Meg stared up at the mountains, lost in her memories, listening to the spirits. “At one point in your grandfather’s life, he worried that there’d be no evidence of his ever being on this Earth.” Meg turned to Win’s granddaughter. “You are good evidence, my dear. You also did a fine job with this legal matter. We’ve been waiting for this day for a long time.”
“I’m glad you’re happy, Grandma.”
“I hope you understood all of that, boys.” Meg addressed the headstones. “Mighty complicated stuff, giving back to the Indians what was theirs in the first place. At least our ranch won’t be swallowed up by towns and people. It will forever be next to a place for wild—Oh, Jamie . . . can you hear them? Gray Wolf, Sharp Eyes . . . One Who Waits . . . all of them . . . They’re singing!” Meg chanted the Arapaho song of celebration along with them. Jameson waited patiently. When Meg was finished, she looked straight into Jamie’s young, fresh eyes. “There’s only one thing left that I wish for . . . and that is when I join the boys, I’ll be young again, like you are right now. I want to race them across the flats and let go of Biscuit’s reins.” The old woman tilted her head back with eyes closed. A breeze loosened a strand of hair and tossed it around her head.
“It must have been wonderful, Gram. It must have been grand.”
It was grand, Meg thought, as grand as life could be. The chanting faded away in her head and it was quiet again, except for the breeze. She heard the breeze call her.
“Well, honeybee,” Meg said to Jameson, “we’re going to celebrate tomorrow. You and your mama will be here early?”
“We wouldn’t miss it! Aunt Leezie said to come first thing in the morning.”
“I should think that will be a good time.” Meg stood up, a cue to Jamie that it was time to leave.
“I’ll walk you back to the house, Gram,” she said, holding her arm out. But Meg wrapped her arms around her and gave her a warm hug instead.
“No, no, that’s all right,” she said lightly. “I’d like to stay up here awhile. Wash will be along soon and will walk down with me.”
Jamie embraced her grandmother. “If that’s what you want. You sure you’ll be OK?”
“Absolutely.” Meg grinned. “Good-bye, darlin’.”
“Bye, Grandma Meg,” Jamie said as she started down the hill. She turned to wave. Meg waved back and sat down on the bench next to the gravestones.
A little while later, Washaneekomosema, an old Pawnee, chanted an Arapaho death chant to build a bridge for his long-time white friend to enter the spirit world. When he laid her between Jeb and Win, he noticed a hint of a smile on her face.
The breeze picked up suddenly. Wash heard the sound of thundering hooves and joyful laughter in the wind.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
M. M. Holaday is a former reference and rare-book librarian. She loves books for their power to educate, influence, and entertain. She also loves the tallgrass prairie. She and her husband are restoring the native ecosystem on their farm in Missouri. This is her first novel.
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