by D. M. Pulley
“Killing this drunk won’t bring her back, Motega. We fought and lost this war years ago . . . long before you were born. We must find peace with these people or the Great Wind will sweep us away. Take heart.” The doctor chuckled. “Between the liquor and the loss of blood, he won’t remember his name tomorrow.”
“And if he does?”
There was no answer.
“He will have bandages to explain,” Motega insisted. “He might file a report with the federal marshal. Then what? I have been to their prison. How many more must go?”
“Eya.” The doctor grunted. “He will have nothing to report if he wakes up at the Tally Ho. I will call Clint Sharkey and make the arrangements.”
“I still say we crash his car into a tree.”
Jasper’s mouth fell open as the voices faded down the hall.
Not a minute later, Jasper heard footsteps approach his door. He slammed his head back into the pillow and shut his eyes. He didn’t dare move as the doctor, or whoever it was, peered in at him. Three seconds later, the door closed again.
As soon as it did, Jasper sat back up and gaped at the slivers of light leaking in from the hallway. He hadn’t understood half of what had been said, but the words They are the murderers! still hung in the air like a storm cloud. Killing this drunk won’t bring her back.
Her.
The only thing he knew for sure was that he’d heard the name Galatas before. Jasper lay back down and gazed up at the ceiling.
Smoke rose up from the horizon of Jasper’s mind. A field had been burning the day she left him. Just someone burning a fallow field, she’d said as if it were nothing.
But it didn’t seem like nothing anymore.
Dr. Whitebird came to check on Jasper the next morning.
“How are we feeling today, Ogichidaa?” he asked, placing a warm hand on the boy’s head.
“Better.” That was the least of his worries. “Who was that man? The one that was yelling earlier?”
“You have keen ears, little rabbit.” The doctor flashed a small smile and then opened up his bandages. “I see the healing is well underway. This is good.”
Jasper wouldn’t let the doctor change the subject. “Who was he?”
“Just a lost man from the city. I must apologize for him. Some of my tribe like to drink whiskey with strangers and play games for money. Such things always lead to trouble. But it is hard for our young men to find good work.”
“He was so . . . mean to you,” Jasper said.
“I do not let the bad spirits of others come and bother me.” He pointed a finger at Jasper as if this were a warning.
“What will happen to him?”
The doctor laughed. “He will wake up with a terrible headache tomorrow, but he will live.”
“But . . .” Jasper didn’t think it was funny. There had been talk of murder, burning fields, and prison. “Will you get in trouble?”
“All of our troubles come to us invited . . . with open hands.” The doctor studied his palms for a moment, then clapped them together. The doctor closed the bandages and smiled at Jasper. “Don’t worry, Ogichidaa. These are not your troubles . . . You are healing well. You can go home when this is done.”
The doctor pointed to the half-full glass jar over his head. The liquid dripped steadily into the tube attached to his arm. Time was running out.
Jasper wanted to ask a million more questions, but the most burning ones wouldn’t come out. Did Motega kill my mother? Did he hide her car in the trees? What did you mean when you said, It won’t bring her back? He finally managed, “Who was that other man? Motega?”
“He is the son of Ogimaa. Ogimaa is the head of our tribal council.”
“Did he and my mother have some sort of . . . fight?” Jasper whispered. “Someone told me she was in trouble with someone named Motega.”
The doctor raised his eyebrows. “You do have long ears, little rabbit. Who told you this?”
“A man named Big Bill. He owns the roller rink in Burtchville.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “Be careful when you listen to others speak. Life is a story of many voices and the truth lies between them.”
Jasper frowned at this. Dr. Whitebird liked to talk in riddles, and it was starting to get on his nerves. “Did Motega know my mother or not?”
The doctor studied Jasper’s scowl a moment and answered, “Eya. But I know of no fight between them.”
“Were they friends?”
“Eya.”
The boy sat up. “Why was he put in jail then?”
