Wind Over Marshdale

by Tracy Krauss

  “You’re sure?”

  “Um, no thank you.” This time it was Rachel that spoke. “Mr. McKinley,” she added, as if it were an afterthought.

  “It’s Con, remember? And I thought we already established that walking alone after dark wasn’t such a good idea.” He grinned, catching Rachel’s eye for a moment. With a sudden flutter of eyelashes she pulled her gaze away, focusing on her feet. Hmm. Her lips were nice, too. What would it feel like to kiss them?

  “Oh? And when did we establish this?” Grace asked, surveying both Con and Rachel with wide eyes.

  Rachel’s, “Never mind,” was drowned out by Con’s explanation. “Let’s just say I rescued her from Bart and the coyotes,” he laughed.

  “This is getting more interesting by the minute,” Grace said. “Tell me more!”

  Rachel grabbed her friend by the arm and physically yanked her in the opposite direction. “Nice seeing you again,” she called over her shoulder. Con watched as both women tripped on the curb, as if on cue. He shook his head. Rachel Bosworth was definitely pretty, just like his niece Lisa said. Why were all the pretty ones off limits?

  Chapter Eight

  “I really love your house, Sherri.” Rachel surveyed the family room from her position on one of the comfortable leather love seats. It was tastefully decorated in earth tones and featured a large gas fireplace along one wall. It was Saturday, and the trip into Regina was just the distraction she needed. A couple of aspirin and some orange juice had done the trick in chasing away the slight headache she’d felt upon waking. Now she hoped the visit with Sherri and Dan would counter the oddly confused and uncertain feelings she was experiencing.

  “We never could have afforded a house like this back in Toronto," Sherri confided. “The cost of living out here is so much lower. And the pace of life is much more relaxed. There’s really no rat race to speak of.”

  “It’s great," Dan offered, laying his newspaper in his lap for a moment. “No more six-thirty subway rides! I can be at work in fifteen minutes."

  “It’s about time you came in for a visit,” Sherri stated. “I was beginning to think you fell into a gopher hole or something.”

  Rachel laughed. “I am feeling a little bit like Alice in Wonderland, that’s for sure.”

  “Adjusting to small town life?” Dan picked up his paper again.

  “That’s one way to put it, I guess. It's pretty tough to remain anonymous in a place where everybody knows everybody else’s cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents.”

  “The fish bowl syndrome.” Sherri nodded. “So, any cute guys in Marshdale?”

  “Who knows? I'm not looking,” Rachel replied. She was suddenly very interested in a speck on the armrest. Two conflicting images popped into her mind. One had blue eyes and firm biceps, while the other was tall, dark and mysterious.

  “Hmm,” Sherri mused, eyeing her friend suspiciously. “I recognize that look. Are you holding out on me?”

  Rachel scrunched her forehead and forced a laugh. “Don’t be silly. If I meet someone you’ll be the first to know.”

  “Not every man is like Ronald, you know, Rachel. There are some genuinely honest men out there.”

  “Maybe. I'm just not interested right now, that's all.”

  “Did Sherri tell you our good news yet?” Dan piped up from behind his newspaper.

  Rachel looked from one to the other. “What good news?”

  “Dan Walker!” Sherri frowned, throwing a pillow at him. “You weren’t supposed to say anything to anybody yet!”

  “Why not?” He looked out from behind the paper, the picture of innocence. “Everybody’s gonna find out sooner or later anyway.”

  “Okay, spill it,” Rachel warned. “Is this what I think it is?”

  Sherri nodded mutely and then squealed, “We’re going to have a baby!”

  “Oh, Sherri! I'm so excited for you!” Rachel exclaimed. “When?”

  “April. Can you believe it? Me? A mother!”

  “April? How pregnant are you? You must have just found out yourself.”

  “I know,” Sherri grinned. “We weren't going to tell anyone for a while yet.” She glared teasingly over at her husband. “Except big mouth here can’t keep a secret!”

