by Kim Murphy
Her words brought comfort. “I wish I could do more to help you.”
“You shall, aft you have learnt why you are here. ’Til then, you must leave us.”
The thought of leaving my haven suddenly struck sheer terror in my heart. “Leave?”
“You are not safe here, Lee. Momma would ne’er forgive me if anything should happen to you in my care. Charging Bear should be here afore long. He will show you how to adapt as an Indian in our time.”
Amazed by her wisdom, I nodded. “Your mother would be proud, and I strongly suspect that she’s not the only powerful cunning woman in the family.”
“ ’Tis wise to remember that it runs in the blood. You have a daughter of your own.”
Heather, a cunning woman? Only time would tell, and for the first time since my arrival, I had the feeling that I would see her and Phoebe again. And true to Elenor’s word, Charging Bear arrived three days later by foot.
Phoebe’s brother was nearly as tall as me. Attired in a loincloth and deer-hide leggings, he wore his hair in the traditional warrior style with the right side of his head shaved. On the left, his black hair stretched the length of his back and was tied with a leather cord. Two eagle feathers were braided along the side, and the hair on top of his head stood upright.
The kids rushed out to greet him and squealed with delight when he gave them hand-carved toys in the shape of a bear, owl, and a deer. He intertwined his index finger with mine in an Indian handshake and said in fluent English. “My brother, at long last, you have returned home.”
Although I had only met him during brief encounters of the dreaming, I felt like I had known him all of my life. “Phoebe’s told me much about you.”
“Walks Through Mist,” he said in Algonquian.
“Walks Through Mist,” I agreed.
“You are Paspahegh?”
“I am.”
“Few Paspahegh and Arrohateck survive. The Appamattuck have taken me in. They will accept you as my brother.”
Like me, Charging Bear had lost his tribe in the English wars. Only with that thought did I realize I stood on what used to be Paspahegh land. Was I near where my mother had drawn her final breath? Thankfully, her death scream did not haunt me. Instead, I was drawn to these people, who had given me shelter when I needed it, and Charging Bear was like finding a long-lost brother.
Before we set off on our journey, Charging Bear visited and had a meal with the family. A few hours later, we waved goodbye, and he led me away from the mist-covered river to a forest trail. A flock of green birds with yellow heads chattered. In awe, I watched the Carolina parakeets.
Charging Bear smiled. “Life must be very different where you come from.”
He accepted my story completely. How much time had passed before I had truly believed that Phoebe had traveled across the centuries? “It is. Why do you believe me?”
“Because Walks Through Mist would only marry an honest man. What is your Paspahegh name?”
I fidgeted on my feet before responding, “I only have a child’s name.”
“For now, does it matter? Does your English name have meaning? Your parents honored you aft you were born.”
I had never quite thought of it in that way before. Hell if I knew what Lee or Crowley meant. They were just names like any other. “Crow in the Woods,” I said.
Charging Bear nodded his approval, and we continued our journey. Although I was physically fit, I had difficulty keeping his brisk pace. I became drenched, and he barely broke a sweat. After several miles, the trail led to the riverbank. He tossed ferns aside to reveal a dugout underneath. Together, we shoved the canoe from the bank and got in. Charging Bear showed me how to paddle. Going upriver, I felt the ache in my muscles soon after leaving shore. Twice, we came ashore after spotting colonial boats, and at sunset, we landed for the night.
We built a fire, and Charging Bear shared some freshly caught fish and parched cornmeal with me. After eating, I fell asleep in an exhausted heap. The next morning, we set out at dawn. Even after pulling numerous double shifts, I had never worked as hard as paddling a dugout against the current. A few times when we encountered swifter current, we tied lines to the dugout and walked alongside on the banks. In shallow areas, we had no choice but to enter the bone-chilling water and lead the boat as if it were a dog on a leash.
