Kendra’s head snapped up to look at the chief.
“If you’d like to come with me, I’m leaving now.” He shook his head, then walked off, mumbling, “Sometimes I hate my job. I’ve known that girl since she was born, and now I have to tell her that her parents are dead.”
Kendra followed the chief and climbed into the passenger seat. After getting off the phone with him when he’d called to tell her the news, he’d picked her up on his way to the scene of the accident.
Kendra stared straight ahead as Chief Morris drove down the dark two-lane road, leaving the blue and red police lights behind. At least a half-dozen cruisers and several other official vehicles were parked along the stretch of the road where the accident had occurred.
“Matt Donovan’s wife said something to her husband when she picked him up at the coffee shop across the street from the station.”
The chief glanced at Kendra after her softly spoken words, but didn’t ask her to elaborate.
“She said that Aimee had changed her mind and wouldn’t be going with them. I don’t know where they’d planned to go.” She turned her head slightly to see the chief’s profile in the darkness. “I assume Aimee is their daughter.”
He simply nodded.
“If she had been with them, she might have . . . died as well.”
The chief didn’t say anything for several minutes, then he chuckled quietly. He let go of the steering wheel with one hand, and ran it over his face. “Aimee is a teenager, so full of life. Her father was a quiet man, and so was Michaela. Aimee, she always has a smile on her face and is ready for any kind of adventure. She even talked about joining the police force, but I think she settled on going to nursing school this fall. I attended her high school graduation last week.”
Kendra’s throat constricted. Detective Donovan’s daughter had to be about the same age she’d been when she’d left her grandfather to strike out on her own. How would the death of her parents affect this girl’s life now?
“Are there any other siblings, or family members?”
“No. She was an only child. Michaela, Matt’s wife, was an only child, too, and Matt never talked about his family history. There are no living grandparents or aunts or uncles that I’m aware of. Aimee’s got no one now.”
Chief Morris drove on in silence, while snippets of Kendra’s dream replayed over and over in her mind. Why had her dream changed tonight? Why had it been different? Before, it had always been about people dressed in furs, fleeing from a wolf while apparently guided by two bears and another wolf. She held back a frustrated scream. None of it made any sense.
There was one person who could answer her questions, and it was time she went and demanded those answers. First, though, she had to stand with Chief Morris to deliver some devastating news to Matt Donovan’s teenage daughter.
“We’re here. Are you sure you want to come with me?”
Kendra glanced up. Chief Morris had parked his car in the driveway in front of a nice suburban townhouse. The front yard looked well-groomed from what was illuminated in the headlights. Matt Donovan was . . . had been, as she’d suspected earlier, the average family man with the wife, the kid, and the pretty little house.
Her heart beat furiously in her chest as she stood next to Chief Morris when he rang the doorbell. She hadn’t even met Aimee Donovan, and she already felt sorry for the girl. Kendra clenched and unclenched her sweaty palms. She’d wanted to come here because she needed answers about Matt Donovan, but how was she going to get them from his daughter? Certainly not while delivering devastating news.
The door opened, and a smiling blonde greeted them. The girl was short, petite, and looked from Kendra to Chief Morris with wide, intelligent, blue eyes. There was a hint of familiarity about her. She had Matt’s eyes, and similar facial features. The blonde hair had to come from him, too, unless Michaela Donovan’s auburn hair had been dyed.
“Peter, what an unexpected visit, and so late.” Aimee hid her surprise well behind that friendly smile, which quickly faded to be replaced with a worried expression.
“Aimee, this is Detective Kendra Weda. Can we come in?”
Aimee Donovan’s forehead scrunched slightly, but she nodded and stepped aside to let them enter. Another teenage girl, taller and thin stood in the living room, looking a bit uncomfortable as Chief Morris walked into the house and Kendra followed. There was a pizza box with a half-eaten pizza on the coffee table along with several soda cans. The tall girl grabbed the remote and turned off the television.
