She collected herself after a few minutes and looked up at everyone. She said, “It is him. This is Morgan and Rachel’s boy.”
Then she turned to look at the boy and said, “You are my grandson, Grayson.”
Everyone started looking around at each other, nodding and smiling. Little Grace hopped about the room in glee.
When they quietened down, Mrs. Morgan turned to him again and said, “I don’t know where you’ve been all these years. Maybe you don’t even know where you’ve been. And I have no idea how you survived, but I thank God you did. Whatever happens now, we’ll figure it out together.” Then she took one of his hands in hers.
Louis rolled his eyes.
“Mother,” he said. “He doesn’t understand a word you’re saying.”
“I don’t care. He can hear the tone of my voice and that I mean him no harm. Think how hard this is for him,” she scolded her son, lightly.
Then she looked around at everyone, “I cannot thank you enough for having your sheriff get in touch with us. I’ll make sure that you’re compensated for your time and effort in taking care of Grayson. I’m not sure what to do next, and we may stay in town for a while. If I decide to do that, would you be willing to let him remain with you a while longer? I would rather come here and get to know him than take him away suddenly. Going away with strangers might upset him,” she explained.
Mr. Webb said they were glad to have been of help, and of course, her grandson could stay with them as long as necessary. Then Mr. Webb explained how much help Grayson had been and that the young man preferred to work with him in the fields than sit and do nothing, which, he said, spoke to the young man’s good character.
Oh’Dar thought Mrs. Morgan looked very tired. She said she was returning to the hotel and would be back in the morning to spend some time with her grandson if that was alright with Mr. and Mrs. Webb.
As she turned to leave, Oh’Dar got up out of his chair and walked over to her. She turned toward him. Moving slowly, he took each of her hands in his and held them, bending over to look her in the eye and gave her a small smile of gratitude.
She squeezed his hands in acknowledgment and then turned to continue on her way. Everyone smiled at the tender scene—everyone, Oh’Dar noticed, except Louis and Charlotte.
The next morning, a carriage brought Oh’Dar’s grandmother back to the Webb home on her own. After the women had exchanged pleasantries, Mrs. Morgan said she wanted to have her grandson evaluated by a doctor. Mrs. Webb said there was a doctor in town, and they could take him there if she wanted.
Oh’Dar didn’t understand what a doctor was. But later that morning, he and Mrs. Webb set out for the walk to town while his grandmother took the carriage she had come in. Grace had chosen to ride with her, thinking it great fun.
When they entered the doctor’s quarters, called an office, Oh’Dar’s eyes began to sting and water. He wasn’t used to the smells and didn’t recognize them. Dr. Brooks was there when they arrived, and Mrs. Webb introduced Mrs. Morgan and explained why they were there.
She brought Oh’Dar around to where the doctor could see him. “And this is the young man who wandered into town a while ago,” she said.
“Yes, I heard about that. Everyone is saying he might be the Morgan boy whose parents were killed about sixteen or seventeen years ago?”
Mrs. Morgan spoke up, “It was eighteen years ago. I’ll never forget it. And he’s definitely my grandson, Grayson. But I can’t explain it; I don’t think anyone can. How could he have survived all this time on his own? He’s not a savage, so I don’t understand it.
“Would you please examine him to see if he’s healthy and sound? He doesn’t speak or seem to understand what we’re saying, though he isn’t an imbecile. Mr. Webb said that he helped around their house with lots of chores.” she continued.
“He hasn’t said anything?” the doctor asked.
Mrs. Webb volunteered the story of how they found him and took him to the diner, how well behaved he always was, though understandably bewildered.
“Buster loves him!” little Grace volunteered.
“Well, that says a lot!” Dr. Brooks smiled at her, “Never trust anyone a dog doesn’t like.
“I’ll take him to the other room and examine him while you wait,” he added
Dr. Brooks took Oh’Dar gently by the arm and led him into another room. Oh’Dar squinted at the smell.
