Long Snows Moon

by Stacey Darlington

  Moon followed Jameson through the store. She sniffed at the beef jerky at the end of the food isle.

  “Want a piece?”

  Moon barked once.

  “This is my mom’s famous recipe which she passed down to me along with a mountain of others. Do you remember my mom, the famous Doctor Joann Jordan? Or Crazy Plant Lady as I used to call her.”

  Moon barked once.

  “Oh, come on, now you’re just being polite.”

  Jameson chuckled as she tore off a hunk of jerky and gave it to Moon. She sat on the stairs that led up to the living quarters. Moon flopped down beside her and gnawed on her treat.

  “You don’t really remember my mom, do you?”

  Moon got up and headed to the front of the store. She went behind the counter where the cash register was. Jameson watched as she stood on her hind legs and nudged a framed photograph of Jameson’s mother.

  Jameson shivered.

  Moon padded back to her and accepted Jameson’s reward.

  “You are amazing.”

  Moon barked once.

  “I miss my mother every minute of every day. It’s hard to keep her work alive. Do you know she held degrees in Psychology and Botany and she was an M.D? She could really cure plants, get it?” Jameson shrugged when Moon ignored her. “It was a pun. Never mind. Come on let me show you the upstairs.”

  Jameson led Moon to the loft above. “This is where I sleep and that other room is my art studio.”

  Moon peered through the slats of the railing to the store below.

  “That’s a nice view of the store, isn’t it?”

  Moon looked back at her.

  “This place is one of a kind. My father designed and built it before I was born. Was I embarrassed to live in a tepee shaped house that was really a store? I guess I was. Kids can be cruel. My parents taught me to ignore the subjective observations of other people’s alleged shortcomings. In other words, I don’t give a flying flip what people think.”

  Moon trotted into the bathroom and took a sip from the toilet.

  “I take it you agree.” Jameson laughed. She tossed some fresh wood in the fireplace. “Come relax on the couch near the fire. I’ll get you something to eat.”

  Moon hopped up onto the sofa.

  “My father designed the fireplace in order for the smoke to billow out the top. Some of the First Nations people around here thought it was demeaning and xenophobic but they eventually got over it. My father was anything but racist. My mother was Lakota and she thought the whole tepee shaped store with the smoke coming out was fun and whimsical. The Navajos welcomed them into their community and my mom bridged the gap between the local Natives and my father and they accepted him into their tribe. They found that my father knew more about their history than they did. They revered him as an elder. He was a published author and well known for his work and research of indigenous tribes. His book, Rhythm of Nations, was a New York Times best seller.

  “Anyway, the tourists have always loved this place. It has kept me well fed. Speaking of food, I will be right back.”

  Moon barked twice.

  “You can come with me if you want.”

  Downstairs, Jameson took out some hamburger meat and made thick patties while Moon explored the wide kitchen. “Do you like hamburgers?”

  Moon barked once.

  “Cheese?”

  Moon barked once.

  Jameson covered the burgers.

  “The people who bought you were wealthy ladies from Florida. You were part of a wedding dowry.”

  Moon barked once.

  When the burgers started to smoke Jameson opened the back door.

  “Sorry, I’m not much of a cook,” she admitted.

  Moon barked once.

  “You better wait until you taste it,” Jameson laughed.

  She watched Moon stare out the open door to the dusk beyond. Moon went to the door and Jameson followed. Indeed, the owl was in its usual place like a weather vane. Moon bolted out the back door and headed for the woods.

  “Wait, Moon, you shouldn’t be running,” Jameson called and dashed after her. “Stop!”

  Moon halted as commanded but scanned the woods.

  Jameson knelt down to use her shirtsleeve to wipe blood from Moon's mouth. Jameson rubbed her palms together then ran her hands over Moon’s coat.

  “You need to rest. I can only do so much for you with my hands.”

  Moon stared at Jameson's hands as if trying to understand the heat that emanated from them. It was such an intense look Jameson laughed aloud.

