Walker of Time

by Helen Hughes Vick

  Without a sound, he eased the bow off his shoulder with one hand, while the other drew out an arrow. With the arrow in place, Walker drew back the sinew string with all his strength.

  “With such a bow, you will . . .” Náat’s words filled his mind.

  Walker aimed the crude but sharp arrowhead on the end of the straight, gamble oak wood shaft.

  “With such a bow, you will . . .”

  The huge buck stared in Walker’s direction. Its proud head was held high, and its magnificent six-point rack pointed to the sky. Its large, dark eyes rested on Walker.

  The air was filled with the whistling sound of the arrow. As Walker watched its flight, the arrow seemed to move through the air in slow motion. The seconds became centuries—one hundred years . . . three hundred years . . . five hundred years . . . seven hundred years . . .

  The arrow’s deadly projectile penetrated the huge buck’s heart.

  “With such a bow you will win the hearts of your people . . .” Náat’s voice rang in Walker’s ears.

  20

  Walker shifted the end of the thick pole they had cut from a dying pinyon pine from his right shoulder to his left. The buck’s feet were lashed to the pole, its head and back hanging almost to the ground. White Badger and Walker each carried one end of the pole, with White Badger leading the way. They had hauled the kill less than a quarter of a mile, but Walker’s back and shoulders ached. His body glistened with sweat. His mouth was parched. The weight of the buck seemed to increase with each short step.

  As they neared the first of the cornfields, Walker felt sure that some of the men working there would offer to help carry the heavy buck down into the canyon. An offer too good to refuse, he thought, reaching up to wipe the sweat off his forehead.

  “Something is wrong,” White Badger said, stopping at the edge of the first field. It was empty except for the wind gently rustling among the long, wilted corn leaves. Walker could see that the next field was also abandoned. White Badger set off again, taking the shortest possible route across the dying field.

  Walker could feel White Badger’s tension and could smell sweat, deer hide, and death in the air. There were no workers in any of the fields they passed. Walker began to feel his own anxiety build. White Badger walked even faster. Walker followed, trying not to stumble under the heavy load.

  The man standing guard at the trail head had his back toward them. He was leaning on his spear, his shoulders sagging, his head slumped forward.

  “Fast Lizard,” White Badger called, waving.

  The man whirled around. He raised his hand in welcome. Within seconds, he stood next to White Badger. “The gods must have been with you today,” he said, helping them lower the buck to the ground. Kneeling down beside the magnificent creature, he inspected it. In disbelief he shook his head. “Whose arrow made the kill?”

  “Walker’s,” White Badger stated. “The men aren’t working the field.” His eyes questioned.

  Fast Lizard looked up, his faced lined with worry and crisscrossed with grief. “Much has happened in the few hours that you have been gone.” Standing up he reported, “With the first rays of sun, Masau’u crept into our village, stalking every family with a swift and painful death.” He clenched his spear. His knuckles turned white. His dark eyes spoke of personal lost. “He has claimed three spirits already: Gray Dove’s mother, the youngest daughter of Scar Cheek and Littlest Star, and . . .” Fast Lizard’s voice faltered, “my nephew, Running Boy.”

  “Your loss is great,” White Badger said, touching Fast Lizard’s shoulder. Walker could tell by White Badger’s tight face that each life lost was a personal blow to him also.

  “Many of our oldest and our youngest lie in Masau’u’s fingertips,” finished Fast Lizard. Fear etched deep lines in his anxious face. “My son—I am worried that he will . . .” He couldn’t finish.

  White Badger nodded in understanding. “We will leave the meat here. I will send some men up for it as soon as I can. I will have them bring word of your son to you.” In White Badger’s eyes, Walker saw the overpowering worry that he felt burning in his own heart.

  Walker trotted close behind White Badger down the steep, rocky trail. His heart hammered against his chest. The now familiar names of the dead tore at his heart. He stalks every family . . . our oldest . . . our youngest . . . the words repeated themselves in Walker’s mind. Who else was dying? Walker’s frightened thoughts raced with his feet. Great Owl? Singing Woman? Morning Flower’s newborn daughter? Walker’s throat tightened in fear.

