In the morning we get a chance to examine the buffalo carving more closely. It is a fabulous bison bull in his prime. The rock is clear and white quartz with a few amethyst inclusions and the cape is druzy amethyst. It is an amazing work of art.
“Come on, how is it possible? I mean the coincidence. We see a white buffalo right by the quartz crystal cave. Then, in the cave, we find a white and purple buffalo carving? How is it freaking possible?” I ask.
“Spirits,” says Wolf.
“I suppose I oughta agree on that’n. No other way to explain it. I guess the clincher will be if it happens again.”
Sir Jacob walks in from the kitchen, nodding a hello. Michael is right behind him with a fresh cup of coffee.
“Mornin’ gents,” I say.
Sir Jacob who must have overheard us, says, “One must remember genetics. In order for a white buffalo to occur, there is a genetic marker in the bloodlines. Therefore, there could have been another white buffalo in the past at this same location. At a certain time of year, of course. One must bear in mind that bison are migratory ungulates. It could be unusual enough that the actual white phase only occurs every few generations. Very interesting.” He leans over to examine the sculpture. “Fabulous work. One wonders how old it is.”
Wolf says, “Marker? No, spirit.”
“Of course, Wolf. Injin spirit marker,” says Sir Jacob agreeably.
I head out to the kitchen for more coffee. Michael follows along.
“How was the mass autopsy?” I ask.
“In fact, fascinating,” says Michael. “Sir Jacob is quite the forensic doctor. He is much more accomplished than I. I learned quite a lot.”
“Yore startin’ to talk like him too,” I say and chuckle.
“He does speak more clearly than we cowhands.”
“Yep. But it seems like hard work, what with all them fancy words.”
We take the coffee pot out with the breakfast tray. I fill cups while Michael puts the food on the table. We eat, admiring the buffalo centerpiece while we chew. My dirty mind is wondering who Michael’s partner was. I know, none of my business. But in my defense, Michael is my partner, like a brother to me. I feel a familial responsibility.
Wolf is sharing the tale of our adventures in the crystal cave. He can be quite eloquent when he gets excited and forgets to stick to his Injin pidgin. Just like us cowhands, slipping in and out of our chosen vernacular as the occasion requires. Mose, too. We, each in our own way, slip in and out of Cowboy, Injin, Mountain man jargon and Brit almost as easily as we change clothes. Citizens of many times and many worlds.
If we could only convince Shaz to learn to speak any dialect besides bear. Patience is agony, okay, maybe it could be a virtue. We shall see.
Actually, dwelling on it, I can talk fancy way easier than I did that clothes changing on Pi. Downright embarrassing, that was. So many tight, uncomfortable garments. I’d never make it as a lady. Praise the gods, we dress cowboy on the Rock.
Wolf is a good sport when I say, “You sound like a professor, Wolf, talkin’ about that cave, all educated like.”
He just smiles. Then he turns laconic again as he cocks his head. listening. “Horses, two, with riders.”
“Seriously? You can hear all that?” I ask.
“Come,” he says. “Look.”
We head out the door. Sure enough. Two horses with riders.
“Dang, Wolf. That is amazin’. How do you do it?”
“Injin powers.”
Spud and Buzz wave and dismount. We watch from the porch, sippin’ our coffee, as they unsaddle and loose their mounts. They walk over to join us.
“Quite the ride,” says Buzz.
“Yep, we saw a bit of country. Actually, I didn’t see a whole lot of it, just crossed it in the pitch dark,” says Spud. He looks toward Buzz. “Them Bãngh eyes helped some.”
“Mostly, we relied upon our mounts. Horses are uncanny,” says Buzz. “They remember every step of any journey they take. I merely verified the more precipitous parts when Spud appeared nervous.”
“No shit, I been on many a night ride, but not often in such a blizzard. We was in a damn whiteout that lasted four hours or so. Sorta spooky. Finally broke out of it, after sunrise, comin’ down the long hill from the pass. Horses just kept movin, they know the trail and the hay pile at the end of it,” says Spud. “Buzz told a few Bãngh stories to keep us awake.”
“Better that than worryin’ about fallin’ into a freezin’ crick,” I say, “or off a cliff.’
“Quite.”
Sir Jacob comes out the door and gives Buzz and Spud each a bear hug, “I say, my good fellows, welcome. Buzz, come into the house. Spud, we have made ourselves at home in your absence.”
“Glad of it, hope you got some victuals cooked up,” says Spud.