  “My hands get hot when I heal with them,” she explained. “It is a special gift from our creator, the Great Mystery, known to the Sioux as Wakan Tanka. I received the gift when I was eleven.”

  * * * *

  Attention child! You must quiet your mind and be still if you are to commune with Wakan Tanka.

  “You don’t have to yell,” Jameson frowned. “I am trying to quiet my mind but it’s kind of hard with a bird sitting on top of my head.”

  The raven nipped her ear, and flew up into a nearby tree to observe Jameson’s transformation.

  “Ouch!” Jameson yelled. She touched her ear to see if the bird had drawn blood. “I should have Doc Jo Jo bake you in a pie,” Jameson taunted.

  I might be black but I am not a blackbird. Your mother would not do that.

  Jameson giggled. “Of course she wouldn’t cook you. I was joking.”

  The small clearing was Jameson’s sacred place. She’d claimed it as her own when she began to venture alone into the woods. It was also her section of stream, her rocks, and her trees. They were her creatures. Hers. They all told her so, the animate as well as inanimate, whispered it to her in the wind.

  Jameson discovered the clearing a few years back when she, against her mother’s direct orders, followed a lone wolf into the forest. She worried about him because he looked thin and weak and had no pack to protect him. She watched him from behind a cluster of trees when he stopped to drink from the stream. She knew he was the wolf that lurked in the umbrage by their family store. Jameson often sensed him watching her as she helped Doc Jo Jo tend her ever-expanding garden. Jameson knew him from his crooked tail, bent as the letter L. Doc Jo Jo told her he might have been born like that, or maybe it had been broken in a fight.

  The wolf finished his drink. She felt him search the woods seeking Jameson between the trees. They stared unblinking at each other for a timeless length, Jameson transfixed and unable to look away. His eyes reminded her of two yellow stars gleaming from a behind a smoky cloud filled with secret knowledge. Even without the L shaped tail, Jameson would recognize him from his eyes.

  “May I call you Two Stars?”

  The wolf nodded dragging his gaze from her as if another second would reveal him. He splashed along the edge of the stream, not bothering to look back.

  Yes, you may call me Two Stars, my sister, because my name is unpronounceable to you. You may call upon Two Stars when you are in need. Study well, the meaning of life and death. There is death in life. There is life in death. This, my sister, you will learn.

  Jameson learned enough about death when her dad crossed over, she didn’t want to hear anything more about it. Still, since that day, Jameson visited the clearing every day and sometimes twice hoping Two Stars would return. As she waited, she memorized each rock within the stream, each tree that stood behind her, around her as well as the animals that returned to converse with her. She came to know them all intimately and they her. She was not patient, as she yearned for Two Stars to return, the great gray wolf with the L shaped tail that had no pack to protect him.

  Jameson knew she was to receive a gift from Wakan Tanka on her eleventh birthday. Doc Jo Jo had been talking about the grand event since Jameson remembered. She refused to tell Jameson what the gift was. For years, she suffered as it was Christmas Eve.

  The day was at hand. Jameson waited in the woods and tried to quiet her mind. She double-checke
d her ear for blood and wondered if Two Stars would make an appearance.

  The Standing People grouped in a semi-circle forming a tidy alcove in the woods. Their leaves rustled telling tales that only the creatures of the forest and Jameson could hear. A fish jumped in the stream before her and Jameson smiled. She glanced behind her for Mudjewkeewis.

  Be still.

  Jameson obeyed the raven. She closed her eyes and extended her arms with her palms tilted toward the sky. When the sun moved overhead, Jameson felt the warmth enter her hands. Her heart beat like a hummingbird was trapped in her chest.

  “Is it going to hurt?”

  Pain is subjective, child

  She gasped when twin bolts of lightning struck her palms. She saw the flash of light even with her eyes shut. She clenched her teeth until the pain subsided. The sensation flowed through her arms and throughout her body. She thought of molasses, thick and sweet.

  The rustling behind her stopped. Jameson felt a thousand eyes upon her, from above, below, all around her. The animals had all come to observe, silent and breathless.

