Disneyland — 2008

“Quick, Mato, give me your cloak! Cloak…the green thing on your back…. We’ve got to get Wolf covered up before anyone comes along.” Wals had already tugged off his own battered red cape and draped it over the prostrate form of Wolf, unconscious on the cold stone floor of the Castle Walkthrough. With no outer windows, he couldn’t tell what time of day—or night—it may have been. The Park could be open, closed, busy, being fumigated….he had no way of knowing.

At Wals’ urgent request, Mato turned from the brightly-lit window. Inside was a pretty fair representation of the wiya he had known as Rose, lying in an oddly furnished room with a man dressed similarly to Wals bending over her to apparently give her a kiss. Not aware of the story of the Sleeping Beauty or ever having been inside her fair castle, he couldn’t make heads or tails out of the animated scene that played over and over. He already knew he wouldn’t understand most of Wals’ explanation anyway, so he silently complied. His arms ached as he reached up to unfasten his green velvet cape and tuck it around his brother. “Where are Wolf’s clothes?”

Wals had run down a couple of the steps to see if anyone was coming. He couldn’t hear anything, but the soft music that continually played as ambience could mask subtle sounds. “What? Oh, that. When he changes into a wolf, his clothes aren’t needed. When he comes back, he’s always like this. There’s no way for him to put them on ahead of time. But he usually plans ahead by leaving clothing somewhere close by. Now that I think of it, I think he left his uniform in one of these rooms.” In his anxious state, Wals quit talking when we began to ramble and, instead, tried the doorknob nearest him. He couldn’t exactly remember which room had belonged to Merri when she lived here to keep an eye on Rose. She had pretty much kept under wraps, only coming out to present herself as an animal handler for Disneyland.

As he opened a door up on the next level, not even pausing to wonder how it could possibly be unlocked, he found the correct room. Without taking the time to look around, he quickly gathered the uniform he spotted in a neatly piled stack off in a dark corner. Had he bothered, he would have found the room was completely empty, devoid of any signs of habitation. Merri had made sure there was no trace of anything left behind that would raise a question about her—or her abilities. Once Wals let go of the door handle, it quietly shut and locked itself for good.

“How badly hurt is he, Mato? He usually regains consciousness by now.” At Mato’s blank look at his last sentence, Wals reworded it. “He shouldn’t still be sleeping.”

“Ah.” Seeing a handful of clothes in Wals’ arms, Mato proceeded to rip the unneeded cloak into long strips. Small particles of fluff filled the air like a strange green snow that appeared out of nowhere. The pieces of velvet were then wrapped around Wolf’s ribs where the sword had pierced him. His mouth a firm line, Mato felt tremendous guilt because he had to hurt his brother, but there simply had been no other way to stop him. Both men carefully pulled the uniform’s pants over the many cuts and scrapes on Wolf’s battered body. As they gently lifted him to tug on his shirt, some of the larger cuts reopened and blood immediately seeped through the clean fabric.

The sound of running feet coming up the stairs caused the two men to exchange a worried look. Wals quickly repositioned the red cape over the worst of the blood stains. Mato drew his knife and stood resolute, face to the approaching noise.

Wals almost yelled at Mato, but recalled their position and reduced it to a loud hiss. “Put that away! We’re in Disneyland, for crying out loud! You don’t need that.”

Obviously not in agreement, Mato still complied and slipped the dagger back into his boot. He knew he’d be able to reach it quickly enough if Wals was wrong and it was needed.

In a flash, Lance, dressed for work in his security uniform, burst into sight with a first-aid kit in hand to bring them both tremendous relief.

“How did you know we were here?” As Lance kneeled next to his immobile partner, Wals thought of the incongruity. Someone usually had to be called for help.

“How long has he been out like this?” Lance first wanted to know, putting a cool hand on Wolf’s hot forehead. “We had cameras installed in here just after you and Mato left so we could monitor it from the control room. Kimberly has been watching you since you arrived.” His answer was hurried as he picked up his walkie-talkie.

“He was like this before we came back.” Mato spoke for the first time since Lance had gotten there. “It was a bad fight,” he murmured, hating his role in it.

The pain in the brother’s eyes was obvious. Not know how to reply, Lance just merely nodded as he pushed the button to connect to his wife back at the mansion. Explanations would come later. Now, Wolf’s care—and the need to get him quickly out of sight—were the most important things. “Yes, he is as bad as he looks, Kimberly. We need to get him out of sight. Where do you suggest?”

Back in the War Room, Kimberly studied at the huge holographic map of Disneyland projected into the middle of the room. She wasn’t used to having to look for hiding places. “There’s some kind of empty room under the Hungry Bear. What about that? That way he’ll be close the portal when its time to get Mato home.”

Lance looked to Wals for confirmation, as they could all hear Kimberly’s voice over the two-way radio. “I know where that is. We’ll need a wheelchair or something to get him over there, though. He won’t be walking any time soon.”

“Yes, I heard, Lance. Give me a second.” Kimberly’s voice died away from the radio as she went over to the phone that went directly to the Park. Within a minute or two she was back on the radio. “Done. Lance, why don’t you go downstairs and wait for the chair? Wals and Mato are too conspicuous in those clothes. I already put a call in to Doctor Houser. This isn’t his specialty of cryogenics, but I’m sure he’ll know what to do to help. I’ll also send a security detail to divert traffic for when he gets here.”

“That’s a good idea. We’ll need a couple of escorts, too. Once we get Wolf comfortable, we’ll get Wals and Mato changed into regular clothes.” Lance eyed their torn, dirty costumes. He silently shook his head thinking about what they must have gone through to come back in that condition.

