“I’m hungry. Let’s have lunch,” he suggested.
The time traveler unfurled the blanket on the rock ledge and invited Makawee to sit. He retrieved his backpack and canteen, then removed his hat and joined her on the blanket.
“Biscuits and bacon strips,” he said, passing one of each to her.
“I also have something. These were growing in the meadow,” she announced while reaching behind her. She presented a small willow basket half-full of wild raspberries.
“Those look good! Thanks!”
The couple sat on the rock ledge shaded by the pines and admired the view of the distant lake. While they were eating, Graham silently rehearsed his pending conversation with Makawee, but realized he couldn’t predict how she would react to his shocking revelation. He initiated the conversation by sharing his feelings for Makawee.
“You know I care for you deeply,” he began in a hopeful tone.
She looked directly at him. “And I’m extremely fond of you.”
Extremely fond! After hearing these words, Graham decided to delay the difficult conversation a little longer. He held up the basket and offered her a wild berry.
He took pleasure watching Makawee select a single black fruit and slide it into her mouth, savoring its mildly sweet flavor. As she reached into the basket for another berry, Graham set the basket down and gently placed one hand on top of her forearm. He plucked a berry from the basket with his free hand and held it in front of her lips. She gracefully opened her mouth and accepted the dark fruit, slowly chewing while gazing into his eyes.
Graham leaned forward, cocked his head slightly to one side, and pressed his lips against hers. She closed her eyes and returned his kiss with a partly opened mouth. Her moist lips tasted of wild black raspberry juice. Her hair had the distinctive vanilla fragrance characteristic of sweetgrass. He wanted to prolong the sensual feelings triggered by their kiss but pulled away after a few seconds. To his surprise and relief, Makawee leaned forward to initiate a second kiss. It became a series of kisses, each one lasting longer than the previous one as their lips met, briefly separated, and met again.
After a few minutes Graham gently pulled away and leaned back. His heart was pounding, his palms were sweaty, and he felt wonderfully light-headed. He beamed at the smiling woman sitting across from him.
“I’d like to correct something I said a few minutes ago,” he said with a sheepish tone. “Earlier I said I cared for you deeply. I meant to say I love you!”
“I love you, too, Graham!”
They shared another passionate kiss, then embraced while sitting on the rock. Graham closed his eyes and cherished the moment. He reluctantly released her when Lindy let out a soft snort. He leaned back to see the mule pawing the ground and vigorously raising her head up and down.
“I think your mule and my horse would like something to drink,” Makawee smiled. “Let’s take care of them.”
“Okay, but I want to continue our conversation. There’s more we need to talk about.”
“I don’t need to hear anything more than the feelings you just expressed for me,” she said, as she stood and walked to her horse.
As they led their equines to the stream for a drink, Graham’s head was spinning. His emotional state gradually changed from euphoric elation to anxiety as he considered how she would react to his secret. After picketing their animals, they walked back to the rock and sat on the blanket.
Graham took Makawee’s hand, inhaled deeply, and launched into his rehearsed explanation.
“When we first met, you shared some very personal things. You spoke about losing your family at an early age and being raised by a white family and by Blackfeet. I appreciate your honesty. But I have not been completely honest with you.”
Makawee fidgeted on the blanket and gave him a puzzled look.
“I told you about losing my brothers and a sister. This is true. I told you Redfield, my Crow friend from Pennsylvania, loaned me this eagle–bear claw necklace. This is also true.”
Graham drew in a breath and continued, “Here’s what I didn’t tell you. Redfield carefully explained what was necessary for me to experience a successful vision quest. With this knowledge, I traveled from Pennsylvania and visited the Dragon’s Mouth on a night with a full moon to connect with the spirits.”
He paused, not knowing how to explain what happened next.
“And did you reach the spirits?”
“Yes. I definitely felt a spiritual presence. I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke, I had entered the spirit world.” He paused again before adding, “More accurately, I had entered your world.”
Makawee looked confused.
“What I’m about to say will make no sense. But before you judge, please listen. I promise to prove my story is real.”
Graham took a swig of water to gather his thoughts before continuing.
“I am from the future. This is 1871. I am from 1971. When I entered the spirit world, I was taken back one hundred years. I was dazed and confused when Hayden’s group found me by the river three weeks ago. It took me several days to fully understand what had happened. There are times I still can’t believe it. I keep waiting to wake up and discover I’ve only been dreaming. But every day when the sun comes up, I’m still in 1871.”
The time traveler had been talking rapidly and taken only short breaths between sentences. He could feel the tension mounting in his chest. Graham exhaled and looked at Makawee for a reaction.
“I know about vision quests. You know I believe in spirits. But what you are telling me is not possible,” she said warily as she dropped his hand and inched away from him on the blanket.
“I know. I know. This sounds crazy,” he quickly conceded. “I couldn’t believe it myself at first. But I promised you proof . . .”
Graham pulled his backpack in front of him. As he unzipped the top, it occurred to him he was grasping a piece of futuristic evidence.
