Shaxoa's Gift

by Gladden, DelSheree

  The trouble was, I didn’t know whether I wanted to use the symbol or not. Trusting Quaile had proven a dangerous thing. Would trusting the Hano shaman prove the same? Quaile spoke of her own knowledge and wisdom often, but was very reluctant to share it with me, even when it could mean the difference between life and death. I would do what was necessary to save Claire from the Twin Soul bond, but I did not want to find myself walking into another mess I had no idea how to get out of.

  Seeking out the Shaxoa on my own could prove just as dangerous, though. Or most likely, even more dangerous. Zarafen was the Shaxoa in San Juan Pueblo who had given Claire’s father, Thomas Brant, the potion that made me race across the desert to find Daniel. She was spiteful and evil, but according to Quaile, very limited in her powers. The Hano Shaxoa was known by Quaile to be very powerful, and most likely, viler than any other Shaxoa. Either choice seemed likely to end in catastrophe, but I was determined not to fail Claire again.

  “Your thoughts are dark for such an early hour,” Talon said. His wide yawn stretched his jaw to the limit.

  “Sorry,” I said, “did I wake you?” In truth, I was glad he was awake. He needed to rest in case I needed him later, but I was also very eager to get into Hano.

  “I was waking up anyway.” Talon stretched his great paws and settled back against me. A second yawn forced his mouth wide enough that I thought he might be able to fit his jaws around my head with very little effort. “How do you want to begin today?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Quaile wanted me to speak with the Hano shaman first, but I’m worried I won’t be able to trust her. I’m worried about going to the Shaxoa on my own, too. Neither choice seems all that great, but I’m leery of approaching the Shaxoa by myself. What do you think?”

  “I would suggest beginning with the shaman, not because it was Quaile’s suggestion, but because I will be able to tell you whether or not she is lying. I do not know whether I will be able to do the same with the Shaxoa. My kind have never dealt with the Shaxoa before.”

  Lucky cougars, I thought to myself, before remembering that Talon was speaking to me through my thoughts and not with actual words. Talon only nodded in agreement.

  “I think you’re right about speaking to the shaman first, as long as you’re sure you’ll be able to tell me what she’s thinking. You won’t be able to come so close to her like you did with Quaile.”

  “I believe I will be able to find her thoughts once you are speaking with her. I will only come as close as I need to. I won’t be seen by anyone,” he assured me.

  “How do I even find their shaman?” I didn’t know her name, either. What had Quaile expected me to do, walk around town aimlessly until I found her? Did she really not know her name? I knew our two communities weren’t very close anymore, but I would have thought that the two shamans would have at least stayed in contact with each other.

  “With such a small community, the first person you ask should be able to direct you to the shaman,” Talon said.

  I was not keen on the idea of walking up to a stranger and asking to see their shaman, but I had little time to pussyfoot around the town. I would ask the first person I met. It felt strange to me to even think about doing so. Growing up, I had been taught about the Hano Tewa. They had broken away from the main tribe after the second Pueblo Revolt against the Spaniards in the sixteen hundreds. Growing up in such a close knit community, I had often felt like the Hano Tewa weren’t really part of our tribe anymore.

  Our Elders would never be approached by an outsider without first being questioned and introduced by someone well respected in the community. I felt like a nosy child, intruding where I didn’t belong. Fingering the necklace again, I hoped it would be enough. I was so helpless, having to ask for help so often when I wanted to be the only one Claire truly needed. Swallowing my pride, I tucked the necklace back under my shirt and turned to Talon.

  “It’s not too early to head into town, is it?” I asked. Glancing at the slowly rising sun, I was usually up just after dawn to begin work on the ranch, but I also knew that not many others followed the same schedule. I hated to delay any longer, though. There was no telling how long it would take to convince the shaman and Shaxoa to help me.

  “The scouts have already spotted a few people out of their houses. You may at least be able to ask about the shaman and find out what time would be best to approach her,” Talon said.