“All right. Peter is on a play date, so I’ll probably arrive around the same time as the doctor. See you all in a bit. Take care of Wolf!” Kimberly called out a little louder before she disconnected.

The wheelchair arrived within minutes and was there waiting for Lance at the exit to the Walkthrough. Mato and Wals carefully brought Wolf to his feet and carried him down the last few flights of stairs. Once settled in the chair, Lance wrapped Wals’ red cape over Wolf a little tighter this time to hide and, hopefully, help stop the flow of blood.

“Okay, here is where it gets fun.” They already attracted attention from the guests, both from Mato and Wals being—sort of—dressed like princes and someone being carried out of the Walkthrough and placed in a wheelchair. The attraction wasn’t known to be so exciting that a guest wouldn’t be able to take it. A few of the people who stood around looked up at the pink towers of the Castle, contemplating giving it a go to see what all the fuss was about. Lance pointed toward the other side of the courtyard. “Let’s take the shortcut to Frontierland. It’s not as well used as the route through the Castle entry and into Main Street.”

Two of Lance’s and Wolf’s security friends quietly appeared next to the wheelchair. They took one look at Wolf and threw a worried glance at Lance. “We need to get him out of sight under the Hungry Bear.” That was all Lance needed to say. He knew these two could be counted on for any emergency or problem and would never mention it again.

Nodding their understanding, the oldest, Bob, gave a grunt. “Too bad there aren’t any hidden passageways we can use. I think cutting through Adventureland would be the best route. It would also be the smoothest ride without the rough concrete in Frontierland.”

Joe, the other guard, concurred. “Over the top of the Pirates entrance, then the upper level past the Haunted Mansion and down past the canoe dock. Agreed? We’ll have to go double-time. Y’all ready?” He looked at all the men. Wals nodded in agreement. Mato impatiently waited for them to do something besides talk.

They took turns pushing the wheelchair, and one of them always made sure Wolf didn’t tumble out. They traveled as fast as the crowd would allow them. The guests, seeing a fast-moving wheelchair accompanied by Security, were helpful in quickly getting out of the way. It seemed to take forever before they were safely out of sight under the huge wooden restaurant, mere steps away from the small canoes Wals had used such a short time ago.

The plain white room they were in once again had become more or less of a storeroom of odds and ends discarded from the restaurant with forgotten broken canoe paddles and parade pieces littering the area. Cast members who had known about the little-used room had brought in a variety of “borrowed” furniture pieces over the years so they could use the room for secret rendezvous. Once, it had hosted a huge after-hours party that had ended with an impromptu canoe race and most of the participants skinny-dipping in the River.

Wals and Lance both cast subtle glances at each other, each wondering how the other knew about this place. Questions like that, too, would come later, when they were in private and Lance’s wife wasn’t nearby.

Kimberly had met Dr. Houser at the special VIP entrance to the Park and rode with him to the delivery entrance of the Hungry Bear, tucked behind the Winnie the Pooh ride there in Critter Country. Once they arrived in the hidden room, the doctor merely nodded hello. There was little surprise on his face when he saw Wolf’s brother standing there. After his past experience with both Wolf and Wals in the early 1800’s, nothing much surprised him anymore. His medical bag was opened, and he got right to work examining Wolf. The patient had barely regained consciousness by this time, but, typical for him, felt no need to announce that fact.

Kimberly walked up to the silent, tense Mato as he watched his brother. Lightly resting her hand on his arm, his eyes softened when he turned to face her. “Thank you for bringing Wolf back.” The words seemed so…so inadequate for all he’d done. Her tear-filled eyes showed the depth of her gratitude. “We don’t know what we would’ve done if you hadn’t been able to come.”

“He is my brother.”

She patted his arm and nodded her understanding. “I wish I had a brother like you. I would have felt very safe growing up.” She looked back when they heard a low groan come from the patient. “Is he going to be all right?”

A look of worry crossed Mato’s eyes, but it was quickly gone and the warrior replaced it with pride. “Yes, he is Lakota. He will get better. He would have to answer to our father if he didn’t.”

That brought a quick smile to Kimberly’s face. “That I understand, too. We go to a lot of pains to make sure our parents don’t know how badly hurt we really are.”

With his partner in good hands, Lance felt at liberty to attend to other necessary matters. “Wals, where’d you leave your other clothes? In your locker or did you hide them on the Island like Wolf usually does?”

Tearing his eyes from his hurt friend, his mind filled with the fight, losing Rose, the violence of the vortex, and that final threat from Nimue, he had trouble focusing. “Oh. I think I left them here. I think…. It seems so long ago,” he faded off, and looked back at Wolf when he heard a muffled curse in Lakota. At least, he assumed it was a curse when he heard Mato give a deep chuckle.

“I’ll go check. You all stay here. I need to get all of you a change of clothes. Anyone else need anything? Doctor?”

Dr. Houser, who had been silent since he started Wolf’s examination, looked up from his patient, distracted by the interruption. “What? Oh, no, thank you. I think I have all that I need. From the small amount of blood still seeping out and the minimal swelling, it appears the puncture wound missed all the vital organs, thank goodness.” His every move was watched by the anxious group who had stood back to give him room. He silently eyed the long, ancient-looking sword that still hung from Wals’ belt, remembering from his time in the past. “The other cuts and contusions seem to be fairly minor in comparison…. Although, I’m not sure where the burn marks on his arms and neck came from. At least I think they’re burn marks.” He looked to Wals and Mato for any information they could give.

