Chapter Thirty-One
When the telephone rang later that evening, Nikki nearly had to peel Silver Thorn off the living room ceiling. “It’s just the phone, Thorn. Remember? The instrument that lets people talk to each other over long distances. We can just let the answering machine catch the call. That way we don’t have to answer if it’s someone we don’t want to talk to.”
The answering machine picked up on the third ring, and Sheree’s voice said, “Nik? It’s me. Sorry I couldn’t call sooner, but I had to hurry for my date with Dave. I just wanted to make sure you were okay and not awfully sick. Hey! Are you there? If you’re listening, answer me. I’m really worried about you, kiddo.”
Nikki picked up the receiver. “Okay, so you caught me playing hookey. Satisfied?”
“Are your really all right? Nancy said you called in with the flu. Have you seen the doctor? Can I bring you some chicken soup or something? Do you think you’ll be better by Thanksgiving? As much as I love your family, I’d really feel odd about going to dinner at your Mom’s without you.”
“Sheree, shut up and I’ll explain everything in three words. Thorn is here.”
“Oh, God! You’re kidding! You’re not kidding!” Silver Thorn could hear Sheree’s shriek from where he sat, several feet from the phone. “Can I come over? I’m dying to meet him.”
“Get real, girl!” Nikki told her. “It’s almost eleven o’clock. Time for all good teachers to climb into their beds, and that’s just where Thorn and I were about to head when the phone rang. And you’re not invited to join us. You can meet him tomorrow. Believe me, Sheree. He’ll still be here, and he’s anxious to meet you, too.”
“But I have school tomorrow,” Sheree wailed. “Maybe I can call in with the flu, too.”
“Nothing doing. They’ll think they have an epidemic on their hands. Listen, I’m going to take Thorn out to meet Mom and Dad tomorrow. Why don’t you drive out after school?”
For all her previous enthusiasm, Sheree suddenly wavered. “Are you sure, Nikki? After all, it has been awhile since you’ve seen the big guy. I’ll understand if you want to keep him under wraps for a while.”
“Tomorrow afternoon will be fine. Just don’t tell anyone else, please? Once word gets out, everyone will want to meet him and we won’t have a minute’s peace.”
“Uh . . . that reminds me. Dave and I ran into Brian this evening at the restaurant. He must really be desperate to approach me in public, when the two of us can’t stand to be within spitting distance of each other. Anyway, he made a point of asking about you and whether or not you’d heard from your long-lost hubby. I told him to flake off.”
“Thanks. I owe you one, Sheree. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Yeah. Sweet dreams, and other stuff, you two.”
After breakfast the next morning, Nikki called her parents and all three brothers to inform them of the news of Thorn’s arrival. Her Mom and Dad wanted her to bring Thorn out to the farm immediately, but Nikki politely declined.
“We’ve got a lot of other matters to take care of first. We’ll see you this afternoon. I’ll stop by the bakery and pick up one of those cherry cheesecakes you like so much.”
One of those other matters was teaching Thorn how to operate the TV and VCR “I’ve got a whole library of video tapes on American history,” she told him. “I find they’re a great learning tool—much faster than reading a book when you’re in a rush. Next week, when I’m back at school, you can review the tapes, and when I get home I’ll answer any questions you have. Also, television itself is very educational, depending on what you watch, of course. I don’t think you’re going to get a true image of the average American home by watching daytime dramas or game or talk shows. Still, there is the educational channel and the national news—and the sports channel for pure entertainment. And, lest I forget, football. I just know you’re bound to love that. Then there’s the Discovery channel and documentaries, and I’m sure we can rent a few tapes on archaeology.”
“Are you certain I will live long enough to learn all you have planned for me?” he teased.
“Black Hoof lived to the ripe old age of one hundred and nine,” she informed him smartly. “I’m going to take very good care of you, and I plan to have you around for many years to come sweetheart. I can’t guarantee that you won’t end up with bifocals and a pacemaker, but I’ll try to keep your cholesterol down to a dull roar and I can promise you lots of exercise—even if most of it is conducted in bed.”