  Wishing I had been able to clean myself up a little before leaving San Juan again, I ran my fingers through my hair and hoped I didn’t look too grubby. “Alright then,” I said, “stay close by. I’ll let you know if I need you.”

  “Be strong, Uriah,” Talon said. Rubbing his head gently against my leg, he leapt away soon after to rejoin the scouts.

  I felt so vulnerable as I walked away from the cougar. I was beginning to believe Talon’s assumption that the Matwau was unable to hunt me, but I felt like I was about to walk into something that might prove just as dangerous. And this time, I had no one to back me up.

  Talon and I had camped only a short distance from the town, so walking across the sandy stretch of land took only a few minutes. At first glance, the town reminded me very much of the San Juan I had grown up in. Most of the houses were old, but well cared for, and the absence of any street signs or traffic lights made me smile.

  At this early hour, the streets were still bare. I wandered toward the center of the small town hoping to find a store or gas station already open for business. Passing through the main part of Hano, I found no one. Even the solitary gas station was not yet open. Making my way further down the street, I wondered where these people were that the scouting coyotes had seen.

  The familiar bleating of sheep caught my ear and drew me to the west. The houses thinned quickly and I recognized the split rail fences of a corral. The sounds and smells of the animals made me miss my home even more, though I had not thought it was possible. Knowing that the animals’ caretaker would have been up for a while, I approached the fence. A middle aged man emerged from a small shed with the sheep’s morning meal of grain.

  Spotting me at the fence, the man’s eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of me. He suddenly reminded me of my father, causing my throat to seize. Tall and gruff, covered in hay and dust, he simply watched me. I tried not to fidget, knowing that I wasn’t looking my best. “Hello, sir,” I said politely.

  The man nodded and continued to watch me as he poured the feed he was carrying into the troughs. Leaving the pails by the inner fence, he walked over to me, careful not to come too close. “Did you need some help, son?” he asked.

  “Actually, I was looking for some directions,” I said. “I need to speak with your shaman. Do you know where I could find her?”

  “What business do you have with Miss Kaya?” the man asked.

  “I’m from San Juan Pueblo, the Tewa community in New Mexico. Our shaman sent me to speak to her,” I said.

  “You’re Tewa?”

  “Yes sir, from New Mexico.”

  He nodded slowly. “Sometimes I forget there are more Tewa in the world than those of us here in Hano,” he said. “Kaya lives on the north side of town. Why don’t you come in for a minute and I’ll draw you a map to her house. I’m Ben Redcloud, by the way.”

  “Uriah Crowe,” I said offering my hand. We shook briefly before he motioned for me to follow him inside. I sighed at the thought of the delay, but there was nothing I could do about it. Stepping on top of his dusty footprints, I walked toward the house.

  Relieved that the man had not decided to call the police on me or run inside and lock the doors, I followed him into his home. Passing through his living room, we stopped in the kitchen. Ben rummaged through a kitchen drawer before producing a small pad of paper and a pencil. His thick fingers quickly sketched the roads of the town that lead from his house to the shaman, Kaya’s, home.

  Holding the paper in front of me, Ben’s finger traced the route I should follow. “Her house is rig
ht in the middle of the street, white stucco with a greenish colored trim,” he said. “She may not be up and about yet. You want something to eat before you go? You look hungry.”

  Having already intruded on the man and interrupted his work, I wanted to say I was fine, but as he turned away and pulled a warm tray of corn bread out of the oven I remembered I was indeed starving.

  Ben seemed to sense my hesitation. “It’s too early to be bothering Miss Kaya just yet. Why don’t you have some breakfast?”

  I knew he was right. I would probably only be hurting my chances of getting any help for Claire if I went around banging on doors just after sunrise. Maybe Ben could give me a little insight into what Kaya was like, as well. I could use all the help I could get at this point. “If you’re sure you don’t mind,” I said.

