by Vella Munn
“Any ideas how you might make that happen?” Jay sounded as if he cared.
“Several.” For the first time, Booth smiled. “Jay, Olympic is unique. Even with selective logging, it stands as a testament to the past. I want to build on that so when people come here they’re able to step back in time. All they need is a reason to take that first step.” He pointed at the wall with the timeline on it. “I’m working on a brochure that includes this so when a visitor steps on one of our many trails, they can connect where they are right now to what took place from the beginning of time.”
Connected spelled out how she’d felt from the moment she’d come to Olympic, except, for her, the richness went beyond looking at thousand-year-old trees.
“Have you discussed your project with park leadership?” Jay asked.
“Just in a broad way. I’m hoping to include specifics about the Native American impact, complete with a map highlighting where historic settlements were located.”
“Which settlements?”
Alerted by Jay’s clipped words, she waited for Booth’s response.
“Surely you don’t need to ask,” Booth replied. “A number along the Hoh River have been identified, but there are more, their location buried within the oldest tapes.”
“The settlements are sacred to the various tribes.” Jay’s mouth thinned. “They’ll oppose having them become amusement parks.”
“I would never do that,” Booth snapped. After a moment, his features relaxed. “I’m sorry if I sound defensive. The last thing I’d do is exploit historically significant sites, but there’s no reason why the present generation can’t look at them and imagine what life there was like when they were vibrant communities.”
Jay’s fingers fisted. “Those sites are sacred.”
Torn, she tried to split her attention between the two men. She’d love nothing more than to hike to where her maybe ancestors had lived and stand where her great, great grandparents might have smoked fish and raised their children. At the same time, she didn’t want outsiders crowding around, taking pictures and keeping the spirits away.
“Doc wanted to identify as many sites as possible,” she said. “Is that what he was looking for when he borrowed what he did?”
Booth walked over to the door to the rest of the lodge and looked out. “He didn’t spell out his intentions, not that I blame him. I’ve been closed-mouthed about my plans for increasing revenue because—I’ll be honest—I’m committed to making and keeping that my project. We all want to shine.”
“And yet you were willing to share some of the oral histories with Dr. Gilsdorf,” Jay said. “I’m assuming those are the ones you conducted.”
“I had no choice but to comply with a request coming from a representative of a public institution. However, in light of the cabin break-in, I regret my decision.” He stared at Jay. “I have the utmost respect for you, but I suspect that at least one of your people is responsible for the theft. The tribes want the histories returned to them. I believe they’re seeking legal means in an attempt to have that happen.”
Jay walked over to the case holding the cardboard-backed photographs, then looked over his shoulder at Booth. “Where are the oldest tapes?”
“I’m not going to tell you. Rest assured, they’re in a safe place.”
Just like the wolf mask.
Chapter Twenty
The closer Jay and she came to the Hoh reservation, the more aware Winter became of the ocean smells and sounds. Thick woods crowded the edges of Highway 101, and the deep gray clouds that had been building for several hours further isolated her from the outside world. They hadn’t passed any buildings for miles and miles. They hadn’t spoken during that time.
Once they’d left the library, Jay had unsuccessfully tried to get in touch with his brother. From what little Jay had told her, she realized he was upset with Floyd for not spending last night with their uncle. With a second night approaching, he needed to check on the older man. Jay wasn’t content to simply talk to Talio, because his uncle tended to downplay his limitations. Jay had offered to take her back to her cabin, but she wanted to see Talio. Maybe even ask him to explain what Yakanon meant.
Jay pulled off the highway and onto a thread of road snaking through ancient forest. She felt both trapped and embraced by the vegetation, wished she could reach out and touch the man sitting to her left.
“How many people live on the reservation?” she asked.
“A couple hundred, tops. Some moved away because erosion got so bad, but a few are coming back now that we’ve been given more land.”
“If it wasn’t for your uncle, would you live in the area?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
As they reached the clear spot that constituted the residential district, she understood his hesitation. From what she could tell, there was just this single street. A few of the weather-beaten houses had low cyclone fencing around them. Otherwise, it was impossible to tell where one property line ended and another began. None of the houses looked as if they’d been painted recently. A tall, slim dog without a collar stared at them from the side of the road. How would the dog react if a wolf approached it?
Jay had already explained some of the houses that had been built near the seashore or the Hoh River had been flooded and consequently abandoned. Those were the people most interested in relocating to the newly acquired land. Fortunately, his uncle’s father had chosen a homesite above the flood plain. Jay had given up trying to get his uncle to leave the house and was in the process of updating it.
He turned onto a single lane dirt road. They immediately started climbing. Some three or four minutes later she caught sight of where Jay and Floyd had grown up. Judging by the location, the view of the ocean from the house should be spectacular, but she couldn’t take her attention off the structure ahead of her. She guessed it to be around fifteen hundred square feet. The new metal roof was steeply pitched, and she hoped Jay hadn’t done it without help. It looked as if he wasn’t quite finished installing the gutters. She noted a heavily patched stone chimney. Most impressive was the sturdy redwood front porch.
