The ride to the house was long and quiet. The lieutenant drove. Hawke sat in the front next to him, Melina in the back. Hawke could not wait to see what was going on at Ian’s secret residence. Along the way, he took in the sights. “There sure are a lot of casinos around here.”
Lieutenant Vasicek chuckled at his remark. “Well I guess it is a little different around here than what you are used to.”
The casinos lined up, one after another. The people everywhere resembling drones, going in and out, as if serving a queen bee.
Lieutenant Vasicek turned his blinker on and they turned into a big parking lot off to the right. “There are other officers stationed on the roof of this building and in the shrubbery to the side of the house. We need all the surveillance we can get. As I’ve told you, we’ve got the house bugged. Our surveillance van is at the side of the building.” They exited his car, walked around the side of structure and crawled into a van with Henderson’s Plumbing printed on the side. Inside, two officers sat on swivel chairs, earphones on their heads and eyes focused on a bank of monitors.
The night seemed to drag along. Melina showed familiarity with the surveillance equipment in the van, but on the reservation, monies for high tech items never surfaced. Hawke’s eyes grew heavy; he needed fresh air. “I’m going to step outside for a while.”
“Good idea. I’m going along,” Melina turned to the lieutenant. “What about you?”
Lieutenant Vasicek nodded and stood, stretching. “It’s took hot and cramped in here. I’m right behind you.” The three of them walked to a cluster of large trees and bushes. A sudden noise to their right drew their attention.
“Oh, it is okay. It’s only the opossum. The top dog when it comes to diversion. Hawke, do you think this is a sign?”
He nodded. “Melina, you know it is.”
Lieutenant Vasicek stared at them, puzzled. “A sign? What does that mean?”
They chuckled for they had forgotten they were out of their own element.
“Lieutenant Vasicek….”
“Please Hawke, call me Doug.”
“Okay, Doug, the opossum tries to divert our attention in another direction. The opossum crossed our path tonight offering a warning. It is asking us to use different ideas in our present circumstances. If a bad situation occurs, it warns us to use our best instincts to solve the problem. Use whatever tactics work to get us out or into a condition that we desire.”
Lieutenant Vasicek smiled. “I would love to learn more about your ways.”
“Sure, what type of story would you like to hear?” Hawke leaned against a tree and crossed his arms.
“Well, could you tell me how the flute came to be?”
Hawke nodded and replied, “Sure I would be honored to tell you the story of the flute. You know of the flute and the music it plays. The flute is for love. Many moons ago, the men would sit against a tree during the night, staring at the stars as they twinkled. The men would sit and make up their own love songs.
“The warrior had to be brave and one way of proving this was by counting coup on your enemy. This revealed bravery, but the warrior found it difficult to call upon the woman he loved. While he was brave in battle or on a hunt, he was not so brave when it came to the woman whose heart he wanted to win.”
“Yeah, I get you. I’ve never been a ladies’ man. Shy. Awkward.”
“The warrior had a hard time finding a place to be alone with the girl. It was also not a custom to hold hands with your girl, so it was very difficult for the young men of the village to find a way to court the girls.
“One way the young warriors had to meet the woman they loved they had to wait for her, usually as the sun rose, when she would go to the river to get water. This task called for patience because you had to hide behind a bush and wait for her to come down the trail and then you would have to jump out from your hiding spot and let her see you. This was the only means a young warrior had to reveal feelings for that special girl.”
“Wow, really?”
Hawke nodded. “It was hard on the girl, too. The girl’s face would turn red, and she would giggle. If she happened to like you, she would reveal it by staring at you over her shoulder.
“Therefore, the warrior let the flute do all the talking for him. At night, the young girl would be in her parents’ dwelling, lying on a buffalo robe, and then suddenly she would hear the sound of the siyotanka, flute, ringing love calls to her.
“She would realize love being sent to her from the warrior who loved her. If either one of them had strong elk medicine, then they might follow the sound until they found the one who offered such lovely music, revealing their love.
