“Right, but she was young and had her full sight then,” Walker answered. Hearing Tag retell the story that Singing Woman had told him as he had sat next to his father seemed to be helping to confirm things in Walker’s mind.
Tag shifted his long legs. “She takes him back to her home to care for him. Lone Eagle is Singing Woman’s brother, and while Náat is staying there the two young men become very good friends. Since Singing Woman is of marriageable age, it isn’t proper for Náat to stay at their house for very long. Once he is well, he goes to live with Lone Eagle’s best friend, Great Owl. Great Owl’s parents welcome Náat and treat him as a second son. This made Náat and Great Owl like brothers, right?” Tag grinned, as if he were pleased with himself for his own deduction of the two men’s close relationship. “Before long, Náat and Singing Woman fall in love and get married. That makes her your aunt, right?” Tag paused, his faced screwed up in thought. “Don’t aunts play a pretty important part in the Hopi culture?”
“Yes, they are almost as important as one’s mother. It is the same here,” Walker answered. He was sure that was why Singing Woman had been the one to tell him of his past, with Lone Eagle and Great Owl adding bits of information only when needed.
Tag ran his fingers through his hair, only to get them tangled in the matted mess. “Did Singing Woman say whether Náat had ever told anyone about where he had come from?”
Walker looked into the small, smoky fire. Only two small flames licked the air. “She said that they had been married many moons before Náat had told her about his home on the mesas. He also confided his secret to his close friends, Lone Eagle and Great Owl, but to no one else.”
“I can see why. I am sure the others would have thought that he was nuts, or—or a witch,” Tag said in a low voice.
“Some did,” answered Walker, looking up at Tag. He tried to remember the exact words that Singing Woman had used in describing the situation back then. “Times were very bad. Discontentment had started to fill the people’s hearts. They were no longer as one with the spirits of the canyon or with each other. The people’s harsh, unkind words had driven the rain clouds away. Their selfishness had kept the snow from falling. Because of the many contentions among the people, the crops became stingy with their harvests. The deer and antelope grew tired of hearing the complaining and bickering. They and our other animal brothers and sisters left to find a place of harmony to live. The people’s belts were cinched tight against hunger by the time Náat arrived.”
Walker paused, reaching up to touch his pendant. It was easy for him to visualize Náat living and working here. “Náat taught the people many new farming techniques, which probably helped them survive this long. But even with this, some people whispered that Náat had appeared out of the air and was two-hearted.” A cold shiver slithered up Walker’s back. His kind and loving Náat had also faced the serious accusations of being a witch.
“Then for many years there were few babies born, and very few survived. Witchcraft was whispered louder. To make things look worse, Náat and Singing Woman, Great Owl and his wife, and my parents, who were all considered a family, did not have any children for years and years. Fingers started to point at Náat.”
“This is all so incredible,” Tag said, standing up, his knees creaking. He began to pace back and forth in the small dwelling as if to expel a sudden burst of nervous energy. “Then your father, Lone Eagle, was chosen chief.” Tag stopped. Making a quick turn, he walked in the opposite direction. “After many years and to everyone’s surprise, Morning Flower and then White Badger were born at Great Owl’s hearth. A few years later, again to everyone’s surprise, you were born to Lone Eagle and your mother . . .”
“Summer’s Song. My mother’s name was Summer’s Song,” Walker said. It was the first time in many years that he had said her name. Her kind face swept through his memory. He recalled the sound of her warm voice singing prayer songs. Her name had fit her well.
Tag came to an abrupt stop. “Do you remember White Badger? I mean as a boy?”
Walker nodded his head. “Yes, and Flute Maiden. She is just a few months younger than I am. The three of us were always together. I also remember Gray Wolf bloodying my nose many times.” Walker shook his head. “He was a bully even then.”
