Wind Over Marshdale (10 page)

****

Thomas paused on the front stoop and inhaled a deep breath of the harvest air. It was a beautiful afternoon. The perfect time to finish up some much needed yard work. From this vantage point on the outskirts of the town, the prairie rolled out before him like a brown and gold carpet. There was a deep connection here. He felt it—to his ancestors and to the land itself. Part of it was due to the clarity of his dreams, something he was beginning to come to terms with.

God spoke to men of old through dreams and visions. Why not him? That he had a purpose here, he had no doubt. It was now firmly implanted in his mind.

“The land holds great promise—and power,” a female voice startled Thomas. It was sultry and deep for a female, but also vaguely familiar. Probably his unfortunate encounter with her twin sister at the town office. Across the broken down picket fence in the next yard, Mirna Hyde was shaking out a tasseled piece of fabric, perhaps a blanket or a shawl.

“Hello,” Thomas responded with a small nod of his head. He had heard about the self-professed psychic from next door and had even seen her on occasion in the yard doing who knew what. He had prayed over every inch of the property and anointed all the windows and doors with oil. Not that he was afraid. He believed the Lord was more than able to protect them from whatever she was involved in, but it was also wise to cover all the bases.

“We're more alike than you think, you know,” she continued, not moving. So much for introductions.

“What makes you say that?” Thomas asked casually, deciding to go with the flow.

“I see things.”

“So I've heard.” His stance remained at ease; hands in his jeans pockets.

“So do you, I think.” She surveyed him through her dark sunglasses. He wished he could see her eyes.

“Not sure what you mean.”He tried to laugh but was definitely feeling uncomfortable now. Exactly what did this old biddy know?

“And I see how you live.” It was said almost like a challenge.

“Oh?”

She nodded. A wisp of the frizzy red mass on her head whipped in front of the dark glasses she wore. She pushed the glasses up onto the top of her head, effectively holding the unruly hair in place. He'd wanted to see her eyes and now wished he hadn't. They were penetrating, unwavering, boring into his. “You believe. You tap into the spirit realm. You see and feel the pulse of the land under your feet.”

“I'm a Christian,” Thomas corrected, his defenses rising. He didn't like how accurately she had assessed what he had just been feeling.

She nodded. “Yes, I know. But you're not a hypocrite.”

“Is that what you think of most Christians?”

“Of course,” Mirna stated in no uncertain terms. “Like whitewashedtombs.”

“You're quoting Jesus,” Thomas pointed out.

“Yes. He was in touch with his own inner strength.”

“He was much more than that,” Thomas objected.

“Maybe. I know a lot of people don't like me or what I stand for. But at least I'm not pretending.”

“So what do you believe, exactly?”

“There are many forces in the universe ready to be tapped. One's own inner strength is what allows one to do so.” She leaned forward slightly. “I've experienced the power of the spirits. Even brought things back from the dead.” She paused, surveying Thomas for any reaction.

“Has it ever occurred to you that you're dealing with the wrong spirits?”

Mirna smiled, unflinching. “Once you've experienced the power, it's difficult to look back. You should know this.”

“Doesn't that make you afraid?”

She shook her head. “I don't believe in the concept of ‘good vs. evil.' That is where you Christians have it wrong. We're just approaching the spirit realm from a different starting point. Tapping into a different power outlet. In the end, it all comes from the same generator.”

“What if you're wrong?”

She shrugged. “I'll take my chances. In any case, I've seen your reliance on the spirit force within you.”

“On God,” Thomas corrected. “Through Jesus, empowered by the Holy Spirit.”

She waved dismissively again. “There is great power in the land. You know this. Should be able to sense it.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Your own ancestors are crying out to you. Their blood calls out for justice.”

“I don't believe that.”

“No? I thought your faith was based on the power of the blood.”

“Jesus' blood,” he corrected again.

“If you wish. But even you Christians believe in curses. Surely you must know something about the ancient ways? The ways of your people?”

“I have renounced pagan teaching. I am a follower of Jesus.”

“Perhaps it has not released you. Blood ties can be strong.” She turned abruptly, placed the tasseled shawl on her head as a covering, and began walking in the direction of the open prairie.

“Wait!” Thomas called. No response. He was shivering, but not from the breeze. It was like his nerve endings had been connected to a source of electricity. Of course he believed in God, and God alone—and Jesus as the one and only way to Him. Any other mention of ancients and blood and connection to his ancestors was not from Him. Why then, did this witch woman's words have such an effect?

As he watched her disappearing figure, a tightness that almost cut off his breathing formed in his chest. With an anguished cry, he turned toward the house. He needed to pray.

 

“Thank you for coming,” Pastor Todd said, shaking another hand as the congregation filed past on its way out of the sanctuary. “God bless… Good to see you… Thanks for coming…” He continued on as each member went past, his wife Carol by his side uttering similar platitudes.

