Conflict (Crossover Series)

by Socha, Walt

  Alta looked at the tray and then at Joe. Brow furrowed, she pointed to a glass of water.

  Joe spoke the sounds in his head. “Water.” He picked up the glass and took a sip, and then held it out.

  Alta reached, eyeing the glass. Her fingers brushed Joe’s and her eyes flicked to his. She looked back to the glass and drew it slowly from Joe’s grasp. The young girl gulped the water without stopping and drew in a long breath. Then she put the empty glass back in Joe’s hand. “Eat, Alta.” Joe set the glass on a nearby chair, speared a couple of green beans from a bowl with a fork, and popped them in his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, and smiled.

  “Your turn.” He handed the fork to Alta handle first. Alta ignored the fork and took the bowl with one hand. She then used the other to grab a handful of the green beans and stuffed them into her mouth. “Alta, we... “ Kristi started to say.

  “It’s okay,” Joe interrupted. “I don’t think Alta knows what a fork is.”

  “Look, I heard you ran into some strange people the day before yesterday.” Kristi shifted her glance from Alta to Joe. “If this young girl can’t understand English and doesn’t know about eating utensils, then where is she from?”

  Alta paused to look at Joe then at Kristi. Then she started on the potatoes.

  “I’m just as bewildered as you,” Joe said. “If you can get her confidence, maybe you can give her a preliminary checkup after she’s done eating?” He nodded towards the girl’s feet. “Maybe check those scratches?”

  “Certainly.” Kristi focused her attention back to the child. “Here, Alta, let’s work on this glass of milk.”

  Joe got up and, after waiting a few seconds to check that Alta was content to be left alone with Kristi, returned to the sheriff and Alex.

  “Mr. Kuruk, to which tribe does the little girl belong?” the sheriff asked. “She was like a wild animal when we found her. No response to English or Spanish.”

  “Sorry sir,” Joe said. “But I really don’t know. I just seem to pick out a few words.” Of a language he’d never heard. “Well, you did better than us. And Dr. Khoury seems to be doing okay as well.”

  The men looked back to where Alta was finishing up the dinner tray with Kristi.

  “Going to take her in to Children’s Services.” The sheriff paused to run his fingers through thinning hair. “But I may wait ‘til tomorrow. The girl seems calm now. Shit, at first she fought like a wild thing. Then she went practically catatonic.” He sighed. “I don’t want to put her through that again.”

  “Alex, can I impose on you to talk Dr. Khoury into taking care of the child overnight?” the Sheriff said to the ranch manager. “I’ll make arrangements with the Children and Family Services Division first thing in the morning.” “Sure.” Alex faced Joe. “Perhaps you can get more information out of the child this evening?”

  Joe looked from Alex to the sheriff, and then back to Alex. “Yes sir.” Would these guys even believe any information he might get?

  The sheriff started to turn away, and then stopped to stare at Joe. “You didn’t hear this from me, but the continent-wide count on deceased medicine elders is over two hundred. And there are unconfirmed reports of similar occurrences in Central America and in West Africa. Any thoughts?”

  Joe stared at him for a moment. The last thing he needed was to get involved with some conspiracy nonsense about indigenous spiritual leaders and fatal ceremonies. “No sir. I can’t think of any connection between my experience on Sunday and Medicine Elders. I only saw killings.” He looked over his shoulder. Alta was walking toward them with her hand in Kristi’s. “And that young girl being chased.”

  Chapter 5. Tuesday Late

  Joe knocked and, at a muffled reply, opened the door to Kristi’s cabin. Inside, Alta sat on a sofa. Kristi stood behind her, combing Alta’s hair. The young girl wore a plaid skirt and white sleeveless blouse that contrasted with her long black hair, now glistening in the light from a nearby table lamp.

  “I heard you were sick,” said Joe in Alta’s language. “Are you feeling better?” He squinted as he entered the brightly lit room. He shifted a desk chair closer to her then paused. What was her culture’s personal space? He repositioned the chair a few inches further away and sat. “Yes, honored Joe.” She rose, took Joe’s right hand, and lifted it to her forehead. “Thank you again. Save me from warrior.” She lowered herself back on the sofa. “Please, just call me Joe.”

