“I stay with you the entire time,” he said, his voice hoarse.
* * *
Masito took them to a lean-to and showed them inside. The scent of cooked meat filled Emma’s nose and her stomach growled. Hungry, she wearily sat beside Nathan. Across from them sat an elderly woman with long black-gray hair twisted in a long rope along each shoulder. She wore a simple garment in a dark color with one shoulder exposed. Her brows furrowed into a worried look on a round and plump face, her nose wide and flat. A young man sat beside her and he silently acknowledged Masito, who spoke to the two in their language.
“This is Pakwa and her son Na’i,” he said.
Pakwa looked at Nathan, spoke in her language then waited for Masito to translate. Emma noticed that several of the old woman’s teeth were missing.
“She wants to know who you are.”
“Nathan Blackmore.”
“She wants to know why you are here.”
“I watch out for Miss Hart.”
Masito related this to the old woman. She paused.
“She says you are strong. You are a warrior.” A slight smile crept onto Masito’s lips. “But do you have a good heart?”
“Why. Do you want to eat it?”
At this, Masito broke into a grin. He translated to Pakwa but she didn’t smile, just raised an eyebrow. Her displeasure was evident.
Pakwa looked at Emma and spoke.
“She says you are young,” Masito said. “Too young.”
Emma felt uncomfortable from the scrutiny.
“She is not sure you can heal the boy.”
“Fine,” said Nathan. “Then we’ll leave.”
Emma cleared her throat. “No,” she said with feigned confidence. “I’d like to try, with her guidance.”
Pakwa’s dark eyes watched her. She nodded, then waved everyone off with her hand.
“She would like to be alone with Emma,” Masito said.
“No.” Nathan didn’t move.
Emma turned to him. “It’ll be alright. You can wait outside.”
Nathan’s eyes searched hers.
“Really,” she said. “I think I’ll be fine.”
She knew Nathan disagreed, but he finally relented. “I’ll be nearby, so call out if you need me.”
Emma silently agreed as he stood and left the make-shift dwelling with Masito and Na’i.
Pakwa lifted a stick with the charred remains of an animal on it and held it out. Emma hesitated, then took it from her. She realized it was a bird, of medium size, and the wings had been plucked. Clearly, she was supposed to eat it. Emma accepted the food with gratitude. Tearing pieces of meat with her teeth, she quickly ate the entire offering.
Pakwa laughed, a high-pitched cackle that made Emma feel as if she were in a witch’s den. She envisioned the old woman roasting her on a stick and feasting throughout the night. As Emma wiped grease from her mouth with the back of her hand, the Hopi woman offered a gourd. Emma peered into it, hesitant. Thankfully it was just water, which she drank in several large gulps.
Pakwa scooted closer, and Emma resisted the impulse to shuffle backwards. The woman brought her fingers, short and stout and dirty, to Emma’s face. Before she could pull back, before she could bolster herself for any possible psychic connections, the woman poked at her cheeks, pressed her nose down, then raised her eyelids to peer at her eyeballs. Shocked from such handling, Emma tried to retreat.
Pakwa held her in place by grabbing Emma’s shoulders. She squeezed and shook Emma a bit. Then she grasped Emma’s hands and turned the palms upward. Warmth and an infusion of energy coursed along Emma’s forearms, to the shoulders and into her torso. It was vibrant and inviting and curious.
The vision followed, surefooted and natural in the unfolding.
Pakwa stood atop a rocky cairn holding a babe in her arms, while a young woman waited below. Emma knew it was a grandson that Pakwa held, and that the other woman was his mother. A strong wind blew and the sky became dark as night, although it was still midday. The young woman turned into the wind, held her arms out, and raised her face to the sky.
“No, Lenmana,” admonished Pakwa while trying to shield the babe.
“I cannot help it,” the young woman whispered, her eyes closed. “It is so compelling.”
“It is a lie, and your heart knows it.” Pakwa struggled to hold the baby as gusts of wind pushed against her.