“Good sermon, Pastor,” one elderly man with a booming voice said as he shook Pastor Todd's hand. “Although,” he tapped his watch, “a little overtime, today, eh?” The man chuckled and continued walking.

The congenial smile that Todd had pasted to his face never wavered. “Thank you for coming… God bless… Good to see you…”

“Pastor Bryant, I think we need to have a private conversation very soon,” Marni Hyde said as she took her turn in line. She glanced meaningfully down her nose at the Lone Wolf family who were presently in conversation with the McKinley clan.

“Most certainly,” Todd agreed before turning to the next parishioner. “God bless… Thanks for coming…”

With a sniff, Marni swept past Carol Bryant and into the crowd milling about in the foyer. The congregation always enjoyed several minutes of informal socializing before going their separate ways on a Sunday afternoon. Many of them had enjoyed meeting for lunch afterward at Sonny's Café, but now that the Changs had decided to close on Sundays, most people just loitered a little bit longer at the church itself.

A small group of teens had gathered together in one corner, including Billy and Suzie Chang, Tyson and Bonita McKinley, and their newest member, Ryder Lone Wolf.

“Your little sister is so cute,” Suzie said to Ryder. “I'm glad your family decided to make it to church today. Next week you should come an hour earlier for the teen class.”

A small sigh escaped Bonita's lips and the others looked at her curiously. “Don't mind her,” Tyson said with a shrug. “She's not feeling so well today.”

“Oh. That's too bad,” Suzie replied. “I hope it's not catching.”

Bonita just gave her a withering look.

“I don't think that's what he meant,” Billy explained.

“Right,” Tyson nodded.

“Just shut up,” Bonita said with another weary sigh and left the group to go sit alone on a bench along the wall.

“Serves her right,” Tyson said with a small gleam in his eye. “She caught it good, too, for going to a party at Jake's trees last night.”

“I'm glad to finally meet you,” Con was saying to Thomas Lone Wolf. “I've seen some of the excavating on my neighbor's land. Not to mention all the rumors flying around.”

“There are certainly a lot of those,” Thomas agreed with a shake of his head.

“So tell me, what exactly is your project about?”

“Old Man's Lake and the surrounding salt flats were a key meeting place for the people of the Central Plains. Judging from the artifacts, as well as the legends surrounding the place, maybe as far back as a couple thousand years,” Thomas explained.

“No kidding?”

Thomas nodded. “Almost every known Plains tribe crossed through the area at one time or another and emissaries were sent for generations afterwards. It was a place of great spiritual and social significance.”

Con shook his head. “Who would have known?”

“It's been quite a puzzle to piece together. I've been working on this particular project for—well, for a long time.”

“And your research brought you here,” Con stated.

“It's been especially hard since the thread was broken when the first treaties were signed and the people were parceled off to reserves. The land in this area was considered too productive to be given away as reserve land, so the host tribes from the area were sent elsewhere.”

“So how did anyone pick up the thread again?” Con asked.

“Records did survive, despite bureaucratic mix ups.”

“Really? How?”

“Mostly oral, but there are also some written records. Petroglyphs and such.”

“Really? Around here?”

“Just south of Silver Creek. Quite a few locations around the province, actually—all referring to a large salt lake. So once all the data was gathered and compared, we zeroed in on Old Man's Lake. Some of the stories are quite amazing.”

“No wonder you want to build an interpretive center.” Con said.

“Marshdale does seem like the logical place if we can just convince people there's nothing to be afraid of.” Thomas cleared his throat and glanced in Marni Hyde's direction.

Con looked to where Thomas's gaze had strayed. “Some people like to stir up trouble where there isn't any. It's great to have you come to church, though.”

“Thanks. I hear you spent some time with the youth group the other night. I was glad that Ryder met some friends.”

“Your son seems like a nice kid,” Con commented.

“So does yours,” Thomas reiterated. “At least, according to Ryder.”

“Oh, Tyson isn't my son. He's my nephew. That's my brother Ivor over there,” Con pointed to where Ivor and another man were deep in conversation about crop rotations. “I'll introduce you to him later. I'm glad that Tyson has another believer to hang out with, though. It can be tough when you're young.”

“Or not so young,” Thomas laughed.

“Looks like my niece and your daughter are getting along, too.” They watched for a moment as Lisa and Whisper ran past, giggling.

“I'm glad,” Thomas said. “I was worried about them making friends, but I guess I shouldn't have. I always tell the kids that God takes care of us and I guess He has.”

Just then, Marni Hyde swept past. Her icy glare, followed by a mumbled, “The nerve of some people,” was not lost on the two men.

“Hope you won't be scared away in future,” Con commented.

“I'm a little too stubborn for that,” Thomas laughed.

“Good. Say, you should bring your family out to the farm,” Con suggested. “The kids would love it and I'm totally intrigued. Do you have any photos or anything?”