Then the doctor led him over to a covered table and motioned for him to sit on it, so Oh’Dar jumped up and sat as told. Dr. Brooks chatted away as he did his examination, and Oh’Dar understood most of what he was saying.
The doctor took out each tool, showing it to Oh’Dar before doing anything with it. He even let Oh’Dar handle the tools if he wanted to.
“Now, this isn’t going to hurt, but it might be cold,” he said as he put the stethoscope against Oh’Dar’s chest. It was cold. Then he demonstrated to Oh’Dar how he wanted him to breathe in and hold it, then back out.
The doctor continued his examination, looking into Oh’Dar’s ears and mouth, even having him stand and checking his balance. He shone a strange light into his eyes, examined his hands and feet, and even looked into his mouth.
Partway through the examination, it hit Oh’Dar. He’s a Healer! Like Mama! After that, he relaxed even more, feeling a sense of connection.
Dr. Brooks snapped his fingers next to Oh’Dar’s left ear. Oh’Dar turned his head sharply at the noise. Dr. Brooks did the same to the other ear. Then, he stuck his tongue out at Oh’Dar. Oh’Dar copied him. The doctor broke out into a huge smile and laughed. Then he put his finger on his nose, and Oh’Dar did the same.
This is some kind of game!
Dr. Brooks made a grunting noise. Oh’Dar copied him again.
When he had finished, the doctor gathered the others and brought them into the room where Oh’Dar was still sitting on the high table.
“He’s perfectly healthy from what I can tell, Mrs. Morgan. I can’t find any reason for him not to speak. He’s not deaf, and he’s not mute. He’s capable of making sounds, so theoretically, he can learn to speak. It is possible he never learned a language. Or it is possible that he has amnesia and has just forgotten how to speak.”
“Can that happen?” asked Mrs. Morgan.
“Well, it’s hard to say what can and cannot happen. This is a very individualized case. Obviously, someone rescued him because there is no way he could have survived as a baby without care. But what happened after that, no one knows. And the truth is, we may never know,” Dr. Brooks continued.
Mrs. Morgan spoke. “When we heard that Morgan and his wife were murdered and the baby was nowhere to be found, oh! I thought I would lose my mind. There were search parties out for days. They never found any sign of him. We put up the reward posters, expecting any day to get a ransom note. I waited for years, but none ever came.
“There was no reason for the murders. They had no enemies. Morgan was the kindest man, and his wife, Rachel, was sweet as can be. They were coming back from her parents. Oh, how I didn’t want them to leave in the first place. She could have had the baby here, but she insisted. She wanted to be with her mother and trusted her mother’s midwife more. It was a senseless loss. Why those savages killed them, we could never figure out. They had nothing of value with them, though we did learn the locket was missing.”
No one interrupted Mrs. Morgan. She was reliving one of the most painful periods of her life.
She got up and went to stand in front of Oh’Dar, addressing him though she obviously had no expectation that he understood.
“I wish you could have known your parents. Your father was the light of my life. Your mother was as beautiful as she was kind. You were their greatest joy. I can see both of them in you, though you look so very much like your father; it is as if he’s back with me again.”
Oh’Dar looked into her eyes as she spoke, his heart going out to her for her suffering. He hated to hear that she thought an
y of the Brothers could have killed his parents. He knew it could not be true but was helpless to set them straight.
Mrs. Webb spoke next. “You know, they looked everywhere. They found a settlement not too very far from where they were killed. The Chief was very cooperative, letting the sheriff’s men go through their entire village. They even seemed sympathetic. We’ve never had any trouble out of them ever—not before or since. They had nothing to do with the murders of your son and his wife.”
Oh’Dar was relieved to hear this.
Mrs. Morgan turned back to Oh’Dar. She placed her hand against his face, and he instinctively covered hers with his. She continued to address him. “Well, you’re here now, by the grace of God. And you’re healthy. We’ll probably never know what you went through or how you survived. So the question is, what do we do now? You’ll need a proper education. And someone will have to see if you can learn to speak English.”
