Chapter 4

 

 

His breath caught at the back of his throat as the women left the lodge with big smiles of accomplishment. Fires burned brightly, illuminating the circle of stones in the middle, and Jack found himself still not breathing as she finally made her appearance. It wasn't possible… It wasn't! Mairie Callahan, incredible wild gift from the heavens, was magically transformed into a… beautiful Indian maiden. No other description suited her. She wore a light shift to her ankles that was gathered at the waist with a wide beaded sash. A choker of brightly colored beads surrounded her neck, with matching beads braided into the tips of her dark hair. The shy smile on her face seemed to soften her features until he was hard pressed to remember the angry woman he had dropped at the lodge earlier.

Finally releasing his breath, Jack couldn't pull his gaze away from her. The women motioned for her to move closer to the fire, and once seated, she slowly lifted her face and stared across the flames at him. Her eyes seem to sparkle in the firelight and he swore an unseen force entered his chest, infusing him with a tingling heat.

Dear God… she is exquisite.

The steady beating of a drum signaled the beginning of the ceremonial meal. The women sat on one side of the fire, the men on the other. Mairie was surrounded by those who had prepared her and the younger girls of the tribe. Jack watched as she smiled and laughed while attempting to converse with the females through hand gestures. She appeared to have made friends, was very polite, was even enjoying herself. While the food was passed around, he continued to watch her from under the cover of his lashes. As hard as he tried, he simply couldn't seem to tear his gaze away.

A part of him realized he was making a fool of himself, that all those surrounding him must surely think he was besotted with the woman. He told himself to pay attention to the talk of the men… the recounting of the successful hunt, the coming celebration, anything to distract him from the woman who also was sneaking glances in his direction. What was happening? He didn't want to think that she could actually be his gift. He reminded himself of her perverse nature, of her stubborn insistence that it was over a hundred years into the future and she was capable of miraculous things such as flying and speaking over great distances.

Perhaps she was a witch.

That thought hadn't occurred to him before, and suddenly it made a bizarre kind of sense. He had never believed in such superstitions. Witches were fanciful characters used to frighten children into behaving. They were not beautiful women falling from the sky. But it was a thought…

Tonight the Indian shaman would travel into the other world and speak with the Great Spirit of the Wolf, and express his gratitude for the appearance of Mairie Callahan. If a shaman could enter another world, why couldn't a witch enter this one?

Damn, he could use a long drink of whiskey. Of course, from the way his mind was wandering with such fantastic thoughts, he could already be drunk … drunk with the vision of a beautiful, beguiling witch who was… yes, who was now glancing at him, with a definitely seductive smile playing across her lips. She was teasing with her eyes, toying with her smile. He'd had enough women and enough experience to recognize a blatant flirtation.

He took a deep steadying breath and concentrated on his brother's tale of expert tracking. Male companionship was safe. Hunting made sense. He had enough worries as it was… he would not be bewitched, too.

Yet as he selected his portion of roasted deer meat, he suddenly felt like the one being hunted. It was not a comforting premonition.

 

Mairie had almost forgotten what it felt like to flirt with a man, to focus all her energy inward and capture the essence of seduction and then to project it outside herself. Somehow, over the last several months, she'd lost sight of the rush of pleasure to be derived when a direct hit was scored. And in the last fifteen minutes, she'd had several direct hits. The flirtation had not yet been returned, but that didn't bother her in the least. Delaney's reaction was satisfaction enough… for now.

The poor man's expression changed from stunned appreciation at her appearance to confusion and just now settled into a strained discomfort. The time spent on her costume had been worth it, and to be honest, she actually enjoyed the company of the females. It was soothing to allow them to attend her. She had always been so self-reliant, so independent, and these simple, giving people were teaching her to receive without guilt. Amazing.

It was then she stared into the fire, wondering what in the world she could say to them to encourage them, when she knew that the modern world held little for the Indian. She thought about the history books she had read in school and again felt a stirring of anger. America… land of the free and home of the brave. Dear God, Americans had stolen a continent and nearly annihilated an entire race of people and felt justified. And how much better was she? She enjoyed those freedoms, those luxuries… but at the expense of the rightful owners? She had never really thought about the plight of the Indian. Maybe she hadn't wanted to, maybe she was the ignorant one, uneducated in truth. But what could she say?

Certainly, not the truth.

