by Peggy Webb
The father of Crazy Horse had journeyed to one of the peaks and received supernatural healing powers from a spirit in the form of a bear. The peak was named Bear Butte in honor of the great shaman.
Another of the majestic rock formations, Harney Peak, had been off-limits to the Sioux because the Thunderbird often visited there, hurling thunderbolts, shouting with tongues of lightning and whipping up violent winds.
Joseph’s mother had told him all the legends, and when he was young he had believed in the mystery and the power of the spirit quests. Somewhere along the way he’d lost that belief.
He reined his horse to a standstill. As far as he could tell, he was alone in the sacred hills. The setting sun tipped the peaks with red gold, then plunged behind the Hill of Thunder where the white giant who once spewed smoke into the sky lay sleeping. The sky caught fire, and it glowed with colors so brilliant they hurt the eye. Then slowly the embers died down, and dusk settled over the land.
Cocooned in darkness, Joseph sat on his horse listening to the silence. According to legend, the rocks turned into spirits at night that roamed the land and sang strange, haunting songs. And sometimes the white giant who lay beneath the Hill of Thunder moaned because of the rocks pressing down on his chest.
Unconsciously, Joseph was listening for rocks that sang and hills that moaned. Instead he heard a silence so complete he might have vanished off the face of the earth.
Because of its connection to the ancient medicine men, Joseph placed his bedroll at the foot of Bear Butte near the mouth of a crystal cave. Then he slept his first dreamless night in years.
Jenine Rayborn came to the clinic on one of the busiest days of the year.
There was a mild epidemic of chicken pox at the schools, and twenty children sat in a squirming, itching row along the wall of the clinic with twenty concerned parents trying to keep order. In addition, Glenn Little Bear’s barn had collapsed during a barn raising, and a dozen men with assorted broken bones sat complaining in rocking chairs and on the steps of the front porch.
Callie wanted to scream. Instead she ushered Jenine into her small office at the back of the clinic and offered her coffee.
“I’m afraid I don’t have time to show you around. As you can see, the clinic is full.”
“Yes, so I see. The clinic keeps you awfully busy, doesn’t it?”
“Generally, no. Yesterday we had only five people. This is an unusual day.” Callie told her about the chicken pox and the collapsed barn.
“Hmm, I see.”
No, you don’t, Callie wanted to say, but she bit her lip and kept her silence. Ricky’s future depended on her performance in front this woman. Ranting and raving would neither help him nor advance Callie’s case.
Jenine took in the office while she sipped her coffee. Suddenly Callie saw the clinic through her eyes, a log cabin that looked like it might have grown out of the mountains, modest in size, not very impressive if you compared it to the architectural wonders most doctors preferred.
“My father built this clinic.” Callie spoke with pride. “He wanted the kind of place where people would feel comfortable to come for healing.”
Jenine pursed her lips. “I see.”
She didn’t see at all. Callie’s spirits fell.
“Daughter, your patients are waiting.”
Suddenly her father was there, his slightly bent frame filling the doorway, his powerful voice filling the room.
“And you must be Miss Rayborn.”
Calder bent over her hand in a courtly gesture that would sway stone. For the first time in days, Callie felt hope.
“Miss Rayborn, this is my father, Calder Red Cloud.”
“Why don’t I show Miss Rayborn around until you’re free, Callie?”
He offered his arm, and when she left the room, Jenine was smiling. Callie took that as a good sign.
Her father’s voice drifted back to her.
“Before I built this clinic some of my people were still depending on shamans who smeared them with grease and ashes.”
Callie stuck her head around the door frame and watched them disappear down the hall. Jenine was gazing up at Calder Red Cloud with a sense of awe.
Joseph came upon the petroglyphs unexpectedly. The ancient carvings adorned the face of a rock varnished by years of wind and rain and sun. He bent close, tracing the artwork with his fingertips. Some of the lines were merely squiggles to him, but some of them were obviously hunting scenes depicting warriors with weapons lifted high, following the trail of animals that roamed freely over the land.
