He laughed out loud at his own ridiculousness. Again, he was trying to analyze and take apart everything he came across. Shaking his head, Wolf stumbled back into bed, taking his wooden box with him.
Just before sleep, it occurred to him how much his life had changed in a very short period of time. It wasn’t a conscious leap to new understanding; it was experiential. In an instant, he experienced the sensation of knowing his life had changed. Because of the change, he was different. If everyone taught at all times through his actions, then the fact he was a different person meant that he was teaching something new. Could it be that simple? Always teaching from that new place you occupied? And if so, then occupying a place of supreme integrity would be the ultimate in teaching, even if that place changed from time to time through more profound experiences. Having mulled it over all night in his subconscious, Wolf awoke with that idea on his mind. It stuck with him for days.
It was quite some time before Wolf heard from Gary again. Even after leaving several messages at H & L, Wolf still received no return calls. The only people to call on him were checking to make sure he was still in town. He maintained contact with Julie and Michael, as well as Joe, who had eased up somewhat about Wolf ’s indiscretion. Still, there was much tension on the telephone while they talked.
Gary’s call came late in the afternoon when the sun pushed orange light through Wolf ’s hotel window. Wolf was reading a book while sitting in the chair with his feet propped on the bottom of the bed. He placed a bookmark between the pages, and closed the book.
“Hello?”
“Wolf, it’s Gary. You have to be in court tomorrow morning at nine.”
“What’s going on?”
“Your trial begins then, the jury has been selected.”
“Should we talk?”
“Not yet. I can handle the first day. I’m prepared.”
“But?”
“No buts, buddy, I can handle it.”
Wolf recognized the approach of a hang-up and yelled into the phone, “Gary, wait. Please.”
“I know you must be pretty nervous, but you’ve got to trust me.”
“It’s not that.”
“What, then?”
“I’m sorry. I made a terrible mistake. I’m not that same person any more.”
“Don’t Wolf. It’s done. I try not to think about it.”
“It can’t be that easy. Listen, I know what it’s like. I’ve been through a divorce.”
“You don’t know what this is like. Your friend didn’t betray you, your wife didn’t leave the way Lynne did. You don’t know. Now, get off it. I don’t want to discuss it any further.”
The phone snapped and Wolf stood holding the dead receiver. Gary was right: How could Wolf know how he felt? He could only guess. Wolf had no idea how Lynne left; Joe had not discussed it with him. It must have been on Gary’s mind. Yes, or Gary wouldn’t have mentioned it. And then there was the word betrayed. He had betrayed Gary. He knew it. He felt it.
Wolf returned the receiver to its cradle. Change now, he thought. Every moment is a new chance at being a different person. Yet, he could feel his old self inside his chest, screaming to be let out. Its first thoughts were, ‘The hell with Gary. Life must go on.’ And it must. But not, Wolf thought, as it always had.
He took the evening to prepare himself for the trial. He wondered if Gary had even tried to find Night Walker. Had he found any of the Indians? Did the secretary even give him the message? One thing was sure, Gary didn’t want any more contact with Wolf than was professionally necessary. Perhaps the best course of action was to go along with that, not make eye contact, speak very little, follow behind so that he does not obstruct Gary’s vision in any way. Listen, and do exactly as told. After all, this was Gary’s domain, his territory. There was nothing more to do but to follow his lead. In the dark about the whole procedure, about the plan of attack, about everything, Wolf found himself alone in the wilderness. “Ha!” he laughed, “I’ve been here before.”
For a long time Wolf sat, watching the colors in the sky change from orange and pink to purple, then fade to gray. Once the sun went down and the halogen lamps around the perimeter of the parking lot blinked on, he emptied his briefcase and placed his wooden box inside. He hung his suit, shirt and tie together, ready for the morning. Automatic. That is how he wanted the morning to be. He decided to rise early, shower, shave, dress, and go down the street for breakfast. He’d be at the courtroom easily by eight-thirty or a quarter to nine. He’d wait for Gary, keep his mouth shut, and get it over with. Whatever was about to happen was going to happen anyway.