  Jameson sighed as colors ran through her. A warm breeze delivered sweet smell of flowers in bloom. Jameson inhaled and smiled. She didn’t know what this gift was but the sensation washed over her with pure love. Wakan Tanka moved through her, The Great Mystery, God. She felt the presence glowing inside her.

  Jameson felt as though someone discovered every tickle spot on her body. When she opened her eyes, she gasped as dozens of butterflies adorned her like a colorful shroud. They covered her arms, her head, and her hands. One even garnished the tip of her nose. She remembered the story her mother told her of the first butterfly and knew her gift was God’s pure love.

  “Thank you, Wakan Tanka!” she cried. The butterflies danced around her before they scattered and disappeared.

  Two Stars attended. She felt him hiding within the trees. She was eager for his approval. She jumped up giggling and unsteady. In her haste, she stumbled and fell to her knees. As she tried to stand, she found herself on all fours. She found his eyes.

  “Did you see that?” Jameson whispered. “Did you see my gift?”

  His gaze was stern and paternal. I witnessed your transformation. However, you will question whether it is a gift when you learn the nature of your dark destiny.

  “What do you mean?”

  Stay strong, young Raven Song.

  * * * *

  Jameson dashed along her well-worn path through the woods, sweaty and eager to tell Doc Jo Jo about her experience. She burst from the clutter of trees in anticipation of finding her mother in her garden fussing over her plants.

  “Mom!” she cried, spying the greenhouse door open she rushed inside to deliver the news. “Mom, guess what?”

  The greenhouse was empty. On the pruning table was an almost full glass of tea.

  “Mom!” Jameson hollered out the door in the direction of their tourist shop. She smelled smoke from the fireplace. Her mother must have put some fresh wood on because it was sending up some mighty signals.

  “Mom,” she hollered again, “I received my gift.”

  You have work to do, child. A voice instructed from inside the greenhouse.

  Jameson was reluctant, but went back inside the greenhouse. She shuffled to the back of the long structure as if she were to about to receive a punishment. She hesitated where the bright room became shadowy.

  “What work?”

  The owl blinked from its dim corner.

  “Aren’t you nocturnal?” Jameson sassed.

  I move in varying shades of dark.

  Her arms became goose-flesh. She shivered and gulped back her fear. Jameson faced both bear and wolf but never felt this dread.

  “Dark is dark, there are no varying shades. You shouldn’t be in here, my mother will be mad.”

  Go, child, and see about your task.

  Jameson turned from the bird and raced down the corridor of plants and out the greenhouse door. She sprinted for the comfort and safety of the woods, but on the path before her was a rattlesnake with a head the size of her hand and tail that said he was angry.

  Without fear, Jameson observed the snake’s beautiful markings. “You’re a Mojave, a mighty venomous creature. I’m sure my mother has anti-venom because she is a medicine woman, but I still don’t want you to bite me. If you let me pass, we may meet again another time and share some wisdom. Right now, I have a task to do. I don’t know what it is yet, but I do.”

  The snake dropped its dangerous pose and Jameson skirted it at a safe distance.

  “Thank you,” Jameson told it.

  A hawk circled above them and before the snake found refuge in the woods, it dove from the sky and grabbed it in its mighty talons. It scooped up the snake, writhing and striking, into the sky.

  “No!” Jameson yelled at the hawk.

  She screamed when the snake struck the hawk in the chest. She stood rooted and wide-eyed as the animals tumbled from the sky. The hawk and the snake landed at her feet with a thud and a cloud of dust.

  Jameson dragged her hands through her hair, frantic and unsure of what to do. Both animals were motionless. She bit her lip as she approached the hawk. She grimaced at the saltiness of her own blood. She found a nearby stick and poked the bird. It raised its head and opened its beak to cry out.

  Jameson dropped to her knees and put her hands on the bird. Her hands grew hot and the bird responded. “Don’t die, please don’t die, you shouldn’t have to die for a meal to keep you alive. It’s not fair!”

