by Mia Darien
It was a few days before they felt they had reached a cold trail. There was no information on her great-aunt, at least no mention of her after Jemi’s grandmother’s obituary. Gabby rubbed her temples. It was about an hour before closing. “I am closed tomorrow and Tuesday, my weekend if you will. What do you say we drive out to your tribal lands and see what we can find?”
Jemi sighed and twisted her hair. “I do not know if I am welcome now,” Jemi said softly, curled up in one of the comfy reading chairs with the novel she had started the first day. She had never been outgoing, and not belonging anywhere for years had made it worse. To be in this place, with Gabby and a trove of books, was almost perfect for her.
They hadn’t talked about Jemi’s vision. Gabby had just accepted her trust once it was offered. Jemi had learned much about the woman. Her husband had been killed five years prior in an accident, and since then, Gabby had run the store and surrounded herself with the people of her home town. High school sweethearts, now separated by the veil, was what led Gabby to seek out the others in her town that were outside the boundaries of the Christian faith. She said they had nothing against Christians, but the One God did not speak to her the way the Many did. Jemi asked if they were witches and Gabby laughed, saying they were druids and being a witch would limit the definition of what they tried to accomplish in this world.
“We do not need to go to the reservation where you were raised if you do not wish. We can go to some of the other towns nearby, they might have better records than I can find,” Gabby offered. “If nothing else, your great-aunt was a shaman and others who have power might know.”
In Gabby’s home, Jemi had read and studied some of the books Gabby collected, so many books on gods and goddesses, nature and the spirit realm. She even had books on Native American Shamanism, and when Jemi read one, she saw a few rituals her great-aunt had done, making her even more homesick. Thinking of Wolf, and her great-aunt, she said softly, “It cannot hurt to try, right?”
In a rare show of affection from Gabby to the shy girl, Gabby took her hands and held them tight. “All we can do is try and as we try, hope for the best. The energy we share with this world has a potent power, so it is good when we give our best effort.”
When Monday came, they woke early and had a breakfast, then Gabby packed food into the car and a small bag for herself, as Jemi had her own things already. Before most businesses opened, they were on the road north and east.
Jemi laid her head on the window and watched the plains go by, green now, lush from the late spring/early summer rains. The circles made by farmers’ pivots stood out in the landscape, perfect markings of deeper green, well fed by the large watering systems. Listening to the soft jazz Gabby had on, she tried to relax, though true relaxation with where she knew they were headed was impossible.
They stopped for lunch at a small cafe in Nebraska. Gabby made certain Jemi ate, and then they continued on towards the Black Hills and the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. Unable to stay silent in her nervousness, Jemi said, “Our reservation was once part of the Great Sioux Reservation, but the elders made their own place in 1889.”
“Really? I do not know much of the tribal areas around here. I probably should make a point of it as we try to honor the First People and their spirit kin in what we do. We know this is not the sacred place of our people, but we make an effort to pay attention to the spirits of this land, not the ones on European soil where our faith is based.” Gabby spoke easily. They had discussed spirits and her religion enough that she was completely comfortable in speaking to Jemi of it.
“The land there is sad, depressed, but it is ours. Actions of our ancestors at Stronghold Table led in part to the destruction at Wounded Knee,” she kept talking, growing more nervous the closer they got.
It felt like Gabby knew how she felt when she spoke next. “I am sure they wish you back, Jemi. They will be pleased at how you have grown and that you wish to be with them.”
For the first time in a long time, full tears came. She wiped them away on the back of her hand. “I never wanted to leave. I never wanted to be anywhere but with them.”
Seeing a rest stop, Gabby pulled in to it. “Your past was not your fault, not your decisions. You were taken. You didn’t leave on your own, honey.” Turning off the car and opening her door, she said, “Let’s take a walk.”