She thought back to when the younger women knelt around her and wove the tiny beads into the ends of her hair, when she had experienced a feminine bonding that went beyond the color of skin or culture. There wasn't a separation of them and me, of being different, and when she'd seen her reflection in a small silver bowl, she'd felt like a pampered Indian princess. How natural the transformation. She knew it was a silly thought—ridiculous, really— yet she kept that image when she left the lodge, wanting Delaney to see her as one.

If she was supposed to be this visitor from the heavens, a messenger from above, then she was going to play the part with gusto.

She would mesmerize him tonight and extract his promise to take her to the ranch in the morning. She felt like Helen of Troy, Cleopatra, and Anne Boleyn all rolled into one. Of course, one committed suicide, one lost her head, and another was portrayed as a deceitful woman driven by passion or an innocent victim of her own beauty, depending on the male or female version. Not exactly promising endings to extraordinary lives, yet they had lived, not settling for a passive, servile existence, submissive to men. They knew about feminine power.

Shyly glancing at Delaney, she lifted the corners of her mouth in a flirtatious smile and almost giggled at his startled reaction. As he was about to bite into a piece of meat, his hand froze in mid-air.

This was definitely going to be fun.

She thought about all her struggles with him since he had appeared in the desert, her anger and frustration. Scenarios ran through her mind. She envisioned him bathing in that waterfall and then smirking at her confusion. She almost heard his laughter once again when he explained her to his Indian brothers and said she didn't know if she was a warrior or a maiden. Well, tonight she was both. Her stomach muscles could almost feel his shoulder digging into her as he humiliated her at the creek earlier. How could she have forgotten that old adage?

Don't get mad, get even.

Yeah… tonight she would have some fun and accomplish her goal without his even knowing what happened. Where reason failed to penetrate, femininity would prevail. Her smile was filled with impending victory. Soon. Soon, she would prove to him she was right, and a reunion with her brother would take place.

She just loved being a woman.

Once the meal was over, the dancing began. To Mairie, it seemed disorganized at first, as though everyone was doing his own thing, but she soon realized that the Indians were slowly forming a circle. She was asked to join and reluctantly stood. Looking across the fire, she saw that Delaney was already beginning to stamp his feet lightly in time to the drums. She noticed that he was graceful for a man and tried to make her movements match his. Soon everyone was joining hands and moving very slowly to the left. The dancers moved in a circle, with clasped hands and, dragging their steps, singing with a rhythmic swing the songs of the dance, over and over in a dizzying trancelike movement.

Mairie was always a decent dancer and, even now as she dragged her bruised foot, she picked up the rhythm quickly. She found the beating of the drums soothing—hypnotic, even—as her ears and mind were filled with a song that she couldn't understand, yet expanded her heart. Something special was taking place; she could feel it in the energy surrounding her. She looked across the fire and found Delaney staring at her as he moved in the dance, and she automatically smiled softly at him. From somewhere in the recesses of her brain came the realization that her smile wasn't planned or forced. In that instant she had actually felt affection for him, maybe even a thread of gratitude for this incredible experience with the Indians. It was as if she were now falling under a spell…

Round and round went the circle, slowly, entrancing her even more. It was tranquilizing. Suddenly a young man staggered from the ring and swooning, fell to the ground. Mairie was immediately concerned, yet the woman holding her hand on the left smiled and nodded, as if saying it was all right, that it was to be expected. The dance continued, the singing was uninterrupted, and Mairie searched out Delaney. He was looking at her.

Their gaze connected with such intensity that Mairie was stunned. Across the fire, Delaney seemed to be speaking, communicating with her. It wasn't words. More like concepts that filled her mind. It was as if he were saying, Don't be afraid. She watched as he withdrew from the circle, making sure those on either side of him clasped hands to keep the circle intact. He slowly walked around the others until he came to her. The women on either side of her joined hands, leaving her outside the circle, next to Delaney.

"Come," he whispered. "Let's sit down and I'll explain what's happening."

She followed him back to her place behind the dancers. She felt a strange kind of energy running through her body, as if she were in a church, or a sacred place of worship.

He sat next to her, clad in his jeans and a vest made of deerskin and rabbit fur. His long dark hair was swept away from his face and fell behind his shoulders. His eyes were intense in the firelight, yet Mairie found it hard to concentrate on anything but his mouth as he began to speak.