  “Now I’ll have an excuse to come visit you more often,” Rachel said.

  “You know you don’t need an excuse.”

  “I know.”

  “How about if you and I go for a walk? It’s still so nice out. And my wonderful husband isn’t being very sociable.”

  “You two need some girl time anyway,” Dan said, once again behind the sports section.

  The weather outside was beautiful. Rachel breathed deeply as they strolled down the tree shaded street. The trees, mostly elm and poplar, were beginning to display their autumn wardrobe. She missed the extravaganza of rich colors that she was used to in Southern Ontario, but the prairie had its own kind of beauty, albeit more subtle.

  “Are you happy you moved, Rachel?” Sherri asked.

  Rachel thought for a moment. “Yes, I think so. I’m still feeling a little bit… I don't know. Homesick, maybe. But, yes. I think so.”

  “Homesick? I’d have thought you couldn’t wait to get away.”

  “Yeah, well, screwballs or not, there’s something about the familiar.”

  “It was about time you got out from under their thumb,” Sherri declared. “I just hope we didn't put too much pressure on you.”

  “No, I think I was ready for a change.”

  “Hope you won’t be disappointed. For me it's different. I've got Dan and now…” Sherri smiled and rubbed her as yet flatstomach. “But you're out in Hicksville by yourself. Remember, any time you need us we're just a phone call away.”

  “I know. Thanks.”

  ****

  “Phew! Okay, kids,” Pastor Todd said, wiping his brow with the back of his sleeve. “Looks like we’re almost through with the bottles. Now we just have to count the cans.”

  The acrid smell of empty beer cans filled the air inside the recycling depot. The place was dingy, as many such establishments were, and the few volunteers that had showed up for the following day’s sorting process were feeling sticky and altogether filthy.

  “I am taking a shower as soon as I get home,” Bonita McKinley announced. She had driven in with Tyson to help—a way to appease her parents and uncle after missing youth group the previous night, as well as get out of some of the farm chores waiting at home. Of course, it also helped that at present she had a huge crush on Bob Spencer who worked part time at the depot.

  Her parents were so old fashioned! If they knew she had gone to see Mirna Hyde, they’d skin her alive.

  “How much do you think we made?” someone asked. Bonita looked over at the girl. Faye Rowan—what a geek! She was such a goody-goody and had no friends. Well, at least no friends that counted.

  Pastor Todd shrugged. “Couldn’t say for sure. Bob’ll tally it up soon enough, though.”

  “Probably a few hundred for sure,” Bob offered. He was busy moving the already counted items into their proper storage area. He was tall, just a little too skinny to call him truly buff, and had shaggy brown hair which was presently plastered under a wool hat. But he was cool. Bonita smiled.

  “I’ll be back in a sec,” Bob called over his shoulder. “Just put ‘em on flats, or count them into groups of twenty-four.” He took off his work gloves and slipped out the back door of the building.

  Bonita looked around for an opportunity. “I’m just going to go next door to the bathroom at the garage,” she announced.

  She found Bob leaning against the back of the building having a cigarette.

  “Can I have a drag?” she asked, raising her brows in question and pointing at the cigarette. Bob took one more long draw, then handed her the cigarette with a nod.

  “Thanks,” she said with a smile. She took a couple of puffs and handed it back to Bob.

  “So what they raising money for?”
Bob pulled on the smoke with his lips, his cheeks indenting.

  “Some trip in the spring. I’m not going, though.”

  “No?”

  “It’s a church thing,” she said, as if that explained it.

  Bob nodded silently. “There’s a party out at Jake’s trees tonight.”

  “Yeah?” Bonita smiled.

  “You should come.”

  She was about to answer—something provocative and grown up—when Billy Chang appeared. Bonita gave him her best glare. He was always hanging around at the wrong time.

  “Oh, there you are,” Billy said. “Pastor wants to know which ones you counted already.”

  “Coming,” she said sullenly, pushing away from the wall.

  Billy nodded and disappeared into the building again.

