The woods suddenly opened up to a beautiful meadow populated by some rather sturdy looking structures of wood, moss, and bark. From my current viewpoint, I could clearly make out about six buildings, three of which were as large as a single story version of my home. The other three structures were more like single-room domes made from strips of bark. This sight made no sense to me, especially when I saw smoke rising up from stone chimneys in the center of some of these structures.
“Are you changing the past, Dad?” I asked, gaping in awe at the sights before me.
“Me? This isn’t very different from the village I discovered several years ago,” he replied, “Now, I’ll admit that I gave them indoor heat by introducing fireplaces and chimneys, but these structures are of their own making. They’re called longhouses and they already existed in your history books.”
“No teepees?” I asked.
“You still don’t listen very well, Charlie,” he replied, patting me on the shoulder, “I told you earlier that the Shawnee didn’t build teepees. Sorry to disappoint you. Heck, there are some tribes out there in America who build houses out of mud and sod, so you could almost say that they live underground. Be grateful you won’t have to survive in those homes.”
A woman rushed over to us dangling a gold chain in her hand as she spoke rapidly. I recognized it as the necklace with a golden heart-shaped charm that I gave Mom for mother’s day several years back. I looked to Dad who peeked over at me and then spoke something quickly to the young woman. Like some of the others I’d seen, this lady who kept glancing at me while she spoke had some noticeably rotting teeth. I didn’t usually notice such things, but when the teeth were literally black, crooked, and rotting, I couldn’t help it. Again, Hollywood portrayed things a little differently.
Dad spoke something else to her and then found himself wrapped in an embrace. He kissed her and then took the necklace and placed it over her head. She placed her hand over the golden heart that belonged to my mom and smiled widely at my father. He leaned forward and kissed her again.
“I can explain,” Dad said, whispering to me while she stood there, “I needed to-”
“Dad, stop,” I interrupted, “I was just a kid and I didn’t have any money. I know you’re the one who really bought that necklace and told me to give it to Mom. It’s yours now to do with as you wish. Mom’s never going to know and even if I go back, I won’t tell her.”
“No, you don’t understand. I’m going to be bringing back a lot of modern stuff from the house over the next several days. I’m also going to be spending a lot of time without her as I try to get you back where you belong,” he said, “I didn’t want my wife to feel left out, so I decided to settle that problem right from the start. I sent Willow Branch back with that along with the shovels.”
“Your wife,” I repeated.
She was standing there watching our exchange, oblivious to the fact that I was her step son. He nodded.
“This is the warchief’s daughter Squirrel,” he replied, “She is my wife and we have two children – Red Bird and… and Broken Charlie.”
“Broken Charlie?”
“He was our first child. A son. He is now five years old and I named him after the damage I’d done to you. As much as I put the past behind me and tried to forget, I wanted to make sure I never forgot the broken boy I left behind,” he said.
I had nothing to say in return. I wasn’t sure what to say and I couldn’t even be sure where my emotions stood at the moment. On one hand, my father remarried while he was still essentially married to my mom. On the other hand, he was accidentally banished to the past and could no longer be bound by a marriage contract from the future. On one hand, my father gave away my mom’s Mother’s Day gift. On the other hand, he bought it anyway and my Mom would never see it again. On one hand, he didn’t seem to even care about me and my mom anymore now that he had started a new life. On the other hand, he named his new son Broken Charlie.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“No, thank you for not judging me,” he replied with another pat on my shoulder.
While he may have been thanking me for something I was secretly doing on the inside, I was glad he believed otherwise. I think that ultimately, I was glad to see that he was happy now. And secretly, I was glad to see that my mother was more beautiful still than the woman he replaced her with. It wasn’t right for me to feel this way, but it made me feel better inside and I’d hold that secret in my heart to never be spoken aloud.
Namee’tha
The introductions were difficult for me. While my father had no problem translating everything, I had a problem finding things to say beyond “hi” or “Nice to meet you, Indian Dude!” Some had unusual names like Golden Squash or Corn Husk while others had cool names such as Sky Hunter or Winter Eagle. Winter Eagle was actually the chief of the tribe.
It was also difficult for me because my dad was noticeably concealing the fact that I was his son from a former life. He asked that I not use the name Charlie to avoid confusion and that I instead use my middle name. So after introducing myself a few dozen times as Maddox, I was beginning to feel like something of a fraud. I could only assume that he was introducing me as a distant family member or perhaps a much younger brother.
When I asked my dad about their names, he explained that this was a society of people that worked the soil for a living. There were hunters and warriors among them, but not many. Most would be identified as gathers. They were the ones that farmed or gathered wild fruits and vegetables. This was why some of them lacked any animal titles in their names.
The final longhouse he took me to was that of his own. He warned me that there wasn’t a lot of privacy within Indian villages which became apparent to me the moment we entered the longhouse. The place I would now call home would be shared with twelve other people evident by the animal-hide beddings scattered throughout.
