by Rain Trueax
“Is there a point at which we should send someone for you?” Sofia asked.
“If we’re not back by the 29th, call Joe, and tell him to come up. He’ll know where. We will be back though.” He looked back at her. “Where’s your bag?” She pointed to the chair beside the door. “I’ll stow it. He also picked up the bag Sofia had packed with food. He pointed to hats on the rack. “If you don’t have one, pick out one from there. Come out when you’re ready,” he said before he shoved his Stetson back on his head and left.
“Is he always like this?” Elke asked after a quick stop in the bathroom.
“Energetic, you mean?”
She laughed. “I guess that’s what it is.” She studied the hats to which he’d pointed. Trying on a soft cotton one with a sizeable brim, it would protect her from the sun and not be too heavy. Stetsons weren’t really her thing—except on him.
“I worked for his papa. They are two peas in a pod.” She gave an affectionate laugh. “Mr. Robert was so happy when Mitch came to him. They only had… I guess five years together, but they were good ones for Mitch’s father. He’d gone through much hell before that.”
“How long were you with him?”
She considered. “Twenty five years. I saw him through three wives. Two he lost due to his own recklessness. He was trying to build a career, which meant he was gone a lot. The last one, she was beautiful, like a siren, and like a siren, she was hell itself.”
“She was already out of the home when Mitch came, I think he said.”
“Regina and yes. She cheated on Mr. Robert, treated him bad, then got a big settlement because it was worth it to him to see her gone.”
“And she had a son.” She didn’t want to pry, but she was interested in stories. This was a powerful one.
“Roger. Weak. Sad. Never enough for his mama or Mr. Robert. Then along came Mitch, who was all any man could want in a son. That woman hated him from the moment she saw him. He was all her son never could be.”
“Do you still see them?” Had that segment of his father’s life continued into Mitch’s.
“Not up here, not sure how much in Tucson for Roger. Never her.” Elke could see Sofia had become uneasy at discussing her employer.
“Do you have family around here?” she asked.
“A sister in Tucson. She’s older, not in good health. Mitch has been good to her, as he is with many he helps.”
“Well, have a nice vacation while we are gone.” She stopped at the door. “You are a great cook by the way.”
Sofia smiled broadly. “Thank you. It’s a pleasure to cook for those who appreciate food.
Outside, Elke saw Mitch down by the barn. She was surprised to see he had tied most of the supplies on a third horse, a buckskin gelding. He looked up as she came to him. “I decided to take Traveler. It’ll make this easier on the other two and just in case Ranger ends up not working out. I will say he seems calmer than he ever had around Adolph and me.”
She walked to Ranger and rubbed his nose, then mounted Pepper. “How many hours to where we are going?” she asked as he swung into his saddle and took the lead rope in hand.
“Five or six. Not so far in one sense, but it’s like another world.”
They took a trail that led north from the ranch through dry grass, rabbit bush, cacti and mesquite. As the trail climbed, the vegetation added prickly pear. In the distance, she saw rock cliffs and far away were dark, pine covered mountains. Ahead of them loped Adolph, only looking back now and then to be sure they were still with him.
When the trail was broader, Mitch slowed Ranger, so he could ride beside Elke. “He’s like a different horse,” he said. “I’d like to know what you told him.” He laughed.
“Our secret… for now.”
“Do you have a lot of those?”
“I think not as many as you. You have had me wondering ever since you said that about the book.”
“And I told you when it’s where it’s safe, where we can put together all the pieces of the puzzle, I’ll tell you.”
“I can wait.” She was curious though, and her mind went in circles trying to reason it all out.
“I have a question for you.”
“Okay.”
“You see ghosts. Is my father hanging around the ranch?”
“I haven’t seen him or any ghosts at the ranch. You know are eager to reincarnate. They can still be called, but they are forming new lives.”
“Do you have the ability to see where or what that might be for him?”
“Maybe. I think I told you that my powers can’t be for idle curiosity.”
“I suppose it would be that. He came into my life late and yet was important to me. He got me what I needed and without my ever asking.”
“Then he had his own powers.”
“I guess that’s what it was. I’d like to think he’s happy wherever he is.”
“I wish I could tell you.” She could probably if she put energy into it, but would that be a misuse. She was very cautious in how she used power. Maybe she’d been too cautious considering the world in which they lived.
“The air smells good up here,” she said.
“You can begin to smell the mountain and the canyon.”
“You said wild animals.”
“We might see ring-tailed cats, black bears, mountain lions, peccary, and of course, watch out for rattlesnakes, scorpions. Sometimes deer and seasonally elk. Lots of birds, canyon wrens and hermit thrushes. The biggest problem is mosquitos though.” He grinned when she gave him a look of concern. “It’s why I brought repellent.” He patted his saddlebag.
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“Wards don’t work on them?”
She giggled. “Maybe I should try, but not sure they’re the type of demon it’s designed to block.”
“Just in case they aren’t, I also brought a tent with mosquito netting.”
“For both of us?” She debated the meaning of that. How easy would it be to resist him if he was determined? He appeared to be the sort of man used to getting what he wanted.
