Free The Visitant: Book I of the Anasazi Mysteries by W. Michael Gear, Kathleen O’Neal Gear

joining the migration, she’d been captured by the Fire Dogs. A despicable people, the Fire Dogs raided constantly, killing, stealing food, burning entire villages, then taking the survivors as slaves and driving them southward to dig and haul stones for their filthy towns.
    Browser had risked his own life to free Catkin. He’d carried her out of the Fire Dog camp on his back, hidden with her, tended her wounds, and held her at night to keep her warm.
    Now she had two holes in her heart.
    One for a man she had lost. The other for a man that, until a hand of time ago, she had thought she would never have.
    Hope vied with guilt inside her.
    What would they do now?
    Her gaze lifted to Talon Town. Soon he would come to her, longing to talk, to pour out his fears and agony. She would listen. She would soothe him. And he would say good night and leave.
    He allowed little else. A touch on the shoulder. A private smile or exchange of glances.
    Catkin gripped her war club when movement caught her eye.
    Whiproot trotted around the corner of Talon Town, his white-feathered cape flapping, his young face stern. His chin-length black hair swayed as he ran. She studied the grisly scars that crisscrossed his face. She’d killed the Fire Dog who had done that to him, but not soon enough. Every day for the rest of his life, Whiproot would be reminded of that man and his knife.
    For three moons after the battle people whispered that Whiproot’s wife, Silk Moth, could not bear to look at him. He had, briefly, moved into a chamber in Talon Town. The Elders had urged Silk Moth to go on a vision quest to ask guidance from the Spirit World. She had, reluctantly, and returned happy and smiling, saying she had gained a powerful Spirit Helper. Whiproot had moved home again, and they seemed to be doing well.
    “What is it, Whiproot?”
    “Forgive me, Catkin. I know that the War Chief asked you to guard his son, but Matron Flame Carrier has duties for us.”
    “What does she wish?” Catkin saw the shining new war club tied to his belt. Beautiful. Strange that she hadn’t noticed it before. Had he taken it on the war walk?
    “She says the boy’s”—he looked down at Grass Moon, and his voice softened—“the boy’s burial pit has been desecrated. She wishes you to dig a new one while I keep watch from the south wall of Talon Town. If you keep me in sight, I will be able to see both the boy and you from there. Do not fear. If you yell, I will be there.”
    Catkin nodded. “Very well. I will need to get a digging stick.”
    “The slaves stacked several between the big trash mounds. After you have finished the new grave, come and fetch me. Flame Carrier also wishes us to lift the War Chief’s wife from the defiled pit and carry her back to the village where the War Chief can care for her. She does not believe his wife was a witch.”
    Catkin gave him a curious look, wondering how Flame Carrier could be so certain. “Why just us? Where is everyone else?”
    “While Elder Cloudblower is opening the Sunwatcher’s skull, they will be Singing. Praying for peace, and safety. Honestly, they are very afraid.”
    “How is Hophorn?”
    Agony lined his face. He twisted his war club in his hands. “She does not look well, Catkin. More than that, I cannot say.”
    The Singing stopped. They both focused on the town in silence.
    Catkin tucked her war club into her belt. “Well, I had better begin the new grave. The sand is frozen. It will take some time.”
    “And I had better get to my guard position.”
    They walked back together.
    When they reached the wide, shining road that ran in front of Talon Town, Whiproot trotted for the ladder. He climbed to the roof of the low one-story line of rooms that created the south wall, scanned the plaza inside the town, then looked out across the canyon. Finally he walked to the southwestern corner, and crouched down, overlooking Grass Moon’s burial ladder.
    Catkin climbed into the space between the two