  “It was my blunder.” Kristi drew in a deep breath. “Alta is lactose intolerant.” She reached out a hand and touched Alta’s shoulder.

  Alta looked from Kristi to Joe, and then lowered her head again.

  “I believe her...stomach is now okay.”

  “Alta, can you tell us about the life in your village?” Joe leaned forward.

  “Village name is Stream Crossing.” A small smile softened her face. “Small stream near. Flows into Great River. Large trade roads go through village.” The smile disappeared.

  “Joe, what’s she saying?” Kristi walked around the sofa and sat next to Alta.

  “Sorry, I’ll fill you in later.” Joe glanced to Kristi and then back to Alta. “What is wrong?”

  Her smile faded. “Traders stopped last year. When Tork invaded land.” Alta put her hands in her lap and gazed into some distant place. “Tork warriors wear white clay on faces. Man chase me wear white clay.” Alta looked up and bit her lip.

  Hollowness crept into Joe’s core. She was just a kid, now in a strange country. And it was his meddling that had ripped her from her family and world. Maybe if he hadn’t interfered, she would have escaped on her own and would now be with her family.

  Joe translated for Kristi.

  “When did Alta first know about the white clay warriors?” asked Kristi.

  Joe repeated the question to Alta.

  “Three moons ago, three white clay strangers visit village. Demand Stream Crossing send food and children to Tork village. At mouth of Long River.”

  “Kids?” Joe leaned forward. “Did they explain why they wanted the kids?”

  “Say Tork has much new land. Children have great honor, large gardens.” Alta paused. Her eyes returned to some distant view. “Father and Omatu not believe. Refused.”

  “Omatu?”

  “Sun Elder of village. Uncle.” “What did he do then?”

  “Omatu say leave.” Alta glanced down. “Tork warriors say Tork destroy village. Then they go.”

  “The white clay warrior that chased you. How did that happen?”

  Alta sat straighter, head high. “I stay woman hut.

  My first blood.”

  Joe’s face burned as he translated for Kristi. The young girl was a young woman. So much for his powers of observation.

  “Was there more than one white clay warrior?” “See one,” she said, voice now shaking. “Hear birds.

  Know someone approach. Village no approach. I run. Man hear. Chase.”

  Joe clenched his jaw. Damn, he was upsetting her. Maybe a different topic would help? “Can you describe the lands around your village?”

  Alta’s face softened again. “Is beautiful. Even in cold moons when snow cover ground.” She held her hand out about two feet off the ground. “Tree-covered hills full of animals and medicine plants, clear water in small stream, open fields for growing eating plants.”

  As she spoke, images flooded Joe’s imagination. She described everything he had seen. More evidence that he hadn’t hallucinated. “Food?”

  “Much maize, squash, and beans in cleared fields. Rain many times each moon. Long days hot. Many trees have nuts. Much fish.” Alta smiled. “My brother loves fish.” Her smile faded. “I hope he safe.”

  “What of the small hill with..” Joe paused. No word came to his mind for ‘square’. “...straight sides?”

  “Ancestors rest there.” “Are there traders?”

  “Before Tork traders visit every moon. Clay and salt from south. Shiny rocks from far away for knives and axes. Y
ellow pebbles to pound into tools to knap rock.” She yawned, quickly covering her mouth. “I am sorry. Not mean disrespect you.”

  “You should rest. We can talk more tomorrow.” Joe stood.

  “We girls will be okay.” Kristi turned to Alta. “And tomorrow, a nice lady from the CFSD will be here to help you.”

  Joe hesitated before translating. His own experience with social services had been traumatic. When he parents had been killed by a drunk driver, he had spent several weeks in state custody before his grandparents had been located. The caretakers had been kind, but a child—or teen—torn from his or her family needs a lot more than strangers.

  He walked to the door. “I will see you in the morning,” he said to Alta who rewarded him with a much bigger smile.

  As he exited, Kristi followed him onto the cabin’s porch. “I feel so sorry for her. Do you have any new ideas about what happened?”

  Joe looked back. Through the doorway, he saw Alta slumped on the sofa, her face in her hands. Her posture reminded him of the days after his parents’ deaths. “Not a clue.”

