by Ann Hood
Down the bank a bit, Yellow Feather stood skipping stones. Maisie and Felix watched as she lightly threw a stone across the water, and it skimmed the surface, alighting once, twice, three times before landing with a pleasant plop.
“Can you show me how to do that?” Felix called to her.
Yellow Feather’s face brightened when she saw them.
“It’s simple,” she said. “Come.”
“Learning how to skip stones isn’t going to help us figure out how to get home,” Maisie said.
“Neither is standing here,” Felix reminded her.
Yellow Feather handed Felix a smooth, round stone, and demonstrated how to throw it in such a way that it didn’t land immediately but rather danced across the water.
“You try,” Felix told Maisie when he finally got a stone to skim across the surface. “It’s kind of like throwing a Frisbee.”
Maisie took the stone he offered her and pretended she was in Central Park playing Frisbee with her father. He had taken Maisie and Felix there on summer afternoons, patiently teaching them the fine art of throwing a Frisbee.
But when she tried it with the stone, it just landed with a splash.
“Practice,” Yellow Feather said. “You can do it.”
But every stone Maisie threw just belly flopped into the river, while Felix’s gracefully skimmed along.
“I give up,” Maisie said finally.
She took one last rock and imagined her father standing across the green grass in Central Park, smiling at her. You can do it, Maisie! he’d say, and that Frisbee would leave her hand and float right into his.
“Look!” Felix shouted.
Maisie did look, and her stone touched down on the water, then lifted ever so slightly, before gently dropping into the river.
“I’m glad you found me here,” Yellow Feather said. “I am sad, and you made me happy.”
“Why are you sad?” Felix asked her.
“I want to find my people. I want to go home.”
“So do we!” Maisie said.
“Little Thunder was supposed to take me,” Yellow Feather said. “But he is gone.”
“Do you think he’ll come back for you?” Felix asked hopefully.
But Yellow Feather shook her head no.
The sun was sinking low on the horizon now. Without it shining down on them, the air grew cold quickly, and the shadows grew long.
“We need to return for the ceremony,” Yellow Feather said.
The three of them slowly walked away from the river, up the hill toward the village. Each of them homesick. Each of them deep in private thought, trying to figure out a way home.
The tribe was dressed in full celebration regalia. All of the clothing was painted in bright colors with circles representing the sun, eagles, wolves, and other symbols of strength and power. The men wore headdresses thick with feathers that trailed down their backs. A fire blazed in the center of the village, and behind it drummers banged out a rhythmic beat. The air was thick with smoke and the smells of buffalo meat roasting and sage burning.
In the crowd, Maisie and Felix could see Curly. He was unadorned, his hair loose and his face decorated with only the lightning bolt on his cheek.
Around him, the tribe began to gather in a circle.
Yellow Feather urged Maisie and Felix to come with her as she joined the circle. Their bodies pressed tight together as they fell into step with the chanting, dancing people.
Felix easily followed their movements. As his body bent, dipped, then straightened again, he remembered dancing with Lily Goldberg at Bitsy Beal’s party. That night seemed so long ago now, but Felix could still feel Lily’s hand in his, and the joy he’d felt standing beside her doing the chicken dance and the twist. Maisie, too, picked up the simple movements of the dancing circle, but she felt more awkward as she followed their steps. Would she ever be comfortable in her skin the way Felix seemed to be? She tried to focus on Curly’s interpretation of her vision of the falcon. Didn’t that promise her a happy, independent future?
The dancing went on and on, everyone’s bodies growing sweaty as they moved around the roaring fire. The chanting intensified, and time began to blur in a swirl of sound and motion and aromas.
Hypnotized, Felix felt like he might faint. His ears rang and he was light-headed. In this state, he thought of that red-tailed hawk feather. It seemed to float in front of him, and he lifted his hand as if he could grab it from the air. But his hand fell through the emptiness and landed on Maisie’s sweaty back.
The feather.
Felix gasped.
He understood now. The feather had brought them here. And Curly had given them what they needed to go home. But their original idea had been right: The missing step was to give Curly the feather. All Felix had figured out was the basic steps. They needed the shard from the Ming vase at Elm Medona. An object from The Treasure Chest allowed them to time travel. They needed to give the object to the right person. That person had to give them something in return.
His mind swirled with images of Clara and Alexander and Pearl and Harry.
And Curly.
“We need to give Curly the feather,” Felix said out loud, but his words were lost in the sounds of the ceremony.
When Worm separated from the group and began to speak, it took a moment for everyone to stop and listen.
But it came just in time for Felix, who wondered if he could make himself move even one more inch. He staggered, and then half fell to the ground.
Maisie kneeled beside him.
He was too weak to explain everything to her.
“My son,” Worm intoned. “Brave warrior.”
At the sound of those words, the tribe let loose a series of cries and hollers.
Curly stood beside his father, his head bent humbly.
“As a boy,” Worm continued, “we called him Curly.”
A murmur of acknowledgment rippled through the crowd.
“His hair is unusual,” Worm said.
Everyone nodded in unison.
“It does not fly straight, like ours,” Worm said. “It is not dark like the night.”