Two days passed before we reached a town of arched houses covered by woven mats. Upon our entrance to the town, the Appamattuck sent up a shrill cry. Men in this society proved their warrior status. Would I be capable of passing their tests? I envisioned myself running a gauntlet, but the chief introduced himself and gave a speech. He welcomed me as Charging Bear’s long-lost brother. When Phoebe spoke Algonquian, she usually enunciated words slowly and carefully to help me understand. In my present environment I was at a loss, except for a few words here and there.
The chief finished speaking and motioned for me to accompany a couple of women.
I looked to Charging Bear for guidance.
“ ’Tis all right, Crow in the Woods,” he said. “You must be cleansed to reclaim your birthright.”
For safe keeping, I unstrapped my holster, where I kept my Glock hidden beneath my shirt, and handed it to Charging Bear. “It’s a gun from the twenty-first century. Please keep it holstered. I don’t want anyone accidentally hurt or killed.”
He assured me the weapon wouldn’t leave his hands, and I followed the women to the river. For some reason, I thought of Phoebe. She and her mother had gone through a similar purification ritual. Only ten at the time, she had believed the stories from the colony that Indians cooked children and ate them.
We reached the river bank, and the nearest woman told me to undress.
A group of people gathered along the bank, waiting for me to do as I was instructed. After all of the years of being given dreamcatchers, arrowheads, and medicine pouches from tribes that weren’t mine, I was suddenly embarrassed to claim my heritage. Was I white or Paspahegh? With renewed determination, I removed my shirt, shoes, and socks.
I hesitated once more, and the men laughed.
Aware they were goading me, I stripped my jeans and briefs and entered the chilly water. Without a stitch of clothing to protect me, the ball-numbing water nearly sent me into shock, and I overheard a round of laughter when I gasped. The women had accompanied me, and one began to wash me.
Laughter surrounded me.
“I can do it myself,” I insisted and dunked myself underwater.
Coughing and sputtering, I resurfaced. Although my fingers were nearly frozen, I scrubbed myself. Neither of the women moved any closer. So cold. But I continued washing. My mind wandered, and the crow lifted me toward the sky. The wind carried me higher and higher. Phoebe called me back to her.
“Crow in the Woods.”
I blinked. It had been a man’s voice, not Phoebe’s.
Charging Bear stood on the bank, and the women waved for me to follow them. As soon as I was out of the water, I was handed a fringed loincloth and moccasins. Thankfully because of the dreaming, I spared myself further embarrassment and pulled the soft hide between my legs, letting the fringed material flap over a strip of leather that I tied around my waist. I slipped on the moccasins, and a mantle covered with duck feathers and shell beads was draped across my shoulders.
The chief offered me a leather necklace decorated with feathers.
“I’m honored, sir,” I said in my best Algonquian.
He placed it around my neck. “Your people welcome your return. Join us on this joyous occasion.”
The townspeople had formed two lines, and I traveled the path away from the river. Some bowed their heads and others shouted a salute. I was escorted to the largest longhouse, where another group of people had gathered. Inside the longhouse, about twenty people lined the walls, and I was introduced to each individual.
The chief took his place at the end wall of the house and sat on a wood frame. His two wives sat beside him. I was shown to a
mat near the frame on his right. The others were seated on mats in rows in front of the chief. In turn, each person stood and welcomed me. Many gave lengthy speeches that I barely understood.
Following the lectures, we had a feast of venison, fish, corn, and beans. I had never seen so much food in one gathering. After dinner, a pipe was passed around. Barring a few joints in college, I had never been a smoker of any kind, much less a pipe smoker. When my turn came, I puffed quickly and felt a stinging sensation on my tongue. A warrior near me showed me how to take slow breaths.
Not wishing to offend my hosts, I tried again. While the experience wasn’t exactly pleasant, I managed to keep from burning my tongue.
“Did the English try to scalp you?” one man asked.
My short hairstyle seemed to be a great source of amusement when I replied in the negative.
Others were curious about my life with the English. Even if I fully understood the concept of time travel myself, I didn’t know the correct words to explain it. Instead, as best as I could, I relayed a couple of adventurous police tales to a captive audience.
