by D C Young
“We’d seen him from time to time since then. All through the twentieth century he moved from tribe to tribe assimilating into the community when he thought they needed him the most and serving as an elder before either faking his death or just disappearing. He still wants to help and lead his people. But he fell off our radar around 1955.”
“What did he tell you?”
“He said that the ground north of the Cannonball River in North Dakota had been disturbed and a spirit that had been bound there for over five hundred years has been released from its ancient prison. He warned us that as ravenous as the creature was bound to be after so many centuries of imprisonment, it would be hunting immortals to slake its appetite before turning its wrath back onto its usual human prey.”
“Oh! He means us doesn’t he?”
“Precisely.”
“So you weren’t planning to give me a heads up at all?”
“Why do you think I asked you here? A group the size of ours is what would draw the wendigo to the hazards of the city. According to Lone Horn, the few hundred protesters at Sacred Stone have already driven it south into the reservation.”
“But you’re headed for Montana! That’s closer to it than L.A.”
“Yes, Samantha. Surely, you don’t think we’re running. I haven’t ran from anything since my son tried to kill me two thousand years ago. We are forming a front of attack, unless we move forward in offense, the creature may sense the growing aura that surrounds New Orleans or turn east towards New York. You’re headed to North Dakota which is putting you in the belly of the beast, so to speak, but that is why Lone Horn will be going with you.”
“What? I’m sure you understand I’m going to the reservation to conduct an investigation for the Standing Sioux. I don’t need Lone Horn’s help, I work alone.”
“Not this time. As long as the wendigo is loose on the reservation, all bets are off. Lone Horn is going with you. He needs to locate the creature and lure it west so we can deal with it. He won’t be there to get in your way but while you’re in clear and present danger, he’ll be able to keep you safe from an ambush. He knows the creature’s tactics, how much do you know about wendigo?”
Sam shrugged, conceding to Julia’s logic. She had a job to do for White Eagle and him dealing with a dead vampire would be far from what he bargained for.
“Alright, alright. Where is he? I hope he’s at least ready to go.”
“Lone Horn is in Bismarck. He’ll meet you at the country store on the north side of Backwater Bridge on route 1806.”
“Perfect!”
“Safe travels, Samantha.”
“Thank you, Julia.”
***
It was a long and uncomfortable flight.
When the plane finally touched down in Bismarck, Sam disembarked with every bit of energy she could muster and headed straight for the ground transportation terminal.
Thankfully, the black SUV she had reserved was waiting for her; equipped with the dark tinted windows, Bluetooth and on-board navigation she had requested. Sam laid her laptop bag on the passenger seat and reached into the side pocket of her purse to retrieve her cell phone. She placed the bag on the center console.
After double checking the addresses on her phone, Sam turned on the navigation system and entered three destinations into the memory; Sacred Stone Camp, Prairie Knights Casino and Resort and Fort Yates. The unit sprang to life.
Turn left and head northwest on University Drive…
She would have to cross over to the west bank of the Missouri River before starting her journey south towards the reservation. It was a total of forty-six miles and about an hour’s drive on the slower county roads. With the two hour time difference the afternoon was getting old and she had a lot to get done before calling it a day.
Sam fought the traffic and unfamiliar roads until she arrived in downtown Mandan. When she turned the car off East Main Street and onto 6th Avenue SE, she breathed a sigh of relief. A few minutes later, Sam was crossing over the Heart River and finally headed south on route 1806. The reservation lay ahead waiting for her arrival.
***
Tammy sat in the shade of the front porch looking out at the street in front of their house. It was almost time for Anthony to get to the gym for his boxing lesson and Mary Lou had promised to take her window shopping for shoes while they waited for him. It was a huge change from having to wait for her brother and her mom in the smelly gym while they both did their workouts.
She’d gotten dressed and brushed her hair, grabbed a Pop Tart from the cupboard and went to sit outside to wait for the others. It was a sunny day but the autumn breezes were nice and cool. They carried the scents of the last summer flowers with them. She could smell the faint scent of orange blossoms, gardenias and Californian Buckwheat; all of which she loved.
Tammy leaned back on one hand as she polished off the second pastry. Satisfied but thirsty, she made a move to get up and grab a drink from the kitchen when suddenly it seemed something had blocked the sun out. Everything around her was draped in a sort of eerie temporary darkness making colors appear washed out and shadows grey. The sounds around her were echoes of their true tones and sounded far away.
Then, she heard a clear voice through the veil. It was Black Elk calling her by that strange name again.
“Ishta?” Though it had all startled her, she recognized the voice and the face which appeared instantly and did her best to calm herself so she could listen. After all, the story the old man had told her before had been sort of interesting, though she had no clue why it had been told to her.
“I’m here, Black Elk,” Tammy replied, settling back on her hands to take in the vision that was being forced upon her. “You have another story to tell me?”
“Yes, my dear.”
“Okay, I’m listening.”
“Long ago, when the Kaga were making war against the Pawnee,” the old man began. There was no preliminary discussion like there had been when Tammy had entered into the vision with Black Elk before. The old man went straight to the point. She couldn’t help but feel that he was in a hurry to tell her something but Tammy was finding it hard to figure out the point behind the stories.
