by C J Murphy
Her next task was to make another batch of medicinal salve. The previous week, when Kyo cut a pad on her paw, the salve had helped it heal rapidly. Noeul grabbed a double boiler to heat up a small amount of olive oil and set a portion of bee’s wax beside it to add during the last step. She adjusted the heat on the electric burner and began to measure out dried yarrow and petals from the arnica flower into a mortar. She used the pestle to grind the ingredients and release more of their essence. “That should do it.” When complete, she added the mixture to a cloth teabag and lowered it into the oil. She would let it steep for about twenty minutes to let the herbs infuse the oil. She would create the salve by adding the beeswax. The all-natural remedy was less likely to make her animals sick when they invariably licked it off.
Her hand grazed the bar and landed on her journal, which she picked up as she headed outside. Fingers of despair crept up her spine, as she stepped over to the black-and-white fur ball that leaned into her shoulder from atop the fence post. She kissed the cat between his ears and scratched his face. A V8-engine purr rumbled deep in his chest, albeit with a slight miss. “Such a sweet boy.”
A large boulder sat at the edge of the yard with a view looking out over the mountains. Warmth spread throughout her, as she closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun. She sat down on the large, flat surface and relaxed as she absorbed the heat from the stone into her legs. The journal’s ribbon marking her last entry.
As I sit here, off in the distance I can hear a woodpecker’s repetitive tap-tap-tap as it works for its dinner, chipping away at a tree where its meal of insects hides. In the meadow, my sheep bleat softly, and the hum of my bees working their hives drifts in on the breeze. I can smell the honeysuckle and the laurel blooms, fragrant and sweet. I love my life here, it’s peaceful, satisfying…and lonely.
She raised her face again to the sky. Dazzling oranges, reds, and blues flashed on the inside of her lids as she moved her eyes, closed tightly against the brightness. Kyo made her way up on the rock and laid her head across Noeul’s thighs. One hand buried itself into the soft fur, as she quieted her heart and opened the journal again.
Every day that passes without human contact and conversation makes this life grow harder and harder to withstand. The term social butterfly never applied to me in any way, but I did enjoy personal interaction. When I first moved to the mountain, I only went down to Miranda and Kelly’s every few months. Now it’s hard to go more than a week without seeing them.
One of the chickens let out a terrifying squawk and the sound of flapping feathers and urgent clucks drew her away from her journal. She sprawled off the rock and ran over to the enclosure area.
“Dammit! That coyote is back!”
Kyo heard her and ran past at a blistering pace to reach the intruder, barking her head off at the brush rustling beyond the pen. “Kyo! Heel!” The dog obediently ran back to Noeul, panting as she looked up for approval. “Good girl, Kyo, good girl.” Noeul stroked her head and led her over to the pail of water, where Kyo drank with great gulps. The excess water streamed from her jowls.
“Kyo, I think it’s time to find you a friend.” Noeul had been thinking about acquiring a Great Pyrenees because they were known for being incredibly protective of their flock and territory. It was something she would investigate when she went back down to the girls’ house, maybe find a rescue. Kyo came to her side and her fingers ran across her head. “At least it will give you someone to talk to.”
After passing through the gate, she looked over each of her chickens, ensuring herself that the only damage done was some ruffled feathers. With a sigh, she checked over the entire run, confirming that there had been no breach. She walked out of the enclosure and locked the gate behind her. “Well Kyo, let’s go see about some supper and maybe an evening with John Muir…or maybe a good dystopian novel. A. J. Adaire’s latest came in the mail the other day. I need a moment of escape, and a good book is always a wonderful way to accomplish that.”
***
It was still dark when Jordan left the camping area in Peach Springs, Arizona and dawn still hadn’t broken when she turned onto Indian Road 18 and into the Hualapai Hilltop parking area. She’d leave her Jeep there and hike down to get the permit that would allow her to camp at Havasu Falls. She got out and rummaged through her hiking pack to ensure that all her essentials were there. Her pack held a few clothes, a tent and bedroll, a small cook stove with utensils, dried noodles and tea bags, a shortwave weather radio, a supply of water, and purification tablets. She was also carrying her journal and a paperback version of Professor Scott’s book, in case she needed to show someone else what she had stored in her head.
Jordan was physically fit and able to carry a larger load than the average backpacker. She’d hiked the Appalachian Trail and several other through-hikes in her lifetime. “It’s all in knowing the difference between what you need and what you’d like to have,” she whispered. The one thing she didn’t skimp on was water. In this area, it was a precious commodity. She wouldn’t run into a stream at every turn like she might back east. Her hydration pack was full, and she had more than one container of water with her. If she did happen to run into a source on the descent, she had purification tablets to make it potable. Chances of that are slim to none. This wasn’t a trek that you could begin in the dark. She would start out at first light to avoid hiking in the heat of the day. Temperatures would be well into the triple digits shortly after the sun began its climb into the sky.