  Jameson cradled the hawk. “You can live if you want to. You can fly.” She trembled as she raised the bird above her head. She wavered under its weight and was cautious with its talons

  “Fly,” Jameson encouraged. “Try to fly!”

  The hawk took a ragged breath, flapped its glorious wings, and left Jameson staring at it in stunned silence as it soared toward the clouds. A feather drifted down and Jameson let it fall onto her open palm.

  My feather is a gift from Wakan Tanka. In it is the understanding that you must follow this path. There will be signs all around you, child, take notice and listen well.

  “But I don’t understand!” Jameson wailed, frowning at the feather.

  When Doc Jo Jo found her holding the snake, dusk cast shadows over Elk’s Pass Sundries. Jameson felt her mother pry the creature from hands, dry the tears from her face and explained to Jameson how her hands worked.

  Chapter Four

  Moon led Jameson through a path in the trees, sniffing the ground, hungry for her master’s scent. The path opened to the steep embankment, Jameson spotted the Range Rover on the bridge. Moon saw it too. She struggled to climb the bank but it was too precipitous to get a proper foothold even with four feet.

  “This way, it’s not as steep here.”

  Moon joined her and together they hustled up the embankment.

  “Stay with me,” she called, as Moon dashed ahead.

  Moon didn’t wait. She stood and pawed at the driver’s door.

  “You would be unstoppable with opposable thumbs,” Jameson grinned as she joined Moon.

  Jameson peered through the Range Rover’s tinted glass. “This is one nice car,” she muttered. She tried the driver’s door, shocked to find it unlocked.

  The smell of bourbon was overwhelming and the driver’s seat was sticky. She noticed the purse and rescued it from the damp floorboard. Moon jumped in over her and got in the backseat, sniffing and barking.

  Jameson replaced the items that toppled from the purse and fished around for a wallet. She pulled out a fancy snakeskin that contained an astonishing number of credit cards and cash.

  “I knew you had a wealthy family,” she said to Moon. She found the driver’s license.

  “Devon,” Jameson breathed. “Shadow Wolf.”

  Moon barked and stomped her foot.

  “Wow, Shadow Wolf is your owner.”

  Moon barked once and with vehemence.

  “So beautif
ul,” Jameson smiled, remembering. “But not so good on the icy roads.” She found the cola can and smelled it. “Drinking and driving, not a good idea anyway, downright reckless on Elk’s Pass Bridge this time of year.”

  She assessed the interior of the car, stunned to find the keys still in the ignition.

  “There’s no sign she’s been hurt,” she announced. She found a flashlight in the rear hatch and trained it along the passenger side of the vehicle. It was obvious what happened and how the impact tossed Moon out of the open window.

  “You’re one tough pup,” Jameson noted, trailing the beam down the embankment. “That’s quite a fall, seventy feet I’d say. My guess is Devon went down there looking for you.”

  Moon stood and peered over the railing. She looked at Jameson and whined.

  “Don’t worry, she won’t be hard to find. I know this area like the back of my hand. After all it’s my own backyard.”

  Moon barked in clear agreement.

  “I think I should get her car off the road, take it back to my place. It’s not safe here.”

  Moon jumped into the Range Rover and waited for Jameson.

  Moon seemed solemn as she sat next to Jameson. Although familiar aromas surrounded her, she seemed more forlorn than before. Jameson watched as Moon pressed the window button with her paw and watched it go down. She watched it go back up.

  She looked over at Jameson and barked twice.

  “Sorry, Moon. Trust me. I grew up roaming these woods. If she’s out there, I will find her.” She locked the window and scratched Moon’s ears. “Do you trust me?”

  Moon barked once.

  Jameson drove the short distance back to the store and parked the Range Rover in the back by the greenhouse. She led Moon in through the back of the store and finished preparing the hamburger from earlier. Jameson added some kava kava and mixed in a few drops of Star of Bethlehem extract to help Moon deal with her stressful day. She placed the plate on the floor.

  “I’m going to grab a few supplies, enjoy your dinner, and try to relax for a while, okay?”