Tag Against Time Read Free Page A

sending a sudden chill through his body. There could be. Hadn’t he learned firsthand that anything was possible? Tag’s heart hammered. Not everyone was going to follow Walker out of the canyon.
    The sharp, angular face with thin lips pulled back in a snarl formed in Tag’s mind.
Gray Wolf!
Fear flooded him. The politically ambitious nineteen-year-old native had accused them of being witches and had tried to kill Walker. Had Gray Wolf and his followers survived the sickness that forced Walker and the others to leave the canyon?
    Tag’s analytical mind scrambled for possibilities. Archaeologists believed the canyon was abandoned around A.D . 1250. Had Walker actually left with his people in 1250? Could it have been much earlier, say A.D. 1240 or even 1215? If it were earlier, then Gray Wolf could still be alive and in control.
    Suddenly, he felt unsafe on the open path. Gray Wolf would kill him in a heartbeat. Tag slipped off the path and crouched beside a huge rock. Peering around at the walls of the canyon, he searched for signs of life. Should he take the risk and go to the village? It was safer, wiser just to go back to the cave and travel further into time. Tag tried to think through the panic that was taking over his mind and body.
    â€œOf course, there isn’t anyone left.” The sound of his own voice took an edge of fear away. “I would have seen or heard someone by now.” Tag stood up and started up the path again. His thundering heart was all he heard as he rounded the bend to the village.
    Nestled under a cavelike overhang was a rock-and-mud wall. A low, T-shaped doorway stood in the center of the sturdy wall. Tag’s heart felt as if it were going to explode. “Hello. Anyone home?” His words echoed off the wall in a hollow toll.
    Memories swirled around Tag like a mist. “Let your heart see, as well as your eyes,” the gentle words whispered out of the thick, low doorway.
    â€œSinging Woman! This is your house.” Tag touched the flat, limestone slabs neatly mortared with mud to form the front wall of the home. Warmth radiated from them. “Singing Woman.” Tag closed his eyes. A round, reddish-brown face, a sea of wrinkles, appeared in his mind. Singing Woman’s film-clouded eyes peered at him as if she were seeing him. She smiled and nodded as if to say, “Welcome.”
    Tag opened his eyes, moved to the door, and crouched down, his knees creaking. He placed his hands on the worn-smooth stone ledges at each side of the low doorway and crawled through.
    A dry, acrid smell met his nose. The air was cooler inside. Tag stood just inside the door, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the semi-darkness. It was in this room that Walker had learned of his past. Tag tried to imagine what went through Walker’s mind and heart when Singing Woman told him of his true heritage as an ancient one.
    â€œAll my life I have felt as if I have been on a tightrope balancing between the traditional ways of my people and the strange, demanding ways of the white man.” Walker’s words echoed in Tag’s mind as his eyes came into focus.
    You were, Walker. You were on a tightrope caught between times. Now, you are where you are meant to be, doing what you were sent to do
. A lost feeling washed over Tag, leaving him feeling empty.
But where am I supposed to be? What am I supposed to do?
    â€œBe at peace my son, Taawa is with you,” Great Owl’s voice whispered through the abandoned home. “Let Taawa guide your steps.”
    Swallowing the tightness in his throat, Tag scanned the small room. The archaeologist inbred in him took hold, and he started taking mental notes.
    The room was about eight by twelve feet. The limestone that formed the deep overhang also made up the back wall and ceiling. The front rock-and-mud wall met the low roof of the overhang to complete the dwelling. The ancient home remained a quiet testimonial to a good