Jordan had spoken with Dava the night before, trying to pin down where the next clue would be. She hoped she would be able to find it on her own when she got to the bottom. She thought through the book’s last chapter about the Grand Canyon. Whatever might lead her to where she needed to look still eluded Jordan. Her colleagues at Cornell were enthusiastic about her work, though there were few that knew the true nature of her quest. Ellie had personally known both Aggie and Noeul. In talking with Elle, she’d hoped to glean any clue, any tidbit of information she could from Elle’s memories. Jordan was looking for the place she was sure would hold another of Aggie’s memorials and a cipher to the next spot on the bucket list. She had to find Noeul. Something deep inside was driving her forward with the hope that, together, they could bring about monumental change. “She’s the key. I know it.”
The light had barely broken the horizon when Jordan put her head torch on and set out on the narrow pathway. Several others joined her in silent communion at the top of the grade before their descent. The first rays of light began to bounce off the laminar clouds that lay in lines across the sky, while bright reds and oranges began to tint the thin layers. She was reminded of John Muir’s words, “Everybody needs beauty…places to play in and pray in where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul alike.” His words resonated with her every day of her life, and she wanted nothing more than to spend time in the grand cathedral of this place that was holy to the Havasu.
The heat was sweltering, as she continued down the trail. Dust rose with every pounding step Jordan took. She’d been passed by pack mules and riders who had chosen to commune in the cathedral without setting foot on its dirt pathways lined with rock. Jordan couldn’t imagine not treading the path under her own power. She had considered renting a mule to carry her equipment. This wasn’t a trail for the faint of heart. What she had found was that it didn’t have to be lonely.
For the last hour, she’d struck up a conversation with one of the area natives who had been away on a short vacation. Jordan adjusted her pack, as she looked around at the changing landscape. As the sun rose, the colors of the layered rock changed, giving everything a completely different look. “So, Kelea, did you grow up at the village?”
The beautiful woman with long, shiny, black hair pulled into a leather binding, hooked her thumbs in the straps of her daypack. “Yes. There are less than two hundred houses at the falls. My parents and grandmother still live there, too. I went away to college to earn degrees in econom
ic development and accounting, and now I take care of some village financials and work in the economic development office. It’s a delicate balance maintaining the sanctity of the area and being able to support the families that still work and live there.”
“I can imagine. I’ve never been here. I find the lore of it fascinating.” Jordan sucked on her bite tube, drawing tepid water into her mouth. It didn’t cool her in any way, merely staved off the constant thirst caused by the amount of sweat pouring off her body.
“Stories from the ancients tell of how our people came to settle here. Two Hopi brothers traveled through, one returning and one continuing on to Hopi land to plant abundant corn. We are people of the blue-green waters because we have made our home near the one thing you can’t do without here…water.” Kelea raised her tanned face to the sun and closed her eyes briefly. “What’s your story, Jordan?”
“I’m trying to find a way to grow something without water.”
“You’ve set yourself up for an impossible task.” Kelea brushed her hand down Jordan’s arm. “Water is life and without it there is no growth.”
Jordan shivered at the light touch, despite the heat. It had been a very long time since she’d enjoyed the company of another woman or even noticed one with something that resembled desire. Kelea stirred something in her on a primal level, something she couldn’t understand. The dark eyes shimmered in the sun, and the easy companionship they experienced on their shared path unsettled Jordan.
As they continued down into the canyon, Kelea continued her gentle information probe. “Jordan. I like that name.”
Jordan smiled. “My given name is Jordan Moriah Armstrong. My mother’s family is from the country of the same name. When my parents decided to have kids, they talked about using Jordan as a first name, boy or girl.” Jordan smiled at the memory of her parents. Unfortunately, her father had passed away a few years ago. Losing him felt like her legs had been taken out from beneath her. Her mother had yet to recover and still grieved his loss. Dalia Armstrong had thrown herself into her work with the disabled children’s organization they’d started together. Her parents had worked tirelessly to raise funds to increase accessibility for those with disabilities, and her mother still immersed herself in that work.
“Where’d you go?” Kelea asked.
Jordan shook her head and smiled shyly into the dark, twinkling eyes. “I was thinking about my mom. Strongest woman I’ve ever met, next to my sister.”
“Sounds like you come from a long line of strong women.”
“That I do. How about you?”
“My dad is on the council circle and my mom and grandmother are medicine women.” Kelea brushed at a few strands of escaped hair.
“Really? I’d love to talk to your mom. I’m fascinated by Native American medicine.”
“I’m sure she’d love that. Will you stay with us one night? I’ll fix you dinner, and you can talk with my mother.”
Jordan felt Kelea’s smile was genuine. “I couldn’t impose on your family.”
“It’s no imposition. Please, stay with us.”
“Thank you, Kelea, I’d love to.”
They continued down the trail until they caught sight of the falls. The view took Jordan’s breath as they stopped.
“It’s still the most beautiful scene I’ve ever taken in, no matter where I go.” Kelea said, stepping close to Jordan.
“I’ve never seen it in person before, and I have to agree.”
They walked down to Kelea’s house. The small, wood-frame dwelling sat at the base of the canyon walls and was within a stone’s throw of what Kelea said was her parent’s house. They entered through a small opening in a stone hedge that surrounded the structure. The yard was so unlike the mowed lawns of the east coast. The desert landscape dotted the space with small scrub trees and sparse vegetation. Kelea showed her to a guest room and offered her the shower, while she went next door to tell her mother they would have a guest for dinner.