Joseph surveyed his surroundings. The buttes were stark, barren, forbidding. Such an environment would test the skills and fortitude of even the most ingenious people. It was incredible to Joseph that his ancestors had not only survived in such a place but had developed a culture.
Something stirred in him—a sense of pride, an emerging affinity for a mighty people called the Sioux.
He studied the petroglyphs until deep shadows fell on the rugged walls, then he built a fire and heated his can of pork and beans. When the last ember died, he lay on his bedroll and listened to the plaintive call of a canyon wren and the haunting whisper of raven wings as those dark birds sought shelter from the night.
Or was it the song of ancient spirits?
By the time Callie left the clinic, Calder had gathered the entire family at Callie’s house. He was sitting in a rocking chair in her living room, holding forth, while Jenine sat at his elbow in rapt attention.
Relief flooded Callie, and she paused in the doorway to pull herself together before she joined her family. She saw them as a beloved unit but also as dear individuals— Ellen with her refined ways and her lyrical Southern drawl that years of living in the White Mountains couldn’t erase, Eric with his genteel ways and easy smile, Brenda with her maternal glow and soft exclamations of joy, the twins with their devilish grins and their capacity for wonder, and Calder…
Who could reduce him to mere words? He was a tree, a rock, a mountain. The source of their strength, the root of their courage, the wellspring of their love.
How would Jenine see them?
Her father looked up, caught Callie’s eye and winked.
“Come in, Callie, and join us. I was just telling Jenine how Apache scouts helped the U.S. Army capture Geronimo—then how they got sent to a military prison down in Florida for their troubles.”
Calder loved history, especially the history of his people, and took every opportunity to expound. The family, of course, loved listening to his stories, and apparently so did Jenine.
She turned a radiant smile in Callie’s direction.
“Your father has royally entertained me today. I feel as if I’ve walked through the pages of history.”
The door of opportunity yawned open, and Callie walked through.
“As children, Eric and I spent hours at our father’s knee enthralled by the world he opened up to us, not only the world of history but the world of nature and of science.”
Callie stood at her father’s chair and draped her arm over his shoulders.
“Calder Red Cloud is one of the smartest people I’ve ever known. I’m lucky to be his daughter, and Eric’s off-spring are lucky to be his grandchildren.”
Jenine’s laughter was low and throaty—and genuine.
“You don’t have to convince me. After what I’ve seen here today, I can wholeheartedly recommend that Ricky be placed with you.”
Callie was too overcome to speak. Calder squeezed her hand, while Ellen and Brenda started crying.
Eric spoke for the family. “Thank you, Miss Rayborn. I promise the Red Clouds will not betray your trust.”
“Don’t thank me yet. I can only recommend. There is still an entire board who has to give the stamp of approval. And then, of course, there is all the legal red tape.”
“It’s done,” Calder said. “Our hearts are singing.” He stood up and offered his arms to Ellen and Jenine. “Now we will eat.”
Everything was going to be perfect, Callie thought. Almost. There was one essential element missing.
“Joseph,” she whispered.
Chapter Twenty-Five
It was time.
In the night Joseph had felt the tug of ancient spirits. When the fingers of dawn lay across the land, he put the sacred pipe and his father’s sacred bundle into a knapsack, then followed the winding path of the stream to its source: the mouth of a crystal cave.
Bending down so he would fit through the opening, Joseph stepped into another world. Huge gypsum formations hung from the ceiling in a curtain of crystal. Sparkling spires rose up from the floor, creating a wonderland effect.
The crystals gave off an eerie glow, and even in the complete absence of light, Joseph had no trouble finding his way. Climbing over crystals, he followed the stream through a maze of tunnels that opened into an enormous chamber.
Mists rose from the lake in the center of the chamber, and beyond the sparkling waters stood a stage carved by nature.
This is the place, Joseph thought.