“The flute is made from the cedar wood. Its shape resembles a bird, with a long neck and a beak. The beautiful sound comes out of the beak.
“Fascinating. How do you remember all this stuff?”
Melina moved next to Hawke. “It’s taught to us by our elders. They tell the young children of the tribe our oral history. From generation to generation, it is kept alive. It’s a large part of who we are.”
“Now here is the legend of how the Lakota people obtained the amazing flutes,” Hawke said. “Many generations ago, the Lakota people had drums, rattles, but no flutes. Therefore, the young man went out to hunt and found tracks of elk. This was very important because his people were dying from starvation. The elk is very swift, but he is the one who has the love charm.
“If a warrior has elk medicine, he would have luck with the girl he loved, and he would be lucky in his hunting. Nevertheless, this warrior didn’t have it, so his heart lay heavy.
“After a long bout of trying to locate the game, he finally found it. This warrior was blessed for his knowledge and skill with the bow and arrow. But his skill eluded him, and the elk kept getting away.”
“Poor guy.”
“The warrior involved in following the elk paid no attention to where he walked. Suddenly, night fell upon him, and he realized he was deep in the forest. The elk had disappeared, and the moon didn’t exist.
“The warrior realized he was lost but decided to stay put until daybreak. He came upon a stream with rolling waters. Suddenly his stomach reminded him he had brought a bag of wasna.”
“What’s wasna?”
“Dried meat.”
“Okay. So what happened next?”
“The warrior ate then rolled up in a fur robe, leaned against a tree, and went to sleep. He tossed and turned, not able to rest. The dark woods filled with strange sounds. Owls screeched nearby. Many howls from the night animals echoed, and the trees revealed their anger as the wind blew. All the different sounds made him grow tense when suddenly he heard a lovely, mystical sound, one he had never heard before.
“It was a soothing sound, maybe even mystical. Nevertheless, he had never heard anything like it before, so it scared him. He reached for his bow but realized it sounded like a song, loving, full of hope, yet sorrowful in its own way.
As the thoughts ran through his mind, fell off to sleep. He drifted into a deep dream. There was the bird he called wagnuka, the redheaded peckerwood. The bird spoke softly. ‘Please follow me and I will teach you how to make the most beautiful of music.’
“When the hunter woke, the sun rose high in the sky. He looked up the tree where he had laid his head to rest and there was the redheaded peckerwood he saw in his dreams. The bird flew away. When the warrior hurried to keep up with the peckerwood, he noticed it never got far from his sights.”
Doug shuffled his feet. “You mean the bird wanted him to follow it?”
“The young warrior realized the bird was trying to tell him something, maybe even warn of something. Then suddenly the beautiful singing began. This enticed his heart so he followed the sound of music to locate the source.
“He kept his eye on the bird as it flew south. Right on its tail, the young warrior followed, destined to find the truth. At last, the woodpecker landed on the top of a cedar tree and the warrior watched in amazement as it pecked th
e wood, making the noise his ears longed to hear.
“Suddenly a blast of wind blew, and the hunter heard that beautiful song coming from above his head. The warrior realized the song came from the wood that the woodpecker pecked. You see, the wind made the sound as it whistled through the holes the bird had made with his beak.”
“Ain’t that something?”
Hawke could tell Doug enjoyed the story. “The warrior had to take the branch back to his people. The branch the bird pecked on with the holes made the beautiful music. He walked back to his village, with no food, but he was happy to share what he had found.
“The young warrior sat in his tipi wondering why the cedar would not play the music he so loved. He tried everything he could to make it sing but it would not. This made him depressed. He yearned to hear the beautiful music once again.
“He wondered what he could do to help the cedar to sing once again. He tried to cleanse his body in the sweat lodge. He went to the sacred mountains, seeking a vision quest. He remained on the mountain for several days, praying the vision would come to him revealing how to make the cedar sing once again.”