“I am used to sleeping out. It’s for you… Unless...” His smile turned soft and tempting. “You invite me in.”
She ignored that because she was unsure what to say. “I can see the canyon in the distance, but how do we get into it? You don’t take the usual route, do you?”
“No, we go in farther up on an old Yavapai trail. Not that steep, but we’ll take it slow.”
“You are White Mountain, aren’t you?”
“You know the tribes?”
“A little. I know the area around Cibecue is White Mountain.” She laughed. “Okay, given I’ve lived in Arizona all my life, I know little about the Apaches beyond Geronimo and Cochise.”
“And with them most likely the stereotypes.” He edged Ranger back to paying attention. She hoped the gelding would stick to what he’d said. So far, he seemed calm, even when Adolph loped near.
“Probably,” she admitted.
“Mountains are important to my people. Did you know that?”
Thinking of her name and the mountain names of her sisters and mother, she should have known it, but she hadn’t about the Apache. She shook her head.
“We have many that are sacred, with the different tribes having different ones based on where they were based. In Arizona, Mount Baldy is probably most significant. For the White Mountain tribe, the White Mountains, of course, Pinaleno up near Safford, then the four peaks in Phoenix in the Superstitions, and the San Francisco Peaks. The belief is the higher you go on a mountain, the better your medicine will be. Mountains are places for healing.”
“And this canyon, what is it about it?”
“It’s one that is not only sacred to me, but some consider it to have been a place of aliens.”
“Seriously? Aliens?” She laughed.
“It’s no joke to those who claim they were kidnapped by them.”
“Do you believe in that?”
&nbs
p; “Apaches base their religion on two things—the supernatural and the power of nature. I believe Sycamore Canyon provides both of those.”
“You didn’t answer me.”
“I know.” Conveniently, for him to avoid answering, the trail narrowed, and he went ahead. “Don’t forget to drink water,” he said turning in the saddle. “Dehydration can catch you off guard when it’s as hot as this.”
She glanced to the south. “I worry more about storms. Not good up here if we are caught in one.”
“We’ll be in the canyon by then.”
“Uh what about flash floods?” she asked, looking over her shoulder. It would have been good if her psychic abilities included reading the weather.
“We’ll be in a side canyon and above any risk. Hey, quit worrying. I’ve got this.” He gave her an encouraging smile, but she was relieved he picked up their pace a little. The trail wound over hills and into shallow draws. Finally she saw what she guessed was the trail down. From what she could see, it sounded as if he had accurately described it, and they started down.
Half an hour later, they were riding along the creek. The storm clouds continued building overhead, but she saw no lightning-- yet. At this time of year, it was inevitable. She felt relieved when he took the horses across the creek at a shallow crossing and headed into a canyon that had been almost invisible until they were riding into its narrow cut. A small creek was alongside the less developed trail, but the horses handled it with no stumbling. When the canyon opened, she saw beautiful red walls, a small waterfall, and a pool. Better yet, there was tall grass for the horses.
She unsaddled Pepper as he took care of Ranger and removed the packs from Traveler. “It’s your job,” he told Adolph, “to keep them from heading down canyon. There is plenty of food here.” He looked at Ranger especially. “And oats for the well-behaved.” The mare and geldings looked at the wolf with interest but did not appear threatened. After getting a drink from the stream, they started eating the grass.
“What can I do to help?” Elke said joining Mitch where he was unpacking their supplies.
He handed her a wine bottle and opener. “Can you handle this?”
Smiling, she took it and got the bottle open by the time he handed her two plastic cups. She saw he had packed a small table, which he unfolded along with two chairs. “This is fancy camping,” she said as she set his wine and the bottle on the table.
She looked around as she sipped the wine. The walls were reddish orange with interesting shapes. “Over there,” he told her, “are petroglyphs. Ever seen them?”
“In Tucson.” She walked to the smooth cliff face to study etched and painted symbols. A few looked fresher than she’d have expected.
“The pictographs are Apache. The petroglyphs are the Sinagua who came first… so far as it is known.”
She recognized a Kokopelli image, some snakes, a man on horseback and then mountain goats. The painted ones were shields with zigzag patterns. The latter reminded her the sky had turned very dark and looked like rain was on its way if not lightning with it. She looked back to the campsite to see Mitch attaching a tarp to the nearest cottonwood. Soon he had it stretched to a willow and another tree she couldn’t identify.
She put out her feelers to sense if there were any spirits in the canyon. As he had said, she felt nothing but a peaceful energy. Whether the spirits would show up, she didn’t know, but she put out some of her own wards as an extra protection—hoping if lightning came, it would help with that too. She felt safe there, any lightning bolts likely to hit the rim. She swatted a mosquito that had landed on her arm.
“Use some repellant,” Mitch said, taking a little bottle from his shirt pocket. “Dot it a few places and they’ll leave you alone.” She did that, not minding its musky odor as much as she’d expected, and the mosquitos moved back.
She watched as he opened up an orange tent. He had said she’d have it to herself. She wasn’t sure she wanted that. She watched his muscles move as he pounded in pegs. Soon using the poles, he had it erected under the tarp. He threw in one sleeping bag with the other outside. With a small device, he inflated one air mattress.
