by Eva Pohler
Sidney offered each of them his hand. “It’s good to see you again. This is my wife, Sheila Ann.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” they said to her.
“Likewise,” Sheila Ann said as she, too, shook each of their hands.
“Please have a seat,” Sidney said, motioning to the sofa facing the one where he and his wife had been sitting.
Ellen and Tanya sat on either side of Sue.
“I want to apologize again for my rude behavior in New Orleans,” Sidney said as he took his seat beside his wife.
“We understand,” Sue said. “But we’re curious to hear what changed your mind.”
“Well, it wasn’t any one thing,” Sidney said. “It started with that white buffalo fur. When I bumped into it at the dance, it felt almost like I’d touched a live wire.”
Ellen lifted her brows and glanced at her friends. “Then you are the rightful owner.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what that means,” he said.
“The Blackfeet believe that the Creator chooses who can and can’t kill the rare white buffalo,” Ellen explained. “The person who kills the buffalo cannot sell the hide. The hide belongs to him until he passes it on to a relative after he dies. Rabbit—that is, your grandfather—was unable to receive the hide from his father or to pass it on to his son. Since you are the only living son of his son, it belongs to you.”
“I see,” Sidney said.
“I shouldn’t have interrupted,” Ellen said. “Please finish what you were saying.”
“All right, then,” Sidney said. “Well, I still didn’t think much of your story, even after that strange feeling at the benefit. But then Brian McManius called me yesterday morning and told me all about you three ladies—how you found his missing brother when no one, not even the FBI, could help him.”
The memories of her time in Portland swept over Ellen, reminding her of the days when she’d first began to fall for Brian. She felt her cheeks grow warm.
“Then he told me what you’ve been up to here in Montana,” he said.
“I find it very fascinating,” Sheila Ann said. “Especially the part about the rods pulling you from a boat and into the river where Sidney’s grandfather lay!”
“Look at you getting all the credit,” Sue teased Ellen.
Sidney said, “Brian convinced me that it wouldn’t hurt to check out your story by simply looking at my parents’ birth certificates. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that my father had no birth certificate. Instead, there were adoption records. He’d been adopted from the Ursuline nuns.”
Ellen scooted to the edge of the couch and leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. “But that didn’t prove that you are descended from the Blackfeet.”
“No,” he said.
Sheila Ann also leaned forward. “But we’d just been told your story—about Sister Alma and Rabbit.”
Sidney patted his wife’s hand. “I called the convent and asked them to look into my father’s records. The mother superior didn’t know anything about it. They aren’t an orphanage, you see. They don’t normally take in unwanted infants and adopt them out. But she did some digging, and she found the admission records from 1909 confirming that an Ursuline nun returned from Holy Family Mission with an orphaned baby boy.”
“That cemented it for us,” Sheila Ann said.
“Well, what cemented it for me was a dream I had while napping yesterday afternoon—at least, I think it was a dream. I didn’t know I’d fallen asleep.”
“He dreamed of the white buffalo,” Sheila Ann explained.
Ellen glanced excitedly at her friends.
“Did the white buffalo speak to you?” Sue asked.
“He did. He said he was glad to finally meet me.” Sidney Longfellow wiped a tear from his eye.
Chapter Eighteen: The Vision Quest
Monday evening, the shuttle dropped Ellen, Sue, Tanya, and the Longfellows near the thick pines surrounding the Badger-Two Medicine. As they’d been instructed to do, they carried nothing with them, not even their phones. Waiting for them on the side of the road were Rich Falcon and Karen Murray. They had blankets and skins draped across their shoulders and backs. They handed a skins and blankets to Ellen and each member of her party. Ellen was glad to wrap herself in them, for the evening air was cold.
After introductions were made between the Blackfeet and the Longfellows, Karen led their party down the hill to the valley below as she explained about collecting the materials for their sweat lodge. Ellen noticed four other groups of six to eight people also building sweat lodges near the Missouri River. She recognized many of the people from the Sun Dance that had taken place two weeks before. Chief Eric Old Person, Jack Stone, and Terry Murray were among them.
Once the willow branches had been chosen and cleaned of leaves, Karen and Rich built the frame while the others spread the sage and collected the rocks. Then Rich built a fire while Karen helped them to cover the frame with the blankets and hides.
Carrying a pipe and a canteen and wearing a colorful robe across her shoulders, Karen climbed into the newly built sweat lodge and sat facing the door. Rich held open the flap so the others could climb inside and have a seat. As before, they sat crossed legged in a circle with their knees touching. Rich completed the circle near the door and closed the flap, covering them with darkness.
A rustling sound was soon followed by the strike of a match. The light of the match illuminated Karen’s face as she lit her pipe on one end and sucked air from the other. In the small circle of light, Karen’s face appeared transformed. She no longer looked like Karen the provost of the community college or Karen the public relations representative of the tribe or Karen the tribal secretary; she looked like Karen the medicine woman, and she looked like a bad ass.
In the next moment, Karen blew out the match, and her face disappeared in the darkness.