Jordan relished the hot shower, but wanted to be considerate of the resources in the area. She didn’t linger. It felt good to shed the red dust and grit of the trail. Once she’d dressed in a clean pair of swimming shorts and tank top, she exited to see Kelea coming out of her room in a short, silk robe. Jordan eyed a long expanse of thigh, along with an enticing triangle of burnished skin that showed between her breasts where the robe fell open. Jordan briefly took in the beautiful woman, before she returned her eyes to the dark ones that smiled at her with amusement.
“I hope those are swimming trunks you put on. As soon as I clean up, I’m headed to the falls for a swim. When I get home, I always have a need to immerse myself in the waters to wash away any bad spirits I may have carried in with me, or so I tell myself. We have horses we can ride over with.”
Jordan shook her head, trying to focus on Kelea’s eyes. “Well, you’d be correct, they are swim trunks. I like that idea. I hope it opens me up to find answers to the questions I have.”
“Give me a few minutes and we’ll go. There’s bottled water in the fridge, or beer if you’d like one.” Kelea pointed to the kitchen, as she made her way to the bathroom.
“Water sounds great. Even with all the water I drank, I feel a little dehydrated.”
“Help yourself. I’ll be right out.”
Kelea disappeared, and Jordan retrieved a bottle of water while she looked around the small house. Native American pottery peppered the tiny space, along with pictures of the area. A beautiful painting depicted a woman with long black hair floating on the breeze. She stood on a cliff top, wrapped in a colorful blanket. She bore a striking resemblance to Kelea. The Grand Canyon stretched before her, and to her side, a vision of the falls tumbling into a turquoise pool. Jordan took another drink of the cold water and ran the bottle along her forehead. She felt a soft hand on the small of her back. She used her bottle to point to the painting.
“You?”
Kelea stepped to her side and kept her hand in place. “Yes, my grandmother painted it when I was seventeen.”
Jordan looked at the woman beside her. She was truly beautiful. Her hair hung in damp strands around her shoulders. “She’s very talented.”
“Yes. She’s very accomplished.” Kelea held two towels in her free arm. “Ready to go for a swim? Dinner will be ready in a few hours, and Mom is expecting us. She actually said something strange.”
Jordan furrowed her brow and tilted her head. “What?”
Kelea squinted at her. “She said grandmother has been expecting you. Did you contact her before you came?”
“Does she work for the permit office? That’s the only person I talked to before I started out from home.”
“No, my mother has the clinic here at the falls and my grandmother retired when my mother took over. Currently, she’s an artist. Humm, we’ll have to ask her later. For now, let’s go enjoy a swim.” Kelea reached out her hand for Jordan’s and folded it into her own.
They walked down to a holding area to reach the horses. It was a short ride to a small side path that opened up to one of the most beautiful spectacles Jordan had ever seen. There were groups of people enjoying the pool, and someone dove off a rock ledge into the deepest part.
“Don’t even think about it. Raj has been diving for years.”
Jordan smiled and shrugged at Kelea. “I’ll take your word for it. Can’t say it didn’t cross my mind. I promise, I’ll settle for a swim.”
They tied the horses, and Kelea laughed as she led Jordan to the edge of the pool. She pulled off her pale-green T-shirt, exposing a white bikini.
Jordan was doing everything she could not to stare at the beautiful woman before her. She busied herself by taking off her own tank top. Before she’d pulled it completely over her head, soft fingers on her ribs caused her to shiver. She continued to undress and held the shirt in one hand while keeping her left arm up. She watched Kelea trace the lines of her tattoo, sliding along one of the wings.
Kelea looked into her
eyes. “It’s beautiful. In our culture, the phoenix is the symbol of renewal.”
Jordan shuddered against the gentle touch. “I got it a few years ago, a rebirth of sorts.”
“Painful rebirth, if the waves of energy coming off of you are any indication.” Kelea dropped her hand and walked into the pool of water. She spread her arms and dove under. She broke the surface and turned back to Jordan, wiping water from her face.
In more ways than I can even begin to explain. “You could say that.” Jordan followed Kelea in, and the two swam over to an area near the falls. They spent the next hour enjoying the spray and cooling off from the heat of the day. They went back to Kelea’s to clean up for dinner and walked the short distance to her mother’s. A short woman with long, gray hair and deep lines in her face met them at the door.
“Jordan, this is my grandmother, Maiah. The woman peeking out of the kitchen is my mother, Solanya. Addressing the others, she said, “This is Jordan Armstrong.”
Solanya walked out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a red and white dish towel. “Welcome, Jordan. Did you enjoy the falls?”
“Yes ma’am, I did. It’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been. I’ve never seen anything like it. Your daughter has been kind enough to play tour guide. She also generously offered a place for me to sleep instead of my tent. It’ll feel good to sleep in a real bed tonight.” Jordan watched Solanya look at her daughter with obvious affection.
“We’ve taught her to be a good host. I’m happy to meet you. Please come in, dinner is almost ready.” Solanya waved her hand and led them into a dining area where a formidable man sat at the head of the table.