He stripped, then plunged into the lake. The water was warm and soothing. It was easy to see why his ancestors had believed the springs of the Black Hills contained healing powers.
Joseph gave himself up to the waters, drifting, floating, dreaming until at last his mind was emptied of everything. The light in the cave became a living, breathing entity, sparking from one crystal to the next, moving in patterns that mesmerized.
Joseph climbed out of the lake and took the sacred pipe from his knapsack. The red clay bowl was warm to his touch, even before he lit it, and the mists rising from the lake took on the form of the White Buffalo Woman.
Slowly Joseph drew on the pipe. White Buffalo Woman vanished in the mists, and the crystals undulated in a dance of light and shadow.
“I seek the truth,” Joseph said, then he closed his eyes and listened to the music of his soul.
In the midst of the soul symphony, Callie appeared, standing on a distant shore, reaching out to him. Joseph called to her, but she didn’t hear. Wind whipped waves on the surface of the lake, and out of the waves came children with golden skin and Callie’s blue eyes.
Tears blurred Joseph’s vision, and his heart cried for a love lost. The embers burned low in the red clay bowl of the pipe, and Joseph took one final draw.
Suddenly the swirling lake mists became a hawk. The giant bird flew straight to Callie, then stood over her with wings outspread—protector, lover, friend.
Joseph bowed his head and wept.
When he emerged from the cave, bright sunlight momentarily blinded him. He closed his eyes, giving his vision time to adjust. And when he opened them he saw the hawk, hovering over his campsite.
Mesmerized, Joseph watched as the great bird lifted toward the sky. A thermal pocket caught the hawk, and as he soared upward, a single feather tore lose. It drifted downward, slowly downward, until it lay at Joseph’s feet.
Calder and Ellen insisted on going with Callie when she flew down to Texas for her final interview with the board, and nothing she could say would dissuade them.
“I want to meet my grandson,” Calder said.
“That’s premature, Dad. The board hasn’t approved my application.”
“He’s going to be a Red Cloud, and I’m going to see him.”
Callie looked to her mother for support, but Ellen merely smiled and patted Calder’s cheek.
“Your father has spoken, Callie.”
Sometimes having an icon for a father could be a pain, but Callie didn’t tell anybody except her brother. Eric laughed heartily.
“You’ve got a case of the jitters, Callie. That’s all. Besides, Calder Red Cloud is seldom wrong.”
Eric’s words turned out to be prophetic. Two days later, standing in a Texas courtroom flanked by Ellen and Calder, Callie heard the judge say, “Congratulations, Dr. Callie Red Cloud. You have yourself a son.”
Ever predictable, her mother cried. And to her surprise, so did Callie.
Calder hugged them both, wiped their tears, then beamed at everybody in the courtroom.
“I’m going to take my grandson home.”
Ricky hadn’t been told about the legal proceedings. Callie hadn’t wanted to build his hopes up, then have them dashed.
She could barely contain her excitement. Not only was she bringing him the good news that she was now his mommy, she was also bringing him two grandparents.
“Wait right here,” she told her parents when they reached Ricky’s room. “I want to prepare him.”
Ricky was playing hide-and-seek with his teddy bear when Callie went in.
“Come find me, Homer,” he called.
Ricky stood in full view with his face to the wall and his hands over his eyes. He was thinner than when she’d last seen him, his arms skinny little sticks and his shoulder blades sticking out like wings.
All of a sudden Callie was overcome. What had she done? What had made her think she could possibly care for this child? Love him, yes. Provide for him, yes. But she had absolutely no experience in raising children. She didn’t know the first thing about what a four-year-old needed.
And she was attempting to do this alone.
Ricky had lost so much. He needed so much.
Callie closed her eyes and said a silent prayer for guidance and wisdom.
“I’m gonna count to ten, Homer,” Ricky said. “One, two, three, four, five, seven, nine, ten. Ready or not.”
He whirled around and saw Callie. For a moment he was still as a statue, then he launched himself at her, squealing.