When he pulled in next to a nearly new pickup, she faced him. “How is he going to feel about me being here?”
“Ask him.”
She nodded. Then, because the need to touch Jay was becoming stronger by the second, she opened her door and got out. Talio must have heard them coming, because he’d already stepped onto the porch. She took a second to look behind her. Numerous trees filtered her view of the ocean, but it stretched out below and beyond. Timeless. Filled with whispers. Even more impenetrable than the forest.
Her heart felt as if it was expanding. If she spread her arms, would she be able to fly? “I’d live here,” she whispered. “The view—”
“It’s isolating.”
She turned into the sea-scented breeze. “I’ve been isolated all my life.”
* * * *
Uncle Talio had never been one for idle talk. As a result, as soon as they went inside, Jay gave his uncle a brief overview of what he and Winter had been doing during the day. Judging by how she studied walls adorned with clam baskets, bone-barb fishing hooks, part of a cedar canoe he and Floyd had found years ago, a bear pelt that had always been there, and a ceremonial rattle representing a raven next to the fireplace, he wasn’t sure she was paying attention to what he was saying.
In response to his question, his uncle said this morning’s meeting hadn’t resulted in any progress in the tribes’ efforts to place Native sites under their control. The legal firm they’d hired was still studying the laws to see what their options were.
“Does that bother you?” Winter asked. Jay couldn’t tell how she felt about what she’d just learned.
Uncle Talio leaned forward in the hardwood rocking chair his father had made. “The young are more impatient than someone my age. Besides, don’t you want things to remain as they are? This way, you can simply step into Dr. Gilsdorf’s shoes.”
Even with the two Thermopane windows Jay had installed this spring, the lighting in the living room was dim. A few raindrops slid down the glass.
“So much is out of my hands,” she said. “I’ll give the grant committee what they want. Right now, mostly I have to wait.”
“Where will you do your waiting?”
His uncle didn’t probe. That he was doing so with Winter told Jay there was nothing casual about the question. She’d been sitting in a blanket-covered chair to his right, but now she stood and walked over to the raven rattle.
“Can I touch it?”
“Yes,” Uncle Talio said.
She lightly stroked the over-emphasized beak and large, deep blue eyes. “Cedar,” she whispered. “How old?”
“I’m not sure.”
Still stroking, she nodded. “Maybe it’s better that way. A continuum. Do you use it in ceremonies?”
“Yes.”
Nodding again, she angled her body to Uncle Talio while keeping her slender fingers on the rattle. It was the poor lighting, of course, but suddenly she was no longer wearing a blue front-button shirt, but a deerskin dress decorated with abalone shells. Her waist-length black hair with an eagle feather woven into it flowed down her back.
“Then you’re a shaman,” she said.
Uncle Talio sent Jay a look he wasn’t sure he understood. “An honorary one. You know your anthropology.”
After studying the image a little longer, she walked over to Uncle Talio and knelt beside him. “It’s more than a field of study for me. A lot more.”
His uncle touched her head. “I know.”
She sank down a little and stared at the rug under her knees. No one spoke for the better part of a minute while Jay’s heart both ached and beat double time. When he’d first spotted his uncle on the porch, he’d thought he looked tired, but now the older man appeared animated. On their way here, he’d repeatedly asked himself if he dared tell her about Grandparents Cave. Now the only thing that mattered was that they were together. She was in his world today, absorbing his life. Turning her back on the career that might threaten his people’s past.
“I asked Jay to let me accompany him because I hope you’ll tell me about Yakanon,” she said as she placed her hand over Uncle Talio’s. “I attempted to research the word, but all I came up with was that Yakanon and Thunderbird can communicate with each other.”
“Who is Thunderbird?” Uncle Talio asked.
She smiled. “Jay said you were a teacher. Thunderbird is a spirit, a powerful one that can control weather.”
“Part of an ignorant people’s superstition?”
“No!” She pulled back but didn’t release her hold on Uncle Talio. “I have a pretty good idea what you’re thinking, that anthropologists are academicians determined to be as accurate as possible about ancient lifestyles. They can’t crawl inside the hearts and minds of those who believe in spirits and go on spirit quests. It’s a field of study for them, not reality.”
“You aren’t talking about yourself,” Jay said. Much as he wanted to stand behind her so she could lean against him, he didn’t move.
“No, I’m not.”
Heat and cold warred inside him as she let go of Uncle Talio and reached for the top button on her shirt. She flicked a glance in his direction and then gave Uncle Talio her full attention. From where he was sitting, he had a clearer view of Uncle Talio’s expression than hers. Someone who hadn’t grown up around his uncle probably wouldn’t have caught the faint widening of his eyes or nearly imperceptible nod.
“I don’t know who my parents are,” she said as she undid the second button. “If they were ever part of my life, I don’t have a memory of that. About the only thing I’m sure of is that I’m Native American. Just looking in the mirror tells me that.”
“Yes,” Uncle Talio said, “you are.”
