Rising from Grey Mother’s side, she went to him, intending to comfort, but he backed away. “Do not touch me. You’re like the rest.”
His rejection stung, but in the face of his sister’s death, it was understandable. He had no reason to believe her touch wouldn’t kill him. “I am truly sorry for your loss, Lone Wolf. We had hoped the other camps had been spared.”
A sneer twisted his thin lips, exposing his teeth in a wolfish snarl. “No one is spared. I warned you this day would come. I told you they brought nothing but poison, but you refused to listen. My sister’s death is on your hands.”
“My hands?” In spite of her resolve to show empathy, to stay calm, anger flared in her chest. For over a moon, she hadn’t had a moment’s rest. She’d done everything possible to heal her sisters or, failing that, make their last moments comfortable. How dare he point the finger at her? “You have suffered a tremendous loss, but I don’t see how you can lay the blame on my shoulders.”
“You don’t see? I should not be surprised, since you have been blind from the beginning, Little Dove. Your naivety is no fault of your own, which is why some have insisted on cossetting and coddling you.” He glared at Grey Mother, whose rattling breaths had quieted. “Though I, too, was sympathetic in the beginning, I soon saw how your immense foolishness had the potential to doom us all. And then that one had to fill your already empty head with some silliness about you being a healer.” He spat on the ground. “You are no healer.”
Little Dove’s skin burned with shame. His words sliced through her like spears, wounding her deeply. It was true; she was no healer. She could not dispute it, not in the wake of so many deaths. “Grey Mother has been too ill to help the sisters. You refused. I did the best I could with my limited knowledge.”
“Your limited knowledge is the cause of this destruction. You still don’t see it, do you? Even now, with the light shining in your face, you stumble along in the dark.”
Closing her eyes, she summoned her patience. Continuing the fight with Lone Wolf would not help their people. It would be up to her to forge peace between them, even if that meant leaving her dignity behind. “I see that you are in great pain, so I forgive your harsh words. I even forgive you for abandoning us in our time of need. I understand your anger. I feel it as well. But directing it at me helps no one. We are in the same position, Lone Wolf. We must end this feud and work together for the good of our people.”
His features contorted, turning him into a truly ugly man, a man who resembled a monster. She took a step toward Grey Mother, though the woman was no longer in a position to protect her. She was on her own.
“How dare you compare the two of us? I am a healer, and you are a destroyer. How can you not see the blood when it is raining from your hands? How can you persist in this miasma of ignorance?”
Lack of rest and nourishment had impaired her judgment. Little Dove’s thoughts swirled, impotent and unhelpful. It crossed her mind that, in his grief and isolation, the shaman had gone mad. He needed someone to blame, and he had chosen her.
Raising his hand, he pointed a finger at her face. “You opened our home to the enemy. You welcomed them in, with their hatred and their evil intentions and their disease. You chose them over us, and in doing so, you have brought death and suffering to our people.”
She could feel his fury like a physical force, and for a moment, she was grateful the illness formed a barrier between them. If the shaman forgot his fear of the disease and entered her camp, she was sure he would kill her in his madness. “You are not making sense, Lone Wolf. I have not welcomed anyone, let alone an enemy. I do not understand the source of our sickness any more than you do.”
He continued raving as if she hadn’t spoken. “You are the one who took their little worm of an infant to your breast when you should have dashed it to the ground. Worm is an appropriate word for it, because parasites are what they are, all of them. And you let them in, and told them they could feed.”
“You – you are blaming the settlers for our misfortune?” The shaman was more ill than she’d thought. Though his skin was clear, the disease must have taken hold of his mind. No sane man could believe those poor, unfortunate people were responsible for this.
“Open your eyes, Little Dove. Open your eyes and see. See those parasites for who they are. The precious gifts they bestowed upon you were riddled with disease. As your greedy sisters leapt on them, biting and scratching for their share, they sealed their fate.”