“My dad mentioned you earlier.” Aimee nodded at Kendra. “He said you were his new partner for a while and you might be by for dinner tomorrow because you couldn’t make it today.”
Kendra clenched her jaw. Dammit, why hadn’t she checked her message from Matt sooner? Why hadn’t she accepted his invitation to come to the house and talk some more? She’d wanted answers for so long, and someone had finally offered them, and she’d turned her back. Now, because of her stupidity, Matt Donovan and his wife were dead, and their daughter had no one. Kendra forced a smile.
“Yeah. I met your dad today. He and your mom said they were going somewhere.”
Aimee nodded. “They came home for a few minutes after mom picked him up after work. He said he had to find something. In fact, I think he said –”
“Aimee, there’s something I need to tell you.” Chief Morris cut off what she was about to say. He took a step forward, glancing at the other girl in the room, then back to Aimee. Clearly, he didn’t want to delay the news any longer. “I’m afraid . . . there’s been an accident, Aimee.”
Aimee looked at Kendra for another second, then her attention went to Chief Morris. Her smile faltered. Being the daughter of a police officer, she had to immediately suspect that something was wrong when the chief of police made an unexpected visit, especially at this late hour. Morris reached for Aimee’s hands.
Kendra cursed silently. The pounding in her ears drowned out the chief’s voice as he talked to the stunned-looking girl. Kendra directed her eyes elsewhere, unable to witness the look of disbelief and then the heartbreak in Aimee Donovan’s eyes any longer as the chief informed her that her parents were dead. Instead, Kendra glanced around the modest living room.
A painting of the Lower Falls of the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone hung over the stone fireplace, along with a set of wooden snowshoes that looked to be straight out of an old west movie. Several more paintings of recognizable places in the national park graced the walls, including a few of grizzlies.
While the outside of the home looked completely modern and blended in with every other home, the inside had a more rustic feel to it. Kendra ran her fingers through the fake bear pelt that was draped over the back of the leather-bound couch, then tore her eyes away from the painting of a grizzly standing on its hind legs with what looked to be a geyser basin in the background.
Chief Morris held Aimee in his arms as she sobbed. The other girl had come up to her and the two clung to each other. No doubt it would take a while for the reality of the situation to sink in for Aimee. She was just a kid even though in the eyes of the law, at eighteen, she was an adult.
Try as she might, nothing came to mind to say to the girl, so Kendra stood next to the chief, silent and studying her surroundings. She focused on trying to figure out Matt Donovan from standing in his home rather than the tragedy that surrounded her at the moment. The things that stood out were the artwork of Yellowstone and the presence of the bear imagery that seemed to be everywhere in this room, from the fake pelt to the paintings, to books, and even a bronze statue in one of the bookcases.
“If you need anything, you get in touch with me. I’m going to make a few calls and send someone over to stay with you tonight. Everything else can wait.”
With a numb expression on her face, Aimee Donovan shook her head.
“Jana’s here. She’ll stay with me.” Her voice was barely audible.
The tall girl nodded, then wrapped her arm
s around Aimee again in a protective hug.
Chief Morris gave her a final hug, too, and turned to the door. Numb herself, Kendra was first to reach the chief’s car. She didn’t turn to look at the house again, or to see if Aimee waited for them to drive off. Neither she nor the chief spoke as he drove her back to her apartment.
“Thanks for the ride home, Chief.”
Kendra stepped out of the car and rushed into her apartment building, fumbling with trembling hands for the key to unlock her door. It was nearly three o’clock in the morning, but she was wide awake. Too much had happened in the last ten or so hours, and it was time for some answers. She reached for her phone, but before she could answer, it rang.
Kendra flipped it open without hesitation. She frowned at the number displayed. The area code was familiar, but not the number itself.
“Hello?”
“Natukendra’eh weda?”
Kendra hesitated at the unfamiliar deep voice on the other end of the line. Only one person who would be calling knew her native name, and this wasn’t his voice.
“Yes, who is this?”