She heard the rain hit the tarp and watched as it fell in the canyon. “That should send the mosquitos off for a while,” he said as he stood and looked around their small camp. A two-burner propane stove was on the table. “Want some coffee or are you ready for supper?”
“What is supper going to be?” she asked as he took packets from a sack.
“Your choice. Chicken and dumplings, beef stroganoff, beef stew, chili, or spaghetti?”
“All that in those little packets?”
“Dehydrated and better tasting than you might imagine.”
“Then I choose spaghetti.”
He took out a black device with a handle and hose. “Ever seen one of these?”
“Nope.”
“it’s a Katadyn Vario and simple to use. This hose with a prefilter would take out any sediment, which there is not in this pool.” Ignoring the rain, he took it, their now empty water bottles, and a pan to the pool. She watched from the shelter of the tarp.
“I put the hose into the pool, pump this handle and the water flow starts going through the filter. It can filter two quarts, safe to drink, in a minute.” He refilled the water bottles and then the pan. “I could drink from the pool, have many times, but you haven’t. Giardia would put a damper on our trip. So you stick to drinking the purified.”
“You do this a lot I can tell,” she said admiring the smooth way he took care of everything. With the gun on his hip, he looked as though he belonged in this canyon from centuries past. It was his element. As she considered that, she consulted the canyon’s earth Elementals, felt their pleasure at his returning to their land. She was pleased at their welcoming of her. No wonder bad spirits stayed away. It was protected by many years of shamans making it so.
“When I come here, it’s with one horse, a sleeping bag, jerky, biscuits, water bag, and a bottle of whiskey.” He chuckled. “I thought you’d enjoy our time here more with a few refinements.”
“You’re right. I’ve never camped at all, but I knew some did it.” She smiled.
“Seriously? Never? Hard to believe. Your father was an outdoorsman.”
“But Mom was not. I guess he did his thing without his girls unless maybe he took Torre. She’s the most outdoors oriented of us. I should ask her. Dad was good at helping us each do our thing.”
“Well, I hope you enjoy being here. It’s the one place I knew we could talk without being overheard, and now, the storm seems to be passing.”
“Until the next one. I wondered… were you still in touch with him when he was killed?”
“No. Before my father died, Marcus told me he’d given me all he had, and it was up to me.” He gave a little laugh as he poured himself another glass of wine. “I didn’t understand what he meant then. I do now.”
An hour later, they’d eaten the spaghetti, and it was better than she had expected. After checking on the horses, he opened another bottle of wine. “Time to talk,” he said, surprising her. The storm clouds had passed, but the light was beginning to fade as the sun went behind the canyon walls.
“After your father died, is that when the events in Vislogus occurred?” she asked wondering if he had been teasing earlier when he’d said the book hadn’t all been fiction.
He laughed. “Isn’t it your turn first to reveal your secrets?”
“My life isn’t nearly as interesting from the sounds of it. A normal childhood, until my father was killed anyway, normal as much as possible for a family of witches, college for two years, then working in my mother’s detective agency until Torre and I opened Mellow Yellow.”
“You were young when he was killed.”
“Fifteen. I wish now I’d known him as you did. He left our spiritual training to our mother and grandmother’s. He was busy with finance and development. It was only this year that my sisters and I realized he h
ad been a wizard. I notice, by the way, that you did bring your sword up here.”
“I trust-- but not completely.” He smiled. “And yes, your father made it for me if I hadn’t already told you that.”
“When he was killed, Mom had to take over his businesses. That’s when I became more involved in them. We have the boutique, but Torre and I also help Mom. Torre is gifted in computers. I help out with business decisions. We have several in Tucson where we’re silent partners—luckily as things stand now. Mom has little interest in business details—especially the anal stuff. Denali had more interest in the arts. Devi… well, not sure what she likes. She just does what she must, I guess. She’s shy and quiet.”
“You are also into theater.”
“As a backer. I wanted to use your book, well, not all of it. The action part would be impossible for a small theater. But the argument, which was made, with ironic humor I might add, that magick can be used for good or ill, that we all have some of it if we so choose, was something more need to hear.”
He let out a breath. “That is really Apache philosophy. I was brought up with that engrained and especially by Nantan Lupan.”
“You gave your hero his last name.”
“It did not go over well with him, as I told you. He has yet to forgive me. He did not want our secrets revealed that way. He said I would make a target of myself. It turned out he was right, except, I’d already been a target.”
“Because of what my father taught you?”
“Among other things probably. It was in Mexico that most of what I described in Vislogus happened. That conversation you want to use was not actual, but it was the argument I had with myself over it all. Being only half Apache, even knowing what I had experienced with the spirit world, I still questioned my sanity. It’s one reason I chose to call it fiction, not memoir.”
“Tell me about the Apache religion. I know so little.”
“The tribes vary, but I was taught don’t use peyote, as dreams are how we are reached by the others. Power is given through plants, animals or natural phenomena like say a whirlwind. Often one is chosen and accepts the power after a ritual that is an ordeal. That is how the sun dance came to be.”