Captive Travelers (20 page)

Wacasa had been translating for her, and Wyonet suggested, “Even though you are a miserable excuse for a warrior, you might be able to strangle her with your bare hands.” The Indian clenched his fists, and his face turned red with rage. Wyonet smiled at Wacasa. “No need to translate… I think he caught my meaning.”

Ahiga took the reins to his prize stallion. The horse was thin, and Ahiga winced at the stripes on his hide from a recent whipping. The horse whinnied and nuzzled against his shoulder. “It is good to win you back.”

As a prize for winning the race, Ahiga gave Wyonet his other horse. She was the only woman in the tribe with a horse of her own, and no one said a word about her wearing a feather. Indians from all tribes congratulated Ahiga, and they made references to the spirit guides’ wisdom for making him wander a lonely trail of angry despair until they sent Wyonet to him.

Tocho, Nashoba, and Wacasa joined the happy couple for dinner in a small group next to the central fire pit. Just as they finished, the shaman and Chief Paytah approached them. The shaman had Wyonet and Ahiga stand and hold hands. “Your woman’s devotion was the sign, Ahiga.” Chief Paytah looked at Ahiga and nodded, placing his hand over theirs, and then the two older men walked away.

Wyonet struggled with her Indian words. “What did he say?”

Wacasa answered, and Wyonet looked at her in confusion. In English, Wacasa blurted, “You’re married, Wyonet. I’m so happy for you and Ahiga.”

Wyonet’s strong legs buckled and she slumped to the ground in shock. “I’m married?” It had to be true, because Ahiga’s mother came running up to them a minute later, and sank down beside her, pulling her close in a hug. Knowing her new daughter’s struggle with their language… because her son kept her hidden in the cave… she whispered in broken white-speak, “Thank you, Wyonet. I was so fearful my son was to walk his path alone in anger. Instead, he has won the raven.”

When the tribe moved north to their village, Ahiga built a teepee next to his father and mother’s tent. His younger sisters taught Wyonet how to gather supplies, and her Wehali improved rapidly. She rarely drifted back into white-speak, even when she was with Wacasa.

The strange thing was Waka. She seemed content, and the children loved her and Ganali. Not only that, when the women walked through the village, everyone seemed to respect them. Waka and Ganali did few chores. Each family took turns providing them with fuel and food. They were also not made members of the tribe, and both talked and were spoken to in English.

During a few meals with Leotie and the chief, Wacasa noticed the shaman had a strained anticipation on his face. On one occasion, the shaman, the chief, Nashoba, and Tocho spent the entire day inside the shaman’s tent. Two nights later, while their group was cloistered around the stone fire pit, the spirit women sat beside Leotie. The shaman raised his hands over the flame. After speaking a few phrases, the smoke wafting into the air turned blue, with orange sparks floating to the sky.

The shaman said, “Yepa and Namid, you must prepare. Nashoba, you must gather your warriors and travel tonight. The travelers must not go to the farmers. It will be a hard ride, but it must be done. Bring extra horses for them to ride back on.”

“Leotie, bring Soquila and Waka to me after the morning milking.” The shaman was anxious, as signs of the casting fell into place.

The shaman let his gaze travel the circle around the village where families were finishing their evening meal or climbing into their teepees for the night. He knew that this news and the signs would not please them, and he sighed wearily, wishing he could interpret the rest of the bones. Even with the chief, Nashoba, and Tocho suggesting things, the message was unclear. He would ask Namid and Yepa to read their tealeaves in the morning.

Wacasa spoke with Leotie while Nashoba and Tocho made their way to the other warriors they would be choosing to go on the trip. “Is this why you asked me if I would go back? Is there a way to step into the field when the transfer occurs?”

Leotie stirred the dirt with her finger. “I do not know, Wacasa. It is possible, but no one has ever tried to cross from this world to the other.” Leotie took her hands and looked into her eyes. “It was always meant for for you to stay here. The spirits demanded your great sacrifice in exchange for these travelers. They are Indians.”

Wacasa looked across the village at the dying embers of fire pits. Except for low murmurs of mothers getting children settled, and Nashoba and Tocho’s shadows making their way to the warriors they would be taking on the trip, the village was quiet. “I could not imagine being anyplace else.”