Dr. Whitebird gave him a hard look. “Motega is a good man. The men that hold the keys to your jails do not see always good or bad. They see Manitonaaha, and that is crime enough.”
Jasper realized he had offended the doctor, and his eyes fell in shame. “I just . . . I heard there was a murder.”
“Have no fear, Ogichidaa. It was not your mother.” Dr. Whitebird held up a hand to stop the questions. “I will speak no more of the dead.”
“I—I’m sorry.” Jasper knew he should stop but couldn’t. “How did you know my mother?”
“It is not my place to speak for her.”
“But someone has to speak for her! She’s gone, and I don’t know where she went.” His eyes welled up. “She left me all alone. It’s like she doesn’t care about me at all!”
“No,” Dr. Whitebird commanded. “Never doubt the love of your nimaamaa. If she has gone, it is only to protect you.”
“How can she protect me if she’s not here?” Jasper buried his face to hide his tears.
“Let me tell you a story.” The doctor put a warm hand on his shoulder. “One day a Manitonaaha mother and child were walking in the woods, hunting for wild berries. Do you like berries?”
Jasper forced a nod but kept his face in his hands.
“They picked a big basket of berries and were headed back to the village. But the mother heard the growl of a wolf deep in the woods behind them.” The doctor let out a low growl. “What should she do? She picked up her child and began to run, but they run too slow. She puts down the basket of berries and runs faster. But still she runs too slow. The wolf was getting closer.” The doctor patted his knees making running sounds. “Its growls were getting louder.” He let out a loud roar.
Jasper looked up at the sound.
“Do you know what she did?”
He shook his head.
“She put the child up in a tree. Without the child, she runs faster than before, and she leads the wolf away. Now, you must decide, young Ogichidaa. Does the mother still love him?”
Jasper thought about it for a minute, then nodded. “If she hadn’t put him in a tree, they both would’ve been caught and eaten.”
“Very good.” The doctor smiled. “Now, your mother has left you with your uncle, yes?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
“Does she still love you?”
“I—It’s not the same!” Jasper protested, catching the doctor’s meaning. “We aren’t in the woods! There’s no wolf chasing us!”
“Oh? How do you know? Wolves come with many faces. Some even live inside us.” The doctor patted his own chest for emphasis. “You don’t want to meet the wolf. Your mother doesn’t want you to meet it either. You must have faith, Ogichidaa. You must believe she loves you.”
Jasper thought of the detective chasing him from his apartment. It was sort of like running from a wolf, but he’d been alone without her. He closed his eyes and tried to remember the warmth of her lips on his forehead. “Did she . . . Did she come back here? Have you seen her?”
“I wish I could tell you that I have. But she is with you. Her love is with you here.” The doctor patted Jasper’s cheek and pressed the necklace into his palm. Then he stood and headed to the door.
“Wait.” Jasper stopped him in the doorway. “You didn’t finish your story. Did she ever come back?”
The doctor turned a puzzled face down to the boy on the cot.
“After
the mother runs and leads the wolf away. Does she ever come back?”
The doctor pressed his lips into a thin line of regret. “No. The wolf passes under the tree where the child hides and goes back to his den, not hungry.”
“But what about the child?” Jasper shouted in protest. “What happens to him?”
“He cries for his mother for three days and nights. Then her voice returns to him in the songs of the birds. She tells him there is nothing to fear. She tells him that she gave her life to save him, but she would always be near—in the birds, in the wind, in the sky. And do you know what he does?”
A tear slid down Jasper’s cheek as he shook his head.
“He climbs down from the tree all by himself, Ogichidaa.”
With that, the doctor left the room.
CHAPTER 37
Do you think you have an illness?
After the doctor left, Jasper sat up in the bed and wished he could rip the tube out of his arm. He didn’t want to be stuck up in a tree. He wanted his mother.
