According to Legend

by Gerri Brousseau

  “Would you mind getting some water into that kettle while I look for a vase to put those lovely flowers in?” she called over her shoulder and then lent her attention back to her search.

  I took the kettle off the old-fashioned stove and went to the sink to fill it. Mrs. Warren found a vase and was busy arranging the flowers. “These are such lovely flowers. I especially enjoy the color yellow. Reminds me of autumn. Thank you again. You really didn’t have to go to such a fuss. You have been through so much lately.”

  “It was really no trouble at all, Mrs. Warren. I appreciate your being here for me.”

  Satisfied with the flower arrangement, she placed the vase in the center of the table and then went about getting the teacups. The table was set with beautiful old china and highly polished silver flatware. It appeared that Mrs. Warren was the one who had gone to all the trouble.

  “Have a seat, dear,” she said as the kettle began to whistle. “I’ll get the tea brewed and we can have a nice chat before dinner.”

  I sat at the table and turned my chair out so I could watch Mrs. Warren as she hastened about the kitchen. She moved with the grace of a much younger woman. She faced me with the tea tray in hand, and started toward the table.

  “Mrs. Warren, let me help you with that,” I said and started to get up.

  “Nonsense, I have it all under control. Sit, sit.”

  “Um, Mrs. Warren,” I stammered.

  “Please, dear, call me Agnes.”

  “Okay, um, Agnes,” I said. “You have a beautiful home, filled with such lovely antiques.”

  “I suppose one could say it’s a fringe benefit of being an expert in antiquities and the curator of a museum,” she said and then laughed.

  We were sipping tea and engaging in small talk. Agnes was telling me that the house had been in her family for hundreds of years and revealing some of its history when there was a knock at the kitchen door.

  “Now who could that be calling on me at the dinner hour?” she grumbled in irritation, almost under her breath.

  She meandered over to the door and parted the curtains to look out before opening it.

  Maybe she, too, is becoming more cautious after the events of the other night. A sly smile crossed her lips.

  “Well, well, well. What a nice surprise this is and such good timing!” she said. “Why, it’s David,” she continued, glancing at me over her shoulder. “You remember I mentioned my nephew, the dog trainer?”

  She opened the door and was nearly knocked off her feet as a huge gray and white dog bounded into the room. The dog rushed past her and made his way directly to me. He came and laid his large head in my lap. He looked up at me and wagged his tail. A slight whine came from his throat. My hand instinctively reached up to rub his ears as I looked down to his face to find he had one blue eye and one brown and a patch of black fur in the shape of an arrowhead over his strange eyes.

  “Half-Breed,” David scolded. “Where are your manners?”

  Chapter 7

  Looking down at the dog I wondered if I was having déjà vu. The dog raised his head. He was huge. We were eye-to-eye as I sat in the chair and he held my gaze again, just as he had in my dream while I sat in the canoe. Was this wolf-dog the same Half-Breed? He had that same knowing stare. I broke eye contact as I tried to hide my astonishment.

  David took his jacket off and hugged his aunt. “I’m so sorry,” he said to me. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him. He’s not such good advertisement for my dog training abilities.” He chuckled.

  David, ah, David. How am I to describe him? Of all that was dark and alluring about Running Wolf, was light and appealing about David. He was tall and muscular, with blond hair that was sort of un-kept but in a very attractive way, and when our gazes met, his deep blue eyes seemed to burn into my soul. He had full sensual lips and a brilliant smile that would have melted the Venus de Milo.

  “Pam Hastings, this is my nephew, David Conner.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” he said, extending his hand. He took my hand in a warm, firm handshake. “I really am sorry about Half-Breed. He is much better trained than this and . . . HE KNOWS BETTER!” He emphasized the last part while looking pointedly at the dog.

  “Really, it’s okay,” I said. “He’s fascinating.”

  “Actually, I’m a breeder and specialize in this particular type of dog. He’s half-wolf, thus the name, Half-Breed.” He smiled. He seemed proud of his own cleverness. I couldn’t take my eyes off his handsome face.