Jemi got out, still rubbing the tears, which refused to be held back, from her face. The heat of the southern wind teased her hair to allow pieces to fly free of her long black braids. The smell of the land was so close to what she remembered growing up, the scent of the prairie grasses calmed her a little.
Gabby began to speak again, “Our past shapes us, whether it is in the DNA passed to us from our ancestors who we honor, to the lessons, the joy, the hardships we encounter. Our future is something we can dream about, but we cannot see it yet. Our present is where we shape the future.” She led them to a shaded picnic table then sat cross-legged on it. “As a child, you had little control over what happened to you. You are a young woman now, though younger than most would credit womanhood to. Your ancestors and mine were betrothed and had children at your age. To me, you have lived enough to know what you seek. This journey feels right to me, and I read the runes last night and they favored this. I want to see you home with your people so you can continue to shape the future you want, not one some court official tells you that you have to have.”
Taking a seat next to the older woman, she thought on her words. The courts said she had to be eighteen to make her own decisions, but Gabby was right, she had already chosen her path. “I am just worried. I have been gone so long, what if no one wants me?”
A small prairie falcon floated overhead, its spotted belly and striped wings lifting on the same warm wind that danced around the women. “Know this, if there is no place for you with your people, there is a place for you with me. We will work together to figure out how, but I know the people of our town and county and I will make it happen.”
Jemi turned her gaze from the falcon to Gabby. “For reals?”
“Yes, Jemine. I think you are a special young woman and I would be honored to be your friend and help you find your future.” Gabby spoke quietly, “My friends say since losing my husband, I have been too alone. Having you with me has been a blessing. We will work together to find your people, your place.”
Looking again up to the sky, the thermal had carried the bird high enough that his markings could no longer be seen. “Maybe going to the reservation won’t be so bad.” Jemi’s words were as quiet as Gabby’s had been. Knowing she had a place to go if this didn’t go well made the fear of getting there ease.
Leaning back on the table, Gabby smiled and just let the quiet of the rest stop fall over them. That was until a big truck pulled in, rumbling and groaning as it found its way to a stop on the hot pavement. “Shall we move on? Maybe stop for gas and tea up ahead?”
“Only if the tea is cold,” Jemine said. She could not yet get used to the fact that Gabby drank hot tea even when it was ninety degrees outside.
“It’s a deal,” Gabby said, then slid off the table, offering her hand to the young woman at her side.
Looking at the sign of peace and connection offered before looking into the blue of Gabby’s eyes, Jemine took the hand with a smile and nod.
For the rest of the trip, the silence became filled with soft chatter, about the road, about nature, and more about Jemi’s people and the towns ahead. A weight had lifted from her in a way, having someone she trusted to share all these things with and allow relaxation to just settle in.
The terrain gradually changed, gullies and wild lands on the sides became more farmland. “Whiteclay is ahead,” Jemi said softly. “We may not want to stop there, a lot of people come there just to drink.”
“Wherever you wish to stay, Jemi. We can go up to Oglala or even up to Rapid City, though the information we find will be better locally,” Gabby spoke gently. Jemi felt her guidance,
but was thankful it was not insistence. “If we have to stay the night, we can go to the casino.”
“We go through Pine Ridge and Oglala before reaching the casino, maybe drive through and decide what to do?” Jemi replied after a few moments of thought, her fingers drumming nervously on the door’s armrest.
She looked out the window as the town came into view. Weeds and small green trees gave way to a white building with red awnings that said “Divided……We Fall” on the side with a mural painted in blues and browns of the first people and the bluffs. A wooden cross high the front the early afternoon sun cast its shadow on the crumbled concrete. At the corner, the sign of her people in this community, were bodies sleeping, or passed out, in the shade. Jemi turned her head away, almost embarrassed for Gabby to see this.
The buildings were in disrepair, and there was trash in the streets. A reddish building marked with Lakota Arts & Crafts on the outside had more people sitting in front of the store, taking advantage of the shade it provided. It was no more than a blink of a town, and none of it was attractive.