“How do you know? You cannot be sure. I cannot be sure.”
“Your vision is clouded,” Pakwa said. “Step up here. Quickly, before it is too late.”
Rain poured down in a torrent then a loud rushing sound filled the air. Without warning, a wall of water flowed from the higher ground beyond, immediately flooding the surrounding area. Pakwa remained on the pile of boulders, but the younger woman was gone. When the maelstrom cleared the baby became lifeless, its eyes frozen open.
A sound grew from deep inside Pakwa, a wildish howl filled with anguish and despair.
“Strawng,” Pakwa said, still grasping Emma’s hands. Then, she dangled one of Emma’s arms. “Strawng.” She dropped the arm and pointed at Emma’s chest. “Strawng?” Her finger moved to Emma’s forehead. “Strawng?”
The woman thought her strong in body, but was she strong in heart and mind?
“I think so,” Emma mumbled, still trying to understand the vision she received. She didn’t think it was an actual accounting—the fact that Pakwa and the younger woman had spoken English alluded to that—so it must be a different type of representation, one clouded with myth and symbolism.
Pakwa scooted back to her spot, not looking entirely satisfied by Emma’s answer. “Ing-glish. Smaw.”
Communication would be limited, but that came as no surprise.
“Baby?” Emma began. “Is there a baby?”
Pakwa frowned.
Emma started again. “Is there a boy? A sick boy?”
“Loloma.”
“Loloma,” Emma repeated.
“Soyoko.”
Emma shook her head.
“Ba-a-a-d spir-r-r-ut.”
“Why haven’t you helped him? You must know more about this than I would.”
Pakwa shook her head, not understanding.
Emma pointed at her. “You. Pakwa. Heal Loloma.”
The woman was silent.
“Who is Lenmana?” Emma whispered.
Pakwa stilled, her gaze unwavering on Emma. “Ded.”
* * *
Nathan decided that this band of Hopi were renegades, displaced from their village for some reason. Were they on the run or simply mutinous? As he sat near the lean-to where Emma and the old woman attempted to communicate, Masito approached.
“Do they finish?” Masito asked.
“No, not yet. Why are all of you camped here?”
“We have been here for many days. Many Hopi go to visit our friends the Havsuw ʼBaaj, or the Havsuw Paia, to the west. There is a big festival this time of year in their land.”
“So you’re returning home?”
Masito hesitated. “Yes.”
“But you’re travelling apart from the main tribe?”
Masito appeared confused.
“Is there disagreement about the sick boy?” Nathan asked.
Masito nodded. “Some.”
“Why?”
“It is because of the man who did it.”
“What happened?”
Masito looked out at the encampment erected around a central campfire. Young women and a few children moved about or sat near or under their shelters. Other men watched the perimeter of camp. It was this watchfulness that alerted Nathan that all was not as it seemed. These people were cautious, worried, and looking over their shoulder.
“There is a white man. He is called Diamond. I do not know his other names, but that is what we call him. He came among us for a time, many moons ago. Five or six. Do you know him?”
Nathan shook his head.
“He was a preacher, a religious m
an. But maybe not. That is what we thought. My people like him. He did healings, but it was not real. It was too late for some when we saw what he had done.”
“What was that?”
“He stole their spirits.”
Nathan frowned. He shouldn’t be surprised that Masito spoke in riddles, but how the hell did these people survive living in a realm filled with fancy storytelling? “What happened to the people he did this to?”
“They are not with us, no longer with us.”
“He murdered them?”
“No,” Masito replied. “They still breathe, they still live. But he has taken a piece of them and will not give it back.”
“Don’t you have a medicine man to handle this?”
“We have a priest, but he is old. And he did not believe this happened. Some think that Diamond confused his mind.”
“But you all believe differently?”
Masito nodded. “The boy is my sister’s son. He is called Loloma. He is gone longer and farther than the others.”
