Flight of Destiny

By Paul Windham

Cleate EagleBear:

Cleate believes that anyone he begins to admire and love is cursed to die. That is why the plane he was traveling on went down in a freak wind storm. He had been admiring his pilot Jayla Dawson. Now they were in the middle of the New Mexico living desert and he has to use every ability he has as a Native American shaman to keep them both alive until they are rescued. But it isn't easy knowing that he is falling for the lovely pilot and he knows that because of it, she will be taken from him just as his late fiance Feather had.

Jayla Dawson:

Jayla is a self made woman, she doesn't need anyone in her life. After a traumatic ordeal four years earlier, she definitely does not want a man. She is perfectly content being a single mother and the owner and operator of Dawson's Charter Service. But when a freak windstorm brings her down in the desert she finds she has to rely on a man who hides his emotions so well she doesn't believe he has any.
It isn't long when she begins to feel a stirring in her that she thought long dead, and she begins to experience things that make her wonder at first if she is going mad. A voice in her head begins to tell her of her destiny and tries to guide her through.

Feather FlyingCloud:

Feather died of a tragic car accident and is the late fiance of Cleate EagleBear. She is restless and must help him through her death and somehow show him that he is not cursed. Can she guide Jayla through the turbulent mind field of Cleate's anguish and get him to stop believing that his love is cursed before it destroys his life and those he loves?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul Windham
• Release date: Jan 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310547966

Paul Windham

Born in the then small town of Artesia New Mexico in 1971 Paul C. Windham has been an avid reader thanks to his mother's influence. He got into reading and writing romances when he was in his teens and was bored one summer so he raided his mother's book collection and has been hooked on them ever since.He has also been a practitioner of the Native American shamanic arts since he was five years old. He is married to a solitary practitioner of Wicca and has two daughters three cats that he blames everything on.P.C. Windham is also a motorcycle enthusiast and rides as often as he can for he and his wife say it is a great therapist.He now lives in the North Eastern living desert area of Nevada where he has a small farm.

Book preview

Flight of Destiny

By

P.C. Windham

Published by Paul C. Windham at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Paul C. Windham

This is a complete work of fiction and any similarity to actual persons, places, or events is purely coincidental and unintentional.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

About the Author

Contact the Author

Sneak Peak at Heart of the Desert

Chapter 1

The droning of the Cessna’s engine filled the cockpit as Cleate EagleBear looked out the window at the expanse of living desert below. Even at seven thousand feet Mean Sea Level as pilots reckoned altitude, he could distinguish the slight sloping contours of the land. It never failed to amaze him how small things looked when looking down upon them from the air. Slightly off in the distance he could see the rising mountains where he used to hunt with his father when he was a boy. The range formed a natural wall that stretched for miles in the middle of the New Mexico desert. He knew from experience that the plane’s heading would take him over the northern end of the range. If the pilot held her course, they would fly right between two large peaks that made up the entrance to a series of canyons known as Broken Warrior Canyons. The Apache had named it after a great battle that had been lost long ago. The old timers of the tribe say that to this day one can sometimes sense the spirits of the warriors who had died there. There are those that even swear that the spirits had helped them when they were in great need.

Cleate believed those stories, for though he was not Apache, he was still a Native American of the Cherokee tribe as well as a shaman. He too had felt the spirits of the Broken Warrior Canyons on many occasions when he was hunting deer within them. He had even taken a vision quest there and communed with those spirits. They had showed him that he could be more than what he was. Along with his shamanic skills, he had gained other very valuable disciplines of the mind. Cleate had learned that once you understood how everything connected with everything else and how to apply that knowledge, you could do many things that would normally seem impossible.

Unfortunately, there were still certain things that could not be done, no matter how strong one was. Like stopping the imminent death of the woman, you loved. He did not care that everyone around him said that a mere accident had taken Feather FlyingCloud’s life. He still held on to the belief that it was his fault because of a curse attached to his love.

Cleate believed that if he had not loved Feather, she would not then have been with him in the car when it overturned and burst into flames. Many people had tried to tell him that it was not his fault, but he refused to believe them. So shortly after recovering from his injuries, he had left New Mexico and vowed never to fall in love again. He could not risk putting someone else’s life in danger.

He would not even be returning now if it were not for his mother’s insistence that he attend the family reunion. No matter how old he was, Cleate could never refuse his mother’s wishes. Especially when she used that, certain tone of voice. So now here he was, flying over the New Mexico desert in a chartered aircraft. Oh, he could have easily flown himself, but while he had been trying to make up his flight plan something kept telling him that it would not be wise to do so.