* * * * *

Five spirit women sat in council. Hehewuti had not come to tribal meetings since the death of her son, and she ignored the shaman’s decree that she must attend. It was no secret that she was suggesting her power and connection to the spirits was greater than his.

The shaman turned to Tommy Windsong. “You are sure you wish to do this?”

He nodded. “You have seen my casting.”

The chief stood, and Tommy rose in front of him. He touched Tommy’s forehead, and said, “You are Cheveyo, for you are a true spirit warrior. The spirits know of your sacrifice.”

The chief left, and the shaman, apprentices and spirit women, discussed the upcoming ritual.

“Are you certain they will join you?” the shaman asked.

“We will feed Hehewuti’s ego, that she has been honored. The thought of Tommy joining them should do the rest,” one of the spirit women replied.

She had been right. When Hehewuti pressed her for details of the shaman’s meeting, it laid the trap. “He has seen the spirits have declared you worthy. Even Tommy has been tasked with helping you with this ritual.”

“And Bobby? What of my other grandson?” It had been months, and Hehewuti had seen no promising changes in his wayward disposition since sending three spirits.

“Bobby is to be there as well. According to the shaman’s casting, the spirits have a great offering planned for all three of you. It has been four generations since the signs showed a ritual on the mound. The spirits want to join with you. They did not even request the shaman of the tribe to attend the ritual,” the woman said.

Hehewuti curled her hand around the spirit world medallion. “The shaman is not as devout as I am.” The woman glared into the telephone, while Hehewuti continued to boast. “It is I who has sent white people to strengthen the Indians. He never leaves the reservation.”

“He is trying to convince Tommy that he needs to join with you. The casting was very specific that the spirits might not present their gifts without him there.”

“My grandson will see my wisdom and he will return to me.” Hehewuti decided she would see if Bobby could get his brother to agree.

Tommy pretended to be slightly reluctant, but he did not push his luck. He could see the evidence of drugs on Bobby’s face, so he knew that he was not looking forward to joining in the ritual. Tommy did not want to give him the excuse to back out. “Tell her that you have convinced me. I will meet you in the morning.”

Bobby’s grandmother gave him fifty bucks for getting his brother to agree. She told him he had better be back in time for breakfast. Bobby spent all night partying with his friends, and he told them he would be gone for a few days. They all joked about Bobby getting sucked into another one of his grandmother’s crazy Indian rituals; even though, just as Bobby had said, the police never questioned them about ransacking that apartment and the three girls had never returned.

Tommy was dressed in his ritual Indian clothing, and he ignored the stares from the neighbors when he knocked on his grandmother’s door. Hehewuti pasted on a smile.
The arrogance. Look at him standing in our tribe clothes. He is trying to humiliate Bobby. At least he did not desert me to increase his standing with the tribe.

Tommy was surprised by the anger in her eyes. The smile did not go further than her lips, and he could see that what the spirit women had told him was true. Bobby was passed out on the sofa, with his arm crossed over his eyes. “We need to leave, right after breakfast.” They only had a few days to make it to the mound, and his grandmother would be walking slowly.

“I know when we need to be there,” she snapped. “You forget yourself, Tommy. You are assisting
me
with the ritual.”

“Yes, grandmother,” Tommy calmly replied.

Getting Bobby moving had been difficult, and now he was sleeping in the back seat while Tommy drove towards the mountain. He talked them into walking to the first marker before they set up camp. Bobby complained, and his grandmother seemed to fill with a sense of superior pride the closer they got to the mound.

At last, they were on the hill, surrounded by the stone sign half buried in the grass. Tommy pitched their tent and built a fire, while Bobby snuck off to smoke some weed and Hehewuti began chanting. They finished dinner and Bobby crawled into the tent. Hehewuti and Tommy continued chanting until the fire spewed a blue puff of smoke.

Hehewuti waited for words of enlightenment or the promise from the spirits. Tommy said cagily, “Perhaps they will send their message to you in a dream.”

“You’re right. Oh, of course you are. The spirits would not present themselves in front of you,” his grandmother scoffed. She crept into the tent, anxious for their message. She fell asleep with her hand curled around the medallion.

Tommy stirred the ashes, watching the embers turn deep blue. He spoke in his native tongue. “I am Cheveyo, spirit warrior. I offer you three travelers, to bring good fortune to my tribe.” The embers lit for a moment, and began to slowly die down. Tommy looked across the mountains. It would be his last vision of this spirit world.

