CHAPTER TWELVE EDGE OF DARKNESS
CHAPTER TWELVE
EDGE OF DARKNESS
“The love of possessions is a disease in them.”Sitting Bull
Pine Ridge Reservation
Greyeagle climbed out of the shower and began getting dressed.
His muscles ached, and he still smelled the fire in his nostrils.
The burning oil, the superheated metal, the burnt flesh.
It was all still lingering in his nose and on his skin.
He’d showered with the water as hot as it would go, but the smell never seemed to fade.
Once he was dressed, he walked outside to find all the Hotamétaneo’o preparing breakfast. They were all a little haggard and rough-looking, but they were alive. Greyeagle walked over to Sarah and pulled her into his arms.
“How are you, my love?” he whispered.
“Better now,” she replied, snuggling tightly into his arms.
“Were there many injuries?” he asked.
“A few,” she replied. “Mostly burns. Nothing that a big meal and shifting back to human won’t fix. The burns will take a little longer to heal than usual, but that’s to be expected.”
“Were you hurt?” he asked, kissing her on the neck.
“Not badly,” she answered, leaning into him. “This is all the comfort and care I need. I’m where I should be. In your arms.”
“Where are the boys?” asked Greyeagle, glancing around.
“Grandfather took them fishing,” she replied. “Jason is with them. So are Kodiak and Black Fox.”
“Good,” said Greyeagle.
“We need to prepare a big meal,” Greyeagle said. “We all need a lot of calories to replace what we burned.”
“Don’t worry,” Sarah said, grinning. “We’ve got that covered. Mika has the big grill already running. He’s grilling enough steak to feed a small army. Or Kodiak.”
They both chuckled.
“What else are we having?” he asked.
“Eggs with peppers, onions, and cheese,” Sarah said, “plus biscuits and gravy, a ton of shredded potatoes, and enough sausage to keep pork production going for another year with our next order.”
“Bacon?” asked Greyeagle hopefully.
“No, we’re frying hog jowl,” she said. “The good stuff.”
“I love you,” Greyeagle said, kissing her deeply.
When they came up for air, she giggled and pulled his hair thong out of his hair, then tied it around her own.
“You’d better,” she said. “Now, let me go so I can cook. You can carry me back inside later.”
“That sounds promising,” Greyeagle said, grinning.
“So, how are you feeling?” she asked.
Greyeagle knew exactly what she meant by that. He’d been borderline depressed since he’d lost his ability to shift.
“Like I rediscovered my path,” he replied, kissing her again. “Last night was horrifying, but it did remind me of something.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“That I’m Will Greyeagle,” he said. “With or without Old Wolf.”
“That’s the man I fell in love with,” she said, smiling. “I knew you’d get there. Eventually.”
“You were just gonna let me get there, all on my own?” Greyeagle asked, teasingly.
“Oh, I might’ve given you a little nudge, if you’d needed it,” she said.
“Or a smack in the back of the head,” Greyeagle added.
“That too,” she said, slipping out of his arms. “Now, go away before I burn these eggs. I’ve got work to do.”
Declan came trotting up on Biscuit, leading another horse.
“Mornin’, fella,” Declan said. “Fancy a ride? I thought it would do us both some good. B’sides, it’ll give us a chance t’ chat.”
“Alright,” Greyeagle said, swinging into the saddle.
Once he was situated, Declan clicked his tongue and gave Biscuit his head.
The big blue roan seemed to stretch out as he launched into a full gallop.
Greyeagle tucked in his heels and raced after him.
They rode for several minutes, allowing the horses to burn off some excess energy, then came around and slowed them to a trot.
Moments later, they emerged near the edge of the river, a few hundred yards up from where the others were fishing.
“Something on your mind?” asked Greyeagle.
Biscuit leaned down and began drinking from the water.
“Aye, ye could say that,” Declan replied. “We cannae keep just reactin’ t’ these beasties. Yeah, we saved a fair amount o’ folks last night, but we lost quite a bit more.”
“Agreed,” Greyeagle said. “But you heard grandfather. We don’t even know if we can stop them, much less how.”