“Have you ever seen one of these?” he asked, pulling the metal zipper back and forth to open and close the backpack.
Makawee leaned a little closer to observe what he was doing.
“No. You haven’t,” he excitedly answered his own question. “It’s called a zipper. It’s a kind of fastener with two rows of interlocking teeth that latch together when you use this slider. Look, I even have a zipper on my trousers!”
Graham leaned back and unzipped his jeans, then quickly zipped them up again.
“I’m not familiar with the latest fashion white people wear,” she said, shrugging.
The time traveler reached into his pack and pulled out his topographic map. He unfolded the document, laid it on the blanket, and allowed Makawee a minute to examine the map with thousands of elevation contour lines enabling a three-dimensional view of the region. It displayed the height and shape of the mountains, the steepness of slopes, and the depth of the lakes. The colorful document showed forested areas in green. Lakes and waterways were blue. Principal roadways were indicated in red. Many of the principal geographic features had been named and labeled.
Graham directed her attention to the bottom of the map spread in front of her. A legend on the left interpreted the map symbols. A location diagram and three scales were displayed in the middle: one each in statute miles, kilometers, and nautical miles. He slid his index finger over the bottom border of the map and pointed to these words:
Interior—Geological Survey
Washington, D.C.
1960
“Makawee, this map was printed in 1960—almost ninety years in the future! It is called a topographical map, and it’s what I’ve used these past weeks to advise Hayden on our direction of travel. When I used the map and this (he hastily pulled the Silva orienteering compass from his pack), I could accurately determine where we were. This map indicates the type of terrain—whether it is forest, open grassland, or marsh. It also shows the location of mountains, streams, lakes, and creeks. This is the path we have taken so far.”
&nb
sp; He used his index finger to trace their route, starting at Mammoth Hot Springs, continuing through the geyser basins, and looping around the south end of the lake. His finger stopped on the map at Signal Point.
“This is where we are currently camped.”
He looked up to see if she understood his explanation of the map.
“You have guided the group based on experience and instincts. But I have an advantage because of this map and compass.”
A frown creased her forehead as she tried to comprehend what he was saying.
“Let me show you another map,” he continued, pulling out the official park map from his employee orientation and laying it on top of the first one. While the colored map did not show topographic contour lines, it displayed roads, campsites, visitor centers, and popular tourist sites. Printed in capital letters in the center of the map was the phrase:
Yellowstone National Park
“Makawee, you are looking at a map of what will become a national park next year—in 1872. This is what the park will look like a hundred years from now. Look at the bold red lines. These represent permanent trails in the park. These trails will be cleared of all trees. They will be hard and smooth for heavy horseless carriages to use. Millions of people will visit this area every year!”
Graham paused, forcing himself to slow down. He tried to imagine hearing these words for the first time and how overwhelming it must be.
The Crow woman stared at the map before asking, “What is a horseless carriage?”
“Have you seen a stagecoach?”
“Yes.”
“It is like a stagecoach that can move without horses. It has a means of moving that is too complicated to explain. But wait! I can show you a photograph of one of these.”
Graham dug into his pack and pulled out the three photographs he brought from Pennsylvania. He found the picture of his Studebaker and handed it to Makawee.
“We call these automobiles.”
“Where do you hitch the horses to pull it?” she asked naively.
“I told you it is a horseless carriage. It can pull itself,” he explained, realizing how bizarre this claim must sound to someone in 1871.
Makawee held the photograph of the Studebaker closer, as if to discern how it was possible for something to move without an animal pulling it. Amazingly, she discounted the peculiar boxy car in the photo.
“I’ve never been to New York, but I’m sure their carriages and coaches look very different from those used by soldiers and white settlers,” she commented, handing the photo back to Graham.
Makawee leaned closer to study the park map lying on the blanket, then pulled it to the side to inspect the topo map again.
“These folded papers are nice paintings. But anyone can draw symbols on a piece of paper and call it a map. These don’t prove anything,” she said dismissively.
Sighing, Graham reached into his backpack and extracted the cardboard Olympia beer case lid with Park Employee hand-drawn on the opposite side.
“I traveled here in 1971 because I was hired as an employee of the park,” he said, unfolding the crude sign for her to view. “I used this to identify myself as someone who worked in the park so visitors would give me a ride in their horseless carriages. That’s how I moved around the park. Very few people use horses to travel in the future.”
“You could have written those words on that brown, stiff paper at any time,” she replied stubbornly.
Graham tossed the corrugated box lid on top of the maps. He didn’t blame Makawee for doubting, but he was exasperated at his failure to dispel her uncertainty about his story. He needed to show her something truly astonishing to make a convincing argument he was from the future.
“What if I could make fire instantly appear from my hand?”
Makawee furrowed her eyebrows and looked at him skeptically.
The time traveler reached into the bottom of his pack until he felt the Zippo lighter. Knowing he needed to perform this demonstration with a flourish to achieve the desired reaction, he carefully concealed the lighter in his hand. Extending his arm in front of him, Graham used his thumb to flip the top lid. It opened with a distinctive clink. He rapidly spun the rough-surfaced flint wheel against the flint. A spark ignited the naphtha-soaked wick, and a small flame flickered at the top of the metal perforated wind guard.
