Chapter 1, Part 5

Later that Day...

Anyone who had ever met her had no doubt within the first few moments that Clemsy's Ma was one powerful person. One also learned quickly that she had a very well defined system of values, aspects of which didn't quite match up with what might be considered "common." Step on those values, whether on purpose of by accident, and one also learned that Ma was not as reticent about using her power as others who considered restraint a noble virtue.

Clemsy knew all this quite well. As a lad she could summon him from the creek a mile away by saying, quite conversationally while adding a piece of wood to the fire in the oven, "Clemsy, time for supper." That always meant he had fifteen minutes to cover the distance and get washed up. If he dawdled any she would say, "Now," and his attention would be yanked from whatever interesting thing had distracted him. If she actually had to open the door and yell his feet would take over in an uncontrolled sprint that ended in the trough by the hand pump. (Nothing amused the farm hands like the sight of Clemsy, leading a trail of dust, running at maximum speed while yelling, "AAAAHHHH!!!!!")

Of course there were also times when the breaking of a particularly valuable family heirloom had him running in the same manner but in the opposite direction. The neighbors were all in agreement that, as a result of such training, Clemsy was probably the fastest human that ever lived, at any distance.

Feel free to consider this a bit of foreshadowing.

Right now, Clemsy, chin in hand and tapping his upper lip, was sitting on the bench outside the stable mulling over the situation. The late afternoon sun cast a long, maple tree shadow on the packed earth in front to him. A soft breeze wafted the smell of hey and manure into the occasional short lived swirl of a dust devil.

Ma and Pa had a chore for him, no question. The image of Ma sitting at the dining room table with Pa standing like a bear behind her, was as clear as crystal. The sense of calamity was so strong it had initially sent him into a chicken-with-his-head-off panic in front of the whole town. The sight of Runt sitting between Sidetrack's ears like a vulture over a kill provided a strong enough distraction to break the spell... and allowed the memory of Randi's heady scent and her body atop his to creep in. He had turned and looked up at her Cheshire cat smile and raised eyebrow and blushed from his forehead to his toenails. Her laugh had nearly stopped his heart. Randi got up from the boardwalk, brushed the dust off her skirt and looked Clemsy in the eye.

"Gee, Randi," he had stammered. "I'm so gosh danged sorry fer fallin on ya just then. I guess I sorta lost m'balance. Fer some reason." He looked down at his boots. "I guess I should rope off the area when I'm cleanin' the lamps. Put up a 'Danger! Fallin Fool Zone' sign... Er somethin..."

"Clemsy?" said Randi. "You just saved my life." Then he noticed the smashed Post Office window.

"Wheel off that wagon up the street would've ended her fer sure, Clem," said one of the bystanders. The small audience nodded in agreement and a few familiar folks patted Clemsy's back before moving along.

"What?" said Clemsy, totally confused.

"That's what happened," Randi replied. "You saved my life. Now what am I gonna do?"

"Huh?"

"Clemsy, my Pa's people take the savin' of a life real serious." She smiled again. "I guess it'll work itself out. But you went out cold for a bit. You didn't hit your head hard did ya? You came to talking about your Ma..."

"Ma?" Clemsy had become thoughtful for a moment as the memory of the vision started coming back. He couldn't see the whole thing, but the feeling of urgency returned. "I musta had a dream there, Randi. Wasn't nuthin, I think."

She looked at him and her deep brown eyes seemed to penetrate the lie.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Some dreams are important." She looked away then back again. "Then maybe you'll tell me what it was sometime." She took him by the arm and kissed his cheek. "Thanks again, Clemsy. I think we'll see each other again fairly soon." Then she had blushed and looked uncomfortable for a moment before smiling again and walking away.

A horse in the stable snorted in his sleep. Clemsy touched his cheek, his mind aswirl with Ma and Pa and calamity and Randi and scents and touches and a kiss.

He stood up and scratched his head. He was supposed to do something. He could feel it.

But what?

Chapter 1, Part 4

Someone Else Takes Notice

Chanting softly, Mujekeewis swiped the burning sage above his head, moving down the front of his body, then his back as far as he could reach. He swept beneath both feet and stepped forward onto the rug. Then he removed the misshapen lump of lead from its pouch and, still chanting, gazed at it for a moment. Though he wished otherwise, this metal was not welcome inside.

It had taken the life of his son.

He placed it in the bowl before the entrance to the Lodge, gently removed an Eagle feather from his head band and, blessing his relations, ducked into the small, skin covered dome lowering the flap behind him. The only light came from the seven Grandfathers, glowing in the Navel of the Mother.

His prayer, barely a whisper now, followed a pinch of cedar onto the stones. He swept the aroma over him with the feather. Next, a pinch of sweetgrass, which brought, as it always did, memories of childhood, of his Father teaching him the etiquette of the Lodge. Bowing his head, he sent his thought to Father's Spirit, asking for the strength he knew would soon be asked of him. A growing unease had sent him here. It was time to open his heart and ask for instruction.

Last went the tobacco, the smoke allowed to rise straight to the top of the dome above the Mother's Navel where the Great Spirit listens.

Praying for guidance, Mujekeewis tilted the dipper over the stones, the steam whooshing up and covering him like a blanket. Another pour. Then again. He began rocking back and forth as his pores opened and streamed his body's water, cleansing.

