Walker of Time (19 page)

“Flute Maiden left some kind of medicine and some tea. He can't hold it down, or it goes right through him.” Tag's voice was almost panicked. “I think he's getting dehydrated. Walker, he could die just because we don't know what to do.”

Walker placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. “We will do what we can.”

White Badger and Son of Great Bear entered the room. They knelt down beside Small Cub. Son of Great Bear reached out and smoothed his son's black hair. “We're here,” he whispered, “but you have to fight hard, my son.”

The worried look on Son of Great Bear's face and the love in his voice tore at Walker's heart. The memory of Náat's death was too close. How was he going to bear this? He closed his eyes to shut everything out. Silence filled the room.

“Great Taawa,” Walker prayed silently. “Bless this child. Touch him and take this sickness from his frail body.” Warm tears slid down Walker's cheek. “Taawa, guide me. Guide my thoughts that I might help these people that I have grown to love.”

His already light head began to swirl with the mysterious, haunting feeling. Walker fought to remain conscious as a deep darkness threatened to overtake his mind.
Taawa . . . Taawa
,
he repeated over and over again in his thoughts, focusing on the word.

In the darkness of Walker's pleading mind, shadowy images began to form. He couldn't make out the scene being played in his mind. He forced his entire being into concentration. “You must learn the bahana's ways so that you can help your people survive . . .” Náat's long-ago words broke through the shadows. Walker's mind slowly began to comprehend as the darkness dissolved into light and understanding.

“Yes, of course!” the sound of his own firm voice startled him. He opened his eyes. His heart was pounding against his chest, and his head thundered with pain, but his thoughts were clear. He felt all eyes on him.

“Walker, what is it? You saw something again, didn't you?” Tag asked. His eyes were wide with anxiety.

“Yes. Yes! I know what must be done. It's the water, Tag. The disease is being spread through the water and the waste from the sick ones.”

Understanding washed over Tag's grimy face. “It could be. It just could be,” his voice was low. Thinking over what had been said, he exclaimed, “If it is that, then there is a chance we can beat it!”

Switching languages, Walker said, “White Badger, you must go and find Flute Maiden and Great Owl. Bring them back here as soon as . . .”

“We are here,” Flute Maiden's voice came from behind them.

Walker turned to see Flute Maiden helping Great Owl through the low door. Walker rose to meet them. “I know that you are doing all that you know how to for the sick ones,” Walker said, looking down into Flute Maiden's worried
face. His heart tightened and yet softened at the same time. He wanted to gently touch her soft cheek, to hold her in his arms, and to shield her from all pain around them. Struggling to push these awkward feelings aside, he continued. “There is more that can and must be done if any of our people are to survive.”

White Badger and Son of Great Bear now stood next to Walker listening. He turned to them. “Plenty of water must be brought up for each household. It must be put over a fire and boiled—boiled hard, before anyone drinks or cooks with it,” Walker's words were tumbling out. “There must be enough boiled water for everyone to clean their hands with yucca soap and water after touching anything from a sick one. They must also always wash again before eating anything.”

Flute Maiden nodded her head, “Yes, it makes good sense.”

Walker saw the look of concern on White Badger's and Son of Great Bear's faces. “I know how little water there is and how hard it will be to get that much water to each home,” Walker rushed on, “but it must be done. It is the only chance that we have to stop the spread of the sickness.”

“My medicines and teas must be re-mixed using boiled water,” said Flute Maiden, thinking out loud.

Taking it a step further, Walker said, “The old must be destroyed.”

“Yes,” Flute Maiden agreed.

Walker went on, “All refuse from the sick—the vomit, feces, and urine—must be carried out of the homes and buried deep in the ground. It must be buried far away from the village and from any water source. The same must be done with all waste from everyone.” He looked into the
faces around him. He knew that he had gone beyond their comprehension in asking them to do such difficult and strange things. A feeling of desperation flashed through him.
How can I make them understand it all?

“It all makes sense and it must done,” Flute Maiden stated firmly with authority.

Relief surged through Walker. He gave her a thank-you smile. He went on, “The meat that we killed today . . .”

“You brought fresh meat?” Flute Maiden interrupted.

“Yes, rabbit and venison,” answered Walker.

“Venison!” Flute Maiden's eyes were bright. “I can make a special broth with the liver and strong herbs. It is just what the sick ones need!”

Walker's heart filled with wonder at this remarkable and beautiful young woman. “The rest of the meat must be divided among all the people. It will help fortify those that aren't sick. They are going to need all the strength they have to fight off Masau'u,” finished Walker. He glanced toward Great Owl.

Great Owl stood close by, leaning on his carved staff. His warm, penetrating eyes were studying Walker. A wise smile lay upon his thin lips. His old head swayed back and forth ever so gently. “It is beginning even before it starts.” The old Seer's words were spoken so low that only Walker heard them.

