for mid-September. Nearby, the organized chaos of visitors arriving to see the carved faces of Mt. Rushmore would soon begin. Here, though, serene water reflected majestic evergreens reaching for the scattered clouds in an otherwise cerulean sky, a stark contrast to Damian’s mood. If what he’d heard held any truth, this peaceful place would soon be disturbed. No, not disturbed. Removed. All of this sacred beauty—gone. Sold to the highest bidder. The idea was unconscionable. How could anyone destroy this?
A warm breeze lifted his shoulder-length hair with gentle abandon. For now, birds still sang their songs. A fish leaped from the water, daring a branch-sitting hawk to catch him. Accepting the challenge, the hawk dove with reckless speed, braking at the last moment to dip talons beneath the glassy surface, coming up with the arrogant fish in its claws. Wings back-stroked, grasping air as the hawk rose higher and higher with his breakfast.
Even the tufts of grass beneath Damian’s feet spoke of rejuvenation and renewal, though spring lay several months behind them. This was a special place. A sacred place. With closed eyes, Damian prayed to the world around him. This new peril was beyond anything he’d ever dealt with. He needed guidance. Advice on how to placate this threat to everything he held dear. Everything that all of humanity should consider important.
The sound of pebbles trickling down the twenty-foot rock wall he’d climbed to get there caused Damian to turn and grin as the dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty—the reason for his existence—pulled herself up to join him.
“I knew I’d find you here,” Valena said, wrapping her arms around his waist.
Everything felt better when his wife stood with him. Damian hugged her close. Valena Royan was the balm to his disquiet. He loved her more than life itself.
She gazed out over the water and, for a while, they enjoyed the moment, the harmonious connection with each other, and everything that surrounded them. A moment of tranquility.
Damian sighed. How long would they have this?
“You seem troubled.”
Damian leaned down to place a kiss on Valena’s dark hair, a thick, glossy band that fell to her waist. He loved these mornings, before her hair was confined in the braid that made living outdoors tolerable. His wife only stood as tall as his shoulders, but her diminutive stature ended there. In all other aspects, she was a force to be reckoned with. A strong partner and a loving wife who shared his beliefs.
They followed the druid way. Harmony with Earth and awe for the living world that surrounded and nourished them.
Damian frowned. How long could Earth withstand the over-exploitation that reduced it to a commodity?
“What worries you?” Valena asked.
Everything. Damian took a deep breath, letting nature’s perfume calm him. To put voice to his concerns lent them credence. Made the possibilities real. Yet this was not a burden he should carry alone.
“Does this have anything to do with the letter Wyeth brought in with the supplies yesterday?” Wyeth, the thinker, the quiet one in their group, had made the run into town the day before.
“Yes. It seems this land has been leased out.”
Valena stared at him, her hand clutched over her heart. “That can’t be. This is government land, a national forest.”
“Nevertheless, it has been. Somehow.”
“To whom?”
“A man named Gordon Darcy.” Damian gestured to the computer atop a canvas bag on the grass beside him. “It didn’t take much research for me to become concerned about this news.”
“Why? Who is he?”
“A man who buys and sells based on his whims. He’s into everything. Stocks, real estate, gold, oil, minerals.” The last two worried Damian the most.
“Even if Gordon Darcy has somehow convinced the government to lease him this land, they would never release mineral rights to him,” Valena said.
Damian reached down and picked up the letter from an attorney friend living in Washington, D.C. Valena took the letter and scanned it, her fingers tightening on the paper as she read. When finished, she looked up at him with tears in her blue eyes. “How did this happen? How can they do this?”
“I don’t know, but we have to fight it.”
“Agreed. We need to talk with everyone, make the decision together.”
Damian nodded, placing his things in the bag and slinging it over his shoulder while he slipped his sandals on. He climbed down first, then reached up to help Valena, who batted his arm away.
“How many times have I made this climb to find you deep in thought, or working on that druid-lore book of yours?”
“A thousand, maybe more,” Damian said with a laugh.
“Yes.” She jumped the last few inches to land on both feet. “We even planted one of your favorite oak trees on that plateau just so you’d have one to lean against. I think I can manage to get up and down a small rock wall I’ve navigated many times before.”
“I know you can.” Damian kissed her. “You are precious to me, my love, so if I get overly protective, you must forgive me.”