“I’ve been doin’ a bit o’ thinkin’ these last few hours,” Declan said.
“What did you come up with?” asked Greyeagle.
“I think it all comes down t’ Red Basin,” Declan said. “If they back off and leave the tribal lands alone, I think those beasties might just leave it. Go back wherever the hell they go when they ain’t destroyin’ oil rigs.”
“Well, we don’t know if that will work or not,” Greyeagle said, “but it’s worth a try.
I don’t think Red Basin is going to listen to us.
Their only concern is profits. And the court hasn’t exactly been supportive of the tribe’s efforts to stop them from slant drilling onto the Rez and stealing our oil. ”
“Then we go over their bloody heads,” Declan said. “We put pressure on Red Basin where it bloody hurts.”
“I don’t exactly have a president or a billionaire on speed dial,” Greyeagle said. “Sarah’s father is rich, but nowhere near that kind of rich.”
“I’m a’ thinkin’ o’ someone else,” Declan said.
“Who do you have in mind?” asked Greyeagle.
“Ye know, boyo,” Declan said, smiling. “About a hundred and fifty years ago, give or take, I rode these exact hills with a friend I made while on a huntin’ expedition.
He was a greenhorn and couldn’t shoot worth a shite, but he had a passion for the wild places that stuck with me.
So, I taught him t’ hunt, track, and shoot.
We rode t’gether for a bit, goin’ int’ wilderness and on adventures and such.
He had aspirations o’ goin’ int’ politics, so I wished him luck. ”
“Anyone I know?” asked Greyeagle.
“Shut it, boyo,” Declan said, grinning. “I’m buildin’ t’ it.”
“Sorry,” Greyeagle said, shrugging. “By all means, continue.”
“No worries, now shut yer gob and listen,” Declan said. “Now, where was I?”
“He was going into politics,” Greyeagle prompted.
“Right, right,” continued Declan. “Well, he rose through the circles pretty fast, but then he decided t’ walk away for a spell and get int’ the military.
Now, this was durin’ the Spanish-American War, and he was buildin’ a unit made of rough and ready fellas who knew how t’ ride, shoot, hunt, and move in dangerous country. Roughriders, ye might call ‘em.”
Greyeagle raised his eyebrow but didn’t interrupt.
“Well, after San Juan Hill,” Declan said, “he went back t’ Washington a full-blown war hero and later went on t’ become president.”
“You don’t mean…,” Greyeagle began.
“Teddy Roosevelt himself,” Declan said. “Oh, he could be a right auld bastard when he wanted t’ be, but a truer friend you’d never know. An honorable man in a den o’ feckin’ thieves.”
“How does that help us?” asked Greyeagle. “He’s long dead.”
“Aye, but his descendants ain’t,” Declan replied. “One o’ which is a dear friend. His great-granddaughter Emily.”
“Emily Roosevelt?” asked Greyeagle.
“No, boyo,” said Declan. “Pay attention, now. Emily Stansfield. That’s her married name.”
“Why do I know that name?” asked Greyeagle.
“Because she’s the current head o’ the EPA,” Declan explained. “That’d be the Environmental Protection Agency, in case ye didn’t know.”
“I’ve heard of them, once or twice,” Greyeagle said, chuckling.
“Well, then,” Declan said. “I wonder how Emily ‘ll feel when she finds out what Red Basin’s been up t’ ‘round here?”
“That’ll at least slow them down,” Greyeagle said. “But they’ll fight it in court. It could take years to settle.”
“Years that they can’t drill while under an injunction from the EPA,” Declan said. “Might not solve it, but it sure as hell might buy us some time t’ find a more permanent solution.”
“It’s a good start,” Greyeagle said.
“Alright then,” Declan said. “I’ll call Emily once we’re back at camp. Invite her out t’ take a look for herself.”
“You can’t just explain it to her?” asked Greyeagle.
“I could, but Em ‘ll want t’ see it for herself,” Declan said. “Don’t worry. She’s got Teddy’s fire and passion t’ save the wild places. She ain’t gonna like it when she learns what Red Basin’s been doin’.”
“But won’t that still take time?” asked Greyeagle. “I mean, agencies like the EPA rarely do anything quickly.”