Not knowing exactly how to describe a glowing green arc of white-hot lightning coming from a centuries-old sorceress, Wals and Mato looked at each other and just shrugged innocently. With an unbelieving “Hmph,” the doctor turned back to his patient who had already started to complain—a sign they all took as encouraging.

When he was stable enough and Doctor Houser proclaimed him able to be moved without reopening his wounds, Wolf was taken to Lance and Kimberly’s place in the Hills. Wolf, of course, considered himself quite able to go back to their village with his brother. Finally listening to cooler heads than his own, he stoically resigned himself to the fact that he would have to put up with everyone’s hovering for a few more days before he could go home.

“Wals, I suggest you go back to work for a couple of days while Wolf recuperates. That way you can keep on record as an active cast member.” Kimberly had come across Wals as he wandered aimlessly through their house in the Fullerton Hills. He was getting antsy with nothing to do. Not yet talking about Mato and his experiences, she wondered if work would be the answer to get his mind off whatever they had been through. Mato wasn’t a problem. He never wanted to leave his brother’s side. But Wals needed a diversion. It became more and more difficult to keep him from following Lance into the off-limits War Room.

She was glad to see his eyes light up. “Back to the canoes?”

“Well, no, you had been reassigned to Fantasyland, you know. You should go back to Casey Jr. Or,” her face brightened as she thought up an alternate choice, “I can put you on the Storybook Land Canal Boats.”

Wals clamped his mouth shut. He would rather go back and face Nimue again….

“Okay,” Kimberly said slowly. “Casey Jr. it is.” Unable to read the look on his face, she took it as a yes. “All right?”

“Fine,” he replied in a clipped voice.

“Your lead, Anne, reported you were doing a good job….” Kimberly faltered when he plastered an obviously fake smile on his face.

“How…nice…of her. My car’s outside. I’d better go check in now.”

Lance had just come into the library when Wals pushed past him, muttering something under his breath about puffy shirts and lederhosen. When the front door slammed shut, and the windows quit rattling, he turned to his wife. “Did I miss something?”

Kimberly looked flummoxed. “I think perhaps I missed something.” She could only shrug her shoulders. “I merely suggested Wals might like to go back to work. I thought it would be good to get his mind off whatever it was they went through.”

“Did you let him go back to the Canoes? He loved that position.”

“Oh? Should I have? I sent him back to Casey Jr. Although I did offer to have him switched to the Canal Boats if he wanted.”

Lance let out a laugh and gave his beloved wife a hug. “And he took that badly, did he? Poor Wals,” he theatrically sighed. “I think we should change him back to the Canoes…but let’s wait a few days. Speaking of which, I have a question for you, Madam Trivia Master, what do these names have in common: Nellie Bly, Lady Katrina, Lady of Shallot, Annie Oakley, Bold Lochinvar, Lady of the Lake, Lady Guinevere, and Gretel?”

Kimberly gave him a light slap on the arm. “That’s an easy one! My father told me all about The Mud Bank Ride.”

When Lance gave her a blank look, she grinned smugly. “Ah, I have another one on you this time! I believe that makes our score 210 to 166. Well,” she started when she took his arm in hers as they strolled out of the library, “It all went back to Walt’s love of miniatures.”

Disneylandia — 1952

After a decade of collecting and building his own intricate, elaborate miniatures, Walt unveiled his first Americana exhibition at the Festival of California Living in Los Angeles, California. Walt described the attraction he had built as a “visual juke box with the record player replaced by a miniature stage setting.” Almost eight feet in length, the entranced audience listened to the recorded voice of the actress who had appeared in the movie So Dear to My Heart as they peered into the small version of her rustic cabin. They marveled at Walt’s handiwork that included rocking chairs, plank floors, a stone fireplace—the stones having come from his Smoke Tree Ranch property, small rugs, lace curtains, dishes, and even an outhouse.

The public reaction was so positive that Walt wanted to expand the exhibit to include at least two more tableaus. The most energetic display would be the frontier music hall. Titled “Project Little Man,” this would feature a one-eighth scale, three-dimensional old-time vaudeville dancer. The Imagineers filmed the moves of a popular actor/dancer while others built the elaborate music box that would house the gears and mechanics of what would come to be known as the beginnings of audio-animatronics. Walt, though, didn’t like the unmovable clay face of the puppet, and wanted to do more work with pliable plastics.

The third set would be a barbershop complete with a quartet singing the popular Sweet Adeline. But, after another set of actors were filmed for reference, the project was stopped.

Walt was pretty sure that the audience who would be able to view his works of art would be too limited and there wouldn’t be enough income generated to pay for the ongoing upkeep of the displays. Building his miniatures had done what Walt had wanted them to do—they diverted his attention from the worries of the Studio and allowed him to become so absorbed in the intricate work that his cares melted away…at least for a little while. Over the years, he had even built and sold around one hundred small, metal pot-bellied stoves, each about five and a half inches tall with fully-working parts, and each one decorated differently.

By now, the Disneylandia project wasn’t proving to be feasible, so it, in turn, slowly morphed into Disneyland. In 1953, Walt’s brother, Roy, was sent to New York to begin raising funds for this larger, more complex idea. Included in the sales pitch, located between Tomorrowland and Fantasyland, was a land called Lilliputian Land. Located there would be a miniature Americana village with mechanical people only nine inches tall who would sing or dance or tell you about their lives as you looked in through the windows of their small shops and houses. The tiny Erie Canal barge would take guests through the famous canals of the world.