"This is the Spirit Dance," he said in a low voice. "It's an invitation to the Great Spirit to communicate, and it opens a window for that exchange. The young man who fell into a trance is now taking a journey into that world of Spirit and will come back with a message. The dancing and singing continues until he awakens and describes his vision of the spirit-world."

She simply nodded, as if it made all the sense in the world. A part of her, that irascible dark angel, seemed to whisper in her ear that she was being naive, actually falling for a primitive hypnotic suggestion… that she should laugh it off and merely observe it all as if she were watching a documentary. She mentally shrugged her shoulder and shut up the annoying voice of fear. Something was happening here, something inside of her, some part that was telling her to pay attention, to learn, to grow, not to judge what she didn't yet understand.

"See through the dancers… see him begin to awaken." Delaney pointed to the man who had collapsed. "His name is Wovoka. His father was a disciple of Wodziwob, who began his own form of the Ghost Dance, sometimes called the Dream Dance. But first, from what I've learned, there was Smohalla, from the northwest. Smohalla was a… a mystic. He was kin to the Nez Perce and Yakima. After taking part in the Yakima wars, he believed that he had died and been resurrected by the Great Spirit. His followers gave him the name of the Dreamer."

Delaney paused for a moment, as if recalling what he had been taught by these people. "His message was peaceful, and it spread to all the tribes. Then there came one from the Paviotso Indians in western Nevada, a prophet, Wodziwob, a man I'm told of commanding character and stature. His message too from the dream state was one of peace. He had many disciples, and Wovoka's father was one of them. It is only natural that Wovoka be the one to journey this night."

Delaney took a deep breath after his long explanation and turned his head to look at her. "This is not naive spirituality. This is older than all the churches and temples, all the religions from across either ocean, and in my time with these people I have come to respect it as the only source of balance that I know of. I have learned to listen." And then he smiled.

For the first time he smiled, really smiled… and Mairie felt something pop inside her heart, infusing her body with warmth. She tried to remember her plan of getting even, to recapture that feeling, yet all she could think of was how magical this night seemed. Dressed in an Indian costume, seated next to this man of mystery, she wondered exactly what was reality and illusion.

It truly felt as if she had traveled back in time.

"What are the words they are singing?" she whispered, watching the dancers slow even more and their voices lower until she had to strain to hear them.

Delaney waited until the repeated verse began again to translate.

 

Mother, oh come back 

Mother, oh come back 

Little brother calls, as he seeks thee 

Weeping 

Little brother calls, as he seeks thee

Weeping 

Mother, oh come back 

Saith the Father…

 

"What does it mean?" she asked, suddenly feeling sad.

Delaney smiled. "I suppose it depends on who is singing. It could be used to reconnect with those who have passed on to the spirit world before us, or it could mean, as I take it, that the Indian knows the earth is his mother and is calling out to Her to come back in peace, to restore abundance to the people as before the white man came."

Mairie saw that Wovoka was rousing, beginning to sit up. The others began to take their places, as when they had been eating. It was obvious that this young man had something of great importance to impart to his people, and she found herself as eager to hear him as his brothers and sisters. "You'll translate for me, won't you, Jack? I want to hear this."

He didn't answer and she turned her head slightly to look at him.

"That is the first time you have used my name," he said, gazing at her mouth, her cheeks, her eyes. "Yes, Mairie… I will translate."

It felt like a caress, as if he had actually touched her, and she sighed as they both turned their attention to the young man in the center of the tribe.

"He's saying… 'I journeyed to the land beyond where the sun sets and then I went to the spirit-land, where I saw the spirit encampment. I drew near and stood outside a spirit lodge. A spirit man came out, one of the rabbit robes, of us Paiutes, and he stood beside me. He spoke to me and said: "Behold, I give you something holy." Then he said, "Whence come you?" And I told him of us, of the Paiute in the land of the setting sun.

A murmur of approval spread through those seated in the wide circle, and Mairie felt herself being drawn into this story. She couldn't wait to hear what came next.