“Indeed, Michael is in the kitchen scraping something up. Here is coffee. Dust the snow off. You must have been in a rush to have made such a rough journey and survived this far. We could see the storm up there obscuring the pass, didn’t expect anyone would make it through.”
“Yeah, it were somethin’,” says Spud rubbing his hands together over the fire in the fireplace.
He gets his coffee and wanders into the dining room.
“Damn, that’s some carving,” says Spud. “Where did it come from? Who do you suppose was the sculptor? Is it new or old?”
“Wolf will explain,” I say.
After coffee, during a hot lunch of potato soup and fresh baked bread, Wolf tells the tale of finding the quartz buffalo carving to the newcomers.
“Can it be old?” I ask. “How long have humans been on the Rock?”
“In the neighborhood of 25 years,” says Sir Jacob, who was on a terraforming crew here. “I believe they were on Bãngh long before.”
We all turn our heads to look at Buzz, the Bãngh.
Jacob smiles and says, “You lot haven’t quite digested the idea of aliens in our cosmos, eh? Traveling about before our ancestors left Earth. What say, Buzz, would you care to enlighten us?”
“Ahem,” says Buzz looking embarrassed at the attention.
“Not to worry, we are all friends here,” says Sir Jacob.
Buzz look serious, as if gathering his thoughts. He sips his drink.
“Quite, well, my area of expertise is in fact humankind, having studied them, er, you, at Oxford. Due to the conditions on Bãngh which led to my leaving, I had a less than complete education about my own home planet,” says Buzz.
“What can you tell us?” asks Spud.
“Maybe if I reiterate some of that which I related to Spud during our blizzard ride, it will help to pave the way to understanding how my race, or species, differs from yours. Cultural differences play a part in how the Bãngh have evolved since leaving Earth, but war is another factor.
“You see, during my youth the Centrists discovered Bãngh. Bãngh was, and still is, a planet rich in heavy metals. The Centrists wanted to purchase gold, silver, molybdenum and others. Offers were made, trades offered. The Bãngh were not interested in the offers. It was decided by the powers that be, that we hadn’t enough to spare. They said no.
“The Centrists were unhappy. They wanted a source of minerals in that remote area of the cosmos. Bãngh is easily as far on the other side of the Center as the Rock is this side. The Centrists are used to ruling all the Cosmos, always getting their way. So, being unsuccessful in negotiation, they attacked.
“The Bãngh were a peaceful people. We had arms, of course. But, we had no real armies. Nothing on the scale of the Centrists. This created a crisis for Bãngh, similar in scope, one might argue, to the ‘Troubles’ as the rulers of humankind so understatedly called your civilization’s precipitous downfall. We in effect, caught empty handed.
We were totally unprepared, disorganized, untrained for combat.
Bãngh was losing the battle, no, the war. We learned as the war continued, to hide and attack. Many Bãngh took to the woods and mountains. They fought with
guerrilla tactics. Many thousands were killed, including my father. It was genocide.
Younger and younger men were being conscripted into the conflict. My mother could stand to lose no more family. She had the means. She paid a fortune to have smuggled me off planet to Britannia. She purchased falsified papers showing me to be human and Brit. That, plus my intelligence tests, served to get me into Oxford. I expected her to follow, but she stayed on Bãngh. All her friends and other family were on Bãngh. I suppose, in the end, she preferred to remain a Bãngha, not live a lie among humans.
“Many other Bãngh also left the planet with falsified papers. On the far side of the galaxies where the Bãngh are known by humankind to exist, the Centrists still offer a bounty on Bãngh who are caught off planet. They are considered spies. And wanted, dead or alive.”
“So, Bãngh travel the planets incognito. We are unwelcome in many places. We are still seen as the enemy by many.”
“Remember, I told you Annie that I fought with your father on Triassic?”
“Your father could have been Bãngh. We were in a battle where I believe he used Bãngh powers, but could not be sure. He told me he was a Viking. He even carried his shield into battle. We shared the Viking resemblance, but never had time during the Dino attacks to discuss it. You see, it is hard to broach the subject, what with the bounty. I asked about it in a roundabout manner and he started to answer me, just as the dinosaurs surprised us. During the battle, he was badly wounded and taken to the infirmary. The dinosaurs almost wiped out our whole company. I was one of the lucky few to survive.
“Nah,” I say, thinking. “Do you mean my father? Viking sure, but Bãngh? No, I would have known. He would have said. We would have noticed. He was a quiet man though. Never said much about hisself. Surely though, my mom would have known. She never said anything. Really?”