Being a shaman, Cleate had learned early on to listen to such feelings. Therefore, he put away his flight gear and began searching for a charter flight. He had called every one in Dallas but they were all booked completely solid. Then he had come across an ad for a small and very little known service called Dawson Flight Service. Even before he could decide whether to call, he had found himself already dialing. It had obviously been another sign so he booked himself a seat. When he arrived at the airport he had been mildly surprised to realize that the woman he had spoken to on the phone was also the pilot.

Cleate glanced over to his left to observe the woman; she had said her name was Jayla Dawson. She was only about five feet tall and wore her raven black hair tied back in a tight French braid with a tail that hung over her right shoulder and down the front of her right breast. About three to five inches of the braid lay in her lap it was so long. Her black leather B-2 style jacket was almost as black as her hair and showed years of wear as it hung too large to fit her slight frame. Her denim jeans were snug without appearing tight the legs stuffed inside a pair of well-worn brown calfskin boots. However, her face intrigued him, it was small, almost elf like with a short narrow nose and high cheekbones. Her lips were almost perfect with the top one forming a perfect cupid’s bow. She looked rather young actually and caused Cleate to wonder about her age.

He told himself it was out of mere curiosity that he wondered, but something stirred deep down in places he had hoped to keep locked away forever. As always, he ignored it and tried not to give it a second thought. After keeping his vow for more than two years, he believed himself to be no longer susceptible to such beauty.

Cleate watched how she kept her feet perfectly balanced on the rudder pedals and how she kept a slight tension in her left arm as she held on to the yoke. Her right hand she kept in her lap ready to use on the throttle or radio, as well as other things such as the elevator trim. Young though she may seem Cleate had to admit that she was a very capable pilot. He just wished she would talk more. She had not said that much except for the usual courtesy phrases any pilot would give a passenger. He decided to try to start up a conversation. After all, they still had about two hours before they reached their destination.

He was just about to ask her how long she had been flying but stopped short when she reached for the radio. He could not help but notice the way her small delicate hand took hold of the microphone, with each finger wrapped carefully around it. She brought it up to her mouth and depressed the transmit bar with her thumb. He waited for her to finish her radio call. She was asking for a weather advisory. After receiving the reply, she thanked the Flight Service Station and replaced the microphone in its clip. She then turned her head slightly towards him to speak.

FSS reports some heavy winds. Please be sure your seat belt is securely fastened. The ride will start to get a little bumpy. Her voice was calm and soft, yet it was dispassionate.

Cleate checked and tightened his belt and watched as she did the same. Ever fly through a New Mexico wind storm before? He asked out of curiosity. He really should have listened more closely to the FSS response to her inquiry. He knew from brutal experience how rough the winds could get out here. She had already proven to be a good pilot in calm air, but he was not so sure about a windstorm. Her apparent young age came to his mind again. She could not have been a pilot long enough to handle it if it suddenly got severe. New Mexico was famous for its severe winds. Maybe he should get ready to assist just in case. Out here it’s not uncommon for a storm to beat the thunder out of you.

You may be surprised to know Mr. EagleBear that I have flown through winds stronger than what the Flight Service Station reported. She replied defensively.

The Cessna suddenly began to buck slightly as they entered rougher air. Cleate looked forward and noticed they were getting rather close to the entrance of the Broken Warrior Canyons. The twin peaks that heralded the entrance was steadily growing larger. He was still perfectly calm however; it took a lot to unnerve him. He glanced toward Jayla and observed how she pushed down on the right rudder to get the nose into the wind in a crabbing flight. The hand on the yoke tightened its grip as she fought it to keep the plane level.

He sensed that this was no normal storm. Every time Jayla would crab into the wind, it would suddenly change and come from another direction. The bucking of the aircraft began getting worse and for the first time; Cleate was starting to get nervous. He could no longer just sit by and watch so he took a firm hold on the right side yoke and placed his feet on the rudder pedals. The pressure increased as Jayla relaxed her own hold just a little to let him take up some of the effort. The plane felt like a bucking bronco and resisted their attempts to keep it level and into the wind. The nose kept jumping up and forced down violently, several times Cleate almost lost his hold on the yoke.

Never before in his life had he encountered such violent winds aloft. They needed to try to set down before the plane started to disintegrate. Already the howling of the wind masked the usual engine noise and he could feel the vibration of the wing surfaces as they exceeded tolerance. Much more of this and they would be plummeting to the ground.

WE HAVE GOT TO FIND A PLACE TO LAND! Cleate shouted over the screeching of the wind.