“The wind of the north arrived before the season of the wind of autumn completed its time. The wind of autumn, being a fickle sort, did not protest, but let the north wind have its way. Many of those who had gone to war returned home to their lodges and their women, but seven men continued forward until they came to a river. They would have crossed it, but one of the warriors had become weary and wished to rest saying he could go no further.
“The seven warriors settled on the bank of the river, building for themselves a hut out of brush. From their hut, they were able to go out and hunt for buffalo, so they decided to wait out the season of the north wind.
“While hunting, one of the men ran against a thorny bush. A thorn from that bush broke off in his leg and he struggled back to the hut and the thorn was pulled from his leg. Though the thorn was no longer in his leg, his leg swelled to two times, and then to three times its normal size. The other warriors remained with their wounded brother through the seasons of three winds and cared for him in the hut.
“Before the north wind came a second time, the warrior’s leg split open and a beautiful female child came forth. Amazed by the way that the child came to them, they determined to stay beside the river together and care for the child. They passed her one to another, like men pass a pipe and each came to love her. They gave their clothing and their blankets to wrap her in and they formed a cradle from the skin of a panther and they called her Thorn Girl.
“The child was beautiful and word spread of her across the plain. They continued to hunt and care for the child killing many elk. They made a dress for her from the skins and sowed the teeth of the elk upon it which made it sparkle.
“Wazeya heard of the child and sent Magpie to inquire after her, asking for the hand of the girl in marriage. The men refused bec
ause the child was too young and they loved her too much.
“Wazeya sent Chickadee, hoping that the charm of the tiny bird would be able to sway the men into giving away the child in marriage. In spite of the little bird’s pleading, the warriors refused once more.
“Wazeya sent Chickadee again, plead with them. Chickadee was refused again, but fearing the anger of Wazeya, when it returned, it said, ‘They are dressing her in fine clothing. Perhaps they will send her to you.’
“Wazeya did not believe the little bird. ‘Perhaps it would be better if you sent another in my place, for I have no slick tongue with which to speak. They can barely hear my voice at all.’
“So, Wazeya sent Fire Owner, a bird with orange on his head and orange on his wings. Fire Owner’s song was so sweet that none could ever refuse him. So, when he came to the warriors and asked for the hand of the child for marriage, the seven fell under his trance and gave her up to Wazeya.
“Many seasons of winds came and passed and Thorn Girl lived with Wazeya, who clothed her in painted buffalo robes. The seven warriors remained in the hut beside the river and mourned the loss of their beautiful child. They refused to be comforted.
“While hunting, Wakinyan stooped to drink from the river and noticed the hut on its bank. He went to the hut and called out to the warriors. ‘I have drank from the river, but I would eat meat from your fire if you have it?’
“‘You may eat all the meat you desire,’ they responded. So, Wakinyan settled in beside their fire and fed himself until he was full. When he reclined himself after eating, he noticed that a dark shadow rested upon the face of all seven of the warriors. ‘What troubles such great warriors? Why are you alone here and not with your people?’
“The warriors told him of Thorn Girl and how they had been tricked into giving her up to Wazeya. As the story was told to him, Wakinyan’s fury grew. The Chosen Warrior of the Ancient One would not allow the injustice to go unpunished. ‘I will go to Wazeya, take Thorn Girl from him and bring her back to you.’
“Wakinyan came to the lodge of Wazeya while Wazeya was out hunting. The moment he saw Thorn Girl, he was in love with her. With the help of Black Bird, he convinced her to leave Wazeya with him, promising that he would return her to the seven warriors who loved her.
“‘I will go with you,’ Thorn Girl told him. She gathered what she needed for her journey and was following Wakinyan away from the lodge of Wazeya when Wazeya returned. ‘The Chosen Warrior of the Ancient One is now become a thief?’ Wazeya protested when he saw them.
“‘He who stole her from her home through trickery when she was too young to marry dares to question me?’
“The two charged at one another, just as they had on the northern plain when the Ancient One created assigned the seasons of the winds. The battle raged as it did before, but Wakinyan had grown much more powerful than Wazeya through the years, for he had been a youth when the Ancient One had chosen him. Wakinyan threw Wazeya to the ground so hard that a deep pit was formed. Upon this deep pit, Wakinyan placed a huge stone to keep him in place.
“Then he struggled against the stone, Wazeya was unable to move the stone off of him. His struggles caused the earth to rumble and shake all along the plain, but he could not get free. Wakinyan, though he had promised to return Thorn Girl to the seven warriors, kept her for himself.
“As the seasons passed, the sadness of Thorn Girl deepened because of the promise Wakinyan had broken. Her sadness only made the sadness of Wakinyan deeper until he eventually called upon Black Bird to return Thorn Girl to the seven warriors.
“Thorn Girl was returned to the warriors and they continued to love her until she was grown from a child into a woman. Wakinyan sent Magpie to ask for her hand in marriage, but Thorn Girl refused him because Wakinyan had broken his promise to her.