Chapter XI

The shaman asked Leotie to wait while he spoke with Waka and Soquila. It was agreed that Tala and Awi should also know what was about to happen.

Ahiga had gone with the warriors, and Wacasa wandered the field with Wyonet, gathering fuel. “They’re riding fast. They should be back in a few days.”

“Do you know who the travelers are?” Wyonet asked.

“Leotie said they were Indians.” Wacasa looked at her friend. “She has not told me, but I think it might be Hehewuti, because we were the sacrifice to bring them here.”

“Why would she volunteer to come here? I know damn well Bobby won’t be with her. He likes his toys too much.”

“Somehow, I don’t think they have a choice. The spirits have decided for them, so maybe they’ll be tricked like we were.” Wacasa found herself doubting the shaman and the Wehali beliefs less and less as events unfolded.

Wyonet was silent. She continued to pick up chips and place them in her basket. “You know, I’m not really even mad at them any more.” She stood and looked across the prairie, at the other women, and the village beyond. “I fit here, Wacasa. I never felt like I did back there. I never would have found this if they hadn’t tricked us.”

“Leotie asked me if I would go back. I told her my life is with Nashoba. It’s hard for me to remember what it was like. I remember it was stressful, and nothing seemed permanent until I got here.”

“If it is Hehewuti and Bobby, do you think they’ll try to discredit me again?” Wyonet asked.

Wacasa looked at her friend. She was dressed in her Indian shift and moccasins, and tanned almost as dark as Ahiga from running with him. The raven feather was a little frayed from whipping in the wind. “You need a new one,” Wacasa pointed. “They could not discredit you, Wyonet. You have earned your place with the tribe.”

Wyonet looked towards the east. “I miss him so much it hurts. It’s crazy how much I miss him.”

Wacasa followed her gaze, imagining she could see Nashoba and the warriors walking their horses through the wheat. “I’m sure they’re missing us too, Wyonet.”

Nashoba was thinking about Wacasa when he reached the path at the edge of the wheat field. They would camp for the night, and enter the wheat field at dawn. They did not want to be too close to the spirit crossing until it was safe.

Nashoba had told the warriors they were not to speak with the travelers. They were to help them onto the horses and lead them back to the village. He and Tocho had taken Ahiga aside and explained that two of the travelers were responsible for sending Wyonet. They quelled his quickly rising anger by reminding him that he never would have met her if this had not happened. They convinced him that the warrior would be punished by seeing how happy Wyonet was with Ahiga.

At sunrise, Tocho looked down the path towards the cabin and Sahkyo. He tugged his reins and followed the warriors into the wheat. Like the other warriors, his face was blank. He kept his emotionless, proud stare fixed ahead for signs of the travelers. They spotted the small tent, and kept their horses still while they waited.

Bobby woke first, and he decided to sneak out to get high before the others got up. His grandmother ignored him, but Tommy gave him either disgusted looks or, worse, he looked as though he pitied him. At least he was not all caught up with the tribal crap like Tommy was.

Bobby crawled out, and stared at the wheat. He was still on his hands and knees when he looked up to see Indians sitting on horses.
What the fuck?
He stood up and looked around.
Shit, I know I was stoned, but I’m damn sure I went to sleep on the stupid Indian mound.
The Indians stared at him. “What the fuck is your problem?” he asked Nashoba.

Hehewuti woke up to Bobby’s voice. She looked around the tent for changes and tried to remember any dreams. Nothing. Maybe she would see their gifts when she left the mound. She expected some grand acknowledgement or wisdom, but she felt no different than when she had gone to sleep. She sighed and left the tent to see what Bobby was up to.

Unlike her grandson, as soon as Hehewuti stood, surveyed the wheat and the silent group of Indians, she knew exactly what had happened.
Why? Why do they need me in this world? Perhaps they need my guidance here?
For some reason, she always considered the shamans of the spirit world to be superior. Could she really have impressed them so much that they brought her here?
Why would they want my grandsons?

Tommy crawled out a moment later, and he turned in a wide circle to study the wheat. His eyes focused on the Indian with the three feathers, and he smiled.

Nashoba turned to Tocho, and he nodded towards the traveler in the breeches. Tocho walked his horse forward and held out the reins of the mount he was leading. Tommy walked to him, and swung up onto the animal’s back.