Buzz shrugs and continues, “The next day, I got a chance to visit him at the hospital tent. He was semiconscious, delirious, one might say. He was saying the same phrase over and over. The phrase was very clearly in the language of the Bãngh.”
“What?” I ask.
“He was speaking Bãngh, Annie.”
“But...,” I stammer.
“That afternoon, I had a chance to get on the last ship and flee, so I took it,” says Buzz.
“Whoa.”
“I never discovered unequivocally from whence he came prior to his move to Triassic. However, in all my travels since leaving the home planet, he is the only one I have ever encountered who spoke Bãngh.
Also, the timing was right had he fled during the early years of the Outrage. That is what we call the Centrist attacks on our planet. Truly, it was an outrage. He met your mother and married into your ranching family. I wonder if he ever took the risk of telling anyone where he originated. It is not proof, but I believe it to be extremely strong evidence.
“But you, Annie, are the result. I believe you could be Bãngha or half, I should say. You are unusually tall for an Earthkind woman.”
“Oh.”
I look around.
“Sheeit, this has gotta be a big joke, come on. I bet you aren’t even a wanted alien Buzz.”
I slap his arm playfully.
“Would that I were not,” says Buzz, looking lonely, bowing his head.
Spud has joined us.
“You know too?” I ask.
“Buzz and I talked on the ride.”
“Shit I ain’t no Bãngh. No way. That’s crazy. Just tall,” I say, totally in denial. “Being tall has always been a big hindrance to getting boyfriends, though. Maybe I’ll switch teams.”
I wiggle my eyebrows at Spud.
“Yo, ladies,” I shriek and flip a wrist. “Here I co-ome. Oh, yeah. I’ll be a flaming female version of Michael.” I smile broadly to the group.
Wolf laughs at this. As does Sir Jacob. Buzz smiles, but looks puzzled.
“Welcome to the club, sweetie,” says Michael. He loves it. He laughs aloud and prances around the room.
“Are there other crossbreeds around?” asks Spud, looking concerned, not even bothering to crack a smile at my joke.
“Across the cosmos, without a doubt. Spacers, like sailors, are stuck on a ship for weeks and more. When they hit a new port, well, we are all aware what they want most of all. Bãngh do well in space, I hear that many have counterfeit Earth identity papers. They trade in the far reaches of the galaxies out near Bãngh. The Rock is far removed from there, so it is much less likely.”
“Bãngh? Here on the Rock? Naw.” says Spud.
Sir Jacob waves a hand at Spud and Wolf and says, “Any of you Norse people could be Bãngh in hiding. Or descendants thereof. After Buzz told me the story of Annie’s father, I realized that she could be also. You all appear to have the Norse blood.”
Spud asks, “Tall means something?”
“Yes,” I say. “Buzz told me all Bãngh are tall compared to Earthkind.”
“Maybe, but humans can also be tall. And the Norse are known for their height,” says Sir Jacob. “As you know, not all the Norse left Earth with the expedition to Bãngh. Only a select few.”
“Other tall humans included the Osage, Carib, and Karankawa of the New World. The Sudan and Watusi of Africa, also a Chinese tribe, and a few others,” says Buzz. “Not just the Norse. In fact, some say the Norse were not tall at all. However, I believe they arrived at a false conclusion by simply overestimating the average height of non-Norse peoples during Viking times.”
“Oh,” I say. Seems all kinds of tall men are hiding out there somewhere. I had no idea. I’m thinking maybe I need to quit the Spirit Quest and head out on a Tall Guy Quest.
“Wolf, you recognized something about me at once when we met, yes?” asks Buzz.
“I knew you were Bãngh. Maybe from Sir Jacob stories. But, I also felt a, uh, kinship,” Wolf says, “because of yore resemblance to our Pa. He is paleface, like Spud.”
Buzz nods and says, “In any case, there you have it, my people’s story. Human, but many centuries removed, makes us just different enough to be ostracized by our Earth cousins. Cultures change,” says Buzz, shrugging. He rubs his face, emotionally tired.
“And the Bãngh and Bãngha, what of them?” asks Michael.
“I don’t know. Since I was sent to Britannia for my studies, I have heard nothing. I know naught of what has occurred on Bãngh. It is very far away and many years have passed. My mother put me on that ship to save me. Life has never taken me back. The Brits have become my people.”
Jacob pats him on the shoulder, “Thank you Buzz, you are a good man.”
“So many tall people here, not like Pi or even Britannia. I feel for the first time in many years that I could be among my own kind,” says Buzz quietly.
31 Halvsies
Cowgirl Thrillers Page 83