“The purpose of this purification ceremony is to prepare our bodies to receive messages from our spirit guides,” Karen said. “We fast and suffer the challenges of the elements for four days and four nights to make our bodies worthy and open. Before we begin with the first round, please state why you are here seeking a vision. I’ll begin.”
Ellen heard Karen draw from the pipe. As she exhaled, she said, “I seek a vision that will help me to protect this sacred land, home of my ancestors, from being violated or tainted by modern technology.”
The pipe was suddenly thrust into Ellen’s lap. She put the end of it to her lips and sucked in the smoke. Slowly she exhaled. “I seek a vision that will show me how to help Rabbit and Crow Woman to find peace. I also seek guidance in finding my own personal peace.”
Sue and Tanya echoed Ellen’s words, and Rich Falcon echoed Karen’s.
When it was Sidney’s turn to speak, he said, “I seek a vision that will help me to better understand my Indian heritage.”
Sheila Ann took the pipe and drew from it. Then, in a shaky voice, she said, “I need guidance in how to carry on.”
Ellen heard sniffles in the darkness, and when Rich Falcon opened the flap to place coals in the center of the lodge, Ellen caught a glimpse of the other faces. It was a quick glimpse, for when Karen poured the medicine water onto the coals, Rich dropped the flap, and the coals sizzled as steam filled the room. But it had been enough of a glimpse to see that Sidney and Sheila Ann were weeping.
Karen said. “Now we pray for thanks.”
Karen and Rich began to sing a song in their native tongue as the pipe was passed around a second time. Rich added more coals. Karen doused them with medicine water. The steam thickened. And more prayers were sung. Then Karen began to chant the four beats of crow and four beats of wolf that Ellen recalled from her last purification ceremony. Ellen and the others joined the chanting.
Ellen could feel the effects of the medicine in the pipe and the steam. Her neck and shoulders relaxed. She felt mellow, almost sleepy. She closed her eyes and opened her heart to the spirits.
T
he pipe had gone around five times when Karen stopped chanting. The others followed suit.
“Let me tell you what to expect on your vision quest,” Karen said. “I will give you each a small pipe with some tobacco, sweet grass, and sage. Then I will lead you across the river and up the mountain, where you should go off on your own to await your vision.”
Sue cleared her throat. “Are we really expected to go without food and water for four whole days?”
“If you can’t make it,” Rich began, “you can always return to the camp. We have food and water here and helpers, who will be praying for us.”
“But push yourself,” Karen said. “We deprive ourselves of food and water so that our bodies are more like the spirits. It makes it easier for us to see them and to hear them.”
“And if you get your vision before the fourth day,” Rich said, “you can come down early, break your fast, and pray with the helpers.”
“But if you don’t,” Karen said, “listen for the conch. At the end of the fourth day, one of the helpers here at the camp will blow a conch, just before sunset. When you hear that, then you’ll know that it’s time to return from the mountain.”
“Then we’ll break our fast and caravan over to Talks to Buffalo Lodge for the burial ceremony,” Rich said.
“And we’ll begin the burial ceremony by sharing our visions with the community,” Karen said.
Outside the tent, a drum began to beat a quick, steady rhythm.
“Before we join the others for the trek up the mountain,” Karen said, “I will pray over you. I pray for your strength to endure the trials of this journey, and I pray for the willingness of the spirits to give us their messages.”
Karen then said a string of syllables in her native language. When she’d finished, Rich Falcon opened the flap to the door of the lodge and stepped outside. Then he helped the others to do the same.
The sun had already set, and darkness covered the Two-Badger Medicine, but the light from the emerging stars above, along with a nearly full moon, offered enough light to see by. A chill in the air made Ellen shiver as she wrapped her cable-knit cardigan more tightly around her. She envied the tribal members in their thick jackets and robes.
She now saw the helpers sitting on blankets near their sweat lodges with their campfires. They were singing to the beat of the drum as the other groups marched toward the river.
Rich gave each of the questers in their group a small pipe already filled with dried herbs, a pillar candle standing about six inches tall and three inches in diameter, and a matchbook.
“No water, flashlight, or first aid kit, I suppose?” Sue asked playfully.
“Sorry,” Rich said.
“I hope we won’t regret this,” Ellen whispered to Sidney and Sheila Ann.
“I find it rather exciting,” Sheila Ann replied. “I just hope I’m capable of making the journey. These old legs aren’t what they used to be.”
Karen, who had overheard, said, “You don’t have to do this, if you don’t feel you can. You can remain here and pray for the others.”
“I want to go,” Sheila Ann said.
“The helpers will be keeping an eye out for us,” Rich explained. “They’ll be able to see us on the mountainside from the camp. If you get into trouble, just wave a match, and someone will come to help you.”
“That’s good to know,” Tanya said.
Karen led their group behind the other questers, who were already hiking through a shallow part of the river. Ellen and Tanya followed Karen. Sue and Sheila Ann went at a slower pace. Rich and Sidney helped them along. Fortunately, they were the last group, so they weren’t holding anyone up.
“There’s no bridge?” Tanya asked Rich when they reached the river.
“There’s nothing here that wasn’t already here ten thousand years ago,” he said.