  “David,” Mrs. Warren started. Honestly, I was so taken with David that I had totally forgotten she was in the room. “Pam has recently had an attempted burglary at her home. Do you think that you would be willing to give up one of your dogs for her protection?”

  “Oh really, Mrs. Warren, that’s not necessary,” I said.

  “She can have Half-Breed here,” David said quickly.

  “Oh,” I stammered, “that would be too much to ask. I couldn’t.”

  “No, really, he’s a great dog and despite his ill-mannered introduction, he’s usually very well behaved.”

  I really didn’t want a dog but could this be Half-Breed? The same Half-Breed from my dream life. How could I not take him? What if he had been mysteriously sent to me by Running Wolf? My mind raced. I wished I could pick up the phone and give Running Wolf a call to ask him. What am I thinking? This is crazy! Then I realized that all eyes, even Half-Breed’s, were fixed on me waiting for my answer.

  “Well, I guess I could take him, just for a while, temporarily, I mean,” I finally said.

  “Then it’s all settled,” Agnes said.

  Half-Breed stuck his cold wet nose into my hand and as I patted his head, he licked my fingers. David smiled. “I think he really likes that idea.” I thought I heard him mumble under his breath, “Then again, who wouldn’t?”

  “David, we were just about to sit down to dinner. Why don’t you and Half-Breed join us?” Mrs. Warren asked.

  “Thank you, Auntie. That would be great.”

  We all sat around the table in the warmth of the cozy kitchen enjoying friendly conversation as we ate. It was wonderful, as if I were sitting with family. The food was delicious and I felt as if I had known David my entire life. He talked about his work breeding and training these special dogs and regaled us with funny stories. We seemed to be naturally drawn to each other as we spoke and laughed together. The evening flew by and before I knew it the old clock in the hallway chimed ten. Throughout the entire evening Half-Breed never left my side.

  “I better get going,” David said. “I have an early day tomorrow.” He stood up and grabbed his jacket off the coat hook. “Thanks, Auntie, for the delicious meal.” He leaned to give her a hug and warm peck on the cheek, then turned to me. “And the wonderful company.” There was that dazzling smile. “I can bring Half-Breed around to you tomorrow together with some of his things,” he said. “Or better yet, why don’t you drop by the kennel and I can show you around? We can go over to the park and I can give you a few pointers on working with him. I know he’s big, but with a little instruction I’m sure you can handle him.”

  “That would be great. What time would you like me to come by?” I asked.

  “How about around eleven? Would that be all right?”

  “That would be wonderful,” I said and a smile slipped over my lips.

  “Great! I look forward to seeing you then.”

  Although David had his jacket on and was standing with his hand on the doorknob, Half-Breed didn’t leave my side. “Half-Breed, you about ready to go, Bud?” David addressed the dog, who looked from David to me then tilted his head to the side.

  “It’s okay, Half-Breed,” I said to him. “You go with David and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Was it my imagination or did the wolf nod? I patted his head, then he licked my hand, stood, and trotted over to David.

  “This is wild. I’ve never seen him take to anyone this way and so fast,” David said. “But I have to admit he
has great taste in women.”

  The heat of a blush rose to my cheeks as I stood and walked over toward the door. “It was a pleasure to meet you,” I said to David, then shook his hand. I glanced down and saw Half-Breed sitting there with his paw raised. Reaching down I took his huge paw in my hand and shook it. “And a pleasure to meet you, too, Half-Breed.” I giggled. Much to my surprise, the wolf gave me a soft little Woof in reply.

  “Wow! He really does like you,” David reiterated. “Guess we’ll see you tomorrow at eleven.” With that, dog and master both left.

  “That was splendid,” Mrs. Warren commented, clasping her hands together. “It couldn’t have worked out better if I had planned it.”