With his introduction to television that morning, Thorn was completely captivated. “It is like your photographs,” he marveled. “But in these the people speak and move.”
On the average of every two seconds, he asked her to explain something he’d seen. Nikki obliged.
“That’s a car. You remember me telling you about them, don’t you?”
“No, that’s a truck. Similar to a car, but built to haul cargo.”
“That’s a scene of the New York City skyline. Yes, amazingly enough, there really are that many people living there. Look at the tall buildings—like huge wigewas.”
“That’s a train.”
“A boat—think of it as a big canoe.”
“That’s Washington D.C., where all the major crooks hang out. Sorry, just kidding. That’s where our government seat is located. The Congress, the President, the Supreme Court.”
“That’s enough of this for a while. Hand over your remote control, buster. We’re taking a break.”
“Fasten your seatbelt.” Nikki reached across Thorn’s lap and helped him buckle up. “I know it’s somewhat uncomfortable to be strapped in like this, but it’s for your own safety. Besides, it’s the law and we don’t want to be stopped by the police and given a ticket.”
After buckling her own belt, Nikki glanced across at him with a wink. “Ready?”
Silver Thorn gave a stiff, silent nod. He was nervous about riding in this strange metal horse Neeake called a car. On the other hand, he was brimming with excited anticipation, looking forward to experiencing this new mode of speedy transportation.
Nikki started the engine and backed slowly out of the garage. “Don’t worry, Thorn. I’ve been doing this for years, and I’m a very careful and conscientious driver. Just relax and enjoy the scenery.”
Fortunately, the speed limit in this quiet neighborhood was set at twenty-five miles per hour, which gave Thorn a few minutes to accustom himself to the movement of the car at a slower pace. With one big hand tightly clamped to the console and the other grasping the passenger door-grip, he forced himself to concentrate on the view beyond the windows. Though his grip remained firm, within seconds he was amazed at what he saw.
“So many cars, all these big wigewas,” he marveled.
“Houses,” she corrected automatically. “Of course, this is an older division, so these houses aren’t nearly as modern and fancy as some of the newer ones you’ll see.”
“What are these poles with all the cords on them?” he wanted to know.
“Utility poles for the electrical and telephone lines. See how the wires run to each house?”
“Why do we stop here?”
“See the red sign? It’s a stop sign instructing drivers that they must stop at this street intersection before going on. Such road signs are designed to keep motorists from all trying to go through the crossing at the same time and hitting each other’s cars. Not that it always works; but without them, driving would be much more confusing and quite hazardous.”
Some time back, Nikki had mapped out an itinerary of local historical sites which would be of most interest to Thorn. With nearly three hours until they were due at her parents’ house, they had plenty of time for a small tour. Their first stop was to be the small mall on Ft. Amanda Road.
Along the way, they followed the Ottawa River, the old Hog Creek, driving past the oil refinery with its huge steam stacks and dancing orange flame. Even enclosed as they were in the car, Thorn could smell the rank odor o
f crude oil.
“What a stink!” he said, wrinkling his nose. “It smells worse than Windbreaker.”
“Windbreaker?” Nikki inquired. “Who, or what, is that?”
Thorn grinned at the memory. “He was a boy we grew up with in the village. His real name was Little Horse, but he was forever passing farts, so we all called him Windbreaker.”
Nikki laughed. “I’ll bet that made courting something of a trial for him. Did he ever overcome his digestive difficulties?”
“Only when his mother died. Most likely it was her cooking that provoked the problem.”
Nikki pulled into the entrance to the mall and headed the car into the drive-through lane at McDonald’s. “I won’t promise that this meal won’t give you gas, but it’s high time you got your first taste of America’s favorite foods. A cheeseburger, french fries, and a milkshake.”