This special section of Disneyland never got built, but the small Erie Canal barge ride eventually evolved into Canal Boats of the World that was in operation on Disneyland’s Opening Day in 1955. The souvenir guidebook described it as the “Boats of Holland, France, England, and America that travel through canals and see the fabulous sights of Fantasyland.” With eight grandly named boats, the ride was composed of muddy water and unfinished banks of dirt decorated, part of the time, with weeds. Until the elaborate upgrade in 1956, the ride was known, out of Walt’s hearing, as the “Mud Bank Ride,” and the men who worked the attraction would have to tell the guests that the “miniature landscaping was so small that it could not be seen by the unaided human eye.”

The new additions in 1956 were marvels of miniature technology. Doors and windows in the quaint cottages and houses could be opened. Electrical systems rivaled those of full-sized homes. Special varnishes and coatings were used so the buildings would withstand the elements year after year. One stained-glass window contained three hundred sixty pieces of cut and beveled glass. The doors of the houses were weathered with a special wire brush that scraped the wood to give them an aged appearance. The doors and latches were made of lead and weathered and hammered to also look appropriately old. Toys filled the front window of Geppetto’s workshop, so tiny that the passers-by in the canal boats could hardly see them.

The landscaping was another wonderful element of the ride with miniature trees, bushes, shrubs and even a mountain range that all had to be one inch to a foot in perspective. Walt wanted nothing fake, so all the plants had to be live and growing.

When a contractor complained about all the expense and work that went into things that most people wouldn’t even know were there, he suggested cutting corners to lower expenses. “Who would know the difference?” The stern reply from the boss was, “I’ll know the difference.”

One Imagineer thought it would be a nice idea for the guests to be swallowed by Monstro the Whale, just like Pinocchio had been in the movie. Lifted high in the whale’s throat, the boats would hurl down the track into a pool below. Walt nixed the idea, thinking the adults might not want to go on a white-knuckle ride like that. Monstro stayed, but the steep water flume did not.

Disneyland — 2008

“Lance, we have to do something about Mato.”

“Why? Did he try to teach Peter how to start a fire in the middle of the kitchen again?”

“What? What do you mean ‘again’?” Hands on her hips, Kimberly stopped and stared at Lance. “When did he do that?”

“Not to worry,” Lance waved her off, “it was nothing. The smoke detector went off and called the Fire Department. When the engine came wailing down the street, that’s when Peter knew he was in big trouble. Mato hated to think he got Peter in trouble—for some reason totally unbeknownst to him—and he said he’d never do it again. What’s wrong?”

Kimberly tilted her head as she looked at her husband—the mask of innocence. Knowing she would get nothing else out of him, she continued with her previous thought. “I think he’s getting too bored. Wolf is almost ready to, uhm, travel again, but still not quite strong enough. We need something to divert Mato’s attention. The television sure isn’t doing the trick.”

Lance had to laugh at that. Hoping to impress their visitor with their marvelous technology, the television had proven a dismal failure—especially the less-than-accurate Western that happened to be playing when they turned on the set. Mato had gotten angrier by the moment, even after the movie had been hastily turned off, and could never be convinced to watch another show. Muttering to himself, he had stalked out of the room.

“Yeah, bad timing.” Lance had to grimace at the memory. He couldn’t imagine what Mato would tell his family when he got home. “Hey, what if Peter and I take him somewhere? He still gets a kick out of riding in the Mustang.”

“Why don’t you ask Wolf what he might like to do? Perhaps he has some suggestions.”

Wolf had laughed so hard about the fire incident that he had reopened his sword wound. Lance wasn’t so sure the younger brother would be much help. “I’ll ask, if you insist.” He knew Mato was out back showing Peter the finer points of archery. He’d have to have the holes in their new gazebo filled in later, hopefully before Kimberly spotted them.

“Why don’t you take him to Disneyland. Show him where you and I work.”

“Really?” Lance stared at Wolf, trying to figure out if he was kidding or not. “I didn’t get the feeling he was too impressed when Wals brought him through the portal.”

“No, no, he really liked it,” a straight-faced Wolf assured him. “He was just too shook up from the passage to say much.”

Lance knew Mato wasn’t “too shook up” by much of anything that he had ever had to face in his life. Looking into the sharp blue eyes of his partner, he still couldn’t tell if this was a joke.

“I’d go with you if I felt up to it.” Wolf heaved a weak sigh, closing his eyes as he settled back onto his pillows.

“Uh huh.” Lance knew, for a fact, that Wolf never, ever admitted to being anything less than perfect. Eyes narrowed with suspicion, Lance went back to his wife. “He says to take Mato to Disneyland for the day.”

Kimberly had no knowledge of the subtle guy-things that men do to each other, and thought that was a wonderful idea. “Be sure to take him on the canoes. He might feel a little closer to home.” Her face lit up as she came up with more suggestions. “Besides, Peter will love it. I’m too far along to go on all the rides he likes. I wonder how Mato will like Space Mountain?”

“I’ll let you know,” Lance replied flatly. Still not sure he was being set up, he collected together his cast member I.D., sun block for Peter, and the large Hawaiian shirt he had found for Mato to wear that he had promptly discarded. Comfortable only in his deerskin trousers and moccasins, Mato would need slightly more covering than that to go to the Park. “Here goes nothing.” With one last muttered, headed out back.

“I want to go on the canoes!” Over-excited, Peter jumped up and down with his next demand. “Uncle Wolf said Uncle Mato would love them!”

