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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Lakota Justice
Copyright 2018 by MelindaWilliams
ISBN: 978-1-68361-200-1
Cover Art by Fantasia Frog
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC
Look for us online at:
www.decadentpublishing.com
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Lakota Justice
Archeologist DeShay Graywater finds more than she bargains for during a dig on the Lakota Reservation. Detective TJ Hawke and FBI Agent Melina Wolfe team up to track down person who killed a young Lakota woman. The case is not the only problem they face. Their shared past present even further problems. Will their ancestors help them solve the problems they face and catch a cold blooded murderer?
Dear Readers,
I'd delighted to share with you my novel, Lakota Justice, previously published at Blood on the Feather. I hope to bring the beautiful Lakota people into focus. Please turn the page and meet one of the bravest warriors that will give you an insight of the strong and courageous Lakota People.
Always walk in harmony,
Melinda
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the Lakota people, culture, and language. Also, to my wonderful husband Vernon-who is my inspiration. To my daughter, Shaelee and son, Erik for always being there for me.
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Lakota Justice
By
Melinda Williams
Chapter One
Archaeologist DeShay Greywater studied her reflection in the mirror. Her long hair was braided in the traditional style of Lakota, as her mother had taught her to do, her brown eyes ringed with shadows due to lack of sleep. Today, she would try to locate a site near Eagle Nest Butte where relics of the Lakota had been unearthed. What new adventure would come her way? She grew anxious that her find would be as good as last week’s when she’d discovered a set of pottery dating back to the nineteenth century.
She gathered her belongings as her mind railed off to the relics she’d found last year: arrowheads, pieces of beads, and some pottery , items belonging to her ancestors, dating back to the time of Crazy Horse.
She turned the doorknob to the creaky screen door and stepped outside where the sun bathed Mother Earth with its heated rays. The TV weatherman had predicted it would be hotter today than yesterday. What did one expect in the month of August? Her people knew it as the Moon of Black Cherries or Thunder Moon.
The Great Creator had bestowed great beauty on this part of the Earth. Every morning, DeShay’s spirits lifted as she took in the land’s majesty. The jagged rocks hung low, pivoting toward Mother Earth, as the mountains towered toward the blue sky.
DeShay climbed into her dirty Jeep packed with all the tools of her trade. A sacred medicine wheel hung from the rearview mirror. The power it held radiated the strength of her people. Her grandfather taught her as a young girl to keep her Lakota way of life, regarding everything as sacred, connected, and sent from the Great Mystery.
A few minutes later, DeShay turned onto a dusty road. Dirt sprayed into the air as the wheels of the Jeep turned faster, transforming the moment they touched pavement. Would today bring more questions than answers?
Lost in thought, she almost sped by the path she sought. She mashed the brakes, sending her Jeep skidding sideways. Outside the window, the’ sun’s rays sparkled down upon the butte, releasing a glimpse into the world of the past. Could anything be more beautiful?
DeShay opened the door and stepped out. She stretched her legs d then grabbed her gear. Today would reveal a part of her heritage from long ago. Her heart thumped. What awaited her?
She headed down a dusty path, through a rusty gate, and up a gravel path. The beauty revealed the presence of her ancestors. The echo of the hawk squawked as the sun cascaded over the mountains. Finally, the site came into view. In the distance, Eagle Nest Butte stood, while Bear-in-the-Lodge Creek faintly made its presence known by its pivoting stair steps.
As she set her gear down, she noticed a ripple that looked like paper out of the corner of her eye. She stood and covered her brow to block the intensity of the sun’s rays while sweeping away the sweat on her forehead. A few feet away lay a niyaha, a feather.
As she picked it up, she thought of the legend her grandfather had told her when she was a young child. She squatted by a rock and looked off into the beauty of her land and heard her grandfather’s voice.
“Many, many moons ago, an old Lakota medicine man sat on a sacred mountain in search of his vision quest. The trickster spirit, Iktomi, appeared. He came in the form of the mighty spider.
Iktomi spoke man in a sacred language understood by the medicine men of the Lakota.
As the spider addressed the elder, he took the hoop the elder held in his han
d and began to spin a web. As he did, he spoke about the journey of life. Life begins as an infant, then it emerges into childhood, then to adulthood and old age. He explained in each time of our lives, the good and bad will surface. .