“What happened?”
“On the fourth night on the mountain, the red headed bird came to him. The young warrior watched in amazement as the bird turned into a man. He showed the young warrior how to get the cedar to sing for him. The young warrior watched and followed his instructions carefully, for his ears wanted to hear the lovely music.
“Suddenly, the young warrior woke from his dreams. He recalled what he had been shown. He had to find the cedar tree. He continued on his journey and found the cedar. He broke off a branch and whittled on it, hollowing it out just as the woodpecker had showed him in his vision.”
Hawke moved his hands to illustrate what he spoke about. “He carved the branch into the shape of the woodpecker with a red head and a strong beak. He painted the woodpecker’s head with red because its considered very sacred to the Lakota. Then he prayed, hoping it would sing its lovely music. He smudged the cedar branch with sage, cedar, and sweet grass. Then it was time to try it. He placed the wood to his lips, placed his fingers over the holes, and blew softly into it.
“His heart leaped for joy. The lovely music came to life once again filling the entire village. The people of his village were overcome with happiness. Because of the woodpecker and the wind, the flute came back to his village.
“In the young warrior’s village lived the chief of his people. His daughter was convinced no warrior good enough for her. Many warriors had tried to claim her for their own, but she would not have it. Now the young warrior who had brought the flute to his people wanted this very girl. He made a special song just for her with the flute. Then one starry night he hid behind a tree and played the beautiful song, hoping it would get her to love him.”
“Did it?”
“Well, the young girl sat in her father’s tipi, eating buffalo, and she heard the love song. She tried to ignore the music, but she could not. She tried to stay put, but the force was too great. As she got outside of her dwelling, she saw the young warrior standing by the tree, flute in his mouth, and the moon shining so bright.
“Her mind told her to stay away, but her heart told her to go to him and, of course, the heart won. They stood looking at each other. Her heart forced her to speak to him. ‘I am yours forever. My heart speaks your name. The music you play lifts my heart.’ They embraced and lay down to share their love. The blanket they shared was full of love.
“After they awoke, she said to him, ‘My young warrior, I want to be with you. Your parents must offer my father a gift for my hand. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.’
“The young warrior was proud of this motion. He quickly agreed and ran to his father. Soon thereafter, they were married. The other young warriors of the village heard what had happened. They dashed away in search of the cedar, so they could make the flute and get the girl they loved.”
Doug laughed and shook his head. “No wonder every warrior wanted his own flute. I’d probably want one, too, if I was in their place.”
“No doubt.” Hawke chuckled. He liked this man. “The love songs flourished from tribe to tribe causing the young girls to go to the music and to the young warrior who loved them.
“So, that’s how the flute was brought to the Lakota people. Thanks to the cedar, the red headed woodpecker, and the young warrior who could not get food, but listened and learned.”
“What a beautiful story. The woodpecker is a wise old bird.”
“So, Lieutenant Vasicek, do you find our stories meaningful?”
“Remember, now. You call me Doug. Yes, your stories should be told. They have meaning for the inner being. Thank you for sharing.”
Hawke nodded as he watched the house on North Mountain Way. Soon, he hoped to find the key to this murder and bring Ian to justice. Not only would there be justice but some kind of completeness for Abby’s family.
The world seemed to offer its condolences for the death of such a lovely and aspiring woman. The sky grew dark but held calm as clouds floated by, in rhythm with the sky. Hawke knew Abby stood there watching and listening to the people who cared about her and her life. He felt her presence, so he whispered, “My friend, justice will come soon. You will never be forgotten. We will meet someday, but until then, carry on and be happy.”
Hawke smiled as he winked at Father Sky and Mother Earth. He realized he was one with them. Soon, the anger of Abby Winters death would cease to a degree of acceptance and only her love would fill the earth.
He wondered how she felt about leaving too soon. He wondered if she missed the things she wanted to do. Then the thought of her standing beside her ancestors answered the question.