Makawee instinctively scooted away from the tiny flame, her eyes wide in amazement and fear.
Graham extinguished the flame by closing the spring-loaded lid with his thumb. It fell into place with a clunk. The Zippo had been almost completely hidden from Makawee during his demonstration. From her vantage point, she had seen only the lid and a flame that appeared to dance on top of his forefinger. When Makawee curiously leaned forward for a better look, Graham lit the Zippo again with a clink from the lid and a faint pffft from the flint wheel. She flinched and quickly leaned away from him. This time he kept the lid open and set the lighter with the flickering flame between them on the rock.
“This fire is not created from magic or the spirits. It is made from a future invention called a lighter.”
Makawee gazed at the miniature flame. For the first time, Graham could see she was starting to consider what he was telling her about the future may be true. He flipped the lid closed and handed the lighter to her.
“Would you like to try it?” he offered.
She shook her head briskly and leaned away. It was obvious her fear of the strange fire source exceeded her curiosity.
He laid the extinguished Zippo on top of the maps and the Park Employee sign.
“I have another invention from the future that is equally amazing,” he teased.
As Graham reached into the backpack, Makawee sprung to her feet and took three steps backward to the edge of the rock ledge. She glanced nervously behind her to see where she could jump.
Graham chuckled inwardly at her reaction but spoke reassuringly. “I promise this is not dangerous. It is a tiny sunbeam you can hold in your hand.”
He stood and removed the Eveready Commander chrome-finished flashlight from his pack. Pointing it toward her, he slid the red plastic switch forward. Even though the light was on, in daylight the only noticeable change was the illuminated red bezel. Graham held his other hand in front of the lens so the light could be seen more clearly, then stepped toward Makawee so she could see it. She inched forward and stretched her neck to see what had created the glowing light.
“It’s called a flashlight. Like a fire, it can provide light. But it is not hot. You can take it with you and turn the light on or off whenever you want. Like I said, it’s a tiny sunbeam in your hand.”
Graham slid the switch to the off position, then slid it forward again to demonstrate how rapidly he could cause the light to disappear or appear.
“When will this sunbeam stick be invented?”
“It will be at least thirty years before most people will have a flashlight,” he answered, as he laid the flashlight beside the Zippo lighter.
The expression on her face was a combination of bewilderment and resignation. She slowly stepped back to the center of the ledge and surveyed the items on the blanket at her feet: two maps with strange symbols, a hand-drawn employee sign, a compass, a small metal box that made fire, and a sunbeam stick.
“I think . . . I think . . . I believe you,” she said haltingly.
“I do have two other things,” Graham said encouragingly. He wanted to do everything possible to bolster the veracity of his story.
As she started to back away from the center of the ledge, Graham held up his hands. “Please, there’s no need to be afraid. I would never hurt you.”
Makawee watched apprehensively as he reached into his pack for yet another item from the future.
A demonstration of his Kodak Instamatic would be unimpressive. He tried to explain in simple terms what it was and how it worked to his nonplussed listener.
“Have you seen Jackson take photographs?”
“Yes. He has a big box that sits on three sticks. There are many things he does when taking a photograph I do not understand.”
“It takes a lot of steps to take a photograph, and Jackson is incredibly good at it. But in the future, this is the size of a camera.” He held the camera flat in his palm to emphasize its petite size.
Makawee looked indifferently at the small box.
“Let me show you how quickly and easily you can take a photograph,” he said excitedly. “Stay right there!”
Graham scrambled off the ledge onto the slope and instructed Makawee to sit on the blanket. Yellowstone Lake provided a beautiful backdrop for the impromptu portrait, but the amateur photographer frowned when he noticed a dark thundercloud forming on the western horizon. When she was seated, he pushed the film advance lever until it locked, held the view finder up to his eye and framed Makawee, then pressed the shutter release.
“When can I move?” she asked.
“You can move right now.”
“But Jackson wants people to be very still and not move until he tells them.”
Graham laughed. “Yes, that’s right. But with this future camera, you don’t have to worry about that. As soon as I take the photograph, you can move.”
He stepped back on the ledge, peering at the distant anvil cloud, and hoping the pending storm would not interrupt their conversation.
“When can I see the photograph?” she inquired.
“Oh. I have to send a small roll in this box to a shop. It takes the images captured in the camera and makes photographs. They are the size of the one I showed you of my automobile—I mean horseless carriage. It takes only a few days to get them back.”
“But Mr. Jackson can see his photographs soon after he takes them. He doesn’t have to wait.”
“Yes. That’s right,” Graham conceded dispiritedly. Makawee was stoic about his camera demonstration. His Instamatic was the most underwhelming of the futuristic items he had withdrawn from his pack.
“You said you had two more things to show me. What’s the other one?”
Burning Ground Page 36