She squatted beside him and held him close.
“Where’ve you been, Callie?”
“I’ve been in the White Mountains making a home for us.” His eyes got wide. “For you and me, Ricky.”
Ricky’s smile lit his entire face, then suddenly he grew solemn. “I have to stay here. Miss Rayborn told me.”
“Oh, honey.”
She picked up the small boy and carried him to the rocking chair. One of her fondest childhood memories was of sitting on her mother’s lap while Ellen sang songs and combed her hair.
Tenderly, Callie smoothed Ricky’s dark hair. “You know, Miss Rayborn has been trying very hard to find a family for you. At first she thought I wouldn’t be the best mother because of my job. But I gave up my job, and Miss Rayborn said that now I can be your mother.”
Ricky was silent.
“Would you like that, Ricky?”
Eyes wide, he looked up at her. “For real?”
“Yes, for real. I’ve come to take you home with me today.”
The truth finally sank in. Ricky scooted out of her lap and raced around the room, grabbing his toys.
“Can I take Homer and Pinocchio and my ball?”
“Yes. You can take everything.”
“My baseball cap? Miss Rayborn said it’s too big.”
Callie was laughing and crying at the same time. “Yes, you can take the baseball cap. I’ll help you pack everything. But first I have a surprise for you.”
“Is it candy?”
“No. It’s my mother and father. They will be your grandmother and grandfather.”
Ricky came close and whispered. “Is he a real Indian like you?”
“Yes,” Callie whispered back.
Ricky drew himself up straight and tall. “I’m not scared.”
“Of course not. You’re the bravest boy I know. Are you ready to meet your grandparents?”
Ricky hugged his teddy bear to his chest. “Yes,” he said.
His eyes grew huge when Ellen and Calder walked into the room. And he was so solemn during the introductions that Callie was afraid she’d given him too much to handle in one day.
Ellen and Calder didn’t rush him, but stood quietly letting him take everything in. Ricky looked them over, dwelling the longest on Calder.
Then he poked out his chest and announced in his loudest voice, “I got a pet spider. I
’m brave.”
Ellen and Calder were smitten. “Oh, honey,” Ellen said, gathering him for a big hug.
Ricky tried to act nonchalant, then his thin little arms stole around Ellen’s neck. But over her shoulder he was watching Calder.
“You got a horse?” he asked.
“Yes, I have many horses, one of them just the right size for you. I’ll teach you to ride.”
Ricky beamed. “I’m gonna name my horse Lucky.”
It was late afternoon before they boarded their plane, and by the time they got home Ricky and Calder were asleep on the back seat of the Jeep Cherokee, while Ellen and Callie chatted quietly in the front.
“I’m scared, Mom.”
“You’ll be fine, Callie. You have good instincts.” Ellen laughed. “And Brenda and I will be close by.”
Callie parked the car in front of her parents’ house. “Just look at them.” Ricky snuggled against Calder, and Calder’s chin rested on the top of Ricky’s head. “They look as if they’ve been that way forever. It seems a shame to wake them.”
“I know. But you two need to be alone.” Ellen leaned over the seat and gently shook Calder’s shoulder. “We’re home, darling, it’s time to go in.”
Calder roused, then eased himself out and leaned over to kiss Callie’s cheek.
“I’m proud of you, Daughter.”
When she got home, Callie sat inside the car trying to decide whether to wake Ricky and let him see his new home, or whether to carry him inside and put him straight to bed.
He didn’t stir when she got out of the car, so she picked him up and carried him inside. Now what? His pajamas were in the bag still in the car.
In a crisis Callie was a dynamo, making snap decisions and moving forward with the speed of light. And yet she stood in the doorway with the deadweight of a sleeping four-year-old in her arms, trying to make up her mind about his pajamas.
“Callie?” Ricky opened his eyes, then gave a big yawn. “Are we home yet?”
“Yes. We’re home”
“Can I sleep in my pants?”