“The blankets?” The shame of that day resettled on her shoulders, bowing her. How her sisters had cast the cherished cloaks of their animal brothers and sisters on the ground, dishonoring the beasts’ great sacrifice. How they’d fought each other, sister against sister, for those brightly colored scraps of cloth, cloth that quickly faded in the sun, revealing itself for what it truly was. Her sisters had sold their dignity for the lowest price – tattered rags that weren’t worth the effort it had taken to weave them.
“Do you believe it is chance that has us both standing here, drawing breath, while those around us die?”
Her mind reeled. She was the only one from her camp who had not taken a blanket. She and Quivering Birch, but Quivering Birch had passed over a moon ago. The doomed woman had touched the tainted cloth – had fought over the crimson prize that had ultimately been taken by Red Sky Dancer.
Red Sky Dancer. The crimson blanket was how the dreadful plague had passed from their camp to Lone Wolf’s.
The furrows on the shaman’s face eased as he studied her. “You see it now,” he said. “You see.”
“The blanket – the red blanket,” was all she could manage.
“I identified it instantly for what it was, but my sister would not hear reason. She clung to that foul thing, screaming it was hers, even when drawing her last breath.” The man’s eyes glittered in the waning light. “My sister, poisoned by her own greed. She would not believe me, would not listen. Not in the beginning, and not at the end.”
Tears streamed over Little Dove’s cheeks, falling onto Grey Mother’s chest. When the older woman sighed, the new healer looked down and saw one of the hateful blankets clutched in the matriarch’s hands. With a cry, she tore it off the woman’s body and flung it into the fire, where it disintegrated rather than burned.
“I have been too harsh with you. You have lost your sisters, as I have lost mine. You have suffered greatly,” Lone Wolf said. “Red Sky Dancer did not believe me. Perhaps it is enough that you do.”
The shaman walked away, leaving her alone with death and despair.
Chapter Twenty-Five
With her waning strength, Maria pulled away from the distraught woman. She’d glimpsed a light, shining through the darkness, beckoning her away from the crushing despair she’d found herself surrounded with. She hurried toward it, never looking back.
“Hey.”
The man’s face blurred in front of her, a kaleidoscope of color and shape. She rubbed her eyes and the image sharpened, revealing the extent of her colleagues’ sadism.
“Oh, Reese,” she tried to say, but it came out as a sigh. She struggled to lift her hand to his swollen, bruised cheek, but her limbs were stone.
“Don’t move. I’ll call the nurse.” He moved out of view and she panicked.
“No. Wait.” Her voice, raspy and coated with rust, gained strength. “I need to tell you something.”
“You’ve been unconscious for a while, Detective. Your family – they’ll want to see you. Detective Ruiz will want to see you. Whatever you need to say to me, it can wait. What happened to me, it wasn’t your fault. There was no reason for you to believe me.”
Gritting her teeth, she summoned the energy to lift one of her petrified limbs and grab his hand. “Something has happened to me.”
“Yeah, you fainted, probably from the stress. You’ve been in some kind of weird coma for days, but the doc
tors couldn’t find anything wrong. Don’t worry, after they stick a few more needles in you, I’m sure they’ll let you go home.” Misreading the expression on her face, he patted her hand. She could barely feel it. “Sorry, too soon. Forget about the needles. It was a bad joke.”
How would she ever find the energy to tell him it wasn’t the thought of needles that frightened her?
Clinging to his hand, she urged him closer. “I’ve been having dreams, except I don’t think they’re dreams. I think I’m seeing something that really happened a long time ago.”
“It’s normal for people in a coma to have vivid dreams. The doctor said—”
“Fuck what the doctor said. This has nothing to do with that. It’s the campground, Reese. Something happened to me at the campground.”
His hand went limp in hers. He quit fighting her, stopped trying to pull away, but there must be a monitor somewhere that was broadcasting her change of status. She didn’t have much time.