She turned to look at Dr. Brooks. “Doctor, is he well enough to travel? I want to return home in a few days, and I’ll find a teacher for him. He’ll need to learn a great deal in a short time to catch up,” she said.
Mrs. Webb and Grace looked at each other, rather woefully. Oh’Dar realized they were going to miss him.
“He’s smart, Mrs. Morgan! He can learn. He knows all about planting and fixing things. He helps Papa a lot, just ask him!” Grace couldn’t contain herself, and Oh’Dar had to stop himself from smiling.
“Oh, don’t worry. I can see Grayson is intelligent. It’s just that he needs to learn to read and write.”
Oh’Dar wasn’t sure what that was, but he was keen to learn whatever he could.
“He’ll get the best of care; I’ve more than enough money to see to that. I want him to have a productive and meaningful life, but I won’t live forever, so we have a lot of ground to make up,” she explained.
Oh’Dar had no idea what money could be, either, but it seemed to be something useful.
They all returned to the Webbs' house, and as they arrived, little Buster came running out and practically jumped into Oh’Dar’s arms. Everyone laughed.
The Webbs invited Mrs. Morgan in for lunch. They asked after Louis and Charlotte. She explained that Charlotte wasn’t feeling well after the journey, so Louis had stayed back at the hotel to look after her.
They all went into the kitchen together. Oh’Dar was content to sit at the table and watch, while Buster tugged on his pant legs, trying to get him to play. Oh’Dar closed his eyes and listened. He was comforted by the conversation and laughter between the women while they went about making breakfast.
He felt better about being Waschini. He no longer felt as if he was the product of monsters. He hadn’t made up his mind about the Waschini men, but he decided that females were pretty much females everywhere, regardless.
Mothers are mothers, no matter whether of the People, the Brothers, or the Waschini, he thought to himself.
Chapter 7
Charlotte Morgan wasn’t sick—unless being angry is a type of sickness. While Mrs. Morgan was in town with the Webb family and her newly found grandson, they were back at Ruby’s Inn, roiling at the situation.
Louis Morgan stomped around the hotel room. “Well, this is just great. After all this time. What the hell! This is just our luck. After all these years, how can this be?
Charlotte Morgan, his wife, sat on the hotel bed arms crossed and lips pursed. Louis could feel her glare almost burning a hole in his back—as if this were his fault!
“Well, there’s no doubt it’s him. He looks just like your brother; the same handsome Morgan good looks. And your grandfather! No one could mistake those blue eyes,” she pointed out.
Whereas his brother had inherited the Morgan dark hair and blue eyes, Louis had taken after his mother’s side and had her red hair. It had darkened some with age, but he had always hated it and had been jealous of his darkly handsome brother. At least they had taken to calling his brother Morgan for some reason, instead of the entitled Grayson Morgan Junior.
“Well, there isn’t anything we can do about it now. The way my mother is fussing over him, you can bet that there goes half the inheritance to him!” said Louis.
The days passed one after the other until it was almost time for them to travel back. Mrs. Webb had been trying to prepare Oh’Dar for leaving with his grandmother in a few days, and this touched him. She had done her best to act out what would happen, even showing him with some of Ned’s toys. It warmed his heart that she was trying so hard to reassure him it was all going to be fine. He wondered if he would ever see her again.
Oh’Dar packed his travel basket with the clothes and moccasins he had made. He knew he would be traveling a long way away. The odds were, he would never see his family again. He spent many nights with his face buried in Buster’s soft fur, grieving for his mother, Acaraho, the only father he had ever known, Nadiwani, and his brother Nootau. And Kweeuu, who couldn’t possibly have understood why Oh’Dar had abandoned him.
On the appointed morning, the Webb family said their goodbyes. Oh’Dar hugged Mrs. Webb and Grace. He even hugged Mr. Webb and Ned. Buster danced around his feet, oblivious to what was happening. Oh’Dar grabbed the little dog and cuddled him for a long time. Grace came up again and threw her arms around Oh’Dar’s waist to say goodbye.