She might not be far. Her car had been found only a few miles away. She could even be hiding somewhere at the reservation. The clear fluid in the jar over his head dripped one slow drop at a time. He laid his head back on the pillow and sighed.
There was nothing to do in the tiny room but sit and stew. Jasper snatched the book about Indians up off the floor and read it. Then he read it again. There was a lot of talk about the buffalo, tepees, and battles, but nothing about wolves.
Jasper pulled the necklace out from under the covers and studied it again. Dr. Whitebird knew her. Frowning, he looped the necklace over his head and tucked it under his shirt. He vowed to himself that he’d ask her about it when she came back. Even as he thought the words, they clouded with doubt.
The mother in the story never came back.
The door to his room finally opened, and the nurse came in with more food. “You are looking quite shiny today, little fish,” she said and set the food on the cot. “You happy to be going home?”
“Yes, thank you,” he said, eyeing the tray. More venison and corn. He glanced up at the glass bottle attached to his arm. It was still a quarter full.
“You are tired of being on a hook,” she said, noticing his frown. “Don’t worry. I think you are almost done. Eat your food, and I will come and take out the line.”
He grinned at the news and immediately began devouring his plate. The nurse chuckled and left the room. Jasper ate every crumb, eager to be declared healthy again. Truthfully, he still felt quite tired, and the itch in his leg was like a hatch of fleas. It was going to take all his strength not to claw through his bandages, he could tell, but he didn’t care. He wanted to escape the windowless room.
The nurse finally came back. The glass jar had a half inch of fluid left, but she made good on her promise and pulled the needle out of his arm. He went to stand up, and she gently eased him back down to the bed. “Not yet, little fish. Let me change these wrappings one more time.”
She pulled off the bandages. Jasper half expected to see a nest of wriggling maggots chewing at his skin. The wounds were getting smaller, and the skin had tightened up at the edges. “They itch!”
“The itch is good. That means the wounds are healing.” Her voice turned stern. “You are going to have to change these bandages twice a day for the next week. No running around or rolling in the mud until then, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Your family isn’t here just yet. You will have to wait.”
“Do you mind if I walk around a bit outside?” he asked, trying not to sound too eager. “I miss the sun.”
She stopped and thought about it for a minute. “I cannot let you go missing, little fish. You are a stranger here. You do not know our village.”
Jasper’s face fell as his one chance to go looking for her slipped away.
“Oh. Don’t lose your shine. Wait here.”
He debated whether he should just escape on his own.
The nurse returned before he’d made up his mind, and she was not alone. A brown-skinned boy not much taller than Jasper stood by her side. “This is my son, Pati. He can walk with you for a little while.”
Pati studied Jasper like he was an interesting new bug.
“Hello.” Jasper gave him a little wave.
The boy didn’t wave back.
“Okay. You two go outside for a while.” The nurse turned to her son and said several other things in a language Jasper didn’t understand. The boy nodded and went over to Jasper and grabbed his hand.
Together, the two boys walked down the hallway to the sparsely furnished waiting room. Jasper could hardly remember being there, but it had only been two days. Pati led Jasper out the front door and into the blinding sun. It was late afternoon and unseasonably warm out. A stand of trees shielded the clinic from the narrow dirt road that led down the steep hill to Route 25. According to his mother’s diary, it had once been marked the “Door of Faith,” but he didn’t see a sign anywhere.
The thought of the diary sent a jolt of regret through him. He’d thrown it across the barn in a rage. He could only hope it was still lying behind the feed bins, undiscovered.
As soon as they were out of the nurse’s sight line, Pati dropped Jasper’s hand. “So, where do you want to go?” He spoke with no accent at all.
“I’m not sure,” Jasper said, not knowing how much he should tell the strange boy. “I’m sort of looking for someone.”
“Here at Black River?” The boy cocked a grin, sizing Jasper up. “Indian or white?”
“Um . . . white.”
“There is only one place the white people go here. I’ll show you, but you can’t tell my mother. Deal?”