Unless it was winter, the longhouses were mainly used for sleeping and nothing more. As such, no one was inside the structure when he showed me around. The place was somewhat dark and smelled very musty. He pointed out the three-inch holes bored into the top of the walls that served as “windows” for lighting and ventilation.
“They dare not make the windows any larger or else it would let in the bad weather. Besides, they let in a good amount of sunlight around sunrise and sunset,” he said, kneeling down next to a heap of furs that resembled a dog bed, “We sleep on the floor which I’m sure you already realized is comprised of nothing but dirt. The more animal hides you put on the ground, the more comfortable your bed.”
“I can’t bring my mattress, can I?” I asked.
“No you cannot,” I replied a bit curt this time, “These people are willing to share their homes, their fire, and their food with you, so you will live as they do. You will not present yourself as ‘better than them’ or ‘smarter than them’.”
He took a large furry sheet of hide from his bed and handed it to me. I took it and probably appeared a bit confused.
“Place it on the floor over there. It’s elk, so it should be soft enough to lie on and thick enough to ward off the cold from the ground beneath.”
“I don’t think I’m better than them, Dad,” I replied, “Does it seem I’m acting that way?”
“Not to them, but they don’t understand your words. Listen, unless you’re willing to share or trade what you have, you have no business bringing what you have here. You’d only cause discord and jealousy,” he said, “And in their eyes, you’re a man – not a kid and not a teenager. So they will expect more out of you.”
He located a thin hide and handed it to me. I laid it out on my makeshift bed.
“The yarn you traded with them was good. If we bring any of the food from the house, it won’t be ‘our stash’ or for the people in our longhouse. Everything we do is for the whole community. We need each other in order to survive,” he said, pointing to my bed, “Use the fur blanket as your mattress and the beige one to cover
up. That will be your bed.”
“When do we get started on the generator?” I asked.
“I’m glad you asked. I’ll be starting on that right away while you return to the house and gather all the food. If we leave that place vacant, it won’t be long before the mice and the raccoons take over,” he said.
“I’ll get lost and besides, it will take a few trips,” I said.
“You’ll be taking Wildwood Shadows and White Owl with you. They will be your guides and helpers for your first couple weeks until you get more familiar with the area,” he replied, “They are Grey Wolf’s kids. The man who you traded with earlier today.”
“His kids? Grey Wolf didn’t look much older than me,” I said, “And who will interpret?”
He looked at me, unable to hide his growing impatience for me. I was beginning to remember why I chose to avoid the man often when he still lived with me and Mom.
“It sounds to me like you feel Grey Wolf’s kids would be mere toddlers. But Grey Wolf’s kids are not much younger than you and they know this land for miles in all directions,” he said, motioning me to lead the way out of the building.
“Won’t you need some help building the generator?” I asked, not entirely certain I was ready for another trip through those bear-icaded woods.
“Oh, I’ll need plenty of help, but some of it will require felling lumber and milling it for my needs. We’ve got some good carpenters and architects who will be put to use in the beginning of the project,” he replied, squeezing my shoulder reassuringly.
“But I thought you were building a small generator first,” I countered.
“I am, but this small generator will be built in just a few hours if things go as I envision them,” he replied, “Meanwhile, I’d like to have the supplies for the water wheel as soon as possible, so I already told them what I need.”
I stood outside the house watching as the people of the village continued on in their daily lives oblivious to the chrononaut who gazed upon them with eyes from the future. I might as well have been watching through a camera lens. An elderly woman carried a basket of green leaves, moving with purpose to some unknown destination. A muscular man in the distance was stringing up a deer by its hind legs as he prepared to skin it or gut it - or both. A little boy of five or six chased two other boys with a stick that he wielded like a spear.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” my father said, “And then you add to it the unadulterated smell of the earth mixed with a hint of sweat, wood smoke, and meat. Is it any wonder your mom tries to find that perfect scent in those Yankee Doodle Candles?”
“It is, but I think this is just a little too primitive for my tastes,” I replied.
“You’re spoiled,” he laughed, “Give it a week or two and you’ll see just how blessed these ‘primitive’ people are. They need each other, so love has a different meaning in this world than in ours.”
Suddenly, two people I hadn’t seen before rounded the corner and approached us. At first, I had only seen the boy. He had the typical long black hair with no shirt on, but he looked younger than the others I’d seen. I would guess he was maybe fourteen based on the effeminate features that still commanded the structure of his smooth face. Where one would typically call a good looking guy “handsome”, I found that “pretty” more suited this kid with the slender nose.
Then I saw the girl who had approached from behind him. She was the female version of this “pretty” man, except she was understandably not running around bare-chested. She wore a brown dress that covered far less than I would have expected given the modesty of ancient times. I’d compare the coverage to that of a spaghetti-strap spring dress without the pastel colors of my world. She caught my eyes which had been currently drinking in the sight before me. To my surprise, she smiled at me.