***
His planning turned out to be perfect. Wolf leaned back on a wooden bench outside the courtroom with a full stomach, a clean body and time to sit quietly and think, waiting for Gary’s arrival. He felt warm and comfortable. He had not meditated that morning, but felt as though the Great Spirit had descended over him and would protect him from harm. He contemplated the feeling, questioning its choice in people. Then he questioned his own understanding of the feeling. Great Spirit. He knew very little, really, about how the Indians saw God. He had expropriated the words—probably, more from television shows and movies—more than he had recorded a history. Nonetheless, how he perceived the Great Sprit was, for him, the reality. He promised himself that he’d learn more about it, refine his ideas and concepts and possibly, in doing so, become more uniquely aware of the truly spiritual nature of his feelings.
Wolf caught himself thinking in this way and shook his head. There were times, more and more often, when he didn’t know who he was. He didn’t recognize the person thinking, nor the person sitting. Focusing quickly on his body, Wolf felt not only had the Great Spirit descended upon him, but it had chased a part of the old Wolf away and replaced it with something—or someone—new.
The new entity looked through his eyes, not from them. He wiggled in his seat in discomfort. Was this feeling something that belonged to the possessed Wolf or the old Wolf? Closing his eyes, he tried to just feel, then, just think, just hear. He worked to sort things out. What had been a good thing a moment ago, now confused him and concerned him. Change for the better he wanted, but not at the cost of his identity.
“Wolf!” Gary said. “Sleeping?”
His eyes snapped open. Gary was dressed in a dark suit, pinstriped with a light green thread, white shirt, conservative gray-patterned tie and black wing-tips. Expensive. It fit him well. His demeanor was confident, in control, which helped Wolf relax and forget his recent concerns.
“No,” Wolf replied. “I wasn’t sleeping, just thinking.” The words brought back the thoughts he was having, and suddenly, he felt the Great Spirit over him once again. He realized at that very moment how little control he had. over his spiritual descent on the one hand, and Gary on the other. He stood and shook Gary’s hand. “I’m ready. Just tell me what to do.”
“That’s the idea,” Gary said as he walked into the courtroom with Wolf trailing behind.
Wolf followed Gary’s lead almost unconsciously. Stand up, sit down. Not guilty. First witness. In his odd state of mind, Wolf thought he understood where the questioning was going. Simply put, there were no direct witnesses, only insubstantial evidence that Wolf had anything to do with whacking Charles Owl Heart over the head and shoving him over the side of the cliff. Gary seemed to be making a case that Mr. Owl Heart had a lot of enemies, and that each of them could easily have had reason to bump him off, whereas Wolf had no motive. He didn’t even know the man, had no money, no food except tea, and hadn’t spent any time outside the medicine wheel.
Wolf faded in and out, hearing his name from time to time. Next to him Gary worked, a pillar of rock, confident and qualified. At break, Wolf heard Gary say, “Shit,” under his breath.
“What is it?” Wolf came out of his calm meditative state long enough to look at Gary and know things weren’t going as well as he had hoped.
“A lot of evidence points to you. Finger prints
, footprints around the outside of the circle. Your bare feet. Owl Heart’s hair and blood on the log. You’re the only one who was seen anywhere near the place it happened. Then, there’s the cut on your chin, the bruises. The jury seems to be hearing the prosecution louder. I can tell by the way they look at you.”
“But the bruises are gone.”
Gary gave him a side-long glance. “Those pictures they have of you when you first arrived make you look pretty shady.”
“Oh.” Wolf lowered his head.
“You have to be escorted out. I have some calls to make.”
“Are we okay?”
“If my star witness shows up.”
“East? Air?” Wolf asked.