  Didn’t you? Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Running Wolf had sent Half-Breed to protect me. Maybe I would ask him later tonight when I met him in my dreams. A warm, dreamy smile slid over my lips at the thought of that. The smile wasn’t lost on Mrs. Warren. “Ah, you like the dog or is it David that has you smiling?” She chuckled and the sting of my blush deepened.

  I helped her with the clean up and when I got back to the hotel it was almost midnight. I bet Running Wolf is wondering where the heck I am. My room was just as I had left it. I guess Mr. Harvey’s goons didn’t know where I was staying or maybe they wouldn’t brave an attack at the hotel. Either way, I was thankful for the reprieve. I took the catcher out of my purse and placed it on the bedside table, changed into my PJ’s and snuggled down into the oversized, comfy bed. After turning off the lamp on the night table, I picked up the dream catcher and, holding it in my hand, placed the artifact directly over my heart. I longed to be in the arms of my Indian Warrior. The catcher began to hum softly as I closed my eyes and drifted off.

  Chapter 8

  The beating of the drums, the enchanting sounds of wooden flutes, and melodic Indian chants filled the night air. The warmth of Running Wolf’s strong body behind mine and his arms encircling me as I leaned back into his embrace felt like magic.

  “The People give thanks to the Great Spirit for the bounty of our harvest. They ask the Great One to see us through the harsh winter by placing an offering of our harvest into the fire,” he whispered against my ear.

  The men of the tribe were dressed in deerskin leggings and tunics decorated with dried seeds and animal claws. They wore colorful feathers tied in their hair and chanted in a chorus that rose into the night sky as they danced around a blazing bonfire.

  This looks like a scene straight out of Dances with Wolves, I thought to myself and giggled.

  “Something amuses you?” Running Wolf asked.

  “Yes, I was just imagining myself joining in that dance, but somehow I don’t think I would be as graceful,” I answered and giggled again at the mere thought.

  “You may join them if you wish.”

  “No, this is perfect,” I answered, snuggling closer against his chest, feeling the heat of him against my back. Yes, this was perfect. Had I finally found the love I had spent my entire life seeking?

  “I yearn to leave now and take you to a more private place, but fear the People would think their Chief and Princess displeased with the offering to the Great Spirit,” he said.

  I desperately wanted to be alone with him and have his body and soul to myself, but I also knew he belonged to his People.

  As the dancers gathered around the fire, a figure moved from the shadow of darkness into the firelight. Although she had a dark, weathered face that bore the wrinkles of age, the reflection of the beautiful woman she must have been in her youth remained. She was wearing a traditional American Indian dress that spoke of pride and tradition. She carried a large, colorful basket nestled in the bend of her arm.

  “Who is that woman?” I asked.

  “Do you not recognize her? That is Weekatay.”

  Approaching the men positioned around the fire, Weekatay took dry corn stalks from her basket and handed one to each dancer in turn. The dancers faced Weekatay and began their dance around the fire, each dancer patting the ground with their stalks and then raising the stalks up above their heads, chanting as they circled the fire.

  “They give thanks first to our Mother the Earth for nurturing our crops and then offer thanks to the Great Spirit for bringing the harvest forth,” Running Wolf said without my asking the question.

  The drums stopped. Weekatay stepped toward the fire. With her arms raised over her head, she crossed the stalks in her hands and chanted. The dancers made a circle around the fire. Her chanting ceased and then in unison she and the dancers tossed their stalks into the fire. The fire blazed to life and sparks flew up into the black velvet night sky. I couldn’t draw my gaze away from the sight.

  “The Great Spirit is pleased with our offering,” Running Wolf whispered, “and will grant enough to see us through the cold time to come.”

  He stood and helped me to my feet. While still holding my hand, he addressed the People in their native tongue. Somewhere deep inside I knew he was thanking the earth for the yield, the Great Spirit, and the People. I was surprised to be able to understand his words. He was speaking as a Chief to his People, a People who looked up to him for guidance and direction, a People who respected him, and who revered him as their leader. My heart soared with pride. When he finished speaking, a cheer went up from the tribe.