Glancing at the set face of the silent warrior, Lance sincerely doubted Uncle Mato would “love” anything just then. They had ridden the steam train around the Park to give Mato an idea of the different areas they could visit as well as the overall size of Disneyland. The Grand Canyon had been mildly interesting with the stuffed animals on display as they chugged by, but the Primeval World had elicited scoffing chuckles at the odd beasts. Mato had indicated, in a few descriptive gestures, that he could easily dispatch them with his knife—which Lance had finally convinced him to leave home. Getting off in New Orleans Square, much to the relief of the parents with small children who had witnessed Mato’s extensive description on how to gut a carcass, Lance hoped the graceful architecture would remind the native of the New Orleans on the outskirts of his home forest. He was still debating on whether or not to take Mato inside the Haunted Mansion. Doctor Houser had told Lance about meeting the real Master Gracie while the house was still under construction back in 1815 and wondered how a mansion now filled with nine hundred ninety-nine ghosts would go over with Mato.

The line to the Davy Crockett Explorer Canoes was thankfully short. Grabbing an oar and quickly exchanging Peter’s adult-length paddle into the proper, smaller child size, they were able to board the next canoe as it slipped into place beside them. Mato commented on the wiya who steered in the back and recognized the costume as the one Wals had worn both times he had traveled back into the past.

Once the canoe was floating free from the confines of the wooden dock, Mato was told to watch and do what the cast member in the front was doing. Amused by the simplicity of the lesson the guide gave, Mato looked around at the thick trees that made up the interior of Frontierland, finally pleased to be back in the area that was familiar to him. Once the brief lesson in how to paddle was over, the guests were invited to begin rowing.

“Finally,” Mato muttered under his breath.

The canoe suddenly shot forward in the water. The guide in the front glanced back, curious to see who was actually paddling. Most guests made feeble efforts, soon tiring and then would sit back to enjoy the ride their guides had to provide. Smiling at the broad shoulders and determined look on Mato’s face, he quickly turned back and matched the energetic guest stroke for stroke. The sternsman gave a war whoop as their canoe flew past another canoe that had left the dock minutes before theirs. A couple of the other passengers onboard got into the spirit of things and the canoe almost skidded around the next bend in the river.

Mato didn’t lessen his pace all the way around the Rivers of America. He had seen the sights when he had first arrived with Wals. Lance finally had to tell him to stop paddling as they neared the canoe dock almost too fast. The cast member in back had to both steer and backpaddle to slow them down for the proper, sedate approach.

“Gosh, I’ve never gotten around that fast!” gushed one of the female guests in front as she eyed Mato with appreciation.

“Good thing the Mark Twain was already docked.” The sternsman changed places with the next set of guides who had been yelling and encouraging the canoe when they had shot around the final bend. “I don’t think we could have stopped in time.”

“Mato, that was supposed to be fun.” Lance had to rub his sore arms as he put their paddles back in the wooden bins.

“That was fun!” Mato broke out into a wide grin as they exited the ride, looking pleased with himself for the first time in days. “What next, little one?” He turned to Peter who was wiping water off of his face.

“Want to go see Uncle Wals on Casey Jr.?” Lance suggested before Peter could reply.

“No! I wanna go on Splash Mountain! We’re already wet.” To make his point, he held out his arms so the water could run off them.

“The line’s too long.” Lance pulled him off to the side, away from Mato. “I don’t think Mato would like to wait that long.”

“Use your pass. You do it with Mom.”

Lance stared at the innocent-looking boy. “You aren’t really six, are you?” He gave Peter a half-smile.

“Can I have some popcorn? I’m hungry.”

“We just had lunch at the Rainforest Café,” where, again, Lance had been glad Mato wasn’t armed when the gorilla suddenly came to life, angrily growling and shaking the tree next to their table.

“That was hours ago.” The boy wasn’t done with his argument and tried to use his big green eyes to his advantage in swaying his father.

Lance gave a loud laugh as they headed for the exit of Splash Mountain. “You are dealing with the master, my boy! That look won’t work on me. I perfected it!”

As they reached the continually-moving loading ramp, Lance asked Peter if he wanted to ride the very back seat that held two people, rather than the single seats that ran down the middle of the “carved log” ride vehicle.

“Sheesh, I’m not a baby, Dad.”

Mato recognized the tone of voice. His son regularly used it on him as well. He gave Lance a knowing look as they exchanged smiles.

Mato, of course, didn’t know the backstory of the log ride, but seemed entertained by the bouncing, singing animals that inhabited the sides of the flume, plus he was intrigued by the fact that the ride didn’t need paddles for the log to advance in the water. As their vehicle bounced and slid through the moving current, taking them higher and higher with a series of ramps, he wasn’t sure what to expect when the log seemed to stop in midair and there was nothing to see in front of them except the distant Park. The log tilted downward and he gave an excited, surprised yell as they flew down the sharp incline and splashed into the pool at the bottom. Reverting to Lakota, he yelled back to Lance that that was fun and was better than running the rapids at home.

Having no way to know what Mato had just said, Lance took the wide smile on his face as an indication that he really liked it. As they shook the water out of their hair, Mato now expectantly looked to see what was next. This day at Disneyland had just gotten more interesting.

“Big Thunder! Big Thunder! Big Thunder!” Peter chanted as he danced around the two men, leaving wet footprints wherever he stepped.

Recognizing those words from something Wals had said when they had traveled to Rainbow Ridge, Mato indicated that was fine with him.

“Okay, Big Thunder it is.” Lance smiled as Peter led the way out of Critter Country, bypassing the laid-back Winnie the Pooh ride. Lance idly wondered how Mato would have liked the Heffalumps and Woozles scene.