  Nearing the first group of cliff dwellings, they could hear the sounds of mournful crying. White Badger and Walker slowed their pace to a fast walk. The usually busy path was desolate, abandoned. The smell of death swirled out of the first and third doors.

  White Badger’s feet moved faster. At the next set of homes, the intonation of a grieving song reached Walker’s ears. The sorrowful words were almost exactly the same ones that he had sung at his Uncle’s death. Walker’s throat constricted so much that he couldn’t swallow.

  The trail seemed to go on forever. The minutes seemed like years. Death and fear drifted in the air like a mist of fog. Drawing near Great Owl’s home, Walker’s feet felt as if they were lead.

  Son of Great Bear met them at his door. His face was ashen and pinched in the harsh sunlight. “White Badger, it is good you are back. Many of our people are dying, dying fast.” He looked toward Walker. “Gray Wolf is crying witchcraft to anyone that will listen.”

  “We will deal with that when we must. Our family?” White Badger asked, his voice laced tight with fear.

  “Great Owl and Flute Maiden are out doing what they can for the others in the village,” Son of Great Bear reported. “Morning Flower and the baby are doing well, so far. But Small Cub . . .” His voice broke, and his shoulders heaved. “He’s sick, so sick that I don’t know if . . .”

  White Badger put his arms around his brother-in-law and held him close. Walker could see enormous pain in his eyes as he hugged Son of Great Bear. The aching pain tightened Walker’s throat so hard that it seemed air couldn’t get through. Tears pricked his eyes.

  “He’s at Great Owl’s fire,” Son of Great Bear said, easing out of White Badger’s arms. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Flute Maiden said it would be best to keep him separated from Morning Flower and the baby. Morning Flower didn’t want to be parted from him, but Flute Maiden was firm. Tag is inside with him now.”

  At the mention of Tag’s name, Walker’s heart flip-flopped with relief. He turned, took three quick steps, placed his hands on the stone ledges, stooped, and crawled into Great Owl’s home.

  The smell of diarrhea, vomit, and death met his nose. His empty stomach reeled. His head began to swirl. Walker held his breath and struggled to see in the dim light.

  Tag knelt by Small Cub, who was lying near the small cooking fire. Tag was wiping the sick child’s head with a wet cloth. Hearing Walker’s footstep, he looked up.

  His freckles stood out on his pale, worried face. “Walker! Boy, am I glad you’re back. Small Cub is . . .” Tag gulped, unable to continue.

  Walker crossed and knelt beside Tag. Small Cub’s little face burned with fever; beads of sweat stood on his forehead. His eyes were closed. Walker stroked the boy’s hot, sunken cheek. He groaned and turned his head away, mumbling indistinguishable words.

  “Flute Maiden left some kind of medicine and some tea. He can’t hold it down, or it goes right through him.” Tag’s voice was almost panicked. “I think he’s getting dehydrated. Walker, he could die just because we don’t know what to do.”

  Walker placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We will do what we can.”

  White Badger and Son of Great Bear entered the room. They knelt down beside Small Cub. Son of Great Bear reached out and smoothed his son’s black hair. “We’re here,” he whispered, “but you have to fight hard, my son.”

  The worried look on Son of Great Bear’s face an
d the love in his voice tore at Walker’s heart. The memory of Náat’s death was too close. How was he going to bear this? He closed his eyes to shut everything out. Silence filled the room.

  “Great Taawa,” Walker prayed silently. “Bless this child. Touch him and take this sickness from his frail body.” Warm tears slid down Walker’s cheek. “Taawa, guide me. Guide my thoughts that I might help these people that I have grown to love.”

  His already light head began to swirl with the mysterious, haunting feeling. Walker fought to remain conscious as a deep darkness threatened to overtake his mind. Taawa . . . Taawa, he repeated over and over again in his thoughts, focusing on the word.