  “So, maybe I’ll see you tonight,” Bonita said to Bob. She gave him a coy smile.

  “Sure,” he replied, taking one last drag from the cigarette before flicking it onto the ground.

  Now it was just a matter of figuring out a way to get back into town.

  ****

  Thomas paused on the front stoop and inhaled a deep breath of the harvest air. It was a beautiful afternoon. The perfect time to finish up some much needed yard work. From this vantage point on the outskirts of the town, the prairie rolled out before him like a brown and gold carpet. There was a deep connection here. He felt it—to his ancestors and to the land itself. Part of it was due to the clarity of his dreams, something he was beginning to come to terms with.

  God spoke to men of old through dreams and visions. Why not him? That he had a purpose here, he had no doubt. It was now firmly implanted in his mind.

  “The land holds great promise—and power,” a female voice startled Thomas. It was sultry and deep for a female, but also vaguely familiar. Probably his unfortunate encounter with her twin sister at the town office. Across the broken down picket fence in the next yard, Mirna Hyde was shaking out a tasseled piece of fabric, perhaps a blanket or a shawl.

  “Hello,” Thomas responded with a small nod of his head. He had heard about the self-professed psychic from next door and had even seen her on occasion in the yard doing who knew what. He had prayed over every inch of the property and anointed all the windows and doors with oil. Not that he was afraid. He believed the Lord was more than able to protect them from whatever she was involved in, but it was also wise to cover all the bases.

  “We’re more alike than you think, you know,” she continued, not moving. So much for introductions.

  “What makes you say that?” Thomas asked casually, deciding to go with the flow.

  “I see things.”

  “So I’ve heard.” His stance remained at ease; hands in his jeans pockets.

  “So do you, I think.” She surveyed him through her dark sunglasses. He wished he could see her eyes.

  “Not sure what you mean.”He tried to laugh but was definitely feeling uncomfortable now. Exactly what did this old biddy know?

  “And I see how you live.” It was said almost like a challenge.

  “Oh?”

  She nodded. A wisp of the frizzy red mass on her head whipped in front of the dark glasses she wore. She pushed the glasses up onto the top of her head, effectively holding the unruly hair in place. He’d wanted to see her eyes and now wished he hadn’t. They were penetrating, unwavering, boring into his. “You believe. You tap into the spirit realm. You see and feel the pulse of the land under your feet.”

  “I’m a Christian,” Thomas corrected, his defenses rising. He didn’t like how accurately she had assessed what he had just been feeling.

  She nodded. “Yes, I know. But you’re not a hypocrite.”

  “Is that what you think of most Christians?”

  “Of course,” Mirna stated in no uncertain terms. “Like whitewashedtombs.”

  “You’re quoting Jesus,” Thomas pointed out.

  “Yes. He was in touch with his own inner strength.”

  “He was much more than that,” Thomas objected.

  “Maybe. I know a lot of people don’t like me or what I stand for. But at least I’m not pretending.”

  “So what do you believe, exactly?”

  “There are many forces in the universe ready to be tapped. One’s own inner strength is what allows one to do so.” She leaned forward slightly. “I’ve experienced the power of the spirits. Even brought things back from the dead.” She paused, surveying Thomas for any reaction.

  “Has it ever occurred to you that you’re dealing with the wrong spirits?”

  Mirna smiled, unflinching. “Once you’ve experienced the power, it’s difficult to look back. You should know this.”

  “Doesn’t that make you afraid?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t believe in the concept of ‘good vs. evil.’ That is where you Christians have it wrong. We’re just approaching the spirit realm from a different starting point. Tapping into a different power outlet. In the end, it all comes from the same generator.”

  “What if you’re wrong?”

  She shrugged. “I’ll take my chances. In any case, I’ve seen your reliance on the spirit force within you.”

  “On God,” Thomas corrected. “Through Jesus, empowered by the Holy Spirit.”

  She waved dismissively again. “There is great power in the land. You know this. Should be able to sense it.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Your own ancestors are crying out to you. Their blood calls out for justice.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “No? I thought your faith was based on the power of the blood.”

