The Wolf Tree

by John Claude Bemis

  They eventually stopped at a cluster of cabins and outbuildings, a cornfield on one side and a fenced garden on the other. B’hoy rose from Ray’s shoulder, gliding off across the green stalks.

  “We’re here,” Mulberry said, and then he called out, “O-si-yo!”

  A woman with touches of gray in her hair stood up from the garden. The door opened from one of the cabins, and Redfeather stepped out on the porch. He was wearing a long linen shirt, deerskin leggings, and moccasins. His hair was plaited and capped on the ends with bright red beads.

  “Ray! Marisol!” he called, rushing to greet them. “I got Ox Everett’s telegram that you were coming. How was your journey?”

  Marisol slid down, saying, “Weather was fine. Took in the sights. Ray was shot. But otherwise …”

  “What?” Redfeather gasped, helping Ray off Crossley’s horse.

  “I’m all right.”

  “Thanks to me,” Marisol said.

  “Thanks to Marisol.” Ray smirked.

  “Water Spider will be back soon,” Redfeather said. “He can look at the wound. Did the bullet pass through?”

  “No, unfortunately,” Ray said.

  “Water Spider will get it out.”

  Ray winced at the thought. “It seems to be healing. That might make it worse.”

  “He’s a powerful healer,” Redfeather assured him. “He can do it without even opening the wound.”

  “How’s that possible?” Marisol scoffed.

  “You’ll see.”

  The woman approached and spoke in Cherokee to Crossley and Mulberry, who were still on their horses. They smiled and shook their heads. Then Crossley said to Ray and Marisol, “Sorry we can’t join you for dinner. We’ve got to get this razorback butchered.”

  “Thank you for your help,” Ray said, reaching up to shake their hands. They waved to Marisol and kicked their horses to set off down the dusty road.

  Redfeather gestured to the woman. “Ray, Marisol, this is Little Grass. Water Spider’s wife.”

  Little Grass smiled at the two, then her eyes went from Ray’s blood-crusted shirt to Marisol’s ragtag attire. “You two look like you’ve walked a rough road,” Little Grass said. She cocked her head toward the cabin. “Come inside. Let’s get you fed. Water Spider will be home soon.”

  The cabin was small, half the size of the den back at Shuckstack. It was simply furnished: a table, a few chairs, and a rope bed in the corner. Little Grass filled a large basin in the backyard with hot water for Marisol to bathe in. She then began preparing a meal at the fireplace while Ray and Redfeather talked together.

  “Water Spider is an amazing man,” Redfeather said. “He tries to live by the old ways. That’s pretty rare out here nowadays. He’s one of the last still living who came out when the Cherokee were forced from the Appalachians.”

  “I hear you’re a medicine man,” Ray said with a smile.

  “Who told you that? Mulberry?” Redfeather shook his head. “I’m learning, but I’m no di-da-nv-wi-s-gi.”

  “But you want to be?”

  “Sure.” He leaned closer, an intensity in his eyes. “I’m Kwakiutl, but you know how I was never really a part of my tribe. I was so young when I was taken in by Nel. I grew up in the medicine show, traveling around. I had no idea the sort of hardship the tribes faced. The old ways are being lost.”

  “So Water Spider is teaching you,” Ray said.

  “He’s been very kind to accept me,” Redfeather said.

  Little Grass sat up from where she was cracking small bird eggs into a cast-iron pot of soup. “Redfeather can help the tribes,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” Ray asked.

  She didn’t answer, but instead nodded to the door. “Water Spider is back.”

  Ray stood as the door opened. Water Spider was tall, over six feet, and stood erect and strong. Only his long white hair and deeply lined face suggested his age. When he entered, he spoke softly in Cherokee to his wife before looking at Ray and Redfeather.

  “O-si-yo. Tsi-lu-gi.” Water Spider had a deep voice like distant thunder. His eyes sparkled brightly.

  “He welcomes you,” Redfeather said.

  Little Grass said, “You will have to forgive my husband. He does not speak English. He says he will take it up when he is a hundred.”

  Water Spider seemed to know this joke, for he chuckled, and then motioned for Ray and Redfeather to sit at the table. Little Grass had the table already set with bowls and began to serve them the soup and delicious-smelling bean bread.