NO SHIT SHERLOCK! The yoke suddenly got very heavy as Jayla released her hold to grab at the microphone. The muscles in Cleate’s arms strained to take up the extra pressure and his legs tightened up to hold the rudder pedals. He looked outside the window frantically trying to spot a place to set down. The visibility was now zero as all he could see was a cloud of very heavy dirt blowing in seemingly all directions. The dust was even coming into the cockpit from around the doors and through the fresh air vents that had been open. He felt the hairs standing up on his arms caused by the static electricity generated by the storm.

He hazarded a quick glance at Jayla who was trying to scream into the radio. However, the noise of the storm drowned out her words. The wind sounded like a thousand screaming eagles and grated on Cleate’s nerves and ears. That combined with the severe pounding of the wind against the plane made it almost impossible for him to think clearly. The dust that filled the cockpit stung his nose and choked him. The aircraft shook like a mouse shaken by an angry cat. The seat belt cut into his waist and his arms and legs were beginning to feel like lead. Another quick glance at Jayla showed that she was not faring any better. Her knuckles were white and her face had lost all its color under her already elfin like complexion as she gripped the yoke with both hands tightly.

Suddenly, even over the roar of the storm, Cleate heard the unmistakable sound of a metallic screech. It sounded like someone scraping his or her fingernails on a blackboard. He turned around shocked just as the entire tail section ripped free from the fuselage. The yoke was instantly feather light and the roaring storm filled the cockpit. An instant later, he felt the seat-belt tear loose and flying forward he hit his head against the dash sending him into a world of blackness. I’m on my way Feather.

Jayla came to, feeling as if she had just been hit over the head with a twenty-pound sledgehammer. Never had she felt this bad in her life. Even giving birth to her daughter had been a cakewalk compared to the agony in her head. What in the blazes had happened? She tried to open her eyes but they felt as if someone had poured a bucket of sand into them. As she tried to raise her hands to try to wipe the dirt from her eyes, an immense sharp stab of pain shot up her right arm and into her shoulder. Tears sprang to her dirt-encrusted eyes as she quickly cradled the arm with her left hand. She bit back a scream by clenching her teeth. Nonetheless, a small whimper still escaped. She rocked back and forth gently trying to will the pain to subside. When it finally lessened to a throb, she became aware of the fact that her vision was clearing somewhat. Her tears were flowing down her face taking most of the grit from her eyes with it.

After taking several deep breaths, Jayla leaned back heavily but bumped her head on the back of the seat, causing her head to explode once again into extreme pain. Instinctively she leaned forward again but her quick movement only exasperated the injury further. Taking more deep breaths seemed to help her, she could not think with her head feeling like the beating of a bass drum from the inside. She could swear she could feel every individual hair where it grew from her scalp.

As the pain began to subside, her mind started to clear and memories began to fill her mind. She had crashed in a severe windstorm. A storm that was a heck of a lot stronger than the FSS had reported. How could they have made such a terrible mistake? Moreover, where in the blazes were they? Her last site before the cloud of blowing dirt enveloped them was of a mountain range and two peaks that she had been preparing to fly between. However, where she had finally come down was anyone’s guess. At least her daughter was safe in Dallas with her parents.

The thought of her daughter sitting at home wondering why mommy was not home yet almost made Jayla start weeping. She was only four years old and though Jayla knew her to be quite intelligent, she would not understand. Especially since, it was her birthday, and Jayla had promised her that they would have a big party. Moreover, Jayla had always kept the promises made to her daughter. I am so sorry Loreeka. I hope you can forgive your mommy. Tears came to her eyes again and she wiped them away with her left hand.

A low moan coming from her right startled her out of her grief. She suddenly remembered that she was not alone, that she had been carrying a passenger. She slowly turned her head in difference to her aching skull. Mr. EagleBear was slowly rising up from where he slumped forward. His thick, dark brown hair hung loose and seemed slightly matted from semi-dried blood. He was very carefully raising his right hand to place it gently over his forehead where she could see a small gash.

What happened? He asked softly and took his hand away from his forehead to look at it. He was blinking furiously; Jayla figured he was trying to clear his eyes. The muscles outlined by his snug black T-shirt rippled as he straightened up further. He then started to wipe his eyes with both hands. Did anyone get the license number of that truck?

Jayla was amazed to see the corners of his mouth quirk up into a small grin as he slowly turned to face her. She was surprised that he could still have a sense of humor after such an incident. She was so stunned that she asked the only question that came to her mind. She knew it was silly even as she voiced it. What truck?

The one that ran over me. He replied still holding his grin, then he sobered somewhat. Seriously though, any idea where we are? He began looking around slowly. If his head hurt as much as hers did, she understood why. She wondered how big of a bump she had but was afraid to reach up and feel it and have to experience the sharp pain again. The throbbing she could at least endure for the time being. She tried to concentrate on his question.