“Natu, this is Randy Grey Owl. I’m calling from Wyoming.” There was a slight hesitation. “Your grandfather . . . your kunu, Harry Swift Elk, he is dead.”
Kendra fell onto her bed. Her heavy eyelids barely stayed open as she stared at the water-stained ceiling. The past week had been both physically and emotionally draining. Yesterday, she’d buried her grandfather, then immediately left the Rez to come back to New York. Matt and Michaela Donovan’s funeral had been yesterday, as well, and she’d missed it.
The phone call in the middle of the night exactly one week ago about her grandfather’s death on the heels of the deaths of Matt and Michaela Donovan had sent an icy chill down her spine. Along with her strange dreams and her grandfather’s ominous phone call earlier that day, nothing made sense anymore.
She’d called Chief Morris at the crack of dawn and told him she had to go to Wyoming, then booked the first flight out of town. She needed answers. Something strange was happening, but it was only strange to her. There was no way to link the deaths of the Donovans to that of her grandfather. When she’d arrived in Wyoming, she’d read the coroner’s report on Kunu’s death. He’d suffered a heart attack.
Anger mixed with fear of the unknown had slammed her. She’d never been afraid of anything, or uncertain, except for her persistent dreams, and now it seemed she was living a nightmare. As the days had passed, the anger had finally won out over the pain and grief. She needed answers. She was going to get answers. None of this was coincidence and she was going to find out who was behind it. She hadn’t been able to shake the idea that her grandfather, and even the Donovans, had somehow died because of her.
“There was a letter for you, Kendra. I found it on his nightstand, all sealed and ready to mail, when I found him.”
Randy Grey Owl was all grown up now. He’d been one of the boys who had bullied her as a child, and he’d apparently been checking in with Kunu, done chores around the house, and generally looked after the old man since she’d been gone.
Kendra now rubbed her tired eyes. She hadn’t slept in a week. It all seemed surreal. She pulled the letter from her pocket and read it again, not that she needed to. She’d memorized every word.
* * *
Natukendra’eh weda,
I have done what I was asked to do and raised you as I would my own grandchild. I told you stories about the Sky People, to prepare you for what you must do. Remember the stories, the legends, for they are a part of you.
You refused to believe me when you were a child, and I fear I have failed you. You must believe me now when I tell you that you are in danger.
If you have met Matt Donovan – Matunaaga – you must speak to him before it is too late. He will have answers to questions that you seek. He can show you the way. These are the things I know.
Take the snake to find the bear, but beware of the wolf. That is the message I was told to give to you. I wish there was more I could tell you, but until you speak to me in person, I cannot risk it in a letter.
- Kunu
* * *
Kendra wiped her eyes. Dammit. She didn’t cry. She hadn’t shed a tear her entire life, not when children older than she bullied and harassed her mercilessly, not at the funeral of her grandfather, and she’d not start now.
“Who am I supposed to go to for answers now, Kunu?” she whispered while staring at nothing in particular.
Did she even believe anything in this letter? She laughed. Why should she? Then again, why not? Once again, nothing in that letter made sense.
“Take the snake to find the bear, but beware of the wolf.” She laughed, and called out loud, “What does any of that even mean, Kunu?”
She shook her head when everything in her bedroom remained quiet as expected. Nothing else seemed to make any sense around her lately. What if the stories were true? Matt Donovan had apparently believed them. At least, he knew of them, or he wouldn’t have asked her if she was familiar with stories about the Sky People. Now, the two men who could provide answers were dead. Who did that leave her to turn to? No one.
She sat up on her mattress and raked her fingers through her hair.
“I think it means you need to go on with your life, Kendra. No more talk of ancient legends and Sky People. You’re Detective Kendra Weda, not Natukendra’eh weda, a silly name Grandfather gave you to make you believe you’re something special.”
She shook her head. She needed answers. As far-fetched as it seemed, Matt Donovan’s and Kunu’s deaths were more than mere coincidence. There was no way to prove it, but somehow, she was going to find out.