Again, the crowd agreed.
“He loves our people,” Worm said.
The sounds of appreciation grew louder.
“He loves our homeland,” Worm said, his voice louder so that he could be heard over the deafening sounds of the tribe.
“Today, he killed two Arapaho face-to-face! Today he rescued Hump, one of our bravest warriors! Today he showed his bravery without hesitation!”
Felix’s face burned from the heat of the fire and the excitement around him. He felt too weak to stand again, but he managed to lift his head to watch the rest of the ceremony.
“Tonight, we honor him!” Worm said.
Maisie’s eyes were wide at the sight in front of her. The Lakota singing Curly’s praises, Curly standing bare chested and bare headed before them.
“Tonight,” Worm shouted above the roar, “I name him Crazy Horse, brave Lakota warrior!”
CHAPTER 11
Losing The Treasure Chest
The naming ceremony went long into the night. Well after midnight, Maisie and Felix found themselves in the tepee, snuggled beneath blankets of buffalo skins. The moon shone through the opening at the top of the tepee, illuminating it like their nightlights did at home.
Sometime, hours later, Felix awoke to the sounds of a commotion somewhere nearby. His first instinct was to stay put. Already he’d witnessed the attack on Yellow Feather’s village and the battle with the Arapaho. The images of that destruction and warfare were enough to keep him away from any signs of trouble. But as he lay there listening to the noise outside, Felix became certain that whatever was happening was a happy thing.
He nudged Maisie awake. She grumbled and muttered, then rolled away from him.
“Wake up,” Felix said, shaking her shoulder. “There’s a lot of excitement outside.”
She was quiet a moment, listening.
“They’re still celebrating Curly’s new name,” she said finally.
“No, it’s something else,” Felix insisted.
“Okay,” she said, throwing the blanket off her. She shivered in the chilly night air. “I can’t imagine what’s happening,” she added.
It seemed like a million years ago that Maisie had stomped and thudded around Elm Medona, wanting to be noticed. Ever since they’d arrived on the Great Plains, she wasn’t so sure that being heard was always the best idea. The animosity everyone felt toward the white settlers, the danger of battles and attacks, the herds of buffalo everywhere made Maisie want to go unnoticed.
The fire still roared in the center of the village. It didn’t look as if any of the tribe had gone to bed. People were eating and dancing and singing without any sign of stopping.
“See?” Maisie said, ready to turn around and go back to bed.
Felix pointed to a spot away from the gathering, near where the horses were kept. A small, noisy group stood there.
“That’s what I heard,” he said. Felix squinted in the dark. “I think that’s Curly and Yellow Feather.”
Felix headed off toward them with Maisie right behind him.
It wasn’t until they reached Curly and the others that Felix saw what all the excitement was about.
“Maisie,” he said, grabbing his sister’s hand. “Look.”
Maisie blinked hard, to be sure she was really seeing what she thought she was seeing. She was, she realized with more relief than she’d ever felt in her entire life.
Then Felix said out loud the words ringing in her heart.
“Little Thunder.”
Little Thunder brought news of the white settlers. His descriptions of the soldiers attacking villages and killing buffalo, of them going back on the promises they’d made at Fort Laramie, and of their growing numbers caused great excitement. At first, Maisie and Felix just listened to him talk, a terrible feeling of dread spreading through them.
But when Crazy Horse noticed them standing there, his face grew angry.
“You two,” he said. “What do you say about Little Thunder’s report?”
All eyes turned to Maisie and Felix.
“Um,” Felix said. “We…we don’t have anything to do with any of that.”
Crazy Horse stepped closer to Felix, glaring.
“You are a white settler. You kill my people,” he said.
The others’ voices rose behind him.
“No!” Felix said.
Maisie looked at Little Thunder. He wore the buckskin leggings and shirt that she’d grown accustomed to. And hanging from his belt, beside what appeared to be a scalp, was a medicine bundle.
“Curly,” Maisie began.
The voices grew even angrier.
“Have you no respect?” Hump said, his voice cutting through the others. “Tonight, he became Crazy Horse.”
“I’m sorry,” Maisie said quickly. “I’m not used to people changing their names. I mean Crazy Horse.” She swallowed hard.
“Crazy Horse,” she began again. “We want to leave as soon as possible. We want…” She swallowed again. “We want to go home.”
Crazy Horse folded his arms across his chest and waited.
“But we can’t do that unless Little Thunder gives us his medicine bundle,” Maisie explained.
Everyone began to shout, outraged.
Felix’s legs trembled. He wouldn’t be surprised if at any minute they attacked him and Maisie. The group surged forward, their faces twisted with rage.
But Crazy Horse lifted his hand to silence them.
“No one can see what is in a warrior’s medicine bundle. Only medicine man. And warrior,” he said evenly.
“I know, I know,” Maisie said quickly, hoping she sounded respectful as well as desperate. “But I did a terrible thing. I had that feather for you and I wanted to keep it safe so I put it in the medicine bundle in the tepee and then your father gave that to Little Thunder and now he’s back and I want to give you the feather so that Felix and I can go home.”
