by D C Young
“You are just flattering me, young one,” the bird replied. Suddenly its eyes widened as it looked upon her. “You are Thorn Girl.”
Tammy had not yet felt the presence of Thorn Girl arrive, at least there hadn’t been any of the usual disturbances in her vision which usually signaled such a thing, but she did not dispute the bird’s observation. “I am, and you are Fire Owner.”
“Then you have remembered me.”
“How could I forget your beautiful song? How can anyone who has heard your song so soon walk away from it and forget it?”
“Your flattery is almost too much to bear,” Fire Owner responded.
“Nonsense,” she laughed. “How could one with such a beautiful song to sing not know that it is so sweet? It is not a simple song like that of Black Bird. You must practice it all of the time and know it is nearly perfect.”
“Black Bird is a hack,” Fire Owner snapped. “My song is by far the sweeter and I shall prove it to you. Take your place in the grass against the tree, just as you said and I will sing for you.”
Tammy nestled down into the grass and leaned against the base of the tree beneath the branch where Fire Owner was perched. After a few more chirps, as though he was warming up his voice, Fire Owner put his whole effort into the complex song which had drawn Tammy into the vision.
As Fire Owner sang his song, she watched the gentle breeze ripple the grass of the meadow and felt its cool fingers play with her hair. Tammy sighed, felt herself relax, and then felt her eyelids become heavy. She was on the edge of falling asleep when something made her sit up with a start. The instant she sat up, she realized that Thorn Girl’s spirit had come to her and along with it an instant distrust of the sweetly singing bird. She came to her feet just in time to see the large form of the wendigo, Wazeya, coming toward her halfway across the meadow.
“You’ve tricked me,” she snapped, turning to run into the woods beyond the tree. She heard a roar behind her as Wazeya noticed that she was fleeing from him.
“You cannot run from me Thorn Girl,” he called out. “You were given to me and I will keep you or no one will.”
As Tammy fled through the woods, weaving her way around trees between bushes and over stumps, she could hear the snapping of heavy branches and heavy brush being tramped. Her pursuer had no need of navigating, he simply ran right through the obstacles in his way. She tried to cut off to the right where there were fewer obstacles in her path, but in spite of the fact that she was able to run with greater ease, she could still hear and feel Wazeya gaining ground on her. She pressed on with all of her best effort until she broke out of the woods and into another meadow on the other side.
Though she no longer had to contend with brush and trees, running in the meadow proved to be even more difficult. In fact, twice, her legs tangled up in the thick, tall grass and sent her tumbling. Refusing to give up, in spite of the fact that Wazeya was nearly on top of her, she struggled to her feet drove herself forward screaming as she ran.
“Help me! Please! Someone help me!” she cried out. It was like a nightmare, but far too real. Tammy struggled to wake herself. She used every bit of strength she could manage to try to force her way out of the vision, but she was hopelessly stuck. She had to run, except, her legs had tangled up in the tall grass once more and she felt herself tumbling into the grass once more. The heavy foot which pinned her into the grass brought a hard cold fact to reality. She had not escaped.
Using the toe of his foot, Wazeya turned her over and then replaced his foot on her heaving chest. The features of his face were wrinkled into an ugly fury as he addressed her, spitting the words out of his mouth as though they had a bitter taste.
“I showered your beauty with painted robes and the brightest feathers of the plains. I adorned you with a necklace from the talons of eagles, the claws of bears and the teeth of elk and you flee from me. When you came to me you were a child and I cared for you as on cares for a child, but when your womanhood arrived you turned away from me. I will crush your heart out of you and toss you into a black pit where…”
Wazeya did not finish his tirade. It was interrupted by a piercing screech as a falcon dove at his head and slashed his ear with one of its talons. He swung at the bird violently, forgetting Tammy and raising his foot from off of her chest. She scrambled away from him, but only went a short distance before she turned to look back at the battle which was taking place.
The falcon’s talons and sharp beak were slashing into the massive head, face and body of Wazeya, causing blood to stream down the sides of his face before barely escaping the swatting of a massive hand. The falcon was picking away at the wendigo, but not dealing any fatal blows.
“Run, my love, run!” the falcon screeched.
Tammy couldn’t move. She didn’t know if it was her own fear, the fear of Thorn Girl or some other force which kept her feet pinned to earth, but she could not move.
“Run! You must run!” the falcon urged more earnestly.
With his focus on Tammy, the falcon missed his opportunity to escape one of Wazeya’s heavy blows. It connected with the falcon’s smaller body and sent it hurling over the top of the tall grass before it tumbled to a stop.
“No!” Tammy screamed, running to where she saw the bird disappear into the grass.
Wazeya roared with laughter. “So that is what has become of your lover boy; a pesky bird!”
When Tammy came to the falcon’s body, she fell to her knees, scooped the body to her and held it against her. She rocked the lifeless body in her arms as tears streamed down her face.
“Please, no,” she cried. It no longer mattered to her whether she was Tammy or Thorn Girl, her heart was broken and she could not stop the flowing of grief which poured from her as she pleaded. “You can’t go. I love you. Please, no. Please don’t go. Please.”