After they were through, Jemi tried to release the tension in her shoulders. Looking back at the town in the side mirror, she saw a shadow at the edge of her vision. Turning, she could not see anything, but no matter where she looked, she sensed something moving with them.
Looking at Gabby to see if she felt anything, she saw the older woman keep checking the rearview mirror. “You feel it too? Or see it? What is it?”
Gabby’s heavier frame shuddered. “One, I think we just crossed a border, a defined space that we cannot see but has been long established. Two, since we stopped to talk, I have been feeling the presence of something working with us, guiding us forward. I didn’t want to say anything if you didn’t feel it, though. Some people are more sensitive to different energies than others.”
“Like the energies you called when you were working at the fire? The spirits of my people liked the calling,” Jemi said. It was the first time she had admitted this to the other woman.
“Yes… Wait, they did?” Gabby said, looking at her.
Jemi nodded slowly. “Yes, you called them outdwellers and then thanked the land there and they were curious and watched you all.”
Gabby looked surprised. Her mouth opened then closed before she spoke, “It is what we hope. We know our religion is not that of your people, but we hope to honor the spirits that were here before us and give them and the land thanks for hosting us. We do not want them forgotten.” She focused back on the road. “You saw them?”
Admitting these things among most whites would have had her ostracized or in child services again, but she trusted Gabby. “Since meeting you, I have seen spirits. Wolf came to me at your fire, that is why I decided to stay close. Anog Ite comes to me in dreams, even in foster care. She tries to teach me the ways of the women of my people, but I am not with them.”
“Anog Ite?” Gabby asked.
“She is the double-faced woman, one face beautiful and one ugly. She teaches the young women in their dreams. Wolf, though, usually guides a hunt or war,” Jemi explained. The memories of the stories she had been told as a child came forth.
“Wolf might be guiding your hunt for your family?” The older woman’s question was gentle. “I can sense energy but I have never seen the spirits except in my dreams and mind’s eye. I kind of envy you.”
“Most people think those that can see are crazy, even among our some of our people,” Jemi said with a shake of her head. “Grandmother used to say that Great-Aunt Winterhawk said I sensed the spirits even when my mother was pregnant with me. Every time she came over, I would kick my mother and she would complain.”
“What a gift,” the driver said, shaking her auburn hair. “No wonder you feel at such a loss away from your lands. If that border we crossed means anything to me, I think it means you will feel more at home soon.”
Jemi grew quiet, wondering if Gabby would be right. She was so nervous about this trip that she thought she would not really feel comfortable until, or if, they found her great-aunt.
It only took a few minutes before Pine Ridge appeared ahead of them. A small group of houses to the east, then a sandwich shop and gas station. Pine Ridge was much better kept than Whiteclay had been, it was almost night and day in the differences on the main road. Up ahead, a white church gleamed in the afternoon light. “Do you remember where your grandmother lived?”
Jemi nodded. “Go right at the light then past the Pizza Hut and a left at the next light.”
Gabby followed her directions, Jemi taking in the slightly more rundown area on the edge of town. There was graffiti on the walls of some buildings, less pride taken there than with the main road towards the casino. “The first left, then past the stop sign, the house on the right after it.”
Soon they reached the house, trees and a fence surrounding it. Gabby pulled over and looked at Jemi. “Here?”
Tears were in the young woman’s eyes again as she remembered being taken from here by her neighbors after she found her grandmother dead in bed. Watching from the window across the street as the emergency vehicle lights illuminated the house in the night. Then the tribal police came. They knew she had no one left but Winterhawk, and asked the neighbors if they would watch her until they could get ahold of the elder woman, which they said they would. It was the next day when one of her teachers had come with a white woman in a grey suit. The woman was from the county and without proper custody ever being taken for Jemi, the woman had taken her off the reservation. Jemi couldn’t respond to Gabby’s question as she just looked at her home.
