Chapter 11 #3
“But could that not be a myth? We have many such tales in my culture as well, but they are stories we relate to the very young in order to entertain them.”
“Are you certain this is all there is to it?” he countered. “Do not discount these stories merely because you have not yet experienced them. Many myths are based on fact.”
“That’s probably true,” she conceded.
“Aa, I do think that our Mother, the Earth, is your best protection. In the open spaces, whoever this is will have to show himself or herself.”
“Herself?” Effie became immediately distracted, and said further, “Do you think the guilty party might be one of the women…perhaps Lesley?”
Red Hawk shrugged. “I do not know. But it is important to remember that no matter where you go, I fear your attacker will follow you.”
Effie nodded. After a few minutes, she said, “I will consider all you have said, and I thank you for your advice. But now, since it is late, and before it gets any later, perhaps we should discuss the sheriff and what you discovered today. Why would he break into my room? And why would he rummage through my possessions?”
Red Hawk breathed out deeply. “All of the men in this town are loco, I believe. These men talk of nothing but gold and silver. They argue amongst themselves over who owns what piece of ground, and they work endlessly, digging into our Mother, the Earth, scarring her. They ignore her cries, because they have no ears with which to hear and because their machines drown out her voice.”
“But they are miners and seek their fortune. That is what miners do.”
“So I have been told. But there is more. Have you observed that there are few women here?”
“There are some.”
“But they are not the kind of women a man will most often marry.”
Effie lifted her brow.
“Therefore,” he said, “one can only wonder what purpose these men serve. How can a man build a town without women? Do they forget that without a woman, there is little happiness?”
“An excellent point, but what does this have to do with the sheriff?”
“’Tis simple, I think. The only conclusion I can draw from the manner of madness I see all around me is that these men hope to easily obtain something that does not belong to them, but rather belongs to our Mother, the Earth.
Gold and silver hold these men’s hearts for ransom, and perhaps the sheriff suffers the same ailment as the rest and hopes to attain something easily, even though it does not belong to him.
Perhaps this is all there is to it. I do not know.
All I can tell you is that the man came to your room, he searched it and left.
He did not return here, but spent the remainder of the day over the hills where the young men are digging. ”
Effie nodded. “It is curious, Mr. Hawk. Very curious. But maybe you are right and he was hoping to obtain something more easily than the rest.” She yawned.
Red Hawk watched her for the space of a moment. “Are you going to tell me or show me what this treasure is? So many people are searching for it…your life is in danger because of it. Do you not think I should see it?”
“No,” she said flatly, no explanation given. “Now if you will excuse me, I believe it is time for me to get some sleep.”
He ignored her words. “I could readily find out what this is if I were to question the others. You realize this, don’t you?”
She didn’t utter a word. Instead, she looked away from him.
Without taking his gaze from her, he said, “I would rather you show it to me.”
“They won’t tell you.”
“Your friends won’t have to tell me. I know how to listen.”
Effie gave a deep sigh and, resigned, said, “Oh, very well. If you turn your back and blow out the candle, I will show it to you.”
He nodded and did as she directed, listening. She must have adjusted her clothing once again, for he could hear the rustling of her garments.
She commanded him to turn around, and when he did so, he saw it.
She held out both hands to him. In the center of her palms were two pieces of white, glittering rock, beautiful even in this lighting, which was only a mere streak of moonlight.
But it wasn’t only the rock that caught and held his attention.
Imbued into the niche of each piece of quartz was the golden image of…
She said, “I don’t know if you can see the engravings well, for we have little light by which to view them. But they are figures, half bird, half human. They are supposed to represent the—”
“Children of the Thunderer,” he finished for her.
Her curious eyes caught his. “You must have heard about this particular part of the legend, then?”
He didn’t answer her right away. He couldn’t, for without warning, a memory had pressed itself into his consciousness:
“Four golden images,
When all in a row,
Slaves, your people will be,
No more.”
It was the song, the poem of his protector, the sea dog. He hadn’t understood it then. He did so now.
“Mr. Hawk,” she was saying. “Is something wrong?”
“Saa,” he replied after a long hesitation, “nothing is wrong. In truth, something is very right. And now it is time I tell you the truth about me, because we are united in cause.”
“I don’t understand…”
“’Tis simple. I am of the Lost Clan.”