Iktomi spun his web as he continued “The difference is, if you travel the red road, then you will walk in the right direction, whereas if you travel the black road, you choose a miserable life. Also remember there are many roads you will travel and many choices to make. You must always walk in harmony with Mother Earth and with our Creator.
The spider worked from the outer side of the web toward the middle.
Iktomi stopped speaking, while he handed the medicine man the web. The elder listened when the spider spoke: The web is a complete hoop but there is a small opening left in the center. Use this hoop to help keep all bad dreams away, and it can be used to aid in the Lakota’s beliefs and visions as a nation. Remember, if you believe in the nagi tanka, Great Spirit, the sacred hoop will catch your good dreams, and they will flourish, and the bad dreams will be allowed to pass through the hole and leave, causing no harm.”
Thusly, the Lakota medicine man explained his vision to his people, and now the dreamcatcher is used as the hoop of life to protect the people and their way of life.
DeShay gazed toward the sky, skan, as a hawk, cetan, circled overhead. She closed her eyes when the wind echoed through the canyon causing the feather to brush her hand. The feather was very sacred to the Lakota, more so if it is the feather of the hawk or eagle.
She opened her eyes and glanced down at the feather. It had tarnished, and parts of the feather shredded by the heat, or had they had been pulled off in a struggle? She tucked it in her pocket and to consider later.
When she turned to set up her site, a rancid odor grabbed her attention. Uneasiness crept inside her at the sight of something partly covered with earth. Some kind of animal carcass? ’
Her heart beat faster. Her stomach clenched. Her mouth went dry. She covered her nose to shut out death’s distinctive odor. These were human remains. A woman. A cry of anguish escaped DeShay’s lips. The young woman lay supine, clasping something to her chest. As DeShay got closer, she identified the object as a medicine wheel with an arrow in the center pointing southwest. Who would have done this? Her mind raced. Her heart skipped beats, as she leaped over the gate on the way to her Jeep. She had to get her cell phone. Why, oh why, hadn’t she taken it with her? In her haste, she tripped over a rock, but jumped back to her feet and ran. Approaching her vehicle, she reached inside, grabbed the phone, and, shaking dialed 911. “Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”
“My name is DeShay Greywater. I came to Eagle Nest Butte to explore for artifacts, and I found a dead body.”
“Okay, Ms. Greywater. What is your exact location?”
“I’m on a gravel road, off Highway 44, just west of Wanblee.”
“I have officers en route. Please remains where you are and do not disturb the site. Is the body male or female?’“
I believe it’s a female. The skeleton looks somewhat intact, but the body has been eaten by vultures.”
“I will let the officers know, thank you. I will stay on the line with you until officers arrive. “
Tucking the phone under her chin, she opened her bottle of water and took a long, cool drink. Although relieved she called the authorities and someone would soon arrive on the scene, she couldn’t get the dead woman out of her mind. She ran her forearm over her forehead to wipe away the sweat and willed herself to stop trembling. Her dig for today would have to wait. For now, the poor woman’s remains were far more important. The feather, the medicine wheel, and the dead body were all connected in some way.
She glanced inside her vehicle where the permit for today’s excavations sat clipped to the sun visor. She snatched it, placed it inside her pocket. She now realized why permits must be obtained .
Her instructor in college explaining the reasons for the permit. His words echoed in her mind. “No archaeological excavations can take place on federal or Native American lands without a permit being purchased in advance. If any part of this law is broken, everything including equipment and the violator’s vehicle can be taken away. In addition, the items found cannot be sold or traded. A person can be fined up to $100,000 and prison time of up to five years could be handed out for such violations. Besides it helped to cover the innocent.
Also, the tribe and federal government would be the ones to deal with any graves unearthed, and the remains turned over to the tribe to deal with proper reburial.
DeShay was glad she’d followed the rules.
Had this woman committed suicide or murdered. The feds would be called in to investigate the situation. Her thoughts ran about the newspaper article, she had read months ago about human remains being found on federal land.
The sunflowers caught her attention once again. They smiled as they stood erect. Perhaps Agent Melina Wolfe, a good friend and a Lakota, would come from Minnesota Some could not understand when she decided to become a federal agent. She said it helped her people having somebody on the inside. Have somebody representing them from the federal offices.