“Dan’s mother died,” he said, his voice brittle as breaking glass. “Did you know that? She went back there and she was torn apart, just like the others. Just like Jess.”
“No, I didn’t. I’m sorry.” She waited a beat, not wanting to appear insensitive, but feeling new panic rising in her chest. Whatever was at Strong Lake didn’t want her investigating, had done whatever it could to pin her here, trapping her like a caged bird. Reese was her only chance. “When will you get out of here?”
“The doctors are saying Wednesday. The day after tomorrow. I’ve recovered enough of my vision that they’re ready to release me on the world, I guess.”
“Listen to me. There’s a chief up there, at the Strong Lake reserve. Chief Kinew. You have to go to him, let him know what happened to me. Tell him I’ve been having these memories about someone named Little Dove.”
“Detective—”
She yanked hard on his arm, hearing footsteps in the hall now. Hurried footsteps. “Little Dove. Can you remember that?”
“Of course I can. But—”
“Go to him, Reese, please. Ask my husband to tell you about the arrowhead, and let the chief know about that too. Kinew will be able to help. He knows something, something he hasn’t wanted to tell me.”
“But I know about the arrowhead.” His features still wavered out of focus, but she could hear the confusion in his voice. “I was the one who found it.”
She clutched his hand with both of hers. “Not this. You don’t know this. Ask my husband. Tell Kinew.”
People burst into the room, a flurry of color and sound. It was too much, and she closed her eyes. She felt Reese being taken from her, and clung to him more fiercely. Someone pried her fingers off him.
“Good afternoon, Maria. Glad to see you’re back with us. Your husband is going to be so pleased,” said a voice oozing with fake compassion. Maria heard another voice, this one stern and unyielding, ordering Reese to leave.
“Don’t go to the campground.” Raising her voice, she fought to be heard, fought against the hands that held her down. “Promise me. Promise me you’ll stay away from there.”
There was the slightest pressure on her fingertips, an answering squeeze, before they ushered him out of the room.
“Reese,” she called, but it was hardly a whimper. Her strength had left with him, leaving her weak.
“He’s fine,” the stern nurse said. “You’ll be able to see him later. It’s time to take care of yourself now. You’ve been through a terrible shock.”
How to communicate that whatever shock she’d experienced, it was nothing compared to what was coming?
“Tell him he can’t go back there. Tell him that if he does, he’ll die.”
* * *
The events of the last few weeks had regressed me, until I was nothing but a dumb kid again, waiting for my dad to fall asleep so I could sneak out. Only this time it wasn’t to con someone into buying me beer. At least that had made sense.
Siri had helped me map the route. Getting there was easy enough, but my parents had shown predictable resistance at the idea of me driving again. Guess I couldn’t blame them; they’d always been sticklers for little things like not breaking the law. While my vision was a lot better, my say-so wasn’t enough. My eyes needed to be officially tested before I could legally get behind the wheel again, something Greyeyes hadn’t considered when she’d commissioned me for this fool’s errand. But screw it. I could still drive better than half the idiots out there, even with one eye shut.
“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” Dad said when he’d caught me with my truck keys. “It’s no trouble.”
Right. Picturing my father driving into a native reserve was almost enough to revive my sense of humor. I could imagine the color draining from his face as he learned where his son wanted to go. It was tempting.
But it would also never happen. I couldn’t explain why I needed to see Kinew when I didn’t understand it myself, and though my dad was a big believer in the great school of ‘Do it because I say so,’ such rules didn’t apply to him. He’d want reasons, and reasons I didn’t have. Besides, Dad held a special loathing for Detective Greyeyes. I told myself it was because he blamed her for having his son thrown in jail, not because of the color of her skin or the fact she had a uterus.
Reasons.
Thankfully, his beloved game did its job, working in tandem with the beer to knock him out cold. It had been more boring than usual, both teams hardly putting in an effort, even going into extra innings. Felt like fate to me. Dad’s head tipped back, and his mouth fell open as he snored, giving him the appearance of a much older man. I got a glimpse of his future and it wasn’t pretty. Shaking off my apprehension, I lifted myself from the floor. Dad had thought it odd when I’d stretched out there, but the armchair creaked. His faults notwithstanding, he hadn’t raised any fools.