After the pipe made several rounds, drums beat outside the longhouse. I was escorted to another house where Charging Bear joined me and handed me my Glock. He motioned for me to sit near the fire. “I will show you how to paint your body and face.” He brushed and sponged on black and red paints. When he was finished, he handed me an English mirror.
I barely recognized myself.
Charging Bear smiled. “Now we shall dance.” He showed me to the door where the people had gathered. The drums beat in rhythm. Men, women, and children danced in a circle around a fire to the tempo of the drum.
Charging Bear showed me the steps. At first, I was awkward, but I copied his movements. Round and round I went. No one made fun of my clumsy gait, and suddenly the steps seemed familiar. My mother had shown me. The beat of the drum lived inside me. My heart pounded, and when the people sent up a shrill cry, I joined them.
At long last, I was home.
When the dancing ended, I was shown to a guest house with turtle shells, gourds, clay pots, and woven baskets. Unlike the Native houses I had seen at historical museums, I spotted a few metal pots that had been obtained from trading with colonists. Wooden frames with mats covered with animal skins and the occasional wool blanket served as beds. An open fire crackled in the middle with a smoke hole cut away in the mat above it.
Thankfully, I was too exhausted to think of all that had happened or my present situation. I would try to contact Phoebe after I had a few hours’ sleep. I barely got settled on the sleeping platform when the door rustled.
A woman stood at the entrance, and I sat up. She wasn’t just any woman, but a beautiful one with long black hair, black eyes, and full lips. She wore a necklace of glass and shell beads. One breast remained exposed from her deer-hide covering. She moved closer, and my body reacted. “I’m Falling Rain,” she said. “I was given the honor to welcome you.”
“That won’t...” My voice cracked, and I stood, clearing my throat. “That won’t be necessary,” I said with as much conviction as I could muster.
She frowned. “Do I displease you?”
I thought of Phoebe, and how much I wanted to hold her. An awkward moment passed in silence. I reached out and nearly took Falling Rain into my arms but dropped them back to my sides. “No, it’s nothing like that.”
She lowered her gaze, and I wondered if she could make sense of my Algonquian. Finally, she turned and left the house. Relieved that I had fought off temptation, I breathed deeply and stepped outside. Except for night sounds, the town was now quiet.
When I reached the river, I sat along the bank. The moon cast a gentle glow, reflecting off the water. Could I enter the dreaming here?
A soft tread of footsteps came from behind, and Charging Bear stood beside me. “Have we offended you, Crow in the Woods?”
“On the contrary, you have honored me in every way possible. I miss my family. I’ve tried contacting Walks Through Mist but have been unsuccessful.”
He gripped my shoulder in understanding. “When you are ready, return to us.”
“I will.”
Charging Bear left my side. In the distance, an owl hooted and a fish splashed. In my mind’s eye, I spotted the flame. Concentrate. No familiar mist appeared before me. Why couldn’t I break through the barrier?
A gentle breeze blew in my ear. With it, I thought I heard voices. The wind picked up, and the voices faded. Phoebe.
* * *
8
Phoebe
Like on the night Lee had vanished, Phoebe heard him call her name. The sound carried like a whisper on the breeze. “Lee?” But his voice had already faded. Even she had begun to doubt herself. How many weeks had passed since his disappearance? Three? Or had it been four? Ed no longer called with updates, for there were none. The trail had gone completely cold.
During the day, Phoebe went through the motions of caring for Heather. Each night, she entered the dreaming searching for answers—to no avail. Throughout her life, she had suffered many losses—a son, a husband, even her world—but she had ne’er truly been alone afore. Meg stayed with her when she wasn’t at her nursing job. If it had not been for her friend, Phoebe would have forgotten the simplest of tasks—such as sleeping and eating. But many empty hours passed that she was alone.