Peter chose to sit with Uncle Mato, leaving Lance by himself in the car behind. He saw Mato closely scrutinizing the small buildings that formed the backdrop of the ride queue, Rainbow Ridge. Wals had described their trek and what the remnants of the small mining town of the past had looked like, and Lance wondered how much Mato actually recognized. Supposed to be a runaway train, there was no engineer in the cab as the train started with a jerk and quickly turned into the dark cave filled with bats and colored pools of water. Up they went toward a waterfall that split in half to allow the riders a safe, dry passage. Peter whooped as the train veered to the right and went into a hairpin curve. The brave next to him seemed fascinated by the mining equipment and animals lining the tracks as the train dipped and curved through the red-streaked rocks. He started laughing at the double, looping curve the train made after passing a goat oddly chewing on a stick of dynamite. He was still laughing when the train splashed down next to the dinosaur bones and sedately chugged past Rainbow Ridge and back into the station.

“I wanna go again!” Peter jumped up and down, adrenaline coursing through him.

“Me, too!” Mato grinned.

“We’ll have to come back later. It’s too busy to take a second trip just now.”

“Aww,” echoed Peter and Mato.

Lance hid his grin as he led them off of the wooden train platform and back to the textured concrete thoroughfare of Frontierland. He had the distinct feeling he had created a roller-coaster monster in Mato. “Let’s go say hi to Uncle Wals.”

That took the exuberant look off of Peter’s face. “We don’t have to ride the canal boats, do we?”

“He’s on Casey Jr., but no, we don’t. I was thinking Mr. Toad or Peter Pan might be interesting for Mato.”

“Space Mountain?” Peter threw out there, hopeful.

“After we say hi and ride Peter Pan.”

“’Kay.”

“’Kay,” Mato echoed as he looked around at the wilderness behind Big Thunder while they walked the back way into Fantasyland. Lance gave him a moment to stare into the green depths of the empty Bear Lake, the tunnel overhead that would have led to Nature’s Wonderland boarded over. The turkeys received a second look as they passed by the Big Thunder Ranch. Lance didn’t think his explanation of the Presidential Pardon each year at Thanksgiving would have much meaning for the brave at this point in time. “Supper?” Mato asked, pointing at the large, white birds.

Lance glanced at his watch. These two were putting his prodigious hunger to shame! “Soon.”

“That means later, when he feels like it,” Peter whispered to his new best friend.

“I know,” Mato whispered back. “I say the same to my son, too.”

Peter nodded sagely and smiled the smile of the long-suffering.

As they continued walking toward the barbecue restaurant, Mato spied something else familiar. Walking away from his companions, his head tilted up, he circled the last vestiges of Nature’s Wonderland—two natural rock arches tinted with the familiar yellow and red stripes of the region. Wals had made the arduous, dangerous climb to the top of one of those peaks—much to Mato’s annoyance at the delay—and had almost gotten bit by a rattlesnake. Now the remnants of those arches were only a few feet taller than his head. He ran a thoughtful hand over the warm rock as the changes between their two worlds that Wolf had told them about over the years suddenly made more sense.

Emitting a shoulder-raising sigh as they entered Fantasyland, Peter knew he wasn’t going to get to the Space Mountain roller coaster or the Buzz Lightyear target-shooting ride any time soon. Mato noticed the instant crush of more people and especially more children in this noisy, colorful area. It hadn’t been this bad when they had emerged from the back of the Castle. He grabbed an apple off of a snack cart as he walked by, and Lance had to hurry back to pay for it when he saw Mato munching away.

Wals was working the line when the trio came up the exit ramp to say hello. He looked so envious of their day together that Lance almost felt sorry for him.

The lead cast member on the ride, Anne, came right over when she spied Wals’ good-looking friends. She pushed her dark, curly hair back behind her ear. “Who’re your friends, Wals, and why haven’t you introduced us before?” She smiled at the two men, not even looking at her co-worker.

She quickly spotted Lance’s wedding ring, not recognizing him out of his uniform, and turned her dusky gaze to the tall Mato. Her interest wavered when he merely grunted some kind of hello and turned away to watch the spinning carrousel.

“I’m Peter.” The little boy with them chimed in and held out his hand to her.

“Anne.” Expected to be polite, she had to respond, the wind evaporated from her sails. Wals’ smug expression was seen and ignored as she turned to go back to work. The train had tooted its approach to the station and would soon unload. “You’re up next, Wals.” She hadn’t liked being snubbed by the men, and her voice showed it.

Biting back a retort, Wals plastered another fake smile on his face and muttered to the men, “I’m up next. Lucky me.”

Saying good-bye, the friends walked down the exit ramp. Lance led them over to the carrousel and asked Peter if he wanted to ride it. Glancing up at Mato, who gave a quick shake of his head, Peter told his dad he would rather go on Peter Pan. Lance put the walkie-talkie he had just used back on his belt and led the way to the popular ride’s exit. As their elaborate pirate ship lifted them up into the air, Lance knew another call was being made. By the time they banked past the nursery scene and soared over London, he knew Wals would be waiting for them at the exit to Space Mountain, already dressed in his street clothes.

Days later, Lance, Kimberly, Peter, Wals, Wolf, and Mato stood on the bank of the Rivers of America. It was late at night, far too late for Peter to be up, but the excited boy was allowed the special treat of saying good-bye to Mato and Wolf. The time had come for them to go back to their family. Knowing it was useless to try and keep him down any longer, Wolf had received the reluctant go-ahead from Doctor Houser and was declared well enough to make the jump again. Unable to form any concrete plans, still in a sense of shock over the loss of Rose, Wals had asked if he could go along with them for a visit.