Sue scoffed. “I doubt these trees are that old.”
“No, but they look exactly like the trees that our people looked upon in the very beginning.”
“Or so you think,” Sue argued. “Since you weren’t here to see it for yourself.”
Rich laughed. “Or so we believe. Yes.”
Ellen followed Karen into the river. The water, which reached their shins, was freezing cold.
“Geez Louise!” Ellen cried.
“What have you and Sue gotten me into?” Tanya complained beside her.
“Wait up, you two,” Sue said. “I hear you talking about me.”
“Oh, dear!” Sheila Ann squealed. “I wasn’t expecting it to be this cold in July!”
“Speak up if you want to turn back,” Karen said from the front of their line.
Tanya said, “I wonder how long it will take our pants and shoes and socks to dry.”
“They may not dry completely,” Rich said, “but it’s part of the suffering we endure to prepare ourselves to receive the vision.”
Ellen glanced back at her friends, who were frowning.
Once they’d crossed the river, Karen said, “From here on out, please refrain from talking, unless it’s an emergency. If you listen carefully, you will hear the others singing one of our traditional songs. You can hum along, if you’d like, or you can pray silently as we hike up the mountain.”
The mountainside was steep. Ellen found herself huffing and puffing in no time at all. She prayed for the strength to endure, and she prayed for the strength of the others, too.
Despite the cool night, sweat formed on Ellen’s face and neck. They hiked for what felt like an hour before the drumming stopped. Karen turned to Ellen and the others and told them to find a place to sit or lie down to smoke and pray alone.
Ellen hugged her friends for luck. Sue looked like she was going to pass out but said nothing before they went their separate ways, disappearing among the pines and cypress trees.
There were no trails as Ellen picked her way through the woods, searching for a spot. She didn’t want to go too far, afraid that she wouldn’t be able to find her way back. The songs of the helpers below reassured her as she found a flat rocky spot and sat down.
First, she lit her candle. Then she lit her pipe. She gazed up at the bright stars overhead and asked the spirits to speak. As if in answer, a lone wolf howled across the mountainside. Ellen wondered if it came from an actual wolf, or if the sound had been made by one of the Indians.
If someone had asked her five years ago, before she bought the Gold House, if she would ever go on a vision quest to commune with spirits in the mountains, she would have laughed. It was interesting to compare the woman she was then to the woman she was now, even if the woman she was now wasn’t fully formed.
She lay back on the flat rock and closed her eyes. She was so tired and cold and hungry. At some point, she fell asleep.
She was awakened when something cold pressed against her neck. At first, she thought it was a small dog—a long-haired Dachshund. Brown round eyes seemed to smile up at her. But when she reached out to pet him, saying, “Well, hello, there,” she realized it wasn’t a dog but a little red fox.
Instantly, she thought of Crow Woman and Cute Fox. Could this animal, who felt as real as she did, be a spirit animal? And, if so, could it possibly be Cute Fox?
“Nolan is trying to reach you,” the fox said. “He has important news.”
The fox licked her cheek and ran away.
Ellen lay back, stunned. She stared at the bright stars and the nearly full moon overhead, wondering how long she had been asleep before awakened by the fox. It occurred to her that she might still be asleep. She pinched herself.
Then, the white buffalo, tall and luminous and stately, walked up beside her and gazed down at her. The stars twinkled behind him, and the bright moon made a halo of light around his horns.
“Am I dreaming?” she asked. “Or am I awake?”
“What’s the difference?” he said.
Ellen thought about his answer as the buffalo walked away.
“Wait!” she called to him as she sat up.
“Where are you going?”
“To talk to my grandson,” he said. “Thanks to you.”
She watched him, transfixed by his grace and luminous glow, as he disappeared in the trees.
At that moment, she saw something in the tree nearest her. It was a large bird—a great horned owl. He had huge yellow eyes and two tufts of feathers set high on his head, resembling horns. His feathers were brown, with dark brown spots, except for those at his throat, which were white.
She’d seen him before.
He said, “You awake? Me tooooo. You awake? Me tooooo.”
“Did you come here all the way from Boulder City?” she wondered out loud.
The owl shook his head from side to side.
“I follow youuuu,” he said. “I follow youuuuu.”
“Ellen?”
Ellen turned toward the sound of her name to find Paul standing a few feet away in the light of the moon. He wore the suit he’d been buried in. His blue eyes glistened beneath the stars and his peach lips parted into a grin,
He looked so much like his old self that, for a moment, she wondered if his death, and all that had happened after, had been a dream. Maybe she was just waking up from a very strange dream and Paul was here to take her home.
“Are you alive?” she finally asked.
“My spirit is,” he said.
Disappointment washed over her. “Oh.” Then she asked, “Haven’t you moved on? Aren’t you at peace?”
“Yes, Ellen. I am at peace. But I need you to find peace, too.”
Her stomach clenched into a knot as she wondered if she, too, had passed from the world of the living. “Am I dead?”
“Not physically,” he said. “But your spirit is languid and needs a reboot. Isn’t that why you’re here?”
“I suppose so,” she said. “Why are you here?”