“That’s a fair point, boyo,” Declan said. “I think I’ll be able t’ convey the sense o’ urgency in the matter.”
“Just how well do you know her?” asked Greyeagle.
“Well, in the biblical sense, o’ course,” Declan replied, “but she’s older and married now. Best not be a’ bringin’ up that old history. She’s a dear friend now. Her sparkin’ days are long behind her. But, her eldest son reminds me o’ Teddy. He’s a spittin’ image.”
“So, how long have you actually known my grandfather?” asked Greyeagle.
“Truth ‘r the fiction he and me grandpappy like t’ share?” Declan said, cocking his head and looking at Greyeagle out of the corner of his eye.
“The truth,” Greyeagle said.
“I first met Jay right after the Battle o’ Little Big Horn,” Declan said. “Or as yer folks like t’ call it, Greasy Grass. We were trackin’ a party o’ Oolonga-Doglalla that had wiped out a small settlement o’er near Deadwood.”
“So, how long has grandfather known Gideon?” asked Greyeagle.
“They like t’ tell folks that they met after that same battle,” Declan said.
“And they did fight on opposite sides o’ that particular engagement.
Gideon rode with the 7th Cavalry under Custer.
But they met a mite earlier ‘n that. For the life o’ me, I ain’t been able t’ get either o’ them t’ admit when it really was.
Gideon’s been around for about two thousand years, give ‘r take. It wouldn’t surprise me t’ find out Jay’s nearly as old.
Hell, could be older. If they know, they ain’t a’ sharin’ that info. ”
“Sounds like my grandfather,” Greyeagle said.
“Oh, aye,” Declan said. “Word o’ advice.
Ne’er play poker with either o’ those old arseholes.
They practically invented the game. I’m a fair hand with the cards, but I lose me shirt whene’er I play ag’in either o’ em.
And I made a reputation as a gambler and a gunfighter across the West, and that was back when I was still usin’ a pair of cap ‘n ball revolvers.”
“You, grandfather, Gideon,” Greyeagle said. “Such long lives you’ve lived. Yet, we lose Clark so tragically, and he’s of your bloodline too.”
“Well now, boyo,” Declan said. “Not growin’ old is a damned sight different ‘n bein’ unkillable. Don’t confuse the two. B’sides, with that wolf blood a’ runnin’ through ye, ye might live longer ‘n any o’ us.”
“Assuming I can change again,” Greyeagle said. “Right now, I can’t.”
“Oh, I doubt it’s gone,” Declan said. “Give it time. I don’t think the Hotamétaneo’o ‘r quite finished with ye yet. Now, we’d best be a’ gettin’ back. We’ve both got our work a’ cut out for us, a’ for this day is through.”
“You’re changing the subject,” Greyeagle said quietly. “Why?”
Declan gave Greyeagle a measured look and sat quietly for a minute.
“He’s not dead, is he?” asked Greyeagle.
“Right t’ the point, ain’t ye?” asked Declan. “Arsehole. Why d’ ye got t’ be such a bloody good detective?”
“He’s not,” Greyeagle said. “I can see it in your eyes.”
“Now, ye shut it good and proper, boyo,” Declan said adamantly. “Ye can’t be runnin’ yer mouth spreadin’ that ‘round.”
“Why not?” asked Greyeagle.
“B’cause,” snapped Declan, “as long as the Ouroboros Society believes he’s dead, we’ve got the upper hand. So, mind yer gob and that stays b’tween us ‘till we’re ready t’ show the world.”
Greyeagle rumbled low in his throat as he felt Old Wolf’s displeasure. Then he realized what had just happened. He felt Old Wolf’s presence. He might not be gone, after all.
“Well, then, boyo,” said Declan. “Looks like it’s a fair day for revelations. Now, let’s get t’ work. We’ve got a fight a’ comin’, and it’s likely a comin’ today.”
They turned and spurred their horses, racing back toward the campground. Greyeagle let out a war hoop that surprised even him, then slowly began passing Declan. Biscuit was fast, but even Greyeagle’s horse felt the power flowing through them. It was invigorating.