The operator spoke again, interrupting her thoughts. “Just wanted to let you know should be there soon.”
“Okay, thank you.”
DeShay paced back and forth now. Soon her world would become one with the determination of finding whose remains these belong to and how somebody could leave a person in such a place and why this person died so in such a manner and maybe catch a murderer.
Chapter Two
DeShay was paced around her vehicle, trying to remain calm when the first police officer arrived.. Detective Hawke had been with the tribal police for many years. Now he reigned as their lead detective.
“DeShay, what have you found?” Hawke asked.
She smiled at him. On the reservation, everybody called him Hawke, but off the rez, he was well known for his stubbornness and of course his handsomeness. Straight shoulder-length black hair, held by a feather at the back of his neck, set his features. Although he possessed a slender built, his muscles jutted out, revealing his toned body. A proud Native, who turned heads wherever he went.
“Well, I know it is a girl’s body.”
“Show me where she is.” He reached into his car and withdrew his crime scene investigation kit.
DeShay walked beside Hawke, eager to show him what she’d found. His demeanor turned more intense as they got closer to the sacred butte by their people in search of a vision quest.
“Hawke, will you have to call in the feds?”
He spared her a glance. “Yes, they are on their way. I hope you have a permit.”
“Of course, I do. Do you know of anybody missing from around here?”
Detective Hawke stopped and bent over to pick up a rock, examining it as he spoke. She suspected this as his way of putting the other person at ease, distracting them a little with his movements. “Well, Abby Winters’ mother reported her missing about a week ago, but there’s nothing to lead us to believe foul play was involved. We could never find anything linking her disappearance to a criminal act so we just thought she had run away from her home.”
DeShay nodded. “I remember the Winters family. They fought long and hard for the sacred sites. I recall the fight over Mato Paha, Bear Mountain, or Bear Butte. They went against a power of unknown proportions.”
Detective Hawke smiled. “Where’s s this site located?”
“Well, Bear Butte is just northeast of Sturgis. It’s on the National Register of Historic Places. A tourist trail leads all the way to the summit. Most of our people do not use it anymore because there are so many public visitors.”
“So many of our places are taken from us.” He sighed and dropped the stone. “Well, let’s keep going.”
***
The sun beamed down upon the butte. The bag DeShay had taken with her sat upright just steps away. She stopped at it and then pointed. “Okay, Hawke,
over there in the tall grass.”
As he approached the scene, he scanned the surrounding area and made deliberate steps, careful not to disturb any evidence. The young woman’s body was supine with the knees bent. She clasped something in her right hand. It appeared to be a medicine wheel keychain.
“DeShay, we must be careful. I want you to recall everything you saw when you pulled up to the site.”
“Everything appeared normal, I mean if you’re wondering if there any vehicles around, no the area was deserted .”
“So, you did not see anybody around or leaving?” He crouched and focused on the body.
“No, Hawke, nothing.”
Hawke nodded. realizing this young woman’s life ended in a homicide. He hated to think about telling her mother. Facing the family and telling them their loved one no longer walked upon this earth was the hardest part of his job. Their grief and deep pain always drained him.
“Okay, DeShay. this appears to be a murder and, it’s Abby Winters. Please stand over by the sunflowers, now. We’d best wait for the feds to show.” He removed his camera from his kit and snapped several pictures of the body. Where he saw tire tracks, he jammed small yellow flags on wire posts into the ground. “Let’s head back to the main road until they arrive.”
They headed toward their vehicles parked on the dirt road steps away from the dead body and silence ensued. Obvious by the hardness of his eyes and the set of his jaw sadness enveloped Hawke’s heart. He stopped. DeShay watched as he closed his eyes. She realized he offered a prayer to the spirits and made a promise to catch the killer.
He whispered, “Mita Kuye ayasin, we are related. I will find who took your life. Toksha ake wacinyuanktin, Ktelo, I shall see you again.”
Both of their hearts heavy for the emptiness of a life lost for nothing. She died a horrific death and the family denied the keeping of the soul ceremony, Nagi Gluhapi Na Nagi Gluxkapi. Their custom meant they would wait four days before the relative was laid to rest. Keeping of the soul rite ensured the deceased crosses over in peace to meet the Great Spirit. It also helped to give the family some closure and to honor and celebrate the life of the deceased.
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