“I got your message,” is all Gary would say at first. Then he added, “Although, I don’t know how you knew.” He raised his hand to keep Wolf from speaking. “And I don’t want to know. Keep it to yourself.”
Wolf was given a sandwich and water to eat, and was left alone inside a small room, the door locked from the outside. He ate slowly, thinking about the case, wishing he’d paid closer attention. But the feeling of being in a deep state of subconscious continued to fog his mind. He didn’t feel clear, yet seemed uniquely aware of sounds, smells, and sensations outside normal conversation and action. It was as though everything in the background was intensified while normal, conscious existence was blanketed and muffled by a thin film.
He heard voices that were not there. Look up, they’d say, or notice the sound of clicking in the back of the room, the smell of hyacinths. The voices directed his attentions to nothing of any real value; they just occupied his mind. He deduced that the voices were his way of staying neutral and letting Gary handle the case.
When the bailiff came for him, Wolf was sitting in a chair holding a half-eaten sandwich, his mouth open and his eyes glazed over.
“You all right?”
“What?” Wolf swallowed. “Yes, yes, I think so.”
“Well, let’s go.”
Wolf followed automatically and sat down next to Gary. He was asked to take the stand. Gary leaned to him and whispered, “Nothing weird.”
Wolf nodded, but didn’t know what, exactly, Gary had meant by his comment. Extreme integrity, Wolf remembered. That was where he wanted to be.
After being sworn in and asked a few standard questions, Gary asked directly if Wolf had killed Charles Owl Heart.
“No,” Wolf said, without hesitation.
“Had you ever seen Charles Owl Heart before in your life?”
“No,” Wolf replied. A ringing began in his ears and it increasingly became more difficult to hear Gary’s questions. The light in the room took on an unusual glow.
After a few more questions in the same vein, Gary relinquished the floor to the state prosecution. Ringing became louder in Wolf ’s ears.
“Do you hunt?” the District Attorney asked.
“Yes.”
“So, you have killed before?”
“Deer. Small game.” Wolf twisted his face and squinted up at the man.
“But you’re familiar with killing?”
Wolf heard Gary object. The judge told him not to answer the question.
“You were fasting for days. Is that right?”
“Yes. I had tea.”
“Earl Grey?” A slight laughter erupted in the jury.
“No. Herbal.”
“Do you know what type of herbs? Or were they something your imaginary Indian friends put together for you?”
“Objection! Use of the word ‘imaginary…’”
“Sustained.”
“Do you know what the tea consisted of?”
“No.”
“It could have been a hallucinogen?”
“I don’t know,” Wolf looked away. Something near the court stenographer’s hand sparkled: a six-pointed star. He turned to look directly at it, but didn’t see it again.
The prosecutor followed Wolf ’s gaze, glanced at the judge and slowly turned back to Wolf. “You did hallucinate while you were out there, didn’t you?”
“Some, I suppose.”
“Do you remember everything that happened?”
“What?” Wolf asked. The ringing had gotten louder and it became difficult for him to hear.
The prosecutor repeated the question. Wolf answered, “No. But I didn’t leave the circle.”
“There were footprints outside the circle. Your footprints.”
“Uh, what?” Wolf ’s head turned again. Another sparkling star appeared near the window. Then another one appeared on the opposite side of the room. He caught the glint out the corner of his eye. He turned his head in quick succession in each direction.
“We found evidence that you were outside the circle.” Then, the prosecutor yelled, “What the hell are you looking at?”
“They’re here,” Wolf whispered.
“Who’s here?”
“Night Walker.” He looked up at Gary. “It’s okay. It’s going to be fine.”
“What are you saying?” the prosecutor looked at the judge, then back at Wolf. “What is it? What’s okay?”
“I see the signs.”
Gary shook his head back and forth.
“Oh, boy! May I approach the bench?” the prosecutor said.
The judge nodded and motioned for Gary to come up as well.