Delaney listened and repeated, “‘Then said the spirit man, "Go we together in a cloud, upward, to the Father." So we rose in a cloud to where there was another camp and a man and a woman, a husband and a wife, married in thoughts, body, and spirit, came forward. "I will speak with you now. Behold, I will tell you something for you to tell to all the people. Give this dance to all the different tribes of Indians. White people and Indians shall all dance together. But first they shall sing. There shall be no more fighting. No man shall kill another. If any man should be killed, it would be a grievous thing. No man shall lie. Love one another. Help one another. Hear me, for I will give you water to drink. Thus I tell you, this is why I have called you. My meaning, have you understood it?"

There was a pause.

“‘And I did. I understood.’“

Mairie let out her breath and was filled with awe. Wovoka was like Moses, coming down off the mount with instructions to live in peace. The man started speaking again and she turned to Delaney for the translation.

“‘In the spirit camp I have seen those who had died, and when I came homeward there came with me two spirit companions. These journeyed with me and will stay with me evermore. I hear their counsel, even now.’“

"Wow." The word escaped Mairie's lips as she looked at the remarkable man. He seemed so composed, so peaceful… as if he were in this world, yet not of it.

Everyone started talking at once and Mairie turned to Delaney. She was so excited she grabbed his arm.

"Questions are being asked," he said, looking down to her hand on his arm and smiled. "Wait, one is asking how they can be brothers to the white man, who won't listen to Spirit, who carries guns and destroys Mother Earth."

She watched as Wovoka seemed to go inward and listen. Finally he began his answer.

" It is true all men should love one another. It is true all men should live as brothers. Is it not we who do not thus? What others demand of us, should they not themselves give? Is it just to expect one friend to give all the friendship? We are glad to live with white men as brothers, but we ask that they expect not the brotherhood and the love to come from the Indian alone. The red man alone cannot continue into infinity to hold the source to Mother Earth. A prophecy handed down from tribe to tribe, from family to family, need not be fulfilled if the white man would open his heart. The white man has come to our land raping and plundering our Mother, and we try to defend her, yet the red man is outnumbered by this aggressive human. I have seen how this will continue like a plague upon the earth for generations upon generations until a deadly enemy overtakes them… a deadly enemy that they can not see, nor fight. As the white man continues to be a plague upon the land, so shall a plague remove him from it. White and red must be in balance, or a disease, an affliction, will teach respect for our Mother Earth. There is hope, for we have our white brother with us and he has brought us a messenger from the heavens who has come from the land of our tomorrows.’“

Mairie was reeling. She was aware of the attention of the tribe, yet her mind was almost shouting at her to pay attention. She grabbed Delaney's arm again and muttered, "I have to speak to him. Ask if I may speak."

"What will you say? You have such a message?"

"I have questions… I think I know what he is talking about." She felt her heart slamming into her rib cage, her pulse in her fingertips. "Listen, there is a plague in the land of your tomorrows, but it doesn't affect only the white man. It's called cancer. My brother has it, and he is dying. What Wovoka said about the white man and the red man can also be applied to this plague, the form of it my brother has. Leukemia."

He was shaking his head as if she were speaking in riddles.

"Okay, look… when my brother got sick, I researched this disease thoroughly, not wanting to accept the negative prognosis, so I know what I'm talking about here. We have white and red blood cells. Even if you don't understand, take my word for this. Red blood cells carry oxygen. The white blood cells are the defenders of the body against infection, but if the body starts producing too many white blood cells and they become aggressive, they destroy the red, and when there are not enough red blood cells to carry the oxygen that feeds the body, that keeps us alive, the person dies. The white has overdefended and killed off the red. Completely out of balance."

She was breathing heavily as she stared at him, desperately seeking to see understanding in his eyes.

"This is confusing. Are you talking about blood, or about the white man and the Indian? I don't think I understand."

"Both!" She was excited that he was at least thinking about it. "When Wovoka started talking about the aggressive white man and the red man holding the source to Mother Earth… it made such sense to me. This disease, this plague, could it be a symbol of when we become aggressive, when we overdefend and kill off the red man and lose their teachings? I listened and heard teachings tonight that could challenge established religions in its simple truth. Dance. Sing. No more fighting. No more wars. No more killing. No more lies. Help one another. Peace. What will happen when the Indian teachings are gone? Will we die because we won't have the food of life… the connection? It seems to me that the red man is holding our connection to the source. Mother Earth, a living organism."

"Mairie…" He almost breathed her name, as he continued to stare into her eyes. "What you say feels like truth, yet I am confused about the blood. What are these… these cells you speak of?"