Valena tugged at his shoulder-length blond hair, pulling him down for a kiss. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
Arm in arm, they walked the path back to the tent sites they shared with their friends. As a group, they provided duties as campground hosts. They took turns manning the trailer that sat at the entrance to the park. The truck, their only motorized transportation, sat beside it, unused except for runs into Rapid City to stock up on supplies. Though other campers came with RV’s and modern conveniences, Damian, Valena, and their friends preferred a simpler way of life.
Their homes, canvas tents, sat in the more rustic, walk-in sites near the lake. They lived with few amenities, although they’d made arrangements with a local hotel, trading landscaping and maintenance for the barest necessities. All in all, they had everything they needed. Granted long-term rental of their sites, they acted as caretakers of the campground and surrounding land, a coexistent life that had worked well for several years. Now, it seemed, they were about to lose it all.
It didn’t take Damian and Valena long to get back to their communal home. At the moment, seven of them lived in five sites that circled their community area.
Bhren, his bound white hair a stark contrast to his dark skin and eyes, stood in their outdoor kitchen stirring a pot of something smelling very much like apples and cinnamon. He’d drawn breakfast duty this morning. That meant oatmeal, about all the man knew how to cook. Damian laughed.
“I’m a scholar, not a cook,” Bhren grumbled.
“Then why do you always get breakfast duty?” Damian clapped him on the back, then plugged in the laptop to charge at the site’s lone power source. “Seems like a scholar could figure his way out of this predicament.”
“I’ve been set up.” Bhren’s glare held more smoke than fire. For the most part, everyone got along and everyone did their part.
Damian left Bhren to his oatmeal-stirring and sat down at the table, watching Valena and Gwen put the finishing touches on a plate of fruit. Wyeth, Gwen’s husband, brushed wavy blond hair out of his face as he set out dishes, bowls, and silverware. Off to the side, waiting for her usual dish-washing duty, the seemingly happy Taegar sat weaving daisies into a crown of flowers for her head, smiling as she worked. Tall and rail-thin, her blonde hair, blue eyes, and all-encompassing smile made her happy mood infectious. When she’d shown up a year earlier, a young woman in emotional pain, she’d wholeheartedly adopted their simple lifestyle. She’d refused to talk about her life before she joined them, though they’d each tried to help her let go. There were moments when the sadness in her eyes tore at them, Valena most of all, who’d become a pseudo-mother to Taegar. She and Damian had spoken many times about how they might bring Taegar out of her shell. Nothing they’d tried had worked. Whenever Taegar caught them watching her, she tucked her sadness quietly away. Even after all this time, she did not want their relationship tainted by her past. So they allowed her to bury what she must, though it wasn’t healthy.
Luther had been the last to join their group. Close shaven, dark haired, with a personality to match, he was the pessimist of the group, even though he swore their simple life was all he wanted in the world. He’d become a bit of a camp sheriff. When an injustice occurred, he dealt with it, though sometimes with less tact than Damian would prefer.
Bhren brought the oatmeal over and dished up bowls as they all sat. As a group, they thanked Mother Earth for their bounty and dug in.
Damian passed the letter around as they ate, hoping it wouldn’t sour their food like it did his.
“This is ridiculous,” Luther said. He waved the letter in the air. “They can’t do this.”
Wyeth tugged the piece of paper from his hand, taking only seconds to scan it before handing it to his wife. “No one should be able to use this land like that. This is part of the Black Hills National Forest. It’s protected.”
“We thought it was,” Valena said.
“Are you sure this information is reliable?” Gwen, quiet and analytical like her husband, tucked the crazy curls of her red-tinted blonde hair into a rainbow-colored ball cap, then swallowed a spoonful of oatmeal.
Taegar ate with abandon as if nothing in the world mattered except what she did at that moment. The girl focused on one thing at a time and gave it her all. Damian wondered if she even listened to the conversation, and what thoughts rambled around in that head of hers. When she did join their discussions, her comments were sometimes profound and sometimes ridiculous. They never knew which way her wisdom would skew.
“I trust the man who sent it,” Damian said. “We went to college together and have a lot of the same beliefs about preserving our resources. He chose to further that cause by working as a lawyer in Washington while I took a simpler path. So yes, I believe this information is accurate.”
Luther pounded the table, getting even Taegar’s attention. “This is insane. It shouldn’t be happening.”
“Whether or not this can happen is no longer the point,” Damian said. “Apparently, it’s a done deal. The issue now is what to do about it.”