“This guy’s over the deep end,” the prosecutor said. Looking at Gary, he asked, “You want to change your pleading?” Then he smiled and looked over at Wolf, who was paying close attention to something on the ceiling in a back corner of the room.
“No,” Gary said. “We just need a break. He’s under a lot of pressure.”
Wolf got a clear message to chant. He wanted to open his briefcase and remove the wooden box, but knew he wasn’t supposed to leave the stand. Foggily, he imagined the box in front of him. “Hee yey hey yee hee, hee yey hey yee hee,” he began.
The eyes of the barristers snapped around to observe him, but Wolf ignored them. He chanted to call Night Walker. That’s what he knew.
“Mr. Smith,” the judge said several times. “Please refrain from this conduct.” He turned to Gary, exasperation written across his countenance. “Control your client.”
Wolf could see lips moving, but heard nothing. He continued his chanting.
The judge banged his gavel several more times, to get Wolf to look at him again.
Each time Wolf moved his head to look somewhere else in the room. Six-pointed stars sparkled and shined like a rock-concert light show.
Gary leaned his head into his hands at the top edge of the judge’s bench. He took a deep breath, then lifted his head to speak. Before he got any words out another chant began in the rear of the room.
“Hee ho ho hey ho, hee ho ho hey ho, hee ho ho hey ho.”
A tall Indian stood inside the courtroom door. He nodded when Gary acknowledged his presence. Then, behind the first Indian, a second stepped through the door, chanting his own unique chant. “Hey ya ya hey hee hee, hey ya ya hey hee hee.
Their voices jumbled together, as still another and another joined in. One woman’s voice chanted along with three men. The four walked slowly into the courtroom.
The judge gave up his efforts to stop the commotion and waited, with the jury and the rest of those in the room, to see what would happen next.
The four Indians moved slowly to the front of the room near the banister where Gary and Wolf had their notes. A fifth Indian, with long black hair in braids, dusty pants, and an open shirt, stepped through the door. He lifted his hand and made a quick sideways chop and all the chanting quit, including Wolf ’s. The courtroom went absolutely silent.
“Running Wolf,” Wolf said quietly.
“My witnesses,” Gary said to the judge and prosecutor.
***
In another hour, the case was dismissed. Running Wolf had testified that Wolf was never out of his sight, and swore that one of the five Indians stayed in constant visual contact with Wolf whil
e he was on his quest.
By the time the room emptied and Wolf and Gary were finally outside, the Indians had gone. Wolf thanked each of them aloud, but under his breath.
Gary turned to him in earnest and said, “Go home.”
“Thank you for everything,” Wolf said, holding out his hand.
Gary took it and, looking into Wolf ’s eyes, said, “You’re welcome.” Holding onto Wolf’s hand, in what Wolf saw as deep concentration, a slight sense of desperation, Gary told him, “You have changed. I don’t know how or exactly what the change means, but it’s there.”
Wolf threw his free arm around Gary’s shoulder and quickly hugged him. Gary made no reciprocating move, only turned his head. When Wolf released him, Gary said, “Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ve changed.” He left it at that; he let go of Wolf ’s hand and walked away.
It took Wolf no time to gather his belongings, make plane reservations and leave New Mexico.
He felt reborn.
CHAPTER 12
HIS APARTMENT WAS COLD. It felt different, smelled different. Wolf walked through every room, looking over his things and wondering whether they still belonged to him or to that other person. He decided some items had to go. The gaudy mirrors in the bathroom egotistically placed on each wall found a new home in the dumpster. The booze, too, had to go. He poured bottle after bottle down the drain in the kitchen. The little touches of arrogance throughout the apartment stuck out like the edges of rocks, pointed and jagged.
Wolf took the trash container from under the kitchen sink and walked through the place throwing away photographs of himself—standing next to a dead deer strung from a tree, on a boat in his bathing suit, at the gym. He threw monogrammed sweaters, cuff-links, a silk shirt, and other clothes he no longer recognized into a garbage bag for Goodwill.
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