  Marisol came in from the back door, her thick black hair still wet, and looking pleased from the bath. “Little Grass, were these meant for me?” She waved her hands at her outfit: a loose-fitting ribboned shirt of dark blue, an embroidered skirt, and leggings.

  “I hope they fit you,” Little Grass said. “Your clothes were a mess. I will try to repair them.”

  Marisol shook her head, “No, please don’t bother. I’ll get new ones.”

  “Then you keep those,” Little Grass offered.

  “I couldn’t.”

  “You will. Now sit, and … what is that?” Her eyes grew wide.

  Javidos slithered from under Marisol’s sleeve. Marisol hastened to allay her fear. “He’s perfectly harmless, I assure you. I can leave him outside if you want.”

  “I think I’d rather he was not somewhere he’ll surprise me.” She sat, her eyes cautiously following the copperhead’s movements.

  Marisol smiled politely to Water Spider as she took her seat. He smiled back at her and then turned to say something to his wife and Redfeather that was clearly about Marisol. After some back and forth, Redfeather said, “Water Spider was asking what tribe you came from. I explained that you weren’t Indian.”

  “My mother was,” Marisol corrected.

  “Really?” Redfeather muttered skeptically.

  “She was Hopi. My father was Mexican.”

  “But you didn’t grow up with her tribe,” Redfeather said.

  “So?” Marisol scowled. “You didn’t grow up with yours.”

  Little Grass placed her hands on the table, which was enough to stop the argument. “Where did you grow up then, Marisol?” she asked.

  “In Sonora for a time. Along the San Miguel River. I did visit my grandparents once in their village on the mesa. It was beautiful, from what little I remember.”

  Little Grass translated this to Water Spider, who nodded with interest. He was curious about Javidos and her ability to speak with him.

  “He’s little more than a pet, really. I’m no Rambler.”

  “But you’re learning,” Ray said.

  The food was delicious, and Ray had several bowls as they talked. He told them about Mister Bradshaw’s visit to Shuckstack. Both Water Spider and Little Grass, who knew the man, were sad to hear of his death. Ray then recounted their journey from Shuckstack, and Water Spider asked Ray about B’hoy.

  “I’m beginning to speak to him from a distance, with my thoughts. Does Water Spider know how to take animal form?”

  Redfeather answered after translating Ray’s question. “He says he has heard of some who have. It’s a rare ability. He says you are on the right path and to keep trying.”

  Disappointed not to get more guidance, Ray thanked him and then asked, “Have you seen the Darkness yet, Redfeather?”

  “No. Water Spider says it’s cursed. And it sounds like from what happened to Bradshaw, he’s right. You shouldn’t go there, Ray. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Nel made us protections,” Ray said.

  After this was translated to Water Spider, the old man asked if he could see the charms. Ray took them from his red flannel toby and handed the small pouch across the table. Water Spider opened the string and sniffed first. Then he shook the bundles of cinquefoil and wintergreen, crushed ash leaves, and other bits of roots and herbs into his palm. After examining them, he returned the contents to the pouch and handed it back to Ray nodding appreciatively while
speaking.

  “He agrees they will help,” Redfeather explained, “and said only Nel could make such a charm.”

  “Nel made enough for three,” Ray said to Redfeather. “Will you come with us?”

  Water Spider seemed to already know what was asked. He exchanged a glance with Little Grass, who dipped her eyes. Redfeather spoke in Cherokee before turning back to Ray.

  “Little Grass does not like the idea, but Water Spider has a reason for wanting me to go.”

  “What’s that?”

  “To find the Wa-ya Tlu-gv … I’ll let him explain. He said he will talk to us later. First he wants to remove that bullet from your shoulder.”

  Ray put down his spoon, his appetite gone.

  * * *

  Ray bathed first in the large basin in the backyard. B’hoy watched from the eaves of the cabin. “We’ll be here a while,” Ray said. “You’re on your own for meals.” The crow cawed several times, and Ray said, “Because you’re getting too tame, that’s why.” The crow landed on the edge of the tub to peck Ray’s hand sharply, before taking flight. “Ingrate!” Ray called.