They looked around the sides as they heard a sound. When they turned back, there was a coyote on the hood of the car. “What the f…” Gabby said then paused, because beyond the coyote was a tall man in a tribal police uniform.
It was hard to see his face, as the cowboy hat he wore shaded it, but with a sharp word, the coyote jumped down and sat at his side. It looked more dog than coyote now that it was sitting in the dirt, panting up at the man as if saying, “Look what I found for you.”
He tipped back his hat, as if to peer better into the car. Jemi sunk back in her seat, trying to hide. “It is okay, Jemi. We will handle this,” Gabby said softly, then rolled down her window. “Hello, can you help us?” she asked, smiling brightly at the officer.
“That is my job, ma’am,” the man responded with a smile that broke the shadows of his face with gleaming white. “I am sorry if Mica startled you. We were at home and the next thing I knew, he was off down the road.” He stepped around to the driver’s side. “I would joke that you are not from around here but the Colorado plates give that away. If you are looking for the casino, it is further down the road.”
Jemi shrunk back further in her seat as he leaned over to look in the car, “Shit, you are Slade’s girl, aren’t you? You are who Taku Skanskan told us to watch for. Come on, both of you, follow me. My house is just up the block. The old woman is going to be very happy to see you.”
Without waiting for them to say anything, he just turned on the heel of his cowboy boot. “Do you know him?” Gabby asked, looking at Jemi.
“No,” the girl responded. She had been so afraid of any authority on her trip home, but now it seemed she had no choice.
“Slade is your father, right?” the older woman asked as she turned the car to follow him slowly up the road, though his long stride was sure and she didn’t have to follow for long.
Jemi swallowed. “Yeah, my dad, but Gran and Auntie always called him Twohorn.”
Gabby took a slow breath. “We needed someone with answers and he seems to have them, but we can leave if you want.”
“No,” Jemi said, then paused. “He knows the name of my father, and he called his dog Mica, coyote spirit. Maybe he knows Winterhawk.” It was hard to trust anyone but Gabby, but she knew Gabby would take her and leave if necessary.
He led them up north to where the road turned into a four-wheel drive path, then to a hous
e that sat at the edge of town. A tribal police car was parked there and in the shade was a table with a plate of half-eaten food and a pitcher of water, catching the late afternoon sun in the condensation on its side. Waving them in to park next to a white truck, he nodded and picked up the plate before walking inside.
The women got out of the car and Jemi looked around. This home once belonged to Jerimiah Two Wind. He had been a friend of her grandmother and great-aunt, and had sat next to Jemi when Child Protective Services had brought her to the church for the funeral. Mica walked over to them both, sniffing Gabby but circling Jemi and shoving his head under her hand.
That deep male voice interrupted, “He was who told me you were there. I was enjoying my dinner break and then he was off down the road like he was chasing a rabbit.”
Jemi looked up at the tall man. “Did you know my dad?”
“I did. My little brother and him went to high school together. I am sorry you lost him and Mary. My dad told me about you when I came home to help him,” he said, and Jemi could see a sadness in his eyes as he spoke. “I am Tobias Two Wind.”
As she petted the dog, she asked, “Jerimiah was your father?”
“He was, miss,” Tobias said gently. “I was practicing law in New York when he began to have some health troubles, so I came home. It was shortly after your grandmother died and he and your great-aunt were trying to locate you, but you had already been placed and they sealed the records.”
“A lawyer in New York to tribal police?” Gabby asked as she looked into his dark eyes. “Seems a pretty big change. I am Gabby Williams, Jemi is a friend of mine.” Gabby offered her hand and he took it. Jemi watched as the two sized each other up, then Gabby drew her hand back with a smile.
“A big change, but I was working with some tribal law advocates in the city, so not too big of a shift to come home and see what I had been working for all my life, in the flesh, so to speak,” he said, then gestured to the table. “I would ask you in but the breeze is starting and it will cool the afternoon.”