Ahiga and Kohana dismounted and they walked up to the old woman. Kohana held out his hand and they led her back to a small pony. They helped her up on its back while she prattled on about what an honor it was to have a receiving party of warriors sent to her by the spirits.

“Where the fuck are we?” Bobby demanded.

Nashoba kept his face blank. Ahiga glanced over at him.
This is a warrior? He accuses my raven?
The man looked weak, and his eyes were strained as if he had too many nights with sleeping juice.

“Bobby, quiet. They have sent a greeting party for me and I will not have you disrupting my ceremony,” Hehewuti admonished.

He stared at her, and he began to feel queasy. “Where the fuck are we?” he demanded again.

Tommy answered, “Do not speak to our grandmother that way. I think you know exactly where we are.”

Ironically, it began to dawn on Bobby first. He looked at Hehewuti, who was still contemplating her grandeur.
Shit.
He turned slowly back towards his brother.
“You? You did this to us, Tommy?”

“Bobby, don’t you know by now that it is the spirits?”

“He had nothing to do with this,” Hehewuti interrupted. “It was the spirits, guided by me. Now, get on the damn horse or you can walk. I will not insult them by being late to my reception.”

Nashoba listened to all their queer statements. It had been three years since an Indian crossed over. He was an older man, and he seemed much more like the warrior traveler. Even if the man on the ground was an Indian, he was no warrior. Nashoba could sense Ahiga getting impatient. He lifted one hand and turned his horse, leading them out of the wheat field.

“What the hell? Are you just leaving me here?” Bobby called. No one turned around… not even his grandmother or Tommy. Bobby scrambled to catch up. Kohana stopped and stared at the man, sweeping his eyes towards the horse he was leading. Bobby mumbled and managed to pull himself up onto the animal.

They rode until sunset for two days, leaving at dawn. Bobby complained, finally not caring if he smoked in front of them. Hehewuti was tired, and disappointed the Indians did not speak their language. They talked between each other, ignoring their guests. By the end of the second day, Hehewuti was becoming angry. She was tired, had no idea how long this trip would be, and the Indians were not treating her with the respect due a spirit guide.

Tommy enjoyed the unspoiled scenery. Back home, he felt lost after his grandfather died. He used to go fishing and hunting with him, and he had been a great storyteller. He made Tommy feel proud to be an Indian, and when he was gone, Tommy slowly made his way to the Indian land. It was better than trying to live in town, but he still felt incomplete. When he discovered what his brother and grandmother had done to Rebecca… solely for their own benefit but using him as an excuse… he cut off his ties with them. Now, he had the chance to make things right.

The following morning, they climbed a hill. Tommy stopped at the top, looking around with tears in his eyes. One of their escorts stopped next to him.

Kohana looked at the sadness and passion in the traveler’s eyes. “Welcome home, warrior.”

“I never imagined it could be so perfect,” Tommy answered. “Thank you. It is good to finally be here.”

Wacasa and Wyonet were just walking towards the fuel field when they heard the excited voices of the children. They ran to toss their leather sacks back into their teepees, and joined the tribe by the stream. Wacasa waved at Nashoba. He looked so fierce and proud, leading the travelers to the village. Her body ached for him, and it was all she could do to stand still.

“God, Wacasa. Ahiga is leading Bobby,” Wyonet laughed. “Unfortunately, it looks like his journey here was still easier than ours.

“Hehewuti looks put away wet. Look at her, chin held up like we’re supposed kiss her feet, or something,” Wacasa said. She shielded her eyes. “Who’s the other one… in the back with Kohana?”

“I think it’s Tommy, the brother. Let’s get over by the stone pit and get a good spot,” Wyonet suggested. “I don’t want to miss this.”

Hehewuti was a little surprised when the tribe followed silently behind them. She looked around the village, and it did not look like they were preparing a celebration. She wondered if the shaman in this world was as inept as the Indian on the reservation back home. Her mind spun with ways to increase her standing among a group of obviously primitive savages. In all these generations, they had done nothing to move towards the future. Then again, she might be able to use that to her benefit.

Bobby looked at the pretty Indian girls, but those that looked at them at all seemed to turn towards Tommy. Bobby thought of himself in the breeches with a bare chest, and winced. He had no illusions about how pale and skinny he had become.