  In the darkness of Walker’s pleading mind, shadowy images began to form. He couldn’t make out the scene being played in his mind. He forced his entire being into concentration. “You must learn the bahana’s ways so that you can help your people survive . . .” Náat’s long-ago words broke through the shadows. Walker’s mind slowly began to comprehend as the darkness dissolved into light and understanding.

  “Yes, of course!” the sound of his own firm voice startled him. He opened his eyes. His heart was pounding against his chest, and his head thundered with pain, but his thoughts were clear. He felt all eyes on him.

  “Walker, what is it? You saw something again, didn’t you?” Tag asked. His eyes were wide with anxiety.

  “Yes. Yes! I know what must be done. It’s the water, Tag. The disease is being spread through the water and the waste from the sick ones.”

  Understanding washed over Tag’s grimy face. “It could be. It just could be,” his voice was low. Thinking over what had been said, he exclaimed, “If it is that, then there is a chance we can beat it!”

  Switching languages, Walker said, “White Badger, you must go and find Flute Maiden and Great Owl. Bring them back here as soon as . . .”

  “We are here,” Flute Maiden’s voice came from behind them.

  Walker turned to see Flute Maiden helping Great Owl through the low door. Walker rose to meet them. “I know that you are doing all that you know how to for the sick ones,” Walker said, looking down into Flute Maiden’s worried face. His heart tightened and yet softened at the same time. He wanted to gently touch her soft cheek, to hold her in his arms, and to shield her from all pain around them. Struggling to push these awkward feelings aside, he continued. “There is more that can and must be done if any of our people are to survive.”

  White Badger and Son of Great Bear now stood next to Walker listening. He turned to them. “Plenty of water must be brought up for each household. It must be put over a fire and boiled—boiled hard, before anyone drinks or cooks with it,” Walker’s words were tumbling out. “There must be enough boiled water for everyone to clean their hands with yucca soap and water after touching anything from a sick one. They must also always wash again before eating anything.”

  Flute Maiden nodded her head, “Yes, it makes good sense.”

  Walker saw the look of concern on White Badger’s and Son of Great Bear’s faces. “I know how little water there is and how hard it will be to get that much water to each home,” Walker rushed on, “but it must be done. It is the only chance that we have to stop the spread of the sickness.”

  “My medicines and teas must be re-mixed using boiled water,” said Flute Maiden, thinking out loud.

  Taking it a step further, Walker said, “The old must be destroyed.”

  “Yes,” Flute Maiden agreed.

  Walker went on, “All refuse from the sick—the vomit, feces, and urine—must be carried out of the homes and buried deep in the ground. It must be buried far away from the village and from any water source. The same must be done with all waste from everyone.” He looked into the faces around him. He knew that he had gone beyond their comprehension in asking them to do such difficult and strange things. A feeling of desperation flashed through him. How can I make them understand it all?

  “It all makes sense and it must done,” Flute Maiden stated firmly with authority.

  Relief surged through Walker. He gave her a thank-you smile. He went on, “The meat that we killed today . . .”

  “You brought fresh meat?” Flute Maiden interrupted.

  “Yes, rabbit and venison,” answered Walker.

  “Venison!” Flute Maiden’s eyes were bright. “I can make a special broth with the liver and strong herbs. It is just what the sick ones need!”

  Walker’s heart filled with wonder at this remarkable and beautiful young woman. “The rest of the meat must be divided among all the people. It will help fortify those that aren’t sick. They are going to need all the strength they have to fight off Masau’u,” finished Walker. He glanced toward Great Owl.

  Great Owl stood close by, leaning on his carved staff. His warm, penetrating eyes were studying Walker. A wise smile lay upon his thin lips. His old head swayed back and forth ever so gently. “It is beginning even before it starts.” The old Seer’s words were spoken so low that only Walker heard them.

  Responsibilities were quickly assigned. Within the hour, Flute Maiden and Great Owl were administering fresh medicine and strong broth. White Badger and Walker took fresh meat to each home. Though the pieces were small, all were received with gladness and appreciation. Walker explained what had to be done to stem the sickness. He knew that what he asked seemed ridiculous and incomprehensible to the ancient ones. He could see it in their eyes as he spoke. But the overwhelming fear in their hearts made them willing to try anything to save their loved ones and themselves.