She stroked the falcon’s feathers and lowered her lip to kiss its majestic head and its beak…
She looked up to see Wazeya standing at a distance mocking her. Before his image faded, he transformed into a well dressed man. He was tall and muscular and very handsome. His shoulder length hair was blond and his blue eyes were as piercing as a clear summer sky. He stared at her for several seconds before vanishing from sight.
Tammy could not hold back the tears even after she came out of the vision in the next instant. The deepest part of her soul was grieved at the loss of the falcon but it was the image of Wazeya’s new appearance that haunted her the most.
Tammy stood up and wiped the tears from her eyes. Instantly, she knew what she had to do.
“Mom!” she cried. “It’s a trap! I have to warn her.”
***
After a few moments, Sam returned to join the group at the SUV’s tailgate. Her complexion was even whiter than it usually was.
“What’s the matter, Sam,” Lone Horn asked, as she stood there looking at the silent phone in her hand.
“I just got a phone call from my daughter,” Sam replied.
“And?”
“She’s been talking to Black Elk too. He showed her Wazeya in the last vision she had.”
“Oh my God!” White Eagle exclaimed. “I think you just broke this case wide open, Sam.”
“Maybe. Do you have a picture of this Matthew Highridge dude?”
“White Eagle plucked his Smart-phone from his pocket and scrolled through it quickly. “Yeah! Here he is.”
He gave the phone to Sam. She smiled slyly at the image.
“Okay,” Sam said, turning to Lone Horn and White Eagle. “Here’s the plan…”
Chapter Nine
Her entire investigation had now been completely hijacked.
It was just supposed to be a routine investigation into some corporate entities, followed by a nice, neat report and a plane trip back to Los Angeles.
But somehow Sam had known from the beginning that there was more to it than that. First, it was the phone call from Julia, then Lone Horn’s assignment to her, White Eagle’s theor
y, Black Buffalo’s warnings. And now…
Tammy’s visions.
She was sitting in the living area of her suite at the Prairie Knights resort which had somehow been transformed into ‘mission headquarters’ of the new and improved Wazeya eradication squad.
Sam laughed to herself at the thought.
That really sounds like something Tammy would have come up with.
She returned her gaze to the table before her where she had laid out all of White Eagle’s research and was making correlating notes. Her main aim now, while Lone Horn was on the phone apprising Julia and the Council of the current situation and White Eagle was trying to reassure the Standing Sioux administration, was to poke as many holes in their theory and make sure it held water.
They would only have one shot if they were going to follow that lead and they had to get it right.
First, she went through the list of murders and their corresponding dates, cross referencing them to Matthew Highridge’s whereabouts; she couldn’t alibi him for any of them.
Second, Sam placed calls to each of the three company offices that Matthew was assigned to work from. He rotated between them and if he wasn’t working from one he had to report at another even if he was going to be in the field for the day.
Sam posed as a reporter for a respected local newspaper and asked each of the receptionists to connect her to Highridge’s office. She was informed he wasn’t in office. At each, including the main office, Sam was met with comments that sounded like absenteeism on the executive’s part. When she asked when he was expected to be in, they all replied in a manner that suggested no one really knew when that would be.
Sam decided to press the women, asking if Mr. Highridge’s schedule had become somewhat erratic due to the heightened instability at the site near the reservation. The women weren’t sure and didn’t want to speculate but on the third and final call Sam struck gold. The receptionist at the companies Bismarck office said, “To be quite honest ma’am, since the day the bulldozers went to that ranch down south, he’s been harder to nail down than a rabbit in heat and quite unreliable; very uncharacteristic of him.”
BINGO!
Lastly, Sam combed the police reports and eye witness reports she’d managed to get on the murders. She’d had to make a call to her ex-partner at the FBI to get access. The reports weren’t a matter of public record seeing as all the cases were still wide open and under investigation. But it had been well worth calling in the favor.
She quickly skimmed through the PDF files she’d accessed on a secure server, saving those she thought would be useful. Her FBI contact had only given her fifteen minutes to search through the documents before the user-name and password would automatically be deactivated.
She only needed to see a couple that someone had identified a blond well dressed man as the possible perpetrator before she was satisfied. Slowly, she closed the laptop and sat back in her chair.
By that time, White Eagle and Lone Horn were engrossed in deep conversation over a Dallas Cowboys football game.
“Gentlemen,” she said, clearing her throat. White Eagle immediately muted the TV. “We’re off to catch an oil company executive.”
The two men looked at each other, and then turned back to her smiling.
“Julia and the rest of the Council will be at the camp by sunrise tomorrow.”
Sam nodded. “Are they ready at Sacred Stone?” she asked White Eagle.
“Quite,” White Eagle said. “Harriet said Black Buffalo cleared all the non-natives out and the locals started the dance two days ago.”
“Perfect.”
***
The three were fully aware that the only person who could release Matthew Highridge of the possession by Wazeya was Black Buffalo.