  The atmosphere was that of a festival. Even though it was well after the late eve moon, the ceremony went on. He took my hand and guided me toward Weekatay.

  The old Indian woman smiled and stretched her hands out to take mine. “Welcome back, my daughter,” she said. “Tonight we have much to be thankful for, much to celebrate.” She guided me toward her. We embraced as if finding each other again after the separation of a long journey.

  Running Wolf whispered, “I will leave you.”

  I had seen this woman once before, but could not quite recall where or when, but I knew that I had a deep connection with her here in this dream life. Overcome with emotion, tears of joy welled up in my eyes and trickled down my cheeks.

  “Do not weep Takshawee, my daughter,” she said, though she, too, had wet cheeks.

  “Mother.” The word came rushing out in a whisper. “My eyes have waited so long to gaze upon you again and seeing you has opened my mind to what my life was here.” I realized then that the mystical Weekatay was the powerful, spiritual leader of this tribe and, in fact, the mother of the Indian Princess, Takshawee. I gasped when I realized the words that flowed fluently from my lips were spoken in the language of the Aloscotay People. Could this woman standing before me have actually been my mother? Or, could my mother, Pam’s mother, have been the spirit of Weekatay? In the brief moment that passed, confusion swirled like fog in my mind. How could I live in this time as well as in my present time?

  Weekatay laughed as if she could read my thoughts. “Are you pleased with the gift I gave to you at the fair? Have you had any more bad dreams?”

  “The gypsy woman . . . you . . . that was you? But how?”

  “Come, daughter, let us enjoy the festivities. We will eat with the People and then your husband, Moheeladeck, will take you to his lodge. Perhaps this night the Great Spirit will bless your union with a son.” She patted my hand as she escorted me toward the crowd that had gathered around their Chief.

  I was dumbfounded and my jaw dropped opened. Could that happen? I wondered. This is only a dream! And did she say husband?

  As we approached the group gathered around Running Wolf, I realized his tribal name spoken in the Aloscotay tongue was Moheeladeck, just as Mrs. Warren had said. He raised his eyes to meet mine as if he felt my presence before I had arrived.

  “Here at last is our Princess,” he said, and the People around him cheered. He took my hand and drew me to his side. “Everyone awaits us. Let us hurry for the celebration cannot begin until we arrive. Tonight we will enjoy this feast with our People.”

  A grin captured my lips when I realized that his People were my People as well.

&nb
sp; “Now that you have seen your mother, I trust your memory is returning. You now know you have obligations here in this time as well.”

  I nodded, realizing that this entire conversation was being spoken in a language that up until only a few moments ago had been completely foreign to me.

  We strolled together into an area set aside for the feast and the gathering parted as we approached. We were led to a colorfully decorated mat placed on the ground before a great fire that was set there for us. Meat roasted over the open flames and the tantalizing aroma of it made my stomach grumble. The mat was covered with many clay bowls filled with different types of food that also smelled delicious. Colorful gourds had been hallowed out and painted with animal shapes and were now filled with berries and nuts. An array of different types of squash, corn, and pumpkins lay appealingly on another mat. This feast rivaled memories of my best Thanksgiving meal.

  “We will sit here,” Running Wolf said.

  I took my place sitting beside him on a log placed close to the edge of the mat.

  “Takshawee, you are our guest of honor this night,” he said.

  “Guest of honor?”

  “Yes, the People celebrate your return,” he answered with a smile.

  Now that we had arrived and were seated, the festivities could begin. There was eating, drinking, game playing, singing, and storytelling. It was a magical night. When the festivities started to die down, Moheeladeck stood and took my hand. He said goodnight to his People and we made our way out of the circle of celebration. He led me down a small path to his lodge.

  As we walked, I asked him, “Did you send Half-Breed to protect me?”

  “Yes, you are safe when you are here with me, but I can’t protect you in your time. Does this displease you?”

  “No, I love that you have done this. Thank you, Moheeladeck,” I said as I slipped my arms around his neck.