Creeping to the foyer like a thief, I held my breath as I stole my own keys, curling my fingers around the metal so they wouldn’t jangle. Nothing but snoring from the living room. As long as I could make it out of here before Mom got home, I was free. The idea of escaping, of getting out of this house, sent a tingle of anticipation through me. My sneakers made no sound on the carpet. The front door, recently treated with WD-40 by yours truly, warned of my betrayal with a wheeze rather than a squeak.
The afternoon sun hit the hood of my truck just so, winking at me. The vehicle was my partner in this conspiracy, my ally in crime. Slipping behind the wheel, I put the Chevy in neutral and rolled out of the driveway, even though I wouldn’t stop if Dad burst through the door. I hadn’t yet left the property, but I’d already gone too far.
“All right, Siri. Do your thing. How do I get to Strong Lake reserve?”
“Drive three miles and turn right at the end of Oak Street,” she chirped, her tone matching my mood. She sounded as happy to be out of there as I was. This enforced family time had been excruciating. Maybe I’d move away for grad school after all. Far away.
The iron bands around my chest didn’t release until I left the hustle of the city behind. Only then did I quit checking my rearview mirror, positive my parents or that damn lawyer of theirs were on my tail. A disquieting feeling of déjà vu gnawed at my brain as I remembered the last time I’d hit the highway feeling this free. I’d been ready for a weekend of camping, and not even Jess’s attitude could bring me down.
My eyes burned as I remembered Dan’s cheerful banter from the backseat, as plainly as if he were still there. Squinting at the road, I forced myself to focus. The white line wavered ahead of me. I hadn’t recovered as much as I’d thought. Visions of my parents viewing my truck as a twisted hunk of metal at the side of the highway shocked me back to the present.
“Keep on going straight,” Siri said.
“Damn straight.” Leaning forward, I clenched my jaw hard enough to hurt.
Thanks to my heavy f
oot, it took forty-five minutes to reach the reserve. Turning off the highway, I pulled onto a dirt road so badly graded my truck became a roller coaster, and I swore as my shocks took a beating. Several men stopped what they were doing to stare at me. Feeling like an idiot as I bounced around in the cab, smacking my head against the top, I smiled and waved.
They didn’t smile back.
What the fuck am I doing here?
Knowing I liked to keep the truck in immaculate condition, Dad had washed it for me during my convalescence. I wished he hadn’t. Sleek and gleaming, it marked me as an outsider. More stares. Gritting my teeth, I squinted at the road and kept going.
For white kids like me, reserves were places we knew existed but never saw, kind of like Antarctica, but a lot more bleak. As I guided my truck along the pockmarked excuse for a road, I began to feel like I’d driven off the highway straight into another dimension. Instead of Middle America, I was in the Developing World. Clapboard houses sagged to one side. Lawns, where they existed, were ailing and patchy. The people who stared at me had the same strained expression, as if the very act of living were painful.
I’d thought it would be easy to find this Chief Kinew fellow, but either I was going to lose an axle driving around like a fool, or give in and ask for directions. A woman sweeping the step of one of the better-kept houses looked like a safe bet. She squinted when I pulled into her driveway, shielding her face from the sun in order to get a better assessment. The prison guards had been more welcoming.
Pasting a grin on my face, I waved as I exited my truck, catching the tip of my sneaker on the running board and nearly tripping. The woman’s scowl deepened. “Hey there!”
I was encouraged by her nod. “I’m looking for Chief Kinew. Can you tell me where to find him?”
Clutching the broom with her right hand, she pointed to the road to hell I’d just exited. “Keep going straight, about five miles. He’s in the band office. Can’t miss it.”
Those Who Came Before Page 18