While they had been in the Brentwood’s house that last day, Kimberly brought out a small black metal box to show Mato. Rolling his eyes, he was prepared to be unimpressed by yet another one of their worthless gadgets. True, some of the wonders he had seen—like Wolf’s Mustang—had proven themselves to be worth the trouble they seemed to cause. But most—like the Zippo lighter and the television—proved to be a waste of time.

“Just wait,” Kimberly had promised. She brought him over to where Wolf was sitting at rest in a chair until it was time to go. She had Mato stand behind the chair and place his hand on the tall back of the antique wingback. “Just stay there a moment.” She backed up, putting the small box in front of her face. Wolf knew what she was about to do, but said nothing to his brother. “Smile,” she commanded for some reason. Both men remained straight faced, as usual. “Fine.” Giving up, she muttered as she pushed a button, producing a clicking noise and then a louder ‘whirr.’ A flat object was ejected from the box. Kimberly pulled this away from the box, smiling smugly as she slowly shook it back and forth in the air. Coming back to Mato she held it up for him to see.

He saw nothing. Muttering something to Wolf under his breath, Wolf just gave him a smile. “Keep looking.”

In front of his eyes, he could see Wolf’s face and his own slowly appear on the shiny gray surface. He took the picture by the edges as he had seen Kimberly handle it, and grunted as their image became sharp and defined. “Not worthless,” he declared. “What’s it used for?”

Kimberly looked over his shoulder at the picture. It was a good shot of the two brothers. “I thought you might like to give it to your father as a gift. Wolf mentioned that the Shaman hasn’t seen his actual face since he was a boy.”

Both men looked sharply at her. It was a nice, caring idea that Wolf had never thought of. They were quite touched at her thoughtfulness. Not that they would tell her, though.

“Thank you.” Wolf bestowed her with a rare smile. “I think he’ll like this. It will need to be protected.” The memory of what happened to the tape recorder came to mind, the one he had so carefully prepared and hidden for an emergency just like the one that had happened. He would have to look for it in the forest when he got back.

Reaching into her pocket, she had pulled out a plastic zip-topped sandwich bag and let it swing slowly back and forth in front of his face.

Now that bag and the picture were now tucked securely into the waistband of his deerskin trousers, Mato stood impatiently by the small canoe while everyone said their good-byes. Peter, dry-eyed at first, dissolved into a puddle of tears as he hugged Wals and the two warriors. He was so upset that they were leaving that he couldn’t remember any of their words—and that made him even more emotional.

“Be brave, little one, we will see you again,” Wolf whispered to him. Pulling away, he shook hands with Lance and endured a rib-crushing hug from Kimberly that made him grunt in pain.

With a nod to the others, Mato, Wals and Wolf climbed into the canoe. When Lance and his family had gone back far enough to be safely out of the way, Wolf called for the portal.

As they slowly paddled out in the River that became more agitated by the second, only Lance and Kimberly noticed an odd blue light. Coming from the upper story of the Hungry Bear, it sparkled and glimmered over the water as it hurried to catch up to the bobbing canoe. Ignoring the two men in the back, the light settled on Wolf’s head and disappeared into his gray-tipped black hair. Intent on the storm that rapidly approached, Wolf didn’t seem to notice anything else.

“Did you see that?” Lance whispered to Kimberly.

She merely shrugged as the pink of the vortex exploded and consumed the canoe and its riders. “I don’t know what that was.” It wasn’t until the terrifying phenomenon was over that she was final able to answer.

Torn between the grief of losing his friends and seeing something better than any of his video games, Peter stood silent and wide-eyed as the men disappeared right in front of his eyes.

Sitting on the top peak of the restaurant’s roof, watching the storm angrily swirl the River and the canoe around into a whirlpool, a very small Merriweather smiled as her wand settled down in her hand. Now that Rose was back in her proper place in time, Merri and the other fairies were now able to travel freely and come and go as they liked. Thrilled to no end that they had all of their powers back, Merri had wanted to do one last thing for the wolf. “There is our last gift to you, Sir Wolf. Good journey!” Humming a lively tune, the wand now circled her head and she vanished in a brilliant cloud of blue dust.

The Island — 1817

Standing at the edge of the River, the Shaman let out a disgusted grunt as a small, empty canoe floated by. It still was not the favorite canoe in which he had sent his son off so long before. “What’s the use in having nice things if you don’t take care of them?” he mumbled to no one in particular.

To hide his impatience, he stood in his rocky overhang and fussed with his wolfskin robe. The storm and the canoe meant at least one of the travelers had returned. A broken paddle now bobbed past the encampment, carried along by the current. There was no way to know who was going to come home. He had been shocked when the last storm had only produced the man Wals and not his son Wolf. The banks of the River continued to be scanned as far as he could see when some of his braves came to his side, silently waiting for instructions. Mato’s wife stood anxiously at the edge of the meeting place.

“We will wait.” His authoritative voice was calm and didn’t betray the high feelings he hid inside. “We will see what this storm has brought us.” Apparently it has not brought back my canoe….

Nodding, the men went back to their duties around camp. Mato’s wife resolutely stood where she was, her hopeful eyes following the small canoe as it floundered on the far bank.

Soon a shout went up from the outskirts of the camp. His heart beating erratically in his chest, the wolf headdress of the Shaman was held high as his face still betrayed no outward emotion. He bit on his lower lip when his son Mato emerged from the forest and he envied the joyful reunion as Mato’s wife threw herself into his arms with a happy cry. He could see someone else coming behind his son and his heart beat joyfully again. His breath caught in his throat, though, when he saw it was Wals who emerged from the shadows of the trees. While glad to see he was alive, the Shaman strained to look beyond the man with the hope to see four familiar black paws that would bring up the rear. His heart plummeted when he did not see the shape of the wolf. As he was about to turn away and go greet Mato, he caught sight of another man emerge slowly from the depths of the forest, one he did not recognize. This man had black hair tipped in silver and clutched his side as if in pain, a slow trickle of blood seeping out between his fingers.