Raising the flap, he exited and stood silent for a moment before taking up the deer antler to remove another Grandfather from the Sacred Fire. Three more stones he placed in the Navel, then entered and repeated the ritual.

It was after the third pour of the third Sweat that the Vision lit up before him, a lightening stroke that widened his eyes and stopped his lips mid-prayer. Heart pounding, he spread his arms wide and accepted the awful gift. When it was done, he breathed deeply three times and again focused on Father. Strength, he prayed. Strength. Lips set, he exited the lodge.

Mujekeewis faced West, his body glistening. Fitting, he thought, that the threat grows there. The West brings Change.

And Death.

No matter. Once again, his steps cross with the White's. A piece of pine popped in the fire sending up a fountain of sparks. He looked down at the bullet in the bowl. One path to the future ends with such a thing for him. Another for his Granddaughter. Others to other deaths. This is a delicate matter, he thought, requiring patience. Haste will kill blindly. He sighed deeply, indulging in a moment of regret. His braid was more gray than black. The still pool by the river showed a face, deep-lined. No peaceful nights before the fire, telling the children stories. Not for him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Enough. Setting his lips again, he carefully inserted the Eagle feather into its accustomed place in his headband, picked up the bullet and held it in his fist. A breeze from the South cooled his skin. He turned in that direction and nodded. Sister Butterfly lighted on a milk plant. Mujekeewis smiled and thanked her for the reminder. Wash and eat, she said. Prepare.

Then, he whispered, I must speak to the Farmer.

Chapter 1, Part 3

Ma and Pa Consider the Situation

The late afternoon sun streamed in crystal purity through the dining room window. Dust motes didn't dare interrupt sunlight in Ma's home.

Pa stood, arms crossed, head down in deep thought like a brooding Atlas. His blond hair, touched here and there with gray, hung softly to his shoulders. Before him Ma sat, lips pursed, pensively tapping a finger on the table. Her gaze was piercing and distant, as if she saw something other than the tall, Clemsy proof cupboard against the wall.

"I can't see no way 'round this, Pa," she said. "He's the only one'll fit through, dang the boy." That Ma would come anywhere close to the approximation of a swear word gave evidence of the situation's gravity. Pa looked up and nodded. Neither of them wondered why this should be. They both had the talent of knowing and this they knew for sure: The responsibility was their's and Clemsy was the only tool for the job. Their son. They didn't like it, but the world was like that. Likes and dislikes were just distractions.

"Jes like poundin a nail in a board," Pa grumbled. "Might split the grain, might not. Sometimes a guide hole is what y'need if it's the only board y'have. We can't crack that board, Ma. Some gambles are jes plain crazy and this'd be one a that type. No question. It's him or the risk."

Ma sat back and sighed. The maple tree outside replied in a warm breeze. "Well, his talent'll get him through. It'll lead him whether he knows or not. That girl, now..." Ma shook her head. " I can't see her clear-like. She's there, but..." She stared into the table as if she could see straight through to the bedrock below the foundation and shook her head again. "No good. There's deep water in there rippling the Light. I don't feel any Dark, though Dark can hide Itself pretty good," She squinted her eyes, "...if It's got the mind to."

"Half Abo, that one." Pa's voice was calm and certain. "Interestin. If she has a role in this, I can't see it."

"That right there could be proof enough that she does."

They looked at each other. Pa nodded his head once. Ma relaxed, closed her eyes a moment and let out a slow breath. "Well," she said getting up, "it's been set in motion. All we can do is watch and maybe nudge a bit here and there. In the meantime..."

"...Somethin's worryin' the horses," Pa interrupted.

One of the farm hands ran by the window holding on to his hat.

Chapter 1, Part 2

The Next Moment

"Ma!"

"Clemsy?" inquired Randi.

"Randi?" replied Clemsy slowly coming to his senses, which were registering the fact that Randi was keeling by his side, her left knee lightly pressing against his hip.

"Clemsy. I'm not yer Ma."

"Not m'Ma? Dang, a course yer not m'Ma. What're you talkin' 'bout, Randi?"

By this time Clemsy was up on an elbow trying to make sense of the world. A crowd was gathering, blocking Sidetrack's view until he nudged up against the hitching rail and looked over the onlookers' shoulders. There was nothing like Clemsy putting on a show. Runt sprang atop the horse's back and climbed to the best seat in the house between Sidetrack's ears.

Of course, only the children, pointing and giggling, noticed this.

"You called me Ma, Clemsy."

Clemsy sat up shaking his head, brushed his hair out of his eyes and looked at Randi. A small part of his mind was aware of how amazing this moment was and wondered how long it would take for the rest of his mind to realize he was talking to a beautiful young woman sitting well within his personal space.

"Why would I do that? My Ma..." He paused and looked down, scrunching his eyebrows together in concentration. "Ma?..." There was something... "Ma..." He found it. "Ma!" His eyes went wide and he scrambled to his feet almost knocking Randi over. "Ma!" he exclaimed again and stepped purposefully one way, turned around and stepped the other way, stopped again as the vision he'd had while unconscious went from foggy to blurry to crystal clear focus. "Ma! Pa! I gotta git..."

Slack-jawed, he looked up at Sidetrack and Runt looking down on him. Then Randi and everyone else noticed the odd spectacle.

"What?" Sidetrack snorted.