  Ray stepped back inside wearing a clean union suit and feeling too nervous to be modest. Marisol was helping Little Grass clean the dishes on the porch. Water Spider and Redfeather stood by the fireplace, where a single chair was waiting for Ray.

  “Come over,” Redfeather said. “Have a seat.”

  Water Spider smiled reassuringly and motioned for Ray to unbutton the top of his union suit. Ray sat stiffly and slipped his arms from the gray sleeves. Ray looked around for a knife or surgical instruments, but there were none. Water Spider held a long piece of red string. He tied it around Ray’s wrist and slid his fingers along the string, from the knot to the loose end, muttering softly as he went.

  Ray turned to Redfeather, who nodded at him and said, “Go ahead and close your eyes. Just relax.”

  Ray glanced once more at Water Spider, who seemed to be in a trance, and then closed his eyes. Water Spider continued whispering. What sort of spell was this? The bullet was lodged deep in his shoulder. Although the wound had closed and the infection was gone, he could feel the dull ache where the muscle was still injured.

  The string grew taut. Ray felt Water Spider’s fingers clasp about his wrist. A tingling began, first in his hand, moving its way up his arm with a strange hot-cold sensation. Ray became dizzy. His thoughts quieted.

  An intense pressure squeezed at his shoulder. Ray jerked forward and found hands over his eyes and Redfeather whispering, “Be still!”

  Water Spider began chanting loudly, almost as if he were singing. Redfeather had to brace Ray as the pressure on his shoulder grew unbearable. Ray shouted, but just at that moment, the pressure ceased. The hot-cold tingling moved back down his arm, to his wrist, his hand, and finally became just little prickles at his fingertips.

  The room was quiet. Redfeather released his grip. Ray slumped back against the chair, drained of all his energy. Water Spider breathed heavily as he mumbled something to Redfeather. “Are you okay, Ray?” Redfeather asked.

  Ray opened his eyes. Perspiration dripped from Water Spider’s forehead as he rolled up the red string, no longer on Ray’s wrist. “What happened?” Ray asked.

  Water Spider nodded to Ray’s hand. Ray realized it was closed in a tight fist. He felt something hard pressing into his palm. He uncurled his fingers to expose a small piece of mashed lead. Bits of blood still clung to it.

  “Is … this is the bullet?” Ray gasped.

  “It’s out.” Redfeather grinned. “I told you he was powerful.”

  Ray looked up at Water Spider with amazement and gratitude. “Wa-do,” Ray thanked him.

  “Gv-li-e-li-ga,” Water Spider answered.

  * * *

  Marisol and Ray lodged in vacant cabins that had once belonged to Water Spider’s children. Ray was so exhausted from the night’s events, he slept until nearly noon the following day and spent the afternoon helping Marisol and Little Grass in the garden. Redfeather was away with Water Spider attending to a family with sick children. They did not return until evening. After they ate, Water Spider motioned for Ray, Marisol, and Redfeather to follow him outside.

  They walked together in the dusk until they came to a bluff overlooking a creek. Beyond, the patchwork forest extending to the north was illuminated by the falling yellow light. Water Spider watched the distance for a time before speaking to them in Cherokee. Redfeather translated for Water Spider.

  “He says it was long ago when he was taken from the place of his ancestors out to this dry land. He has made it his home. He has had many wives, outliving each of them … but thinks Little Grass might beat him yet. He’s traveled among the other tribes of the Indian Territory—Arapaho, Kickapoo, Apache, and Comanche. He has tried to learn their ways.

  “He’s also met people from the tribes of the High Plains—Lakota and Blackfeet. They have taught him much and he has listened. He kept up with the struggles of the various people to hold on to their homelands in the face of the White Man’s unquenchable desires. The Ghost Dance failed to bring peace to the tribes. It failed to renew the Earth as the Paiute holy man Wovoka had preached. Lakota men, women, and children were massacred trying to hold on to the old ways.”

  Water Spider quietly collected his thoughts before speaking again and then allowed Redfeather to translate. “There was once a time when men spoke with great spirits and some men were able to cross into the spirit world. Water Spider met some of these spirits long ago out on the open prairie. They were guardians over a pathway to the next world.”