  Tag stayed by Small Cub’s side, caring for him while Son of Great Bear organized all the people into work forces. Everyone who was able and who was not tending the sick was put to work. A group of men and children were sent to gather what wood they could for the fires. Others were assigned to haul water. One area was designated for the burial of all waste materials, with one person in each household put in charge of this task. The uncontrollable fear and the feeling of helplessness that had filled everyone’s hearts began to be replaced with hope and determination.

  The leather straps on the two water jugs slung over Walker’s shoulders dug deep into his skin. He leaned his body forward into the hill as he climbed up the steep path toward the village. White Badger was just a few steps behind him, followed by seven other men and five teenage boys, all carrying full five-gallon water jugs.

  The words of a prayer song filled Walker’s mind and heart. It was the song that the Kachina dancers had sung at the last dance Walker had attended at his village. It had been just a few days before he had left his home to come to this canyon. Walker was now centuries away from that day, but the Kachinas’ prayers, seeking strength and good health to endure the hardships ahead, were fresh in his mind. He began to hum the song, letting the words run through his thoughts. The deep, resonant tune was carried in the hot wind to each man and boy on the path behind him.

  Seconds later, Walker heard his humming echoed by each of those following him. Walker’s heart quickened. He began to sing the words. Supporting his song, the humming continued loud and clear. The canyon walls echoed with the prayer.

  The strong spirit of humble people working together to fight off a dreaded enemy filled the canyon. Walker saw acceptance in most faces as he worked side by side with his ancient brothers and sisters doing all that he had said must be done. At most homes where he went, taking water and encouragement, he was welcomed with warmth and respect. Walker felt that almost every eye was seeing him differently now. He was perceived no longer as a witch but as a leader—a leader they could follow in this life-and-death struggle.

  Every eye but Gray Wolf’s saw him differently. Walker saw that the hatred in Gray Wolf’s heart burned more intensely than any fear of sickness or death. He met Walker at his door with a snarl. “Your trickery will not work with me. I have been alone for many years, so I have no one to lose to this death that you have brought to my people.” Gray Wolf stared at Walker with contempt. “Fear and weakness
blind the other; they do not blind me. When the time comes, they will not be so willing to follow you. I shall see to that,” Gray Wolf threatened with a deep growl.

  21

  Walker’s shoulders and back ached from the long day of strenuous labor. His heart weighed heavy. He sat on a mat next to Great Owl watching Flute Maiden bathe Small Cub’s feverish body with cool water. Small Cub looked so little, fragile, and vulnerable. His eyes were closed. His pale face had a deathly gauntness to it. Mumbling incoherent words, he thrashed his arms and legs as if he were running away from some fearsome beast.

  With gentle, soothing words, Flute Maiden spoke to Small Cub as she wiped the sweat from his hot body. Walker could see the overwhelming concern and worry in her brown eyes. He knew she was exhausted but would not rest as long as Small Cub or anyone else needed her.

  Tag sat at Flute Maiden’s elbow, ready to help in any way. He had not left Small Cub’s side for more than a few moments during the entire day. Even when Son of Great Bear had come to help with his son, Tag had stayed next to his small patient. Tag’s face was drawn and pinched tight with worry. His eyes looked like two huge, dark freckles staring out of his tired face.

  Great Owl’s eyes were closed. His hands rested on his crossed legs. His thin, weathered body swayed back and forth from the hips up. He hummed a prayer song. The tune was unfamiliar to Walker, yet something in its sound sent an enormous sadness through Walker’s body. He had heard just such a melody sung at many death beds in his village.

  Small Cub’s body stopped its relentless movement, finally drifting into a deep sleep. Flute Maiden sat back on her heels. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She looked at the tired bahana next to her. She spoke to Tag in a quiet, firm voice. “You have been by Small Cub’s side all day, caring for him like a brother. Now for your own sake, you must go for awhile. Get some fresh air. Go next door with Morning Flower and the others. Eat and rest a bit. Then you may come back.”