“That would explain why they recognized you,” Tag stated, resuming his pacing. “But Singing Woman and Náat never had any children. I bet that really helped the witchcraft rumor mill.” He plodded back and forth twice in silence. Walker watched his friend, knowing that he was trying to accept what he was saying. It was hard to comprehend. Walker remained quiet, waiting for Tag to continue.
“When you were three or four years old, sickness or plague hit hard. People started dying just like they are now.” Tag looked over to Small Cub’s limp body.
“Worse,” Walker said in a low voice, remembering Singing Woman’s words. “In a star’s twinkling, Masau’u claimed all the elderly ones but was still hungry. Babies in their mother’s arms closed their eyes, never to wake again. Children stopped their games and lay down, never to play again.”
With tears in his eyes, Tag stood perfectly still, staring down at Small Cub. “I can really understand and accept that.” He brushed his eyes with the back of his hand. With a deep sigh, he plopped down beside Walker. He sat with his shoulders hunched forward, gazing at the sick child. Gently he lifted Small Cub’s hand into his and cradled it.
Silence filled the stale air for many minutes.
“Your mother gets the sickness really bad.” From Tag’s weary voice, Walker could tell his short spurt of energy was gone. “Just before your mother dies, she has a vision or something. She sees that you, her son, will some day lead her people. She also realizes that you could get sick, too. So she asks Great Owl to use his magical powers to save you.” Tag searched Walker’s face. “Do you think that she knew about him sending you with Náat into the future?”
“I don’t know.” Walker stared into the low flames. “She knew that Great Owl had seen the same images of me leading the people that she had. I think she just trusted him to use his powers in any way possible to protect me.”
Tag thought this over for a minute. Nodding his head, as if he accepted it, he continued, “So somehow, Great Owl zaps you and your uncle back to the future, where you have been for the last eleven or more years, right?” Tag turned to look straight into Walker’s eyes. “But how?” Even before Walker could shrug his shoulders, Tag answered his own question. “I know! I know! It’s not polite to ask.”
Walker smiled at his friend. Silence again filled the thick air.
“While you were living in the twentieth century, things here just kept getting worse with the drought and everything. With Lone Eagle getting old and sick, Great Owl brings you back here. And now things get downright dangerous. Tomorrow at the fort, in front of all the people, your father is going to announce that you are their new leader and chief.” Tag shook his head. “It sounds easy enough. Except that Gray Wolf also wants to be chief and is willing to kill anyone who stands in his way.”
“Yup,” said Walker with a tightness in his chest. “You know, you’re pretty good for a bahana.” He winked at Tag.
Tag ignored the teasing, his face remaining deadly serious. “How are you going to prove that you are Lone Eagle’s son? That is, without getting one of Gray Wolf’s arrow’s straight through your heart?”
Walker reached up and touched his eagle pendant. “It will be done,” he said, trying to sound confident. Fear began pumping through his body at the thought of what he must do in the morning. Could he take on such overwhelming responsibilities? Would he be able to deal with Gray Wolf and his followers? He swallowed the growing knot in his throat. “Now, Tag, we need to talk about you.”
“Me?”
Walker smiled. “Yes, my friend, you. You just happened to ‘tag along,’ into all of this. Like you just said, things are going to get dangerous. Tag, I value your friendship too much to have your blo
od on my hands if something goes wrong.”
“But . . .”
“No, hear what I have to say. Then you, and only you, must decide which path to take.” Walker took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Great Owl has the power to send you back into the future.”
Tag sputtered, “What?”
“Yes, back to the future. I can’t tell you for certain what lies ahead for me or my people. You, however, have the option to return home to your own time and to your own people.”
Tag’s mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out. Closing his mouth, he looked down at his hands that were clenched together.
After giving Tag a few minutes to absorb what he had just said, Walker continued, “There are two catches to your going back.”
Tag looked at him. Walker waited for Tag to ask the logical questions. Tag just waited for him to explain.
“First, if you choose to return, it must be done soon—no later than tomorrow before dark.” Again Walker paused, waiting for questions. When none came, he went on, “Second, if you go back, Great Owl cannot guarantee that you will go back to the exact time you left.”