  “Sit down, son. I’ll get some butter and honey out,” Ben said. Turning to his cupboards, he opened a door next to the stove. After a few seconds he came back to the table with two plates and a jar of honey. Grabbing the butter from the refrigerator, he finally joined me at the table. I waited, trying to be patient for Ben to serve the hot bread. Steam rose from the pale yellow square and my stomach growled. I took a bite, happy to have hot, freshly made food again.

  “So what do you need to see Kaya about, if you don’t mind me asking,” Ben said.

  I didn’t really know what to say. I wasn’t about to spill out the events of the past three days to him. Most likely he would throw me out of his kitchen if I did. My tired mind worked fast to come up with something plausible. “My family has had some problems come up lately and our shaman, Quaile, just felt like she wasn’t able to help us enough. So she sent me here to speak with your shaman.”

  The man nodded, but didn’t seem convinced. “If she sent you here to speak with Kaya, then why didn’t she know where to find her?” he asked.

  My mind whirled again. “Well, I guess Quaile hasn’t stayed in very good contact with the Tewa living here in Hano before now,” I said.

  Ben raised an eyebrow, no doubt wondering why Quaile would suddenly decide to strike up a friendship.

  “I think the other Elders are pushing her to reconnect or something. Like you said, sometimes we forget you guys are even here.”

  This time Ben’s nod seemed satisfied. “Well, there really aren’t that many full blood Tewa here anymore. Most of the people here are at least half Hispanic now. Kaya’s family and a few others are really the last of the Tewa. We don’t follow many of the old ways or believe in the old stories either. I guess we just got too far away from it all.”

  “You don’t?” Worry sprang into my mind. What if Kaya was one of those that didn’t really believe anymore? What if being the shaman was a traditional title and nothing more?

  “No, we haven’t had Elders here in Hano for a long time. People still turn to Kaya for help, but not very many really believe in what she can do,” Ben said.

  “Do you believe?”

  “I’m one of the few who do.” Ben turned away from me, giving me the impression that he did not want to discuss his reasons for believing in the shaman’s abilities. I took the hint and dropped the subject.

  I took another bite of the cornbread, hoping I had distracted him enough to keep him from asking any more questions. We ate in silence for a few more minutes, Ben finishing first. I made an effort to hurry up with my last few bites. Standing up to wash his hands, Ben moved across the kitchen quietly.

  “Do you live here by yourself,” I asked.

  “Yes, I do. My wife died a few years ago from cancer, but the sheep keep me company,” he said. “They’re good animals.”

  “Yes they are,” I said.

  Ben’s eyebrows rose. “Do you keep sheep?”

  “Yes, sir. My family has a sheep ranch back in San Juan. My father died of a heart attack last year, so it’s just me and my mom now, but I enjoy the work.”

  Ben smiled and nodded. “It keeps me busy, gives me something to get up for now that my wife is gone.”

  I frowned thoughtfully. Could I ever do the same if I wasn’t able to free Claire? Even thinking of it sent pain shooting through my chest. Nothing could ever replace Claire for me. Perhaps, if I had already spent a lifetime with her, like it seemed Ben had done with his wife, I could survive losing her by distracting myself with work until we were together again. But not now, not when the promise of a future with her was still so fresh in my heart.

  “Well, I guess you could try heading over to Kaya’s house now. She might be up,” Ben said. “You’ll be wanting to get on your way, I suppose, but if you need anything before you go, feel free to stop back by.”

  Extending my hand, I said, “Thank you, Ben. I really appreciate the help.” The man merely nodded and walked me to the door.

  I pulled the map Ben had drawn for me out of my pocket as I walked away. My steps clapped along the hard dirt road, moving at a hurried pace. The path seemed simple enough. Even if I got lost, I felt confident that with as small as the town was, I would find the shaman’s house eventually. Little puffs of dirt followed me as I walked down the road. The streets wound around the houses, not entirely straight, but well organized. Rows of hundred year old adobe mud brick houses lined either side of every street.