“He’s not conscious?”
“He sleeps at all times.”
“Like a coma.”
Masito shrugged. “I have not heard that word.”
Nathan felt sympathy for their plight. Clearly something bad had happened, but the true cause was apparently up for debate. It was always easier to blame rotten circumstances on supernatural bad luck and hobgoblins in the dark rather than deal with the real possibilities.
“Your sister must be very upset,” Nathan said.
Masito inhaled sharply and looked to the sky. “Lenmana is dead.”
The man’s grief consumed Nathan’s attention and he thought of his own sister. He didn’t notice Emma’s approach until she stood beside him.
“She may have left her baby,” she said, “but Pakwa kept the child from death.”
Nathan gazed upward at her and he saw the drawn look on her face. Emma had bought into their entire storyline. Nathan hoped this wouldn’t be something either of them regretted.
* * *
Nathan lay down beside Emma. Masito had given them his shelter, or rather he offered it to Emma, but Nathan didn’t feel comfortable being away from her. She had awkwardly agreed to share the intimate sleeping arrangement with him, but Nathan was surprised that he felt awkward as well.
They lay beside one another like a well-intimate couple, but he didn’t know what to say. He sensed the tension between them, or was it just his own tension? Thankfully, they each had their own blanket and didn’t have to figure out how to share just one.
“What do you think they want you to do?” he asked into the darkness. The wind had died down and the night was warm.
She rolled to her back and they lay side by side. “I’m not sure exactly.”
“From talking with Masito, I think the boy might be in a coma.”
She threw a quick glance at him. “It’s possible, I suppose.”
“You’re not a doctor, Em. When you can’t help, I hope these people don’t become angry with you.”
“I’m not worried about that. And I don’t think they’d stone us, if that’s concerning you. I think they’re afraid and are willing to try anything.”
“What do you think you can do?”
She paused. “Search the world beyond this one for answers.”
Nathan sighed and laughed. “You can’t possibly believe that’s the solution.”
“You can’t possibly believe that what you see is all there is to this world.” Anger laced her voice.
“Just don’t pin your hopes to flights of fancy. If the boy is really ill, he should be taken to a doctor. These people are putting his life in jeopardy by not doing that.”
“It’s not our business to say.”
“Maybe not, but I’d hate to see you suddenly disappear. Misunderstandings can result in more than just hard feelings, they can result in death.”
“Isn’t that why you’re here?” she countered. “To make sure that doesn’t happen?”
“I’m tryin’, sweetheart.” He couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his words.
“Surely, in all the time you’ve spent gunfighting your way around the desert, you’ve seen things like this.”
“Faith healing is wrong.”
“Why would you say that? And I’m not a faith healer.”
He was silent for a while. “My ma was.”
“A faith healer?”
“Yeah.”
“How fortunate you must have felt.”
“No. It was creepy and weird and I didn’t like it. And it was embarrassing.”
“Why, was she a fake?”
Nathan thought for a moment. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I just wanted her to stop.”
He went silent after that and Emma didn’t pursue it. After a time, Nathan slept.
* * *
Emma awoke before dawn, the sky lightening with the approach of the sun. Nathan slept beside her and she felt comforted having him there. A desire for something closer with him passed through her, and she savored it for a moment. Then, her attention turned to Loloma. Pakwa had told her to rest, that they would attempt to work with the boy today.
Emma folded the blanket aside, pushed stray hairs away from her face, and pulled her boots on. She crawled out of the lean-to, stood, and took a deep breath into the cooler air and the smell of the surrounding pine trees. The sky was wide and expansive, beautiful and so full of promise. It calmed her and brought anticipation at the same time. Her entire life lay before her. What wondrous things did the future hold? She felt hopeful, that maybe she was discovering how to live a life with her gifts.
She glanced back to the lean-to she’d shared with Nathan. She wondered if he would remain in her life as well. She would return to Texas, embrace her sister. Would she build a life there? California had never been her home, and although she felt a fondness for her Aunt Catherine, it was time to be on her own.