As Sam, White Eagle and Lone Horn sat in the tinted SUV outside Highridge’s apartment in downtown Bismarck, they were all wondering to themselves if their plan would really work. Sam had placed a call to Matthew’s cell phone that morning posing as a secretary from the Standing Rock Tribal agency requesting a special meeting between him and the tribal administrators.
“Mr. Highridge, you should be aware that the delegation is currently preparing for their visit to the United Nations. Several council members wanted to be gracious in offering the pipeline company an opportunity to discuss what they plan to present to the General Assembly. To avoid throwing of anyone under the bus, so to speak. They also hoped some compromise could be negotiated before taking this further.”
Matthew gave out a conceited laugh. “The Chairman and his cronies should be fully aware by now that the pipeline is not interested in negotiations but if it humors them to be refused again in person, I have no problem obliging them.”
“Oh, come on, Mr. Highridge. I’m sure there’s something you can do to bring this matter to an understanding,” Sam pushed. She wanted him good and riled up when he arrived at Sacred Stone. “You’re a respected and powerful associate at Dakota Oil, aren’t you? Don’t your superiors value your input on the matter?”
“Of course they do,” he snapped.
It was working.
“Then good. We’ll see you at 6 this evening at the encampment.”
It was a statement, not a question and Sam could hear a low snarling coming from Matthew on the other end of the line as she hung up without waiting for a reply.
Game, Set, Match.
At 5p.m. Matthew Highridge emerged from his building. A black town car was parked outside waiting for him. As he approached the curb, a driver dressed in a black suit got out and went around to open the door for him. A few moments later, the car pulled away from the building and into the flow of the afternoon traffic. Smoothly, White Eagle pulled out and followed him from about four car lengths behind.
Highridge went directly to the offices of Dakota Oil and fifteen minutes later White Eagle watched as a white helicopter with the Dakota Oil company logo emblazoned on the side took off from the roof of the building.
He picked up his phone and pressed the send button. Sam answered on the first ring and listened to what he had to say.
“I guess you better hit the road then or you’ll never get there in time to see us put an end to this.”
***
Flying over the Cannon ball area, Highridge couldn’t help but notice something on the ground had changed. They had started flying over tents scattered here and there in low, sheltered places long before reaching the campground.
When they got closer he saw that the Great Tent had been taken down and the whole configuration of the tents was now different.
They must be preparing to break camp now that they anticipate victory at the United Nations, he thought. Stupid Sioux.
Below him, there were over three hundred tents placed in a circle, with a large pine tree in the center. It seemed a ceremony was beginning. Matthew thought they were just preparing to kiss his ass so he would give them what they want.
No deal! I won’t be done till I’ve ripped the throats from every single neck on this reservation.
***
Sam and Lone Horn stood silently, observing the proceedings from the door flap of Black Buffalo’s tent. It had been made the apex of the dance circle and face the tree in the middle. The tepees that formed the rest of the inner circle had been pitched with their doors facing away from the circle’s center.
In the middle, around the tree, all the medicine-men from the bands that lived inside the boundaries of the Standing Rock reservation gathered beside Black Buffalo. When they heard the helicopter approaching they began stamping their feet and singing.
Sam looked to the sky and watched as the chopper hovered, then began to descend to the ground. The braves had set aside a place for it just outside the tent circles. To ensure he didn’t escape, should he sense a set up, Julia and the five council members she had brought with her had formed a perimeter. Once he was on the ground they would tighten the net, driving him to the tree in the middle of the circle. They knew the cre
ature would catch their scent and become desperate to locate them, impairing his judgment.
Matthew Highridge made no such crazed moves, however. He hopped out of the helicopter, ducked and ran for clearance then turned and gave the pilot the thumbs up. The aircraft vaulted up and was back in the sky in no time.
Two young braves ran up and showed Matthew the way towards the tree. He followed their direction without hesitation. When he broke into the circle, Sam saw the man’s expression change in an instant. In one moment, he wore the face of an over confident, young business executive eager to get some corporate dilly-dallying over and done with. But when he laid eyes on Black Buffalo in his full ghost dance regalia and the fifteen other holy men dressed the same, a wild and wounded look took over his handsome face.
Immediately the drums were struck up. A fiery arrow was launched into the sky and landed in the bonfire setting it ablaze instantly. There was a beautiful buffalo hide laid out before the fire. Samantha assumed it was a sitting place for Black Buffalo but the holy man remained standing. The women began to sing and the company of fifteen holy men started a chant.
Black Buffalo stepped forward and the fourteen began marching abreast around the tree. The camp’s braves began marching anti- clockwise around the outside circle of tents. When they had formed a perfect circle, they turned to the center gripped each other by the shoulder and began stamping their feet, moving sideways in their circle.
They all wore the ghost shirt or ghost dress for the ritual, even Sam had been provided one. She noticed that these were all new and were worn by about a hundred men and eighty women. The wives and daughters of the tribe had sat together for days before the dance began making a great number of the sacred garments. They were made of white cotton cloth, a loose robe with wide, flowing sleeves, dyed blue at the neck and painted with pictures of the moon, stars and birds and interspersed with feathers.