Soon they were all settled in the carriage. Mrs. Morgan called Mr. Webb over to her and handed him something that she said was reimbursement for their care of her grandson, and instructions about how to contact them if need be. Mrs. Webb gave Mrs. Morgan a basket filled with biscuits and honey as a treat for the trip.
The Webb family waved as the carriage pulled away. Oh’Dar turned so he could keep sight of them as long as possible. Once they were gone, he slid down to hide his sadness.
It was a long and dusty trip, broken up by stays in tiny towns along the way. At night Oh’Dar marked the days on the stone he had started when he left Kthama. He tried to sleep as much as possible, though the jostling of the carriage made it nearly impossible. He kept his one hand securely on the leather pouch under his shirt for fear of losing it in all the jouncing about. He had given up trying to follow the conversation; there were too many words he didn’t understand.
It was uncomfortable being in such close quarters with so many people, and especially Louis and his mate, whom Oh’Dar had learned were his uncle and aunt. They both seemed to have very sour personalities.
After what seemed like forever, they finally pulled onto a long driveway lined with trees that led to a sprawling two-story home. Surrounding the house was a wide expanse of green fields and rolling hills. It was very different from the rocky terrain of Kthama, but it was beautiful, nonetheless.
The driver helped Oh’Dar’s grandmother step out, and Louis helped Charlotte. Oh’Dar exited last, scanning the area.
The air smelled sweet and fresh, stirred by the slightest breeze. Songbirds greeted him from the trees that seemed to be everywhere.
It was warmer than Oh’Dar was used to, and for that, he was grateful. In the far distance, he could see horses along a fence line. But they weren’t the dappled ponies of the Brothers. These were magnificent dark chestnut beasts. One large black stallion raced along the ridge of a small hill, his rich coat gleaming in the sunlight.
Hearing their arrival, several people in matching dress came down the tall front steps and greeted them. They didn’t say anything to Oh’Dar, but each did sneak glances in his direction.
After they had greeted those people, Mrs. Morgan brought him over to meet them.
“This is Morgan and Rachel’s son, my grandson, Grayson,” she said.
They all turned to each other with open mouths and wide eyes and began talking excitedly. As they looked at Oh’Dar and back to each other, they nodded, remarking about his dark hair and startling blue eyes, apparently unmistakably Morgan characteristics.
After some of the excitement died down, everyone helped the Morgans and Oh’Dar into the house, tak
ing the bags from the wagon, including Oh’Dar’s basket. He caught up with the man carrying it and gently took it away, patting him on the arm as he did so that the man wouldn’t take offense.
It was all he had of home, and he wasn’t going to take a chance of being separated from it.
If the Webbs’ home was strange to Oh’Dar, this one was even more so. It had an even longer set of stairs than at the Webb’s, and a huge entranceway that was used in a similar manner to the Great Entrance of Kthama, on a much smaller scale. But from what he had seen, this was a very large entrance by Waschini standards.
The inside also wasn’t plain like the Webbs’ home. For a few days, Oh’Dar had to catch his balance. There were patterns on the walls and the floor, and on what he knew was called furniture. And there was furniture everywhere.
So many things in the Waschini world seemed to be unnatural; straight lines and sharp edges, harsh smells and clanking, clanging loud noises everywhere. Traveling in carriages where you felt every bump, instead of on foot or even on horseback as the Brothers did. Even the Waschini clothing was tight and uncomfortable. Whenever possible, Oh’Dar would step out of the shoes they made him wear, much to the annoyance of Mrs. Thomas, the housekeeper.
It was confusing to him that his grandmother had so many names—Mrs. Morgan, Miss Vivian, and Grandmother. His parents had different names as well, but at least he understood when those were to be used.
There seemed to be a lot of people around. Oh’Dar didn’t yet know any of their names or what they did, except for Mrs. Thomas.
Mrs. Thomas was the head of all the helpers. Oh’Dar soon learned that she would let him sneak a biscuit or an apple from the kitchen during the day. She was a jolly, older woman with a kind smile.
However, he missed Buster’s wet, wiggly kisses and Grace’s giddy nature. He wished she was there to help him.
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