She pulled up to the speaker, and Thorn watched in amusement as she placed their order. They inched forward behind several other cars, eventually reaching the window, where Nikki exchanged money for a sack of food and two frosty drinks in big paper cups. Cradling them carefully in her lap, Nikki swung into the mall parking lot, stopped, and cut the engine.
After demonstrating how to use the plastic straw, she placed their drinks in the handy cup holders jutting out from the console and handed him his sandwich and box of fries.
“Do you know where we are, Thorn?” she questioned, gesturing out the window at the mall, the roads, the traffic.
He shook his head, the most he could manage with a mouthful of burger and bun.
“We’re parked in the center of what used to be Peahchaete’s village. See? There’s the river. You know, I always did wonder how it came to be called Hog Creek, especially as far back as your time. Your people weren’t into raising pigs, as I recall.”
Silver Thorn gazed around dazedly, scarcely able to comprehend that this busy, bustling place, with all its buildings and pavement, was the site of the old village. He answered Nikki’s inquiry almost absently. “Many years ago, perhaps two hundred years from this date, there was a British agent who lost his hogs while fleeing from Logan and his warriors. From that day on, the river was known as Kushko Theepe, Hog Creek. The warriors had a fine feast that night.”
“Pigs and all, I know the river was a lot cleaner than it is now with all this industrial pollution,” Nikki lamented. “It’s a rotten shame that modern man, as intelligent as he professes to be, has to ruin his own environment, and most of everyone else’s. At the rate we’re going, in a few decades the air, the rivers, the oceans, the land and forests will all be just one huge garbage dump.”
From there Nikki headed the car south. She made a short detour to show him the school where she taught, but didn’t stop. “I’m supposed to be home sick with the flu,” she reminded him. “I’ll take you inside another day and show you around.”
Their next destination was some miles away. As they rode along, Thorn drank in the sites in ever-growing amazement. Even the rural areas, with their cattle, barns and fences and silos, fascinated him.
At length, Nikki flipped on the radio, which was tuned into a soft rock station. Thorn listened attentively and finally settled back as if deciding that the music, though definitely different from any he was used to, wasn’t bad at all. Nikki wondered if the drums’ providing the background rhythm weren’t the deciding factor. She would eventually introduce him to all the varying types of music—classical, hard rock, country western—so he could determine which he liked best. She just hoped it wouldn’t be rap!
Just outside a small town, they turned into a little corner cemetery. “I thought you might like to see Black Hoof’s monument,” she told him. “It’s rumored that he was buried around here, perhaps in this very cemetery, but no one knows for sure. They did erect his monument here, however. A lasting tribute to his life.”
After paying their respects—which was decidedly odd for Silver Thorn, since in his own era Black Hoof was still very much alive—they headed west. “We don’t have time today or we’d drive on to Indian Lake and look around a bit. We’ll do that another day, though, and perhaps go on to Bellefontaine, which is Blue Jacket’s old stomping grounds. Then there’re St. Mary’s, known as Girty’s Town in your day, and Piqua, of course—when we’re not so pressed for time.”
Shortly, they arrived at Wapakoneta. Nikki parked behind the row of businesses that backed up to the Auglaize River. “Remember me telling you about this place? I know it can’t appear very familiar to you now, but those stores sit approximately where Black Hoof’s village used to stand. Somewhere along here, you lounged beneath a tree while I picked berries and got into a nice patch of poison ivy.”
“May we get out of the car here?” Thorn asked.
“If you want.”
Huddled into his new sweatshirt for lack of a heavier coat, Thorn strolled along the riverbank, deep in thought. Nikki walked silently at his side, not wanting to disturb him as he sorted through his memories. Some minutes later, he knelt down and scooped up a handful of cold dirt.
“It is strange, but I can feel the heartbeat of my people here, in this earth beneath our feet. This was their home, their river. In some way, though they no longer live here, this land is still theirs, imprinted with their lives. It shall always be so, no matter how many buildings the white men erect over it or how many of their hard roads they lay down. The footprints of my people will never be erased from this place.”
