Wind Over Marshdale (9 page)

****

“I like that movie,” Whisper said, yawning widely as Thomas tucked her under her covers and switched off the bedside lamp.

“I know you do,” Thomas chuckled. “You've only seen ‘Beauty and the Beast' a hundred times.”

“Belle looks like my teacher,” Whisper said, yawning again.

“She's pretty.” He bent to kiss his little daughter's cheek one more time. “And so are you. Good night, Princess.”

There was no response. Thomas smiled, rose carefully from the bed, and tip-toed from the room.

She was pretty, Whisper's teacher. He'd only seen her a couple of times, and of course he'd noticed, but he hadn't really stopped to consider it much before now. Since his beloved wife's death, he hadn't thought much about other women. But now…maybe he'd have to start picking his daughter up from school himself more often. Give Ryder a break to spend time with his new friends. Yeah, that was it.

With a satisfied smile, Thomas went to his computer. There was so much research to be done, but somehow he wondered if his mind would be able to focus.

He clicked on the monitor and opened a file marked “Elders Remember.” It was a collection of interviews that had been done over the years with various elders, and which had recently been transcribed and archived. Sometimes the interviews had no relevance to his research, but sometimes there was a reference—even a slight one—that shed more light on the importance of the Old Man's Lake site to the indigenous people of former times.

He started reading the next document in line, focusing half his attention on