I’m afraid not Mr. EagleBear. That storm pushed us around so badly that we could be anywhere. She stated hoping she did not sound as depressed as she felt. She did not know anything about New Mexico or the desert. This had been her first flight into the state. She felt her anxiety welling back up and she tried to take some deep breaths before she continued. I’m sorry sir.

For what Miss Dawson? He asked. Jayla was mildly surprised to notice that he seemed not to know why she was apologizing. Before she could answer, he turned from her and began scanning the surroundings outside the now nonexistent windows. Let me see. He began slowly as if speaking to himself. Just before we lost visibility we were headed for the Twin Lance peaks at the entrance to Broken Warrior Canyons. Mr. EagleBear then fell silent as he continued to survey the immediate ground cover just outside of the aircraft.

Jayla looked as well hoping to see something, what she did not know. Nevertheless, she scanned the area with her eyes anyway. When she looked to her left, her heart gave a startled thump. Right there not six inches from her face, her eyes locked with a smaller set staring right back at her. A strange looking lizard was sitting on a small rock protruding from a dirt and granite cliff wall. It was about six inches long from nose to tail and was colored gray with black rings around its neck. It was so close she could see the individual scales as they overlapped each other. Its eyes had a yellowish hue to them as they looked back at her. The whole situation suddenly touched off her sense of the ridiculous and she found herself grinning at the desert creature.

Hey there, I hope you don’t mind us dropping in like this. She could not stop herself from saying. The lizard cocked its head in what Jayla could only call a confused puppy dog look. That was too much and she began to chuckle.

Cleate, startled by Miss Dawson’s sudden lighthearted words and her soft chuckle, made his spine suddenly feel as if it were a hot wire attached to a five hundred-volt generator. His stomach suddenly knotted and felt as if a swarm of butterflies had suddenly filled it. He turned toward her faster than he should have and felt his head begin to throb harder than it already had been. He ignored the reaction as best he could as he spoke to her. Who are you talking too? She faced toward the cliff wall so he could not see her face until she turned to face him. That is when he caught sight of the lizard staring back at them. Oh, I see you found a new friend. He allowed himself to grin. He concentrated and tried to send his thoughts towards the creature, but with his head throbbing so badly, what had once been a simple thing for him to do was now almost impossible.

He gave up shortly and just began to speak. We are sorry for intruding on your lair little brother. We intend you no harm. He then turned back to look at Jayla who seemed to be staring at him in confusion and awe. He ignored her expression. We can’t stay here Miss Dawson. It will be dark soon and we need to find some kind of shelter.

Jayla suddenly felt the old fear rising within her as she suddenly realized that she was going to be alone with this man for who knew how long. She had thought she was over all of this. She had had years of counseling and therapy. She was even able to work with men again and had even hired some as pilots for her charter service. Dating was still a problem she knew, but who had time for that anyway when you had a daughter to raise and a business to run.

She started to scoot back as her heart began racing in panic. It was suffocating and she felt the scream of terror welling up from deep within. She had to find a way out and fast. However, he was blocking the only accessible door and she could not climb out of the windows.

An almost tangible wave of panic suddenly emanated from her and slammed Cleate in the chest. The look of awe and confusion had instantly transformed to a look of sheer terror. Her face paled almost translucent, her storm cloud gray eyes widened and began flicking back and forth in a manner that reminded Cleate of a cornered animal.

Whatever was wrong with her would have to wait for later once they had found shelter, but he could not have her going into hysterics and both of them needed to be fully alert. Therefore, for the first time in over two years, Cleate let down his emotional shields and radiated out to her with all of his ability as an empath the feeling of safety and confidence. It was a dangerous business letting go of the emotional armor he had carefully constructed in order to comfort her. In doing so, he risked forming an empathic link, something he had sworn never to do again. If he created such a link, he would be able to sense every emotion she experienced and that would be too dangerous. The risk of him falling for her would be greatly increased which would be putting her in danger of dying from the curse that followed him just as Feather had. Nevertheless, maybe, just maybe, once she started responding he could sever it before it had a chance to consolidate.

First he had to manage to get her to look him in the eyes. Lowering his voice to almost a whisper he tried to get her attention while at the same time projecting as best he could the sense of calm and security. It was not easy to focus with his head throbbing from his injury and it took several attempts to penetrate telepathically through the confusion in her mind. Slowly, and as softly as he could manage he carefully guided her thoughts into the direction he wanted her to go. Her head stopped snapping back and forth and she suddenly settled into meeting his eyes.

Her eyes were still