When Dark Moon and Lightning Storm had died, other women were always nearby to help her through her grief. Her mind was sinking, and she surrendered to her worst thoughts. What if Lee was dead? Mayhap his call had been from the afterlife.
She tried not to believe. If he was dead, Ed would have found some clues. So why could she no longer believe that he was still alive?
A tapping sound brought Phoebe out of her melancholy thoughts. The sound came again. The door. Only a few days earlier, she would have raced to it, hoping to find Lee on the other side, ne’er giving a thought as to why he simply would not have used his key. Another rap, and Phoebe reached the door, opening it to Shae.
“Phoebe, I’m sorry for not coming sooner. I...”
Shae’s eyes were puffy and swollen, reminding Phoebe that she too had loved Lee. She motioned for Shae to step inside. “There was naught you could have done.”
Shae dabbed a tissue to her eyes. “I’m not so certain.”
“What do you mean?”
“Before his disappearance, Lee came to my office to help me with a patient who had witnessed a murder. Afterward, I asked how everyone was. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week and admitted that he was having nightmares of his mother’s death. I tried to tell him that such problems were normal after reliving a childhood trauma. I also urged him to seek professional help, but he said that he couldn’t because only the two of us knew the truth about him. I honestly thought he’d tell you...”
Phoebe recalled Lee saying that he had visited Shae. “Tell me what?”
“A couple months ago, a Native American skeleton was uncovered.”
“Aye, Lee told me about the skeleton.”
“He thought the skeleton was himself.”
“Himself?” Phoebe tried to make sense of Shae’s words. The skeleton couldn’t have been Lee, unless... why hadn’t she paid more attention to the signs? The skeleton hadn’t been a warning of Lee’s death, but that he would return to their time. With a sick feeling in her stomach, she placed a hand over her abdomen. Lee would be as lost in the seventeenth century as she had been in the twenty-first. “Tell me all that you know.”
“They called in a forensic anthropologist to determine the age of the skeleton. She claimed it was historic...”
Shae’s story matched exactly to what Lee had told her, except for the part that he had visited the anthropologist and saw a mirror image of himself in the recreation of the skeleton’s countenance. He had confided in Shae, not her. None of that mattered now—only finding Lee. “Shae, will you accompany me to see Dr. Kelsey?”
“You know I will.”
>
The following day, Phoebe carried Heather in a backpack, much like she had carried Dark Moon and Elenor on a cradleboard. Shae met them on campus, and they proceeded to Jan Kelsey’s office. After a round of introductions, Jan asked, “I wish we could have met under better circumstances, but what can I do for you, Mrs. Crowley?”
“Please, call me Phoebe.”
“If you’ll call me Jan.”
“Aye. A couple of months ago, my husband worked on a case where a skeleton had been uncovered. You were called in for an evaluation.”
“I was, and it’s a case that I won’t forget. Here, let me show you.” Jan led the way from her office to a lab. “Even though the find fell under the jurisdiction of Historic Resources and not the police, I called Lee about it. I thought he’d be interested in seeing our reconstruction of the skull because it’s a Native American male who had been buried for over two hundred years. Well, that’s only a partial truth. Here, let me show you.”
At the back of the lab sat a clay facial reconstruction. Though the black wig had been fashioned in a traditional warrior style, the eyes staring back at her were none other than Lee’s. “Lee?”
“The resemblance is uncanny, isn’t it?” Jan said. “I thought he might be an ancestor to Lee.”
Phoebe stared at Lee’s countenance. At least now she had some idea as to where to search for him.
* * *
“Phoebe, I’ve put the girls to bed,” Meg said, joining her in the parlor. “Now, are you going to tell me what you’ve found out?”
“Lee has returned to the seventeenth century.”
“How is that possible? I’m having a hard enough time trying to figure out how you got here in the first place.”
“As am I, but I must find him and return.”
“How?”
“I don’t know how, for I don’t fully understand how I got here. ’Twas like entering the dreaming, but that time, I traveled physically. If I can discover what was different, I can travel to him.”