Her words spilled out like a waterfall, and Maisie watched Crazy Horse struggling to catch them all.
Before he answered, Yellow Feather spoke.
“I, too, want to go back to my village,” she said. “I understand.”
Crazy Horse turned to Yellow Feather. “It will take Little Thunder’s strength if she opens the medicine bundle.”
“But she already has,” Yellow Feather said. “She opened it and put something inside and still Little Thunder has his power.”
Crazy Horse considered this.
“Find my father,” he said finally. “He will decide what to do.”
He pointed a finger at Felix and Maisie.
“Until he arrives, you stay here.”
Felix glanced around. The Lakota had formed a circle around him and his sister. He didn’t have a choice. There was no way out.
Worm appeared, looking solemn.
Maisie once again tried to explain.
“You’ve got to let me open that medicine bundle you gave Little Thunder. Please, please. I didn’t know it was a special bag, and I just wanted to keep my present safe,” she said, her words coming out in a rush of pleading and desperation. “I didn’t know the whole village would move. I didn’t know—”
“Little Thunder,” Worm said, “give me the medicine bundle.”
Little Thunder untied the rawhide bag from his belt and handed it to Worm.
“Come with me,” Worm said softly to Maisie.
“Come with you?” Maisie repeated, not sure that she wanted to.
But Worm didn’t wait for her to reply. He just walked away, past the group that had gathered, past the horses, and down the grassy slope toward the river.
When he saw that Felix was also following him, he paused.
“You,” he said to Felix, “go back.”
“But—”
Worm had already turned around and continued on his way to the river.
“Maisie,” Felix whispered, “I don’t want you to go alone.”
“I have to,” she said. “It’s our only chance.”
The truth was that she felt brave and special going with Worm alone. He was a medicine man, not a warrior. Maisie was certain he wouldn’t hurt her. Still, Felix quietly followed many paces behind them. He’d deserted his sister too many times to let her go off alone now.
At the bank of the river, Worm stopped.
He spoke in his native language, his eyes closed, his face tilted toward the moon.
“I have thanked Wakan Tanka, the Great Mystery, for Crazy Horse’s bravery,” he said when he finished.
He closed his eyes once more and spoke again in his language.
“I have thanked the sun, Wi, for his power,” he explained. “And the moon, Winan. It is all wakan, mystery, no?” Worm asked her gently.
Maisie nodded. Wakan, she thought. Mystery.
Worm untied the strings and opened the medicine bundle. When he looked inside, bewilderment crossed his face.
“You brought this for my son?” he asked as he pulled the red-tailed hawk feather from the bag.
“Yes,” Maisie said, her eyes filling with tears of relief.
“But how could you know what his vision would tell?”
Maisie didn’t know how to answer.
“In his dream,” Worm said slowly, “he was told to not wear a warbonnet. He was told to wear a single feather.”
Worm waited, but still Maisie could not answer.
“Child,” Worm said gently, “where have you come from?”
He tilted her chin upward with his large, square hand so that he could look her in the eye.
“The future,” Maisie told him.
Worm studied her with deep concentration. It felt to Maisie that he was actually peering into her brain or even deeper.
Finally, he asked, “Will my people be all right?”
Maisie chewed her bottom lip.
> “No,” she said at last.
Worm nodded.
“I’m so sorry,” Maisie said.
Worm nodded again.
“Bring this to my son,” he said. “Give it to Crazy Horse.”
Maisie took the feather and began to run up the grassy hill. When she reached the place where Felix waited, she did not slow down. Felix ran alongside her in the moonlight.
Everyone was standing just as they had left them.
Maisie ran right up to Crazy Horse. She held the feather out to him.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
But she would never know if he heard her.
The last thing she and Felix saw was Crazy Horse tucking the red-tailed hawk feather into his long hair.
Then they began to tumble through time.
Every other time they had time traveled, they’d returned with a sense of relief and excitement. But when Felix and Maisie landed back in The Treasure Chest, they were both sad. Not sad to be home. For that they were grateful. Although they didn’t know what Crazy Horse would go on to do in his lifetime, they both knew the fate of the Lakota, and all of the Native Americans, and knowing that filled them with deep sadness.
Together, they left The Treasure Chest, their hearts heavy.
They climbed down the secret staircase and through the door hidden in the wall.
And walked smack into Great-Uncle Thorne.
He was wearing a tuxedo with a deep purple cummerbund and matching bow tie. His bushy white eyebrows were knitted into an enormous frown.
“Aha!” he roared. “You rapscallions! I knew you’d be up there.”
“So what?” Maisie said.
“So what?” Great-Uncle Thorne said. “You’ve just taken your last trip to The Treasure Chest.”
With that, he lifted a heavy lock hanging from an even heavier chain.
“You’re locking The Treasure Chest?” Felix asked in disbelief.
“Not only am I locking it,” Great-Uncle Thorne said, “tomorrow I have a man coming to seal this door.”
Felix and Maisie watched as Great-Uncle Thorne began to ascend the secret staircase.
When he reached the top, he peered down at them from beneath his substantial eyebrows.
“I’m in love!” he announced. “Amore!”