  While much of the town reminded me of San Juan, there were subtle differences that displayed the mix of Hispanic culture into Native American life. Many of the houses were painted in more lively colors than I was used to, and many of the decorative elements had a distinctly Spanish feel. A small yapping Chihuahua darted away from one of the houses, intent on making a new friend until a child’s voice called it back to the yard. Luckily Ben’s map proved accurate, and I found myself standing in front of the white stucco house with green trim much quicker than I expected. My footsteps stuttered as I faced her house. The last time I went to a shaman for help, I ended up spending three days getting chased by a monster. What was turning to another one going to put me through?

  6: Kaya

  Two quick steps brought me to the front door. Raising my hand, I knocked sharply. My palms began to itch as nerves raced through my body. Would she believe me? Would she help me even if she did? I could hear movement inside the house. Claire was depending on me to make her see our need. I shoved my hands in my pockets and tried to focus my thoughts. The thin strand of Claire’s hair wound around my fingertip. The slight touch instantly calmed me. Claire needed me. After a few minutes I heard the lock disengage and saw the handle turn. Stepping back quickly, I waited for the door to swing open.

  Answering the door was a woman who was at the most, ten years older than me. I wondered whether she was Kaya’s daughter, or a villager seeking advice. It seemed a little early for visitors. I hoped she wouldn’t stop me from speaking with the shaman.

  “May I help you?” the woman asked.

  “Yes, um, may I speak with Miss Kaya?” I asked. My foot shuffled nervously in the dirt.

  “You already are,” she said. A smile touched her lips as she watched my reaction. My expression must have been laughable, because that was exactly what she did, laugh. I tried to apologize, but she simply waved my words away. “I get that all the time. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said again. Compared to Quaile, she was a child. I had honestly thought there was an age requirement to becoming a shaman.

  When her composure returned, Kaya looked at me with wondering eyes. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I know you,” she said. “May I ask why you’re on my doorstep?”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Kaya, my name is Uriah Crowe. I’ve come here from San Juan Pueblo to speak with you.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Has something happened to your own shaman?”

  “No, Quaile is fine,” I said.

  “Then why are you here, Uriah Crowe?” Her face showed none of her earlier cheerfulness. “We haven’t had any contact with the Tewa in New Mexico for some time.”

  “It’s kind of difficult to explain,” I said.

&n
bsp; “Try.”

  My breathing grew more rapid. I was not starting off as well as I’d hoped to. Remembering the necklace, I quickly slipped it off my neck and held it out to Kaya. “Quaile told me to give this to you and you would help me.”

  Kaya took the necklace and carefully checked every part of the symbol. Satisfied that the beaded leather was from Quaile, Kaya handed it back to me. “Perhaps you should come inside and explain what’s going on.” Stepping aside, Kaya opened the door all the way and waited for me to step inside.

  Reaching out to Talon, I made sure he was in place and ready to check Kaya’s responses. His quick answer assured me that he was able to hear her thoughts and was near enough to help if I needed him. Feeling slightly more confident, I stepped into Kaya’s house.

  I had never been inside Quaile’s home, but as a child I had always imagined that it would be special or mysterious in some way, or incredibly scary. I still didn’t know what the inside of Quaile’s home looked like, but Kaya’s was very average. Her walls were painted in beautiful earthen tones. Her furniture was older, but very sturdy and expertly made.

  The loom sitting in her living room held a half-finished weaving, a traditional wool manta. I glanced at it in surprise. Seeing that she practiced the traditional art of our people gave me hope that she was more in tune with legends and myths than the rest of the town apparently was. I couldn’t help but wonder if she got her wool from Ben. Much of the wool from my sheep went to local weavers in San Juan. Kaya gestured for me to sit down and took the seat opposite me.

  “Now, why have you come all the way to Hano to speak with me, when your own shaman is perfectly capable of handling any problem you might have?” Kaya asked.

  “This isn’t something Quaile can help me with, and to be honest, it isn’t something you can help me with either,” I said. Kaya cocked her head to the side. “I need to speak with Hano’s Shaxoa.”