“Wakinyan loved Thorn Girl so much that the heart of the Chosen Warrior of the Ancient One went out of him. Without his heart, the strong warrior withered away into what he had been previously, a falcon. He took to the air as he had before and flew over the plain watching over Thorn Girl with his sharp eyes. Until today, his sharp screech continues to fill the skies above the plain.”
The, just as he had before, Black Elk looked deep into Tammy’s soul when he finished his story, but he said no more. She started to ask him why he had told her the story, but the moment she did, Tammy found herself back on her front porch in a world full of color and sound again.
“Tammy, you ready?” Mary Lou called from inside.
“Ummm, yeah Aunt Louie. I’m out front waiting for you guys.”
She sat up and dusted her hands off, realizing she was still very thirsty. As she stood up to head inside for a drink, Tammy thought of Black Elk’s story and shook her head.
What the hell was that about?
Chapter Five
White Eagle walked into his office at the tribal offices on North Standing Rock Avenue and placed his briefcase quietly on the desk. He was early. It was 6a.m. and besides security and the custodian, he was alone.
After printing and highlighting all the suspicious murders in the region, he’d painstakingly come up with a plan. As traditional as some of the tribal leaders were, White Eagle knew there was no way he could just waltz into any of their offices and nonchalantly announce how the Great Chief Black Elk came to him in a dream to tell him a wendigo was on the loose. They would commit him to the psych ward at Sanford Medical immediately and he wouldn’t fault them for it either. It was a crazy story; no matter how true.
Whatever the Chairman’s thoughts on the folder full of gruesome headlines he had put together, White Eagle knew he had to get to Sacred Stone Camp. He needed the best medicine man the tribe had to offer and that was Black Buffalo. If anyone would know what to do it would be that old Sioux.
Black Buffalo had organized a Ghost Dance in the middle of October after police had made a slew of protester arrests in Morton County. A week later, several representatives from Amnesty International arrived at Sacred Stone Camp to observe police activity. His influence was spreading, even among the non-Native American people at the camp.
His plan was basic but multi-layered.
He would simply ask the Chairman if he could spend the next few days out in the field observing the situation at the protester's camp. He didn’t see why permission wouldn’t be granted but if that turned out to be the case; he was prepared to take the metaphysical road and explain his theory about the disturbance of the burial grounds at Cannonball and their connection to the new wave of murders in the area.
One by one his colleagues arrived at the office and took their respective desks or usual morning spot at the coffee maker or lunch room table. When Harriet White foot, The chairman’s secretary came in she announced that the entire Executive body would be in Washington D.C. for the rest of the week presenting to Congress on the pipeline situation.
White Eagle breathed a sigh of relief.
He picked up his folder and briefcase and walked up to Harriet’s desk. “I’m heading out to Sacred Stone today. I might be there for a day or two.”
“Why, White Eagle? Is something about to go down out there?” she asked, concerned.
“I’m not sure, Harriet. I’ve been getting the strangest feeling about what’s happening in Cannon Ball. Just thought I’d go sit for a while with Black Buffalo and the other leaders and get a sense of how they feel the protests are affecting the cause, if at all.”
“It’s a good idea. Go ahead, I’ll send the Chairman a text. Keep me posted on your thoughts on the situation and your findings.”
“Will do, Harriet. Thanks.”
The best plans are the simplest ones I guess, White Eagle thought as he opened his car door, got in and headed North towards the camp.
***
It only took Sam an hour to get to the Cannon Ball Ranch. She slowed the car down as she caught sight of heavy machinery stalled in the fields like giant monuments. Crows circled over them as if watching for any sign
of movement.
What in hell is going on here?
The cross road where she would meet up with Lone Horn was just a few miles on down the road. Putting the sunglasses back over her eyes, Sam rolled up the window and pulled back onto route 1806. A few minutes later, the outline of an old building came into view. There were a couple of gas pumps and a tall sign out front that read: CROSSROAD SERVICE STATION. The building was covered in the oldest Coca-Cola signs Sam had ever seen hanging on a business place that was still open to customers. The whole place looked as if it had been plucked from a Route 66 documentary.
A tall, well built Native American man stood leaning up outside the door; his eyes focused on his boots. Sam pulled up to one of the gas pumps and popped the car’s gas cap. The man let the cloud of dust from the road settle before looking up at her and taking the hat from his head. He met her half way to the car.
“You Samantha Moon?”
“Yessir. You’re Lone Horn, I presume?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Sam’s expression was a puzzled one. She looked briefly to the sun high in the sky then back at the man. The gestured question was not lost on Lone Horn and he responded with a laugh.
“I could ask the same of you, Miss Moon. But just as I have my story as to why I am not reduced to ash by the sun’s rays, I am sure that you too have yours. It will give us something to talk about on the way to Prairie Knights.”
“True enough,” Sam responded smiling. “You’re welcome to sit in the car while I go pay for the gas.”
“Never!” Lone Horn replied, sounding a little offended. “I don’t know how they do things in Los Angeles but a gentleman never lets a lady pump her own gas.”