  “What does he mean, the next world?” Ray interrupted.

  Redfeather asked Water Spider. “He says he has not been there, although he hopes to one day. But it is a wondrous place. A place where the old ways are still followed and respected.”

  “Is it the Gloaming?” Ray asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Redfeather said, and then spoke with Water Spider. “He does not know what the Gloaming is, but maybe it is the same.”

  “Who were these spirits?” Marisol asked. “Are they like ghosts?”

  “No!” Redfeather scowled. “These aren’t wicked or scary. They aren’t the dead. Spirits are protectors.”

  “But are they like men?” she asked.

  Water Spider said something that caused Redfeather to wrinkle his brow in confusion. They spoke back and forth for a time before Redfeather explained. “He says these spirits he met were rougarou.”

  “What’s a rougarou?” Ray asked.

  “I’m not sure. I don’t know how to translate it; it’s not a Cherokee word. But they seem to be some sort of wolf and not a wolf at the same time. They’re spirits and something altogether more powerful than any creature of this world.”

  “Why is he telling us this?” Marisol asked. “These are just old stories and superstitions.”

  Redfeather’s cheeks reddened defensively. “They’re not! If you’re going to insult Water Spider—”

  “I’m not insulting him. I just don’t see what this has to do with us.”

  Before Redfeather could continue arguing, Water Spider held up his large hands and spoke. Redfeather kept his eyes from Marisol as he translated. “First White Men came on wagons to the west. Then soldiers and then the trains. More and more White Men came, until the tribes were driven onto the reservations. Water Spider thought he had seen and heard of the worst of it. But now a great Darkness has fallen.

  “Some say it is a punishment for the crimes of the White Men. But Water Spider does not believe this. The Darkness sickens the hearts and the bodies of all who are in it—white, red, black, everyone.”

  “What does he think has brought this Darkness?” Ray asked.

  Redfeather asked and then replied, “The rougarou once guarded a pathway to the next world. A sort of tree.” Redfeather broke into Cherokee to get further explanation. “He says this tree—that some call Wa-ya Tlu-gv, the Wolf Tree—was once of great importance an
d only the most powerful warriors and medicine men could find it. Those that did spoke in wonder of the tree’s size: its roots were larger than a mountain, and it extended up beyond the clouds. Only those blessed by the rougarou could see it, but the Tree was what connected men to their true selves. It gave us our hearts, our goodness, our spirit. Now the Wolf Tree is lost. The Darkness has driven it away.”

  The last rays of color lingered only on high clouds in the west. A cool wind blew across the bluff. Water Spider looked at each of them. He spoke.

  Redfeather said, “Mankind is suffering. The Wolf Tree and its stewards, the rougarou, have gone missing. Water Spider says he has been waiting for you.”

  Ray startled. “For us! Why?”

  “You’re a Rambler. You can help return the Wolf Tree.”

  “How?” Ray asked. “I can’t go looking for this Wolf Tree. We’ve got to go to Omphalosa—”

  Water Spider then spoke, stilted at first, but in English. “Yes … go to Darkness. Drive it away. If Wolf Tree … not found. Man … will be lost.”

  Ray looked up into Water Spider’s creased and worn face, his eyes black and boundless. “We don’t know how to end the Darkness.”

  “To end Darkness,” Water Spider said. “Face Darkness. Out there.” He pointed a finger out at the horizon and then approached Ray, planting his large hand on Ray’s chest. “And face Darkness in here.”

  14

  OMPHALOSA

  “I DON’T SEE THE POINT,” REDFEATHER ARGUED. “Besides, it sounds dangerous.”

  Ray licked the end of the string and threaded it through a needle to finish sewing the last of two pouches. “We can handle ourselves. I’m not planning on drawing a lot of attention in Omphalosa. We just need to look around.”

  A lantern cast warm yellow light around Redfeather’s small cabin. Javidos was coiled in Marisol’s lap. She stroked his thick back and shifted uncomfortably.

  “But you heard Water Spider,” Redfeather said. “It’s not the town that’s causing the Darkness, but the fact that the Wolf Tree has disappeared.”

  “We can’t go looking for this Tree,” Ray asked.