“Do I have photos?” Thomas repeated with a grin. “You might be sorry.”

“Seriously,” Con went on. “The kids would probably enjoy themselves, and this whole excavation sounds really interesting.”

****

Pastor Todd took a deep breath and steeled himself for the onslaught that he knew was coming. Marni Hyde was waiting in his office this very moment. She had insisted on a private conference before she left the building. The parishioners had been particularly slow in leaving after the service today, and now his stomach was grumbling in protest. He hoped Carol was preparing something good for lunch today. He needed comfort food.

“As a man of God, you are obligated to do something,” Marni began without preamble as soon as he opened the door.

“Excuse me?” Todd asked in bewilderment.

“As Christians it is our job to spread God's enlightenment—not be infiltrated by—by the heathen!”

Todd blinked. His sermon today had been a very uplifting treatise on the feeding of the five thousand. No mention had been made of finding converts, heathen or otherwise. “If you're referring to the passage from Matthew, I can assure you—”

“No, no, no!” Miss Hyde blustered. “I'm not talking about your sermon! Although, you did go past twelve today, just in case you hadn't noticed.”

Todd coughed slightly. “Yes. Well, if you could start again at the beginning…?” He trailed off, still stretching his mind backward. Did he say something on Wednesday night that could have been offensive? Or last week perhaps? His frown deepened.

Miss Hyde sighed with exasperation. “You did notice the Native family in church today?”

“Yes. I spoke with the fellow briefly. He seemed nice.”

“Of course he did,” she affirmed with a knowing nod of her head. “Don't you see he's trying to infiltrate?”

“Infiltrate? Hold on just a minute, Miss Hyde. You've lost me somewhere.”

“I see I'm going to have to spell it out for you,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension.

“Please do,” Todd stated. He was starting to get a headache from lack of food. Miss Marni Hyde was becoming a little bit more than merely tiresome.

“This—this Mr. ‘Lone Wolf' as he calls himself—imagine using such a name!”

“Paul preached diversity…” Todd tried to interject.

“Of course, I know that,” Marni interrupted. “But this is different. He's just trying to intimidate us!”

“Intimidate us,” Todd stated, not following.

“Yes, intimidate us. He thinks he can come here with some kind of retroactive land claim based on some great, great ancestor.” She stopped for effect and leaned forward. “Who, by the way, was apparently a medicine man! What do you think of that?”

“Um. He said that?”

“It's no secret that he comes from a long line of medicine men, gurus—whatever! And now he's come back to try to claim his ancestral home and build some kind of Indian Culture Center and the next thing you know we'll be overrun with them. Heathens pretending to be civilized, when all they want is to take everything away that our fathers and grandfathers worked so hard for. Next they'll be holding pow-wows and protests and who knows what. Murdering us in our beds, that's what'll be next!”

“Calm down,” Todd interjected. “I'm sure you're blowing things all out of proportion.”

“Oh, you would think that. No offense, Pastor, but it has come to my attention that you're becoming rather liberal these days.”

“Liberal?”

“This Mr. Lone Wolf is just that—a wolf in sheep's clothing. He's come to take over the town, he and his kind! Why look at how they just moved right in!”

“I don't see anything wrong with—”

She cut him off again. “And naturally, he's been very persuasive with the mayor and council. It's been up to the Heritage Committee to try to put a stop to this outrage. But I never would have dreamt that they would try to infiltrate the church, too!”

“Miss Hyde.” Todd tried to sound reasonable. “Perhaps he just wants to find a place to fellowship—”

“Stop!” She put her hand up to signal that she would not listen to any more. “I can see you are far too naïve. You only see the good in people. Now, I admit, that is a characteristic that's preferred in a pastor, but you must listen to the voice of experience. One who has been in these parts much longer than you.”

“I'm listening,” Todd replied tightly.

“Did you notice, for instance, that today he went straight for the ear of Conrad McKinley? Hmm?” She raised her brows as if her point had been made.

“And…?”

“Surely you've noticed that the McKinleys think they run the church. Or they'd like to anyway—always sticking their noses into everything. Oh yes, that Wolf person knew exactly who to sidle up to. They could be planning a coup.”

“I don't think that's a fair—”

“Of course, I shouldn't expect that you'd notice such a thing,” she continued. “I've seen how you've cuddled up to the McKinley faction yourself.”

“Pardon me?” Todd asked, eyes wide.

“I see I'm barking up the wrong tree,” she said, lifting her chest with dignity. “You're probably in on the conspiracy.”

“Miss Hyde—”

“Good day, Pastor,” she said, turning to leave. “I'll be writing a letter to the board. You can be sure of that.” She swept from the office, leaving the door open behind her.

Todd waited until he heard the front doors shut with a thud. He had been holding his breath, he realized, and let the air out of his lungs with a rush. What was he doing in this place, anyway?
God?
What exactly do You want?
One thing was for sure—he'd lost his appetite.