  ><><

  “So she’s older than she looks,” Joe said. “Probably mid-teens.”

  “Well, regardless of her age, you really got our attention now.” Larry raised an eyebrow. He was sitting on a cooler by the door of Joe’s cabin. “We were working real hard to believe your story. We’d just about got there, sort of. And then ya go and plop the damsel in distress into our midst.” “Hey, how do you think I feel? Hell, I just about had myself convinced I was hallucinating. And now Alta shows up on my doorstep.”

  “’Curiouser and curiouser’ as another famous young girl once said.” Brent looked at Joe from his perch on the single chair in the small room. “But one glaring question remains: how do you communicate? Kristi says you and Alta jabber on, yet you claim that you only speak English.” “Why I can understand Alta is actually less of a question then where the hell I was when I was supposed to be in Red Wash.”

  “Let’s shelve the language ability for a moment.” Brent held up his hands in mock defense. “Where does Alta say she’s from?”

  “She talked of rolling hills.” Joe closed his eyes, remembering the earlier conversation. “Thick forests. Open fields kept that way by yearly burning. Forest undergrowth periodically burned also. Near a large river.” “Okay, let me play devil’s advocate for a minute.”

  Brent tilted his head in a thoughtful pose. “How can we be sure she’s telling the truth?”

  “Her story is a bit incredible.” Joe stared at the can of juice in his hands. “But what she claims matches up with what I saw.” He looked at Brent. “So we’re either both crazy or she’s telling the truth.”

  The corner of Brent’s mouth twitched. “Another option is that you’re in cahoots with her.” His mouth tightened into a line. “But you’d never deliberately injure a horse, so let’s delete that line of inquiry. What of seasons?”

  “Summers can be hot. Periodic rain. Leaves turning color in the fall. Snow can get to knee deep in winter.”

  “So how much of the earth does that scratch off the list?” Larry raised his eyebrows.

  “Sounds like we’re left with the temperate regions.” Brent stood up and kicked Larry’s cooler.

  “Let’s get back to this language thing.” Larry stood while Brent pulled out another beer.

  “I hear the correct sounds in my head.” Joe sipped at his orange juice. “Just have to get my tongue in the correct position. And when she speaks, the images flash through my mind. Her first words were hard to understand. Barely more than a subject and verb.” He downed the remainder of the juice and tossed the can in a nearby bucket already half full of empties. “The more I listen—and talk—the better the sentence structure becomes. At least in my head. No idea how my words sound to Alta.”

  “So we got your basic mind reading,” Larry said, “maybe a little psychic-transportation and possibly some time travel.” He shrugged. “What’s the problem?”

  “What are you saying?” Joe asked.

  “Alta looks Native American, dresses Native American and quite possibly speaks some dialect of Native American. But she doesn’t understand English, has never seen a horse, and hasn’t a clue what to do with a fork. You figure it out.” “What do you mean about the horse?” Joe stared at Larry.

  “I talked with one of the deputies before he left.” Larry stood and lifted the lid of the cooler. He smiled and grabbed another beer. “Alta was a wild woman when they caught her. But went limp with fear when the Deputy lifted her up onto his horse.”

  “So now what?” Brent asked after a few seconds of silence.

  “Well, tomorrow, Alta will be in the hands of CFSD.” Larry’s face slipped into a frown.

  “That bothers me, too.” Joe rubbed his face with his hands. “Another set of strangers isn’t going to do her any good.”

  “Kristi volunteered to accompany Alta into town,” said Brent.

  “That’ll help Alta, but what about Joe?” Larry shifted his gaze from Brent to Joe. “You’re at the center of this. Any ideas?”

  “Well, I’m worried about Alta.” Joe’s shoulders slumped. “But she’ll be out of my hands tomorrow.” That would be a relief. Then maybe this whole thing would blow over. Joe closed his eyes as the memories of the massacre at the village replayed itself in his mind. “Then maybe life will go back to normal.”

  Chapter 6. Wednesday

  The next morning, Joe entered the dining hall to find Kristi and Alta already eating breakfast. He grabbed a tray, walked through the buffet, and headed in their direction.

