Chapter 15 #2
“I… I…” She chortled. “I could vow that they…” she hesitated, “…spoke.”
Grey Coyote nodded. “Indeed, they did.”
“Then I am not mad?”
“You are not mad,” Grey Coyote affirmed. “The small wolf is my spirit protector and often speaks to me in vision. What I find curious is that you heard the coyotes, and you saw them, as well as I. This has never happened before.”
Slowly, she nodded. “Never?”
“Not ever.”
“But…was this some sort of a riddle?”
“It was. It is.”
It all seemed a bit much, and placing her hand on Grey Coyote’s arm, she scooted closer to him where he was still squatting upon the ground. She said, “Tell me. Tell me what is going on. I don’t understand what happened. What does this mean?”
Uncertainty, all mixed up with other facial expressions—surprise, fear and love—flitted over Grey Coyote’s countenance. But, at last, he said, “I hesitate to tell you about myself and my duty to my tribe. And yet if you have seen this vision—”
“Was this, which I have this moment seen, what the Indians call a vision?”
“Hau. We have shared a vision. This is rare. Indeed, I have never heard of this being done before now.”
“Yes.”
“In all this time, I have thought that I, alone, must bear this burden, must solve this riddle, but somehow now you are a part of this. I know not how, so I cannot explain your role in this.”
“I see,” she said, though she was unsettled and a little rattled about what she had witnessed. “Since I did hear the words of the coyotes, then I feel it right to ask you to tell me what you do know. What is this?”
“Hau, hau. I will tell you what I know, but you will find it difficult to believe. Even my adopted people, the Assiniboine, would think I had been in the sun too long if I were to speak of the entirety of my life and the task which I must accomplish. And the Assiniboine are a spiritual people, given to belief in the mysteries of the universe.”
“Yes. This is why you have never related to me what the deed is you must accomplish? Because it is fantastic?”
“Hau. What you say is partly true. But perhaps you might recall that a part of the riddle said I alone must solve it.”
“Ah, yes.” She nodded. “I do remember it.”
He inclined his head. “I have believed that to share my problem with anyone—be it you or even a medicine man—would be as to betray my people, not the Assiniboine, but those who are trapped in the mist.”
“In the mist? I don’t understand.”
“Nor should you. I will explain. The Assiniboine are my adopted people. The people of my birth are of the Blackfoot tribe. They are the Lost Tribe, the people of the mist. Because of a great wrong they committed to the children of the Thunderer, they were cursed by the Creator to live forever in what is called the mist. Their existence is but a half existence, neither dead, nor real. But once in each new generation, a boy is chosen from each band of the tribe. He is charged with the duty to go out into the world, to learn of the environment around him, and to undo the curse, if he can. This is my purpose. The riddle you heard is my clue. The man I seek possesses something that should help me end this spell. And once I find him, to undo this riddle, I must correctly guess what this is that he possesses. I must act on what I find, and if my deeds are done in the right way, I will end the curse for my people.”
Marietta didn’t move, didn’t say a word. Of course, it all made sense now. All his actions, even his delaying her and keeping her with him, was because of this, his duty. It explained much. However, it left her with questions, too.
She asked, “The one coyote, the female, said I am now a part of this. Is it true?”
He paused. “It is the first time I have been told this piece of the riddle. Because this has never been stated before, I can only tell you this: for my people, a vision is the phenomenon which gives a man—or a woman—purpose, it is the event most precious in life. It shows one what he must attain if he is to live a good life. If you ask me whether or not a vision shows truth, I can only say that a vision is the Creator’s way of communicating to you. ”
“I see.” She nodded. “And of course if this is from God or as you call Him, the Creator, then it would be truth.”
“Hau. However, I do not know what part you are to play in this.”
“Nor do I,” she said. “Nor do I. But I can say that I begin to understand you a little better.”
“Waste, this is good. And now I think I can tell you a little more: on the night when I won you in the game of chance, the wind whispered your name to me. But I didn’t put the name to you until you told me in English what you are called.
I knew then I could not let you leave me.
But I couldn’t tell you why. I regret if I have caused you pain. ”
“Oh, how strange this all is for me, and I thank you for the apology. It begins to make sense.” She frowned. “Tell me, the male coyote stated that the enemy is near, and the time to end the curse is at hand.”