She blinked repeatedly. “Thank you. I needed to hear you say that. This”—she ran her fingers over the newly exposed wolf head image—“represents what constitutes roots for me. There wasn’t a night of my childhood that I didn’t dream of a wolf. Countless times during the day, I’d think about what I came to call my imaginary friend. The experience was never frightening. I didn’t once feel as if I were in danger.”
You weren’t completely alone. You had this. “Did you tell anyone?” Jay asked.
Her eyes glittered. “No. Wolf was mine. I didn’t want to share him.”
Uncle Talio’s attention stayed fixed on the tattoo as he straightened and pressed his hand against his thigh. Outside, the wind had picked up while the only sound Jay could hear in here was his heart beating.
“What did Wolf do in your dreams?” Uncle Talio asked.
“He’d walk with me. I dreamed a lot about walking. I saw myself as being on an endless journey. I wasn’t lonely or scared, because Wolf was by my side. I’d wrap my arms around him and smell his fur—dreams aren’t supposed to include a sense of smell—and he’d lean against me. We’d stay like that until I felt like walking again.” She started to cover up the wolf image, only to leave it exposed. “As a teen, I convinced myself that my dreams had been my way of dealing with what was going on in my life. I’d created Wolf to sleep with me, keep me from getting cold.”
“From feeling alone.” He might have said more if his throat hadn’t closed.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Uncle Talio lifted his hand from his leg and touched his forefinger to the wolf likeness. Jay waited for her to object, but she remained within easy reach.
“What you have here duplicates what you saw in your dreams?” Uncle Talio asked.
“As close as I could make it. I drew it and told the tattoo artist to follow it exactly. I love what he created.”
There was nothing sensual in how Uncle Talio’s rough finger traced the image. Either his uncle was committing it to memory or was comparing it to something he believed in.
“When did Wolf come into your life?” Uncle Talio asked.
She closed her eyes. “He’s part of my earliest memories, which started when I was approximately five. I’ve tried and tried but can’t remember anything before I was found.”
“Found?” Jay parroted.
She focused on him. “I’m not sure whether to call it a campground or roadside rest. I was alone.”
“Someone dropped you off?” How could anyone do that to a child?
“There are so many holes in my early years. When I was in my late teens, I went to the social service agency that initially took responsibility for me to fill in the gaps, but they said the records were locked.”
I hurt for you. “What about your name?”
Uncle Talio’s hand slid to his lap. Winter stood and returned to her chair but didn’t seem to realize that he could still see the wolf head along with the swell of her breasts.
“It was January when a truck driver found me. He called me Winter. He contacted the police, and they took me to a hospital where they determined I was around five years old. My clothes must have been indistinguishable. I didn’t have any scars or marks that might have helped them narrow down who I was. The press ran my picture, but no one stepped forward to identify or claim me.”
Alone. So alone. “What about DNA or blood type?”
“That was before DNA matching became the tool it is. My blood type is common. There was nothing wrong with me, so I couldn’t stay in the hospital. The social workers wanted to give me another name, but I insisted I already had one.”
“The one the truck driver used.”
“Yes. I remember him putting his coat around me and carrying me to his cab. I must have been scared. Confused. I cuddled against him and fought when the police separated us. He came to see me when I was in the hospital. They let him take me outside so I could see his rig in the daylight. The way he called me Winter, I loved it.”
“What about your last name?”
“The trucker—Salvador Rambo—told everyone that because we were in Barstow,
California, and I might have died if he hadn’t found me, he had the right to give me an identity. He asked what I thought of Winter Barstow, and of course I said I loved it.”
I’ll never forget this moment. “Has he stayed in touch?”
She shook her head. “Salvador was killed in an accident on an icy road about four years after we met. He was the only person I could call family. I kept being sent to different foster homes. I probably wasn’t the most lovable little girl. I didn’t like being hugged and people getting into my personal space.”
Not touching her was killing him, but he was afraid that might spell the end to what was happening that afternoon. “Why do you think you were like that?”
“I was too young to fully comprehend what it meant to be abandoned, but I was scared of going through the sense of loss again, so I held back. I had to live under whatever roof I was sent to, eat the people’s food, live by their rules. But either I had no idea how to trust or none of those families knew how to give me what I needed.”
“Wolf did,” Uncle Talio said.
Eyes wide, she nodded. “Wolf was my rock, my pretend friend.” She looked out of the window. “At least, that’s what I believed he was until I came here and… Salvador and I were comrades, pals, family. Because of his job, I only saw him a few times a month, but those visits were the highlight of my life. He told me it was the two of us against the world. He said he was trying to get custody of me, but he’d been in prison. Between that, the trucking, and his being Mexican and single, he was afraid it wouldn’t happen.”
“Do you believe he was telling you the truth?” Jay asked.
She kneaded the chair arm. “Even if he wasn’t, he gave me what I needed.”
“No one just abandons a child. I mean, yes, it happens, but someone somewhere would notice that a child was missing. And when that child’s picture winds up on the news—”
“Salvador said maybe my parents had come a long way from where they were living before they dropped me off.”