Dad spoke to them while I stood there trying to catch my breath. I couldn’t help but to examine this girl in search of why it was that she was so beautiful. Her eyes were shaped like almonds angled slightly downward at the slender nose. She had the usual high prominent cheekbones associated with Indians as well as with many supermodels. Her smile was devoid of any dental rot. And her body was every bit as mature as a full-grown adult. I had to believe she was near my age if not older. She was definitely older than the boy she accompanied.
They conversed for quite a while before the girl turned to me and said something. I looked to my father, hoping she had just asked if I was single.
“She introduced herself as Wildwood Shadows and welcomed you to the tribe,” he said.
“I…I…” words failed me.
He spoke something to her, laughed, and then said something else before igniting a full chorus of laughs from all of them. I gaped at my father until he finally turned to me.
“Don’t worry, son,” he said, “I lied and said that people who used to try to be hip or cool in my old village used to say ‘aye aye’ when they wanted to say thank you.”
“Aye aye?” I blurted, “Do they even know what ‘cool’ means? And why did you all laugh?”
He said something to the two of them and then turned to me again.
“You said ‘I I’ in response to them. They heard you, so I had to make a reasonable translation for the guy they saw staring at Wildwood’s breasts! And yes, they have a word for ‘cool’ but it refers to someone who exaggerates their kills after hunting.”
“Dear Lord!” I gasped.
“Do you want me to translate?” he asked.
“I think you’ve done enough!”
“Then they’re set to take you back to the house. I told them to keep you safe and to look out for you, so you’re in good hands,” he said.
“So I’m being protected by a hot girl? What do the others think about this?” I asked.
“Think of it as a hot girl being your guide in an area you’ve never been. There is nothing dishonorable or weird about such a thing. And even if there was, these people will be long dead and buried in the world you will soon exist.”
I don’t know if he meant for those words to sting, but they did. He just stated the obvious that wasn’t quite so obvious to me. Everyone I spoke to today would be dead and buried – forgotten even – by this time next week. The lives before me, real as they were, would be meaningless, insignificant, and worthless dust by the time I went to college.
“It’s not like that, dad. Don’t make it like that,” I muttered.
“It’s exactly like that, son,” he replied, “We came from the same world and I can tell you for certain that no one knows the name of Wildwood Shadows or White Owl. No one knows that my children used to catch fish down at the river. No one knows that Winter Eagle rescued a baby groundhog last year and made it an honorary member of the tribe. And most of all, no one would ever know how beautiful Wildwood Shadows was.”
“I think we’re done talking, Dad,” I said, “And if you want to keep trying to break my heart, I’d like to warn you that I can start using my first name again. I can also find out the word for ‘father’ since I know these are the children of Grey Wolf. By the time we returned with the food, they would know my name was Charlie and that you were my father before you came to know these people.”
“Wow!” he said, looking me in the eyes.
“I’m not as stupid as you thought. I know why my name is Maddox and I’ll gladly play along in order to keep your current life secure. But I’m only doing it as long as you and I are working toward the same goal,” I said, “And a moment ago it sounded like your goal was to make me feel bad and keep me here. That’s not cool.”
He turned his focus back to Wildwood Shadows and then to White Owl. There was no more laughing and the three of them appeared to be waiting for something. My dad rattled off a lot of foreign words and then turned to me.
“They are responsible for you as much as I now make you responsible for them. When you see a charging bear or a wildcat, you do not take a single shot and hope for the best,” he said, “You empty your weapon into the an
imal. You hear me?”
“Yes,” I immediately replied.
He gave me a stiff nod which I now understood to be a charge. The three of us would be responsible for each other, which wasn’t the case five minutes ago.
M’wewa
I had no problem allowing them to lead the way. The two siblings conversed with each other on the way to the river and I just followed at a leisurely pace behind them. When we reached the river, they both turned to me and stopped. White Owl held up a hand and then pointed back the way we came.
“Robert,” he said and then he pointed to me, “Maddox.”
I nodded and pointed to myself, “Maddox.”
Wildwood Shadows joined in by pointing to the sky, “Robert… Maddox?”
White Owl offered another word as he pointed to the sky. It seemed as though Wildwood was phrasing it as a question. In that case, I took it to mean they wondered if we came from outer space or from the heavens in a spiritual sense.
“No,” I shook my head.
I could now see my father’s point when trying to ponder a way to explain time travel. Even if we spoke the same language, it would be hard to say we were from the future.
While I could see that they understood my answer, it didn’t appear that they believed me. White Owl reached forward and touched the side of the shotgun I had hanging at my side. He then made a rumbling sound followed by an explosion. Then he pointed to the sky and made the same sound.
“No,” I replied again, shaking my head.
I cautiously reached over and touched his bow. Then I patted my shotgun. After that, I reached over his shoulder and touched the arrows in his quiver. I then cocked the shotgun, ejecting the unspent shell. I held up the shell and made an explosion sound.
Wildwood Shadows smiled widely as she drew an arrow out of her own quiver. She offered it to me as she reached for the shotgun shell.
“No,” I said, making a gesture as though I were stringing the shotgun shell into a bow to shoot it, “No rumble-rumble-pow.”
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