“Deal.” Jasper nodded and held out his hand to shake on it.
The boy just gave him an odd look and started walking down to the dirt road. Jasper dropped his hand and followed. Pati wore clothes very similar to the clothes on his own back. There were no moccasins or leather tassels, just boots and jeans. Pati did have long black hair tied back into a tail. Besides that, he could have been just another kid at school.
The two boys followed the dirt road farther up the hill and away from the clinic. They walked past a group of trailers where adults sat in clumps, enjoying the warm sun. A few campfires were lit, and the air smelled of burning leaves. One man was roasting a whole fish on a spit. He waved to Pati and said something Jasper didn’t understand. Pati answered in the same language and motioned to Jasper. The man laughed and waved them on.
“What’d he say?” Jasper asked once the man was out of earshot.
“He wanted to know why you were here. I told him you were looking for your drunk father.”
Jasper stopped walking at this comment.
“Don’t worry. Most of the white men that come here get drunk. He will not remember you.”
Jasper opened his mouth to respond, but Pati had turned his back and kept walking. Jasper followed him despite the insult. If he wanted any chance of finding his mother, he had no choice.
After Jasper walked over a mile on sore legs, a large barnlike building emerged from between the trees. Several pickup trucks were parked around it in the open spaces between the pines. “This is the game house,” Pati said, motioning at the building. “White people come to play games they cannot play out there.”
Jasper remembered what Dr. Whitebird had told him. “Games for money.”
“Yes.” Pati led Jasper through the stand of trees to the side of the building. “We are not allowed inside, but you can see through here.” He pointed to an opening in the siding.
Jasper pressed his face to the boards and squinted to see. The room inside was dark and full of smoke. Low voices and clinking glasses mixed with scratchy music from a record player. Four men sat holding cards at a table right in front of him. There were stacks of blue and red chips beside them. At the next table, a woman stood handing out cards. Jasper’s heart leapt when he saw her dark hair, but it only took ano
ther second to see she wasn’t his mother.
Around the room there were several more tables half full with people. A man was sitting facedown at an empty table in the far corner. There were two other women walking around. One was handing out cigarettes. The other was handing out drinks. Neither of them was her. In the far corner, an old man sat at a full table with a young woman on his lap. He was whispering something in her ear. She laughed. The sagging, pale face of Arthur Hoyt was unmistakable as he grinned and nuzzled her neck. On reflex, Jasper shrank away from the wall.
Somewhere up in the hayloft, a door slammed. He couldn’t make out what was up there through the dark, but he didn’t smell any hay. Just smoke and sweat.
“Why uh . . . why do they come here to play games?” Jasper whispered, keeping his eyes on Hoyt and the girl. His aunt and uncle played cards with the neighbors from time to time. It didn’t seem like such a big deal.
“It’s against the white laws,” Pati whispered back. “But police don’t come here.”
“Why not?”
A crash came from the far side of the room. It was a man throwing his glass to the floor. He stood up, shouting at another man holding the cards. Jasper recoiled. It was Big Bill.
“Goddamn it! You bluffed me! You dirty red son of a bitch! You bluffed me!” the enormous man bellowed and threw his cards into another man’s face. “This whole place is rigged. You bastards are cheatin’. You’ve been talkin’ in signals this whole time.”
Jasper watched with growing alarm as two large Manitonaaha men grabbed Big Bill by either arm and pulled him toward the exit at the end of the barn. The door was just around the corner from where the two boys were crouched. Jasper stepped back, scanning the bushes for a place to hide.
“You know him,” Pati said.
“He can’t find me here,” Jasper hissed.
Without a word, Pati grabbed Jasper by the collar and dragged him behind a high stack of firewood separating the dumpsters from the parking lot. On the other end of the building from where they hid, a door slammed open.
“You stupid Injuns. Don’t you know who I am? Get your hands off me!”