  “Jesus’ blood,” he corrected again.

  “If you wish. But even you Christians believe in curses. Surely you must know something about the ancient ways? The ways of your people?”

  “I have renounced pagan teaching. I am a follower of Jesus.”

  “Perhaps it has not released you. Blood ties can be strong.” She turned abruptly, placed the tasseled shawl on her head as a covering, and began walking in the direction of the open prairie.

  “Wait!” Thomas called. No response. He was shivering, but not from the breeze. It was like his nerve endings had been connected to a source of electricity. Of course he believed in God, and God alone—and Jesus as the one and only way to Him. Any other mention of ancients and blood and connection to his ancestors was not from Him. Why then, did this witch woman’s words have such an effect?

  As he watched her disappearing figure, a tightness that almost cut off his breathing formed in his chest. With an anguished cry, he turned toward the house. He needed to pray.

  Chapter Nine

  “Thank you for coming,” Pastor Todd said, shaking another hand as the congregation filed past on its way out of the sanctuary. “God bless… Good to see you… Thanks for coming…” He continued on as each member went past, his wife Carol by his side uttering similar platitudes.

  “Good sermon, Pastor,” one elderly man with a booming voice said as he shook Pastor Todd’s hand. “Although,” he tapped his watch, “a little overtime, today, eh?” The man chuckled and continued walking.

  The congenial smile that Todd had pasted to his face never wavered. “Thank you for coming… God bless… Good to see you…”

  “Pastor Bryant, I think we need to have a private conversation very soon,” Marni Hyde said as she took her turn in line. She glanced meaningfully down her nose at the Lone Wolf family who were presently in conversation with the McKinley clan.

  “Most certainly,” Todd agreed before turning to the next parishioner. “God bless… Thanks for coming…”

  With a sniff, Marni swept past Carol Bryant and into the crowd milling about in the foyer. The congregation always enjoyed several minutes of informal socializing before going their separate ways on a Sunday afternoon. Many of them had enjoyed meeting for lunch afterward at Sonny’s Café, but now that the Changs had decided to close on Sundays, most people just loitered a lit
tle bit longer at the church itself.

  A small group of teens had gathered together in one corner, including Billy and Suzie Chang, Tyson and Bonita McKinley, and their newest member, Ryder Lone Wolf.

  “Your little sister is so cute,” Suzie said to Ryder. “I’m glad your family decided to make it to church today. Next week you should come an hour earlier for the teen class.”

  A small sigh escaped Bonita’s lips and the others looked at her curiously. “Don’t mind her,” Tyson said with a shrug. “She’s not feeling so well today.”

  “Oh. That’s too bad,” Suzie replied. “I hope it’s not catching.”

  Bonita just gave her a withering look.

  “I don’t think that’s what he meant,” Billy explained.

  “Right,” Tyson nodded.

  “Just shut up,” Bonita said with another weary sigh and left the group to go sit alone on a bench along the wall.

  “Serves her right,” Tyson said with a small gleam in his eye. “She caught it good, too, for going to a party at Jake’s trees last night.”

  “I’m glad to finally meet you,” Con was saying to Thomas Lone Wolf. “I’ve seen some of the excavating on my neighbor’s land. Not to mention all the rumors flying around.”

  “There are certainly a lot of those,” Thomas agreed with a shake of his head.

  “So tell me, what exactly is your project about?”

  “Old Man’s Lake and the surrounding salt flats were a key meeting place for the people of the Central Plains. Judging from the artifacts, as well as the legends surrounding the place, maybe as far back as a couple thousand years,” Thomas explained.

  “No kidding?”

  Thomas nodded. “Almost every known Plains tribe crossed through the area at one time or another and emissaries were sent for generations afterwards. It was a place of great spiritual and social significance.”

  Con shook his head. “Who would have known?”

  “It’s been quite a puzzle to piece together. I’ve been working on this particular project for—well, for a long time.”