Kendra nearly jumped off the bed when the cell phone on her nightstand rang. Her hand shook as she swiped her palm across her face. She cursed under her breath, then glanced at the phone. She reached for it, flipped it open, and frowned. The number wasn’t familiar.
“Hello?”
“Detective Weda? This is Aimee Donovan. I’m sorry to call you out of the blue, but I’m calling because of my father.”
Chapter 5
Wo'itsa crouched low between the tall grasses, keeping close to the line of lodgepoles that marked the edge of the clearing before him. A creek gurgled through the brush, his only obstacle at the moment, but also the reason elk would venture out of the forest. The clear water shimmered in the early-morning light, nearly blinding him if he looked directly at it. His bow was strung taut, ready to release when one of the animals wandered fully into the open.
A slight breeze tickled the back of his neck, brushing his hair against his bare shoulders, and cooling his skin from the warmth of the sun that shone through the trees. His leg cramped slightly, but the discomfort was something to endure at the moment, or his efforts to bring down game would be for nothing.
It would be good to return to his people with fresh meat, as well as his vision to share with the shaman. Wo'itsa shifted slightly to give some relief to the muscles in his calves, which were aching from remaining in the same position since the sun had climbed to the top of the mountains. What would he tell his shaman? What would the shaman say to him about his new vision?
Perhaps he shouldn’t have sent the old man who’d entered his camp the night before away. After waiting for days to receive a vision, with no food, water, or clothing, he’d needed to ponder what he’d seen alone. Mukua, who claimed to be one of the last remaining elders of the Sky People, might hold the answers, but he hadn’t given the old man a chance to explain. If Mukua truly was who he claimed to be, why hadn’t the shaman of Wo'itsa’s clan ever spoken of him?
The shaman, the man in the village who was closest to the spirits, only spoke of two remaining brothers of the ancient ones, and they revealed themselves to no one except those with powerful puha. Even the shaman had little direct contact with the Sky People.
It had been well-known that the ancient elders favored Wo'itsa’s childhood friend, Cameahwait. He spoke dire
ctly to the Sky People, and apparently their other friend, Matunaaga, was held in the same regard.
Neither Cameahwait nor Matunaaga had been born to the Tukudeka, and they spoke a foreign tongue that no one else understood. They had taught the strange language to Wo'itsa when they were children, in order to fool other members of the clan and play games.
Cameahwait and Matunaaga were different, in appearance as well as in the way they spoke and behaved, and the shaman had been clear that they were under the protection of the Sky People. Cameahwait had always maintained that he belonged to no people, yet the ancient elders favored him above all others. Matunaaga had gone on a spirit journey many moons ago and not returned.
Both had left the clan years ago. Wo'itsa had crossed paths with Cameahwait several seasons ago, when he’d sought another vision during a difficult time in his life. Seeing his friend again, and with a woman who had been sent to him by the Sky People, had been a surprise. It had made his own loss – and the reason he’d journeyed to seek spiritual guidance – more painful.
Movement along the trees caught his attention, drawing him away from his thoughts about the men who’d been his childhood friends. Wo'itsa gripped his bow, sighting his arrow on the elk that emerged from behind the trees to drink. Several does and calves cautiously made their way to the water and lowered their heads.
Wo'itsa drew back on his bow, his eye on the only cow without a calf. When the sinew was as taut as it would go, he released the arrow. At that exact moment, the elk raised her head and sprang across the creek in an almost graceful leap. Startled, the rest of the herd followed.
Wo'itsa gritted his teeth and lowered his weapon. He hissed a silent curse. He would return home empty-handed. Before he had the chance to stand, more movement came from the direction of the forest.
Wo'itsa crouched low, his eyes narrowed. The reason for the elk startling became immediately obvious. A pack of nine wolves gave silent chase to the group of ungulates. Wo'itsa’s eyes followed the predators as they pursued their prey.
Yellowstone Legends Page 5