She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. "I can't explain science, especially biology, but take my word that your blood, my blood, everyone's blood contains them and they are so tiny they cannot be seen with the naked eye."

"They are spirit based? From the invisible world?"

She opened her eyes and held his intense gaze. "You know something… without a piece of powerful machinery, a microscope, you would have to say they are from an invisible world. When they're out of balance they create illness, and when the aggressiveness of the white against the red is way out of balance, in many cases… death. This is a plague, a real plague that has killed millions, and it's so small no one can see it with the eye, or successfully find the way to stop it. Just like in the Indian's prophecy." Their gaze intensified with a deep connection. "And my brother is dying, Jack, from this plague. I need to speak with Wovoka and ask if there is anything that can be done, if there is a cure. It's my brother, Jack. My brother…"

And then suddenly Mairie stopped speaking as the realization slammed into her that she was talking to him as if she believed he really was living in the past and that she came from the future. Where were the planes? Where was the city? The lights? Anything modern…?

Jack began speaking to Wovoka and Mairie had no more time to ponder this incredible situation as the two men conversed. She could see that Jack was having trouble explaining what she had told him, yet Wovoka kept nodding as though it made sense to him.

Turning to her, Jack said, "He asks what is your question."

She took a deep breath. "Ask him if he knows of a cure. Tell him I have come from the land of his tomorrows to seek his wisdom."

Wovoka listened to Jack and then seemed to meditate. After a few moments, he opened his eyes and looked directly at Mairie as he began speaking…

“‘I have seen the land of tomorrow and it is troubling. The Indian disappears until only a few are singing songs of the Father Sun and Sky and dancing to the rhythms of Mother Earth. Mother seems sick, ill-used, violated, forgotten… it pains my heart to envision our Mother raped, yet she is all wise and will find her own remedy, for she contains the cure. You ask about your brother and I tell you that Mother has the answer. It is here, growing from her womb, for would she not care for her children, even if they no longer recognize Her? Does the love of any mother cease? Her love is endless. There is a plant, an herb, growing at the sacred stones that would provide understanding of our Mother's concern and love. From this plant would come answers. However, my sister, I must also reveal that as this plague descends, I have seen that by man's greed and disrespect for his Mother he will have destroyed his own cure. For in your land of tomorrow it no longer could obtain the air and life from Father and Mother and has died away.’“

Mairie sat listening to every single word that Jack translated, taking each sound and meaning into her heart for another deeper translation. "So you are saying there is no cure? That because we've been so greedy, so forgetful of the earth, we've destroyed what we now need to stay alive?"

Wovoka smiled at her. Even though he appeared younger than her, he seemed like an older brother, one who was patient and loving. She thought of Bryan, and immediately her heart opened to this Indian. She trusted him.

“‘I am saying that in the land of tomorrow there is always hope. Our white brother knows this, yet is now fearful of even himself for in his heart of hearts he knows he must change. He has forgotten the many times he has walked this land and that he will walk it again and again, reaping what he has sown. He is his grandchildren's grandchildren, living his own errors of judgment. His heart must change. And only he can do that. Remember, you are not walking the land of tomorrow, my sister. You are walking this moment. And in this moment, there still grows the herb of understanding. It is there by the sacred stones of the ancients, for this moment is the conception of your tomorrow. In this now, the numbers of the white man are not enough to destroy this connection to the source. It is here now, not in your land of tomorrow.’“

Mairie's mind was spinning. It was as if he were speaking to her on a level that was familiar, trusting. It felt so right, everything he said. Part of her wanted to call it madness and another part calmly whispered that it was truth. Simple truth. Man had destroyed his connection to the earth. She wasn't an environmentalist, had even been a bit suspicious of their zealotry until she read that the seeds from a pine tree in the Pacific Northwest were being used to fight breast cancer. Did the earth contain the cure? Was Wovoka right? Was there a plant growing now by the petroglyphs that could provide some understanding into this plague? Was there hope for Bryan?

Her heart sang Yes!

She didn't care that it seemed naive to believe an Indian who appeared to be living in the past. Something, some inner guidance, told her to find that herb and bring it to her brother. Maybe this was why she had landed off course. Why she met Jack Delaney. Why he brought her here to this camp. Maybe she was meant to hear this tonight. It wasn't just desperation. 

It was hope.