  Joe pulled out a chair next to Alta. She wore a one- piece shift with a ribbon in her shining hair. Red sandals that matched her pedicured toenails adorned her feet. Iodine stains marred the image.

  “Alta, you look very pretty,” Joe spoke the still- unfamiliar words as he set his tray on the table.

  Alta looked down and her skin darkened.

  Joe frowned. Had he used the wrong words? He looked at Alta’s tray. It was filled with fruit and a muffin. “How’s the food?”

  Alta bit her lip.

  “I think she’ll be okay now.” Kristi frowned at Joe. Joe took a long breath as he sat. Couldn’t he say anything right? He concentrated on his eggs for the next few minutes.

  As he ate, it became evident that Alta had picked up a few words of English and Kristi a few words of Alta’s language. Still, Joe found himself translating frequently. And discreetly.

  They were just about finished when Alex stopped by their table. “The sheriff called. The CFSD caseworker should be here in a few hours.”

  Joe felt a tinge of guilt at his relief. What kind of life would Alta have in a foreign culture?

  “Joe,” Alex said, “you only have a few clients on your signup sheet this morning. Why don’t you spend it with Alta until the caseworker shows up? We’ll bribe your students with bar vouchers to move to a different class or to join a trail ride.”

  “I’ll stay with her also,” Kristi said.

  “Hey great,” Joe said to Kristi before turning to his boss. “Thanks Alex.”

  After Alex left, Joe turned to Alta. “Let us go look at the animals that carried you here,” he said. “Not close,” he added, as her eyes widened. It would be good to at least help her get over her fear of horses during their last few hours together. Maybe if she could work her way through one fear, it would give her a head start on all the stuff she was going to face living in a strange culture.

  “Not close?” Alta asked.

  “Not close,” Joe agreed. Alta looked thoughtful, and then smiled.

  Joe and Kristi bussed their dishes as Alta scrutinized the commotion of the dining hall.

  Outside the building, they headed toward the stables, crossing the manicured lawn that lay between the dining hall, guest services, and guest cabins. Nearer the stables, the grass transformed into blown bark dust and finally to hard packed dirt.

  “We call those a
nimals ‘horses’.” Joe pointed toward several horses, inserting the English word when nothing came to mind in Alta’s language. She slowed as they approached the stables, and Joe matched his pace to hers. A quick glance showed Kristi, on the other side of Alta, holding her hand. Was cultural space close for females in Alta’s world?

  Joe explained that people rode on the backs of the horses so they could travel long distances without getting tired. Then he explained the equipment that made riding a horse easier.

  Under the shade of a tree near the stables, they stopped and watched one family of guests who were getting riding lessons. Alta seemed mesmerized. Her eyes kept returning to the sight of a young teenage girl riding around the beginners’ area.

  “May I touch horse?” she asked after several minutes. “Sure you can, Alta,” Joe said. “Let’s get a little closer.

  Then I’ll go get one of the older mares. They are very gentle and like to be stroked.”

  Joe left Alta and Kristi standing at an isolated section of the corral fence and went into the stables. This could be her last chance. Once she got into state care, she might never get to see a horse again.

  Joe saddled two horses. Maybe she’d be brave enough to try?

  Joe lead them outside and over to Alta and Kristi. Kristi gave him a questioning glance that he returned with a shrug.

  “Here, Alta, this is Bambi and Thumper,” Joe said. “Bambi and Thumper?” Kristi’s eyes narrowed. “Hey, I didn’t name ‘em.” He shrugged again. “Alta, if you want, I can lead Bambi closer.”

  “Yes,” Alta said, eyes fixed on the two animals.

  Alta reached out a hand as Joe led the mare closer.

  Bambi lifted her head and sniffed at Alta’s hand. “Can I ride Bambi?” Alta asked in a quiet voice.

  In a few minutes, Alta and Kristi were mounted and walking in slow circles with Joe leading Bambi. Joe smiled up at Alta’s beaming face. Whatever fate had in store for her, at least she would have this.

  “Hey Joe,” a voice interrupted.

  Joe turned to see Alex walking toward them, a smiling lady at his side. Joe looked at Kristi, whose face slipped through a frown before becoming blank.