Silence.
“I think what you are trying to tell me is that I may not end up back on the day I left,” Tag said. Reading the expression on Walker’s face, he added in a low voice, “I might not get back in the same year—or even in the same century?”
Walker nodded.
Silence.
“Walker, I could take Small Cub with me! Wherever we ended up, he would have better medical care than he can get now. I could get him to a doctor. I could save him, just like your uncle saved you.”
“Tag, think for a minute what taking Small Cub out of this time period would do to him,” Walker said.
“It was all right for you when your uncle took you.”
“Náat took me to a twentieth-century environment that is similar to life here. The Hopi culture parallels this culture so closely that it even scares me. You yourself said going to our villages was like going back in time hundreds of years. There was no huge culture shock or adjustment for me. The languages are so much alike that even that was not a big problem. If you took Small Cub back to your way of life . . .”
“It would be too much for him to handle.” Tag’s voice held realization and disappointment.
Silence.
“I know! What if I go back just long enough to get some medicine, enough for everyone, and then zap back here with it.”
“I’m afraid there isn’t that much time left.” Walker reached out and touched Tag’s shoulder. “You must decide what is best for you and you alone.”
Silence.
Tag nodded. “I’ll decide before it’s too late. It is not going to be easy.” He gazed down at Small Cub. A tear slipped down his cheek. He brushed it away with the back of his hand. He turned to look at Walker. “What are you going to do if and when you actually become chief?”
Walker answered in a low but firm voice, “Take my people home.”
24
Tag placed the last piece of wood on the dying fire. The yellow flames licked the new log as if it were an ice cream cone. Tag moved closer to Small Cub’s mat. He reached out and brushed a tangled strand of long, black hair away from the sleeping boy’s eyes. Small Cub’s smooth, soft cheek was warm. Tag felt the boy’s forehead; it was just warm, not hot. A feeling of relief washed over Tag. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you.”
Despite Small Cub’s improvement, Tag’s chest and shoulders felt as if a weight hung around his neck like a huge yoke. In the very early hours of the morning, while he could still see stars twinkling in the sky outside Great Owl’s doorway, he had made his decision. Was it the right one? he wondered now, feeling burdened and depressed.
He opened his eyes. Tears blurred his vision. Tag wiped his eyes and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Small Cub mumbled something and thrashed his legs about. Tag reached out and took his hand, holding it tight. “It’s okay. I’m here,” he said. Maybe Small Cub wasn’t really getting better. The lump in Tag’s throat grew larger.
Maybe he should ignore what Walker had said about taking Small Cub into the future for medical help. He couldn’t just leave knowing that Small Cub could be dying. If he hurried, he could take Small Cub before Walker and the others returned from the meeting place. They had been gone only about ten minutes. It would take a lot longer to make Walker chief, especially if Gray Wolf had anything to say about it. He could strap Small Cub to his back while he climbed up the cliff to the cave. He couldn’t weigh very much, Tag thought anxiously. Kneeling, he slipped one arm under the boy’s shoulders, the other one under his legs. Gently, he lifted Small Cub up, cradling him close to his chest. “Come on, little buddy, we’re going time walking,” Tag said, trying to stand up.
“Ingu. Ingu,” Small Cub called, his eyes still shut.
Tag’s heart stopped. He hugged Small Cub tightly, resting his chin on Small Cub’s head. “Ingu,” he whispered. “Mother.” This was one of the few words he had learned here. “Of course, you want your mother, just like I want mine,” Tag said, his voice cracking. He eased Small Cub down on his mat and covered him up with the fur blanket.
Tag sat back on his knees, tears washing down his face. “Walker was right. I can’t take you with me. You belong here with your family.” He realized that he had been a fool to think that he could. With both hands, he wiped his wet cheeks, but his eyes were still blurry.