Nikki knew without being told that whenever Silver Thorn became restless or homesick and needed to touch home again, he would come here—to this spot where the essence, the spirit, of his Shawnee brethren lingered still.
Chapter Thirty-Two
There was a bakery in a little strip mall in Wapak where Nikki planned to pick up the cheesecake she’d promised her mother. Again, Silver Thorn was highly interested in the traffic, the stores, and all the people coming and going.
“It’s not normally this busy on a weekday,” Nikki informed him. “But tomorrow is a holiday, when a lot of the businesses will be closed, and people are trying to get last-minute projects done before the long weekend. Not only that, many ladies may still be picking up their Thanksgiving turkeys and pies for tomorrow’s big dinner. I know Mom will be baking like crazy, trying to get everything done on time.”
“She is making the meal for so many by herself?” he asked.
“No, but she always insists on doing the lion’s share, even though each of the other women in the family will bring a dish or two to add to the fare.”
Nikki spotted a driver pulling out of a parking space and whipped in after him, beating another motorist out of the spot. Silver Thorn appeared quite stunned at the sudden move. His fingers were digging grooves in the upholstery, and there were white lines of tension around his tight mouth, as if he were barely constraining a scream.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare the peanut butter out of you,” she apologized. “But sometimes you have to be really quick.” She reached for her purse. “Do you want to stay out here and people-watch or would you like to come inside with me?”
The opportunity to finally glimpse the inside of a building other than Nikki’s house was too good to miss. “I will accompany you.”
As Nikki had known it would be, the bakery was packed with patrons, all eager to make their purchases and escape with their goodies. She and Silver Thorn had to wait several minutes before someone could serve them. Meanwhile, Thorn got the chance to observe the customers and the bakery personnel at close range, to note the way they were dressed, their mannerisms, and eavesdrop on a variety of conversations.
When they finally walked out, cheesecake in hand, Nikki declared, “I swear I must have gained five pounds just inhaling the air in there! Didn’t it smell absolutely scrumptious?”
Silver Thorn agreed and added, “It made my stomach rumble and my mouth water. I cannot believe how many different sweets they have there, all in one place.”
�
��Yeah, it’s a dieter’s nightmare and idea of heaven all rolled into one. I noticed you watching several people quite closely. Any comments?”
“The lady with the hair like a ripe plum. Is that a normal color for a white woman’s hair?”
Nikki laughed. “No. That particular shade comes straight from a bottle, darling. And from the looks of it, she did it herself, without the aid of a decent hairdresser.”
“And that boy with her. He had writing cut out of his hair in patches. It said bulldogs.”
“He’s probably on the football team at a nearby high school. Their mascot, something akin to your totem, is a bulldog. A lot of the young football players get their hair cut that way, but I believe it’s a dying fad, thank God. You’re not the only person who thinks it looks stupid.”
Thorn paid particular attention as they pulled into the long driveway at the Swan farm. The house, similar to Nikki’s but somewhat larger, was set well back from the road. A big white barn sat across the drive from it, and a large machine with two huge wheels and two smaller ones was half-in and half-out the open double doors. “That’s Dad’s tractor,” Nikki said. “The farming’s pretty much done for the year, as far as harvesting and plowing the fields go, but Dad can still show you around the place, if you want.
“And that’s Shep,” she added, pointing to the black-and-white dog loping toward the car. “He’s part collie and part mutt. He’s a good guard dog and great with kids. More bark than bite. As soon as he knows that you belong to us, he’ll accept you as a life-long friend.”
Nikki’s dad met them at the door and ushered them inside. “Get in here out of the cold before you turn blue. Good grief, boy, where’s your coat?”
“We haven’t gotten him one yet, Dad,” Nikki hurried to explain. “I thought maybe we’d hit K-mart on the way home. He needs some shoes or boots, too.”
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