Hawke’s body relaxed. He had reached a place of understanding of how Abby’s heart felt now and compared to when she walked upon Mother Earth.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The nights were warmer in Nevada. Dogs barked. Trucks and cars rumbled past. Crickets sang. Hawke missed the night sounds of the reservation.
Doug patted Hawke’s shoulder. “Let’s get back in the van for a while. The guys usually have water and soda on ice. I want to check over the monitors, too.”
Melina and Hawke sat next to each other, sipping their water. She covered his hand with hers. “I love it when you tell the stories. You always put so much feeling into it. You’ll make a good medicine man one day.”
Hawke turned his hand over and entwined his fingers with hers. “And you’ll make a good medicine man’s wife.”
“Got company, boss,” one of the police officers staffing the monitors remarked
Doug, Hawke, and Melina all crowded around the police officer to view the monitors. A black van pulled up the driveway to the house. Three doors opened. Hawke was relieved to see Amy get out of the vehicle on her own. Pete walked very close to her, but it was obvious Ian was the one in control. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder.
“Doug, the man with his arm around Ms. Winters is Ian Guidara. The man following, scoping out the area for any lurkers is Pete Crowe. I hope your men are well hidden.”
“Don’t you worry about them. I’ve got them well trained.”
The two suspects and their innocent companion went inside the house. Soon, a silver Corvette pulled in. A man in a suit got out.
“Zoom in on him,” Doug instructed the officer at the camera controls. When the camera panned the man strolling up the driveway, Doug swore under his breath. “He owns one of the big casinos here. I had no clue he was involved with drugs or this outfit.”
Five minutes later, the man in the suit ran back to his car.
Hawke glanced at Doug. “Did your listening devices pick up the conversation that just went on in there?”
The young man wearing headphones turned and smiled. “Every drug-dealin’ word.”
“What about Ms. Winters? Can you hear her?”
“She’s in her bedroom at the back of the house. Ian told
her she needed to get to bed early. He has things planned for her tomorrow.”
Melina leaned her head against Hawke’s shoulder. “Thank goodness she’s still okay.”
Soon, the garage door raised and a motorcycle roared to life. Ian backed it out of the three-car garage.
Doug punched some keys on his cell. “I’m texting one of my men to follow him. Now that I know where this lowlife is, I’m not letting him out of my department’s sight.”
For over a month, the case of Abby’s murder had moved at a snail’s pace. Now it raced like a crazed rabbit. Hawke prayed for a sign from the Great Mystery. He offered a prayer. “Father Sky and Mother Earth. Please protect Amy Winters from evil. Help us catch these evil men. Thank you for all the knowledge you have given me. Great Mystery, guide me in the right direction and forgive me for the things I have no control over.”
His words echoed only for the ears of the ones addressed. He would do what was necessary to finish the job. His heart felt a huge sense of kindness. A showing of what was yet to come.
“It’s so hot in here, Hawke. I need fresh air.” He squeezed Melina’s hand and slid the side door open, eager to do something to make the woman he loved more comfortable. Suddenly, Hawke noticed a turtle crossing the parking lot. “The turtle symbolizes Mother Earth.”
He kept his eye on it as he remembered the story his grandfather told him about this sacred animal. Lost in his own world as he heard the whispers of his grandfather sprinkle across his thoughts.
“Grandson, the turtle represents Mother Earth. Here is the story about him. There’s a large lake by a village of the Chippewa where a large turtle lived and called home. This turtle was one of a kind because he would visit the people of the village. He would speak with the chief of this village for most of the day.
“The chief realized just how smart and wise this old turtle had become, so when he needed help solving something he would call upon his friend the turtle to help him.
“One day two parties of the tribe got into an argument. Worried blood would be shed, the chief could not decide who was at fault. So he called upon his turtle friend in hopes he could help figure out something to cease this ensuing fight.
Lakota Justice Page 11