She walked to the cover of bushes to take care of personal hygiene. Upon returning, she saw that Masito and Na’i were awake and stoking the central cook fire. They nodded in her direction as she approached.
Na’i spoke in Hopi and looked at her. Masito shook his head.
“What did he say?” she asked.
“It is not important,” Masito answered.
Na’i spoke again. Masito spoke quickly to him. It was clear they argued about something.
“Would you like to be alone?” she asked, feeling as if she intruded.
“No, you are fine to be here.”
Na’i seemed to urge him to say more.
Masito hesitated, then looked at Emma. “Do you belong to Blackmore?”
“Yes.” The lie flowed easily from her lips. She comforted herself in the fact that she was taking care of this misunderstanding once and for all. She would not marry Masito. And she wasn’t altogether certain if Na’i wasn’t interested in her as well. She’d never had so much male attention in her life.
Their focus shifted to a point beyond her and she knew Nathan was present, and had been during the brief conversation. Embarrassed, she felt a sudden urge to flee but remained in discomfort where she stood.
Na’i spoke.
“You cannot blame us for trying,” Masito translated.
“Just make sure it’s the last time you do,” Nathan said.
She could feel the heat from his body, but couldn’t bring herself to turn around and face him.
“We understand,” Masito said. “You are fortunate. But if you don’t want her, she would be welcome here.”
“I want her.”
Emma’s heart pounded so fiercely she could hardly breathe, and still she didn’t know what to do.
Emma jumped when Pakwa’s loud voice came from the distance. Nathan’s hand came to the small of her back, the warmth burning through her shirt.
“She says we will eat, and then you will tend to the boy,” Masito said to Emma.
Emma nodded her understanding but her s
tomach was in knots, both because of Nathan and her fear of what awaited with the boy.
A meal of squash and corn was presented, and Emma sat beside Nathan as they ate around the cook fire. Masito, Na’i, and Pakwa sat across from them. The sun crested the horizon and its brightness distracted Emma briefly. She couldn’t eat anyhow; her nervous stomach prevented it.
She imagined the sunlight filling her body with light, warming her, bringing strength and power. For a brief moment, her nerves calmed.
“How long will you stay here?” Nathan asked Masito.
“We move as needed. Pakwa instructs us.”
“Will you return to your village?”
“We will return, in the future. You are welcome to stay with us.”
Nathan glanced at Emma. “No. When Emma’s ready, we’ll return to the river.” He turned toward her. “Unless you’re ready to return to Texas.”
Emma forced a handful of food into her mouth. “Not yet,” she mumbled. She chewed and swallowed the mouthful.
Pakwa stood and dusted off her hands. She spoke, pointing at Emma.
“It is time,” Masito said. “Loloma’s body will have been tended to.”
Emma’s stomach turned sour. She and Nathan stood, then followed the three Hopi to the other side of camp. They stopped at a better-built lean-to but Emma couldn’t see inside.
Pakwa spoke quietly.
Masito addressed Emma. “She say that you may work alone, or with others. Whatever is your preferred work.”
Emma hesitated. She had always worked alone—visions didn’t require a posse—but she sensed that this would be more than specter work.
“You may all be there,” she said. She willed herself to take a deep breath to release the tightness in her chest. Her heart still pounded relentlessly.
Pakwa lifted the flap and entered. Emma and the three men followed. As Emma’s eyes adjusted to the lack of sunlight, everyone crowded in behind her.
A young boy with black hair lay on a pallet on the ground. His eyes were closed and his breathing shallow. Emma stepped forward and stared at his face. Was it the boy from her visions? She couldn’t be completely certain, but suspected he was. She felt an overwhelming pull—a need—to help him. A child deserved nothing less than the utmost effort in using her gift to save him, if that was possible.
But she was afraid to touch him.
The Sparrow Page 10