He reached for Walker’s backpack, which lay nearby. Opening it, he fumbled inside, then pulled out the ancient paho and one of his sneakers. Walker had gotten their clothes out of the storage room before anyone was awake, explaining, “You are going to need these again back in the future, but wait till you get in the cave to change.”
Now after just a few days, the clothes looked almost foreign to Tag. The shoes felt heavy and awkward. His bright T-shirt seemed foolishly garish. Drawing out his rolled-up blue jeans, he wondered how he could ever have thought that these stiff, scratching pants had been comfortable. They certainly would be confining compared to his loincloth, Tag realized, searching the pockets. He found his Boy Scout compass, and using his T-shirt, he polished the fingerprints off the metal casing.
“Small Cub,” he said leaning down close to him. “Listen, buddy, I need to talk to you before the others come back. I know that you probably can’t hear me, but I have got to . . .” Tag swallowed hard, trying to go on. “I have got to go back to my mom and dad. I want you to know that I will never forget you or your people.” A sob shook Tag’s body. How he wished he could stay to help, but he knew he couldn’t for many reasons, some of which he didn’t even fully understand. Maybe everyone did indeed belong to just one time and place. What about Walker? Where did he belong? He was caught between two homes, two peoples, two worlds. How could he give up either one for the other?
Small Cub mumbled something, opening his eyes for a second.
“Small Cub,” Tag said, squeezing his hand, “can you hear me?”
The sick boy’s eyes opened again. He squinted, trying to focus. He smiled weakly.
Tag’s heart pounded against his chest. “I want you to have my Boy Scout compass to remember me by. I know it’s not much, but it’s all I have.” He held up the shiny compass, so Small Cub could see it. “Look, it even has a mirror on the back, which comes in handy for combing your hair and stuff. I’ll have Walker show you how to use the compass, so you’ll never get lost.” Small Cub blinked, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. He closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep. “That’s okay,” Tag said, placing the compass next to Small Cub. He reached up to smooth Small Cub’s hair. “I’ll just leave it here for when you feel better. You’ll be the envy of every kid in the village, not to mention all the women who will want to use your mirror.” Tag tried to chuckle, but his throat was tight with a huge knot of emotions.
Walker looked up at the gray morning sky. Thick, dark clouds fill
ed the canyon, making it impossible to see even the rim. The low lying, pewter-colored veil held no desperately needed rain. Its sole purpose seemed to be to isolate the canyon from the rest of the world while suspending it in time.
Following Son of Great Bear up the trail to the meeting place, Walker realized that the ominous cloud cover was the same as on that first day here when he had started his journey in time. He remembered wondering then if Náat’s spirit had been one of those dark, flat clouds. A cold chill shook his body. Náat, are you among these clouds, waiting for me to join you in death this day? Fearful anticipation surged through Walker’s body. He was glad that Tag was safe back at Great Owl’s home and that he knew what must be done if he did not return alive.
The path grew steeper and narrower. Walker knew that within minutes he would stand before his people. Great Taawa, Walker prayed silently, guide my thoughts, my words, that I might accomplish what I was sent back to do. Touch my brothers and sisters that their hearts may be in harmony with mine.
Walker saw the stone wall that surrounded the meeting place. The sound of thunder filled his ears. Or was it just his own heart pounding? Straightening his back and squaring his shoulders, he followed Son of Great Bear through the unguarded entrance.
Son of Great Bear stopped a few feet inside the walled area. Walker stood next to him. The villagers sat on the ground, huddled together in small groups facing the rock platform. Walker spotted Singing Woman, Morning Flower, and Flute Maiden, sitting side by side in the first row. Great Owl, dressed in his long, red ceremonial kilt and beaded skullcap, sat cross-legged next to Flute Maiden. Scar Cheek and his wife sat directly behind them with Arrow Maker and his family.
Walker recognized all but a few faces. These unknown men sat with families that he recognized. He guessed that they must have been the men who had accompanied Long Eagle to the sacred mountain. Would their loyalty to his father be transferred to him?
Walker of Time Page 15