“Who is this Gordon Darcy?” Wyeth asked.
“I did some research this morning. Seems like a corporate type, in it for the money.”
“You don’t think we’ll be able to persuade him of the importance of this place?”
They all grew quiet. Everyone knew what was at stake here. Damian and Valena had come to this area several years before and immediately felt the difference. Life was fresher here, more abundant. The trees sang, the breezes whistled sweet lullabies, food and vegetation grew better than any other place they’d visited. There was almost a sentience, a oneness with the earth, the sky, the universe.
“I think we have to try,” Valena said.
Wyeth nodded. "Reason tends to be the best way to convince someone to change their minds.”
Damian sighed. "I guess that means I'm going to Los Angeles."
Valena entwined her arm with his and leaned against him.
Her long, dark hair tickled his arms, its sunshine and citrus scent calming him. Almost. With her head on his shoulder, nothing else should matter. Normally, nothing else would, except now the adversarial life they'd left behind had been tossed back into their laps with a resounding plop.
"I'll go with you," Valena said quietly.
That suggestion cost his wife a lot. Since there was no time to drive, they’d have to fly. He and Valena had met when he'd guided a rescue team deep into the Congo to recover what they'd expected to be bodies from a small plane crash. It had shocked them all that two of the ten people had survived the two weeks it took them to get to the wreck: the pilot, and Valena. They'd had to medicate her to get her back to the states, and she hadn’t set foot on a plane since.
Smitten from the first moment, Damian couldn’t have left her if he'd wanted to. So he'd stayed, and he’d held her. Eventually, the nightmares she’d suffered since her ordeal diminished until they were only a rare occurrence during times of high stress.
"You love me so much, you'd get on a plane," he said.
Valena turned to look at him, touching his face. "Of course. I love you that much."
Damian held her hand to his cheek, soaking up all the tender reverence in her eyes until she snuggled deeper in his embrace, thereby gifting him the time to think. Something she always knew he needed, just one of the ways Valena saved him even more than he'd saved her. He’d tried so hard for so long to change things. Fighting aquacultures that would further taint the oceans, standing strong on the tracks to stop coal trains, even a sit-down to keep a proposed pipeline from crossing sacred ground. Each time, shot down. Each time, he got angrier. He’d been arrested so many times, he could say without blinking an eye that he had an extensive rap sheet.
Everything he’d tried, whether drastic or diplomatic, had failed. He’d been in a tough place, mentally exhausted and completely demoralized, when he’d moved to Africa. Those months had proved to be the best thing for him. He’d met Valena, his voice of reason, the one who reminded him that everything mattered, and that small changes could add up to bigger things.
This, though, the pillaging of this sacred land, would be the biggest fight of his life. Damian was certain of it.
“I always want you beside me, my love,” he whispered into her hair. “But I think it’s better if I make this trip alone.”
When her shoulders relaxed, Damian knew his decision had been right. He couldn’t put her through that. Not unless there was no other choice.
“I’ll go as soon as possible,” he said with more vehemence to the group who sat quietly waiting. “Let’s see if I can get a meeting with this Gordon Darcy. I’ll fly down to Los Angeles and try to convince him how important this land is.”
“And I’ll load you up with some facts to showcase the importance of leaving this land untainted,” Bhren said as he got up to grab the laptop.
Damian smiled as everyone nodded their approval. While Damian had been designated the unofficial leader of their druid circle, all bigger decisions were generally discussed and decided by the entire group.
“It should be you,” Wyeth said. “As long as you can hold down that rabid temper of yours.”
A chuckle rumbled around the table, verifying the hard-won patience Damian had worked to attain. He didn’t suffer fools easily, but Valena had helped him restrain his emotions and channel them into more positive actions.
“It’s settled, then.” Damian stood. “I’ll call Darcy’s office and make arrangements.”
His wife stood with him. “I’ll pile the dishes for Taegar and check the gardens,” she said, giving him a lingering kiss before walking off.
“I’ve got to check the trailer’s generator. It’s been acting up,” Luther said, heading off with a disgruntled wave.
“Financials and world news for me,” Wyeth said, setting his laptop on the table.
Damian loved the cohesive camaraderie of their circle. Everyone knew what must be done. Everyone had their strengths.
He glanced at Taegar, who’d gone back to weaving flowers into the headdress she’d designed.
And their weaknesses.
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