Responsibilities were quickly assigned. Within the hour, Flute Maiden and Great Owl were administering fresh medicine and strong broth. White Badger and Walker took fresh meat to each home. Though the pieces were small, all were received with gladness and appreciation. Walker explained what had to be done to stem the sickness. He knew that
what he asked seemed ridiculous and incomprehensible to the ancient ones. He could see it in their eyes as he spoke. But the overwhelming fear in their hearts made them willing to try anything to save their loved ones and themselves.

Tag stayed by Small Cub's side, caring for him while Son of Great Bear organized all the people into work forces. Everyone who was able and who was not tending the sick was put to work. A group of men and children were sent to gather what wood they could for the fires. Others were assigned to haul water. One area was designated for the burial of all waste materials, with one person in each household put in charge of this task. The uncontrollable fear and the feeling of helplessness that had filled everyone's hearts began to be replaced with hope and determination.

The leather straps on the two water jugs slung over Walker's shoulders dug deep into his skin. He leaned his body forward into the hill as he climbed up the steep path toward the village. White Badger was just a few steps behind him, followed by seven other men and five teenage boys, all carrying full five-gallon water jugs.

The words of a prayer song filled Walker's mind and heart. It was the song that the Kachina dancers had sung at the last dance Walker had attended at his village. It had been just a few days before he had left his home to come to this canyon. Walker was now centuries away from that day, but the Kachinas' prayers, seeking strength and good health to endure the hardships ahead, were fresh in his mind. He began to hum the song, letting the words run through his thoughts. The deep, resonant tune was carried in the hot wind to each man and boy on the path behind him.

Seconds later, Walker heard his humming echoed by
each of those following him. Walker's heart quickened. He began to sing the words. Supporting his song, the humming continued loud and clear. The canyon walls echoed with the prayer.

The strong spirit of humble people working together to fight off a dreaded enemy filled the canyon. Walker saw acceptance in most faces as he worked side by side with his ancient brothers and sisters doing all that he had said must be done. At most homes where he went, taking water and encouragement, he was welcomed with warmth and respect. Walker felt that almost every eye was seeing him differently now. He was perceived no longer as a witch but as a leader—a leader they could follow in this life-and-death struggle.

Every eye but Gray Wolf's saw him differently. Walker saw that the hatred in Gray Wolf's heart burned more intensely than any fear of sickness or death. He met Walker at his door with a snarl. “Your trickery will not work with me. I have been alone for many years, so I have no one to lose to this death that
you
have brought to my people.” Gray Wolf stared at Walker with contempt. “Fear and weakness blind the other; they do not blind me. When the time comes, they will not be so willing to follow you. I shall see to that,” Gray Wolf threatened with a deep growl.

Walker's shoulders and back ached from the long day of strenuous labor. His heart weighed heavy. He sat on a mat next to Great Owl watching Flute Maiden bathe Small Cub's feverish body with cool water. Small Cub looked so little, fragile, and vulnerable. His eyes were closed. His pale face had a deathly gauntness to it. Mumbling incoherent words, he thrashed his arms and legs as if he were running away from some fearsome beast.

With gentle, soothing words, Flute Maiden spoke to Small Cub as she wiped the sweat from his hot body. Walker could see the overwhelming concern and worry in her brown eyes. He knew she was exhausted but would not rest as long as Small Cub or anyone else needed her.

Tag sat at Flute Maiden's elbow, ready to help in any way. He had not left Small Cub's side for more than a few moments during the entire day. Even when Son of Great Bear had come to help with his son, Tag had stayed next to his small patient. Tag's face was drawn and pinched tight
with worry. His eyes looked like two huge, dark freckles staring out of his tired face.

Great Owl's eyes were closed. His hands rested on his crossed legs. His thin, weathered body swayed back and forth from the hips up. He hummed a prayer song. The tune was unfamiliar to Walker, yet something in its sound sent an enormous sadness through Walker's body. He had heard just such a melody sung at many death beds in his village.

Small Cub's body stopped its relentless movement, finally drifting into a deep sleep. Flute Maiden sat back on her heels. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She looked at the tired bahana next to her. She spoke to Tag in a quiet, firm voice. “You have been by Small Cub's side all day, caring for him like a brother. Now for your own sake, you must go for awhile. Get some fresh air. Go next door with Morning Flower and the others. Eat and rest a bit. Then you may come back.”

Walker interpreted Flute Maiden's words. Tag started to protest. At the sound of his reluctant voice, Flute Maiden put her hands on her hips and gave Tag a look that he understood well.

“I'll be back,” Tag whispered to Small Cub, stroking the sick child's flushed cheek. With his knees creaking, he rose and walked stiff-legged to the door. Reaching the door, he turned again to stare back at the small child.