The Shaman stared at the stranger, and his eyes began to widen as the man steadily approached his position. His eyes darted over the face and the high cheekbones and finally settled on the sharp, blue eyes. “My son?” He said the hopeful words in a whisper, not daring to say it out loud and possibly cause the apparition to fade from his sight.

“Atewaye ki,” came from the smiling lips in a voice that he did recognize. My father.

Reaching out his arms, all semblances of propriety and stoicism gone, the Shaman took his son into a warm embrace. “How can this be? I never thought to see your face again!”

He held Wolf at arm’s length now, staring into the face that looked so much like his beloved wife’s. His hands ran over the cheeks and the chin, across the broad shoulders. He laughed when he saw the patch of white hair within the matt of black that covered Wolf’s chest. “Just like when you are a wolf.”

Mato came to join them, his son hanging on to his leg and refusing to let him go as he stared at the stranger in their camp. Wolf laid a hand on Igmutaka’s head and smiled at his nephew. The Shaman clasped arms with his oldest son, thanking him for this great gift.

“I don’t know how it happened, either, Father. But, we’re happy it did.”

Wals was called to come over, but he was unable to keep up with all the words the leader kept saying to him. Turning to his friend for translation, Wolf told him, “He says thank you.”

Knowing that was all he was going to get, Wals nodded and chuckled. “Glad it all worked. You’re welcome.” He left the family alone to catch up as he went back to the fire where the Cooking Woman still held court. Accepting a bowl of stew from one of her daughters who smiled encouragingly at him, he settled onto the ground to eat.

The Shaman indicated Wals with a tip of his chin. “What happened to that one’s golden-haired wiya? Does she wait for him in the other place?”

Wolf shook his head and told him about the Prince who came back and reclaimed his love.

“I saw great sadness in his eyes. More than usual. Perhaps Tato Kala can help him forget,” the Shaman smiled knowingly as the pretty young woman made sure Wals had something cool to drink.

“Time will tell.” Wolf could only shrug as he turned back from his friend. “That would mean he would have to stay here. I don’t know if that’s the answer for him either.”

“So, you have that odd red stone pendant? It seemed to mean so much to the two of you. It is where it should be?” His father recalled the strange vision of his future that the stone had given him, one that his son had not completely explained to his satisfaction.

Open-mouthed, Wolf could only stare at his father. He had forgotten all about the pendant. They had just been through a small war over that red diamond, and he had left without it. He briefly closed his eyes at his own stupidity, momentarily forgetting he had been under a powerful spell and had not been in any shape to remember much of anything.

Seeing his son’s reaction to his question, his father commented dryly, “Let me guess. It’s with my canoe.”

Wolf knew the small boat in question was safely stashed behind the Settler’s Cabin. The corner of his mouth turned up slightly as he shook his head. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be that easy. “No. It’s buried. Back in the wiya Rose’s time.” I think it was near a tree….

“Ooh,” Mato grimaced as he handed his son his beaten-up, empty quiver and motioned for him to take to their tent. Once the boy ran off and was out of earshot, he was clear to ask the question on everyone’s mind: “Do we have to retrieve it? Is it so important that we must go back there again to get it?”

Wolf just nodded, and then realized what his brother had said. “No,” he corrected, “I have to go back and get it.” He fell silent as he thought about the trip he must soon make, unconsciously rubbing the wound in his side, and mentally chastising himself over his forgetfulness.

While Wolf was left alone to work out the newest problem, Mato handed their father the snapshot Kimberly had taken before they left the twenty-first century. “This was made for you. If Wolf wants to explain how it was done, I’ll leave that to him.”

“I guess all their gadgets aren’t worthless after all.” Extremely pleased with the gift, the Shaman studied the front and the plain back of the photo. “This is very special. I‘ll keep it in my tipi. But I’d rather have my own son in front of me to see for all time.” The hint was broad and obvious.

Wolf, after deciding at what he needed to do, just gave the Shaman a half-grin as he stood, trying not to waver or grimace from the pain. “I need to pay my respects to the rest of our people and to the Cooking Woman.”

“Have her look at your wounds,” his father called after him as he limped off. Once Wolf was over by the fire, the Shaman had his other son stay by his side. “Now, Mato, tell me all that really happened. Why do the three of you appear to have been in a battle and had a hard time of it? Did it work? Did you travel back in time as well? What’s wrong with my son that he forgot something so important to him? Tell me the story. I will want to tell it to our people around the fire and hand it down for generations to come.”

Taking a deep breath, Mato settled in and complied. It would be a long tale.

Sitting back, the wolfskin drawn closer around his body as the coolness of the night surrounded him, the Shaman respectfully listened to his son as he began to weave this marvelous story. Leaves swirled unseen through the camp and wisps of the cooking fire wafted over them as he listened. Darkness fell and a torch was lit and noiselessly set in place next to the father and son. In silence the Shaman sat, staring at Mato, rapt in the tale.

When, finally, Mato had done justice to their journey, the Shaman released him to go join his family in their tent. Wolf then came to his father’s side and sat quietly next to him, the flickering torchlight playing across his handsome, angled face. The older man couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of the face of his son. There was happiness and relief on his weathered face. “I’m glad you’re here, my son.”

“As am I, atewaye ki.”