The horses stopped and the riders dismounted. Hehewuti walked towards the shaman… much more powerful than the chief, in her mind. She held out a hand, and her mouth dropped open when he walked past her. Turning, she was outraged to see him stop before Tommy.

“Welcome home to the Wehali, Cheveyo,” the shaman announced. Murmurs rumbled through the tribe that they had been gifted a spirit warrior.

“Thank you. I look forward to learning from you,” Tommy replied. The old man took his arm and led him to stand between himself and the chief.

Tocho took Hehewuti’s arm. She straightened, and tried to keep a proud, controlling look on her face, not wavering her eyes from the shaman. Tocho announced, “Hehewuti.”

She waited for pleased murmurs that another warrior spirit guide had been gifted. Instead, an old Indian with a familiar face, climbed out from the teepee behind the shaman. “No. No, it can’t be,” she gasped.

“The arrow was true, Hehewuti. It is merely my resting place that was changed. I kept you safe from your treachery for many years, yet as soon as I was gone you plied the spirits for your own gain.”

Hehewuti stared at her husband. She could tell by his eyes that he knew she had paid someone to hide in a blind in the woods. If Tommy had not discovered him so quickly, he may have decayed up there. A sinking feeling spread through her. It was a dangerous feeling of dread. She looked into the shaman’s eyes. “You tricked me. You made me believe I would be honored in this place.”

“I did not trick you, woman. It is your own greed and desire for power that has brought you here. It is balance, Hehewuti. Destiny and balance. Your grandson sacrificed his strong standing with your tribe to bring you here. He expected nothing in return. His desire was to right the wrongs you have done and restore the spirit worlds,” the shaman answered.

Hehewuti glared at Tommy. “I should have had them kill both of you,” she sneered. There a steady twitch in her eye, and she looked like a trapped animal.

Her husband walked forward and gripped her arm, pulling her towards him. His fist wrapped around the spirit world medallion and he jerked it free. He handed it to Tommy. “This belongs to you now. Take care the power does not consume you.”

“I will be careful, grandfather.” Tommy watched him lead the old woman away. His grandmother stumbled beside him, towards horses being held by three warriors. “Where is he taking her?”

“He belongs to the southernmost tribe, but he stays in a remote cabin and cares for animals that are injured. He said he was tired of hunting, and he needed to make it right because it was unnecessary to kill them in his old world. Hehewuti will not be able to harm anyone,” the shaman answered.

Ahiga led Bobby forward. He looked sickly and pale, and his eyes darted around until they did a doubletake on Kayla. Ahiga spat out, “This is the raven’s warrior.” There were disagreeable comments whispered through the tribe, and Ahiga released his arm and walked to Wyonet.

Bobby was still staring at her. She looked beautiful… healthy and somehow fresh from her time with the tribe. The Indian shift and moccasins suited her, and he felt a jolt of jealousy when she threw her arms around Ahiga’s neck and kissed him. “She was supposed to be punished for dumping me,” he screamed at the shaman.

“She was punished, but Hehewuti could not twist the sign of the casting. You were never in the raven’s sign… only the Fighter. You lied from your anger and jealousy, to send her here. The raven suffered greatly with her cleansing because of your treachery,” the shaman replied. “And now you will suffer for the wrong you caused against her.” The shaman nodded to Kohana and Tocho. “Take him to the cleansing poles and prepare him.”

Bobby was dragged away, kicking and screaming. Wyonet was tempted to follow with Ahiga, but there was a loud keening coming from the back of the crowd.

Waka was close to distraction. Ganali woke up and ran to be milked at dawn, waking Awi to help her. She did not even wait for warriors to show up. Tala worked quickly on Waka so she could make it to the stream with Ganali. After they bathed, Ganali lumbered around the teepee, dressing and checking her shift and moccasins for signs of wear or dirt.

After pleading mercilessly, Waka finally handed her a blue bead to put on the fringe in the center of her shift. She insisted it matched her eyes. Waka combed out her hair, finally pulling the mass of curls into a ponytail that hung over her shoulder.

After all the preparation, Soquila and Waka missed the entire offering, trying to convince Ganali she looked beautiful. Waka finally managed to drift her mind to a fantasy by telling her she was the most desirable Indian princess. She could tell by Ganali’s eyes and the way she straightened with confidence, the exact moment she absorbed the new story.