Grey Coyote bowed his head in acknowledgment. “Yes, I too have ascertained this, because my dreams of late have been filled with the image of the man whom I seek. It is why I must journey to the trading post as quickly as it is safe to do so.”
“Then we should hurry there.”
“Hau, we will hasten to go there—but we must never forget how it is we will travel. We must go there as a scout would go. No other way to proceed is safe.”
“Which means we will go about it very slowly…”
“It does. You should remember I am also in hostile territory. Come, let us return this tiny raccoon to her brothers and sisters, and then we will rest. If all goes well, we should arrive at the trading post within the next few days.”
“This is good.” She nodded. “Do not be deceived, however. I cannot give up my plans to return to England. I will help you as best I can. But I, too, have a dream to follow.”
He didn’t respond; he merely looked at her.
In defense, she explained, “Those dreams are all I have.”
He nodded, one brief bob of his head. Then turning, he was gone.
Something was not right.
Grey Coyote realized it as soon as he was within a half day’s journey of the LaPrenier and Acme Trading Post. There was no noise in the air, no motion, no ever-expanding circles in the atmosphere to indicate movement, of which there should be a good deal.
He frowned. Worse, the closer he came to the locality of the post, the less sound accompanied them. No twittering of birds overhead, no quick rustling of the animals in the undergrowth.
True, the wildlife stayed away from a white man’s post as a rule, but the LaPrenier and Acme Trading Post had been here long enough that there should be some hint of animal life. At the very least, Grey Coyote should hear the cooing of doves.
But there was nothing, no sound, save the wind.
It was not a good sign.
At present, the day was only beginning. In the east, though the sun had not yet risen, a pinkish light was slowly advancing toward the earth. Soon, the cloak of darkness would no longer shield them.
The three of them had been winding their way through the night and had come to this place, which was a slight rise in the prairie. On the other side of this hill lay the trading post, a site which usually held many of the white man’s unusual provisions and gave the red man much interest.
And so Grey Coyote had thought to spend some time here, perhaps to entertain his wife here. But not today. Grey Coyote could not allow either of the women to go farther, not when he sensed danger. Something was not right.
What he needed was to find shelter for the women, a hiding place where he felt they would be safe. He scanned the prairie in all directions, gaze seeking a cover, but he saw little except expanding fields of dry, yellow grass. However, there were bushes which surrounded this hill.
It was not the best cover, but it would have to do.
As he searched for the best hiding place for the women, a feeling of foreboding took hold of him. It was then he realized he must proceed cautiously. Very, very cautiously.
“I wish we could go into the trading post. I think men sometimes forget that a woman’s heart needs a little adventure also. There might be something there for me…material for a dress, or—”
“Your…husband tell me…we…women…not go. Stay here.”
“I know, but—”
“Could…watch.”
“Could we? Is there a way?”
“We…hide…there.” Yellow Swan pointed to the shrubs which extended around the perimeter of the hill.
“Yes, yes. If we scoot far ahead, while keeping to the line of bushes, we might be able to see what’s happening without being seen. You’re a genius, my friend.”
The two women grinned at one another and took their positions.
Marietta gazed out into the grounds of the trading post. It was quite a small affair. Little more than a camp, it had no palisades to ward off attacks or bastions to defend it. From where she sat, the place looked as if it consisted of no more than three log buildings and a medium-sized corral.
The oddity was that there was no activity there. None.
At length, Marietta whispered, “It doesn’t look to be much of a going business, does it?”
“Something…wrong,” said Yellow Swan. “It not…as I remember it. Long ago…it…cheerful…place.”
Marietta nodded and stared out at the post from as many different angles as she could manage without exposing herself. There was no sign of Grey Coyote.
How long would he be gone? He had left hours ago. Still, she reckoned, since he was on a scouting mission, if he were doing his job well, she wouldn’t see him.
Returning her gaze to the trading post, she frowned. “I think you are right, Yellow Swan. Something about this place is unwelcoming.”
“Han.”
“I guess we’d better wait here.”
Yellow Swan didn’t speak, but she bobbed her head briefly. The two of them settled in to wait.
Death lived here. Grey Coyote had sensed it, had smelled it. It must have happened within the last few days, he determined. Otherwise there would be more animal activity in and about the place.
But what had happened?