by Ben Reeder
“Hashkeh,” the Navajo singer said, stepping forward. “You are free.”
“No, uncle,” Haskeh said with a snarl. “I’m not. I was free, but this...white man...he has shackled me again.”
“The spirit of the yee naaldlooshii is gone. It no longer controls you.”
“It never did, uncle,” the younger man said. “Did you think the skinwalker seduced me? Like in the old tales you fed me when I was a boy? No, I was the one who called it. I was the one who was in control. I’ve learned the truth that you blinded yourself to, uncle. It did what I commanded, not the other way around. The spirits you wanted me to submit to were weak. You wanted me to walk with the Slayer of Monsters on my shoulders, like a puppet! Yee naaldlooshii showed me the truth! He slew the true gods, and he and his brother made you dance like children to his whim!” Caleb got to his feet and went to Toh Yah’s side, feeling the older man’s sadness.
“No, Hashkeh!” Toh Yah said. “You understood the way of the Dine’ once. You were supposed to bear the Slayer of Monsters. You were supposed to be our hope.”
“I am your only hope, uncle!” Hashkeh said. “If the Slayer is our hope, why does he walk in this white man? Why does he give his power to the ones who killed my parents and sisters?”
“Because you were not there when it was time,” Toh Yah said. He bowed his head. “He is the warrior you made. He was there, and he was willing to walk in the spirit world. It was supposed to be you.”
“But it chose him,” Hashkeh spat. Red sparks began to form around him, and Caleb could see the fur of the skinwalker beginning to form again. “And I chose yee naaldlooshii. I will save the Dine’ uncle. I’ll make them strong.” With that, he lunged forward.
So did Caleb. When they met, a sound like thunder shook the hilltop, and the bell in the steeple rang with the impact. Then they staggered back from each other, and Hashkeh looked down at his chest, where Caleb’s glowing knife was plunged to the hilt.
“I’m sorry,” Caleb said.
“I don’t need your pity,” Nashkeh said. “You’re...weak.” He pitched forward, and when Toh Yah rushed to his side and rolled him over, the light was already gone from his eyes. Caleb turned at movement from the edge of the light to see Sheriff Browder staring at him, a Winchester in hand and Joe at his side.
“Well, this is going to be hard to explain,” Browder said.
Epilogue
Caleb stood on the porch of the parsonage with Sheriff Browder. Toh Yah had taken Hashkeh’s body with him hours before, and the Hamori brothers were lined up at the edge of the graveyard.
“What are you going to tell people?” Caleb asked Browder.
“That I don’t know what the Hell happened up here last night. All I know is I found three bodies up here. Damn if I know what happened to ‘em. As long as you’re gone by sunrise, no one will know better except Joe. And I doubt he’s going to be saying much, either.”
“I’ll be on the road north in an hour,” Caleb assured him. “I just need to saddle up that nag of mine and get something from Ezekiel’s desk. You should have a new preacher here in a month or two.”
“So, where did you go? During the fight, I mean. For a couple of minutes there, it was like I could see you, but I could also see through you. Like you were a ghost or something.”
“It looked like the Verge from the inside. Maybe it was the shaman’s spirit world.”
“Well, whatever it was, better you than me having to deal with it. The sooner things get back to normal around here, the better as far as I’m concerned.” Browder took a step off the porch. “Can’t say as I’m glad to see you go, but I can’t say I’m keen on you staying, either.”
“Good-bye, sheriff. I doubt we’ll cross paths again.”
“God , I hope not,” Browder laughed. “Good-bye, and God speed.” Caleb turned and went into the house. The letter Ezekiel had mentioned was on his desk, and it was only a moment before it was tucked in next to the letter of credit and the telegram.
He found Joe in the barn, saddling both his horse and the preacher’s replacement horse. When he turned to face Caleb, his eyes were clear, and he stood a little straighter than he had before.“You planning on going somewhere?” Caleb asked.
“Thought I’d ride with you for a while, if that’s okay. Folks around here, they look at me, and all they see a is drunk old Injun. Even me. Only time I felt like I was a lick of use was helping you out. Figured I’d do that for a while, until I found something else I was good at.”
“All right. You saved my life once already, when you went and got Toh Yah. Seems the least I can do to repay you.” Caleb mounted up and turned to Joe. “Let’s go.”
They rode to the top of the hill and stopped for a moment. Caleb looked back toward the little valley that held Annie Miller’s place with a sense of longing. But God knew she deserved better. For that matter, Caleb thought with a silent laugh, so did her Goddess. Maybe one day, a man worthy of her would come along.
He turned his horse north, determined not to dwell on what he might have had. Today, he had bigger problems. Their supplies were low, he had less than ten dollars left in his pocket, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was right about a gut feeling.
Among Riggers, there were tales of a Verge Walker, a man who could step into and out of the Verge at will. When he showed up, someone usually died, or something bad happened. No one could agree on whether or not they caused tragedy, or were drawn to it. Either way, it seemed a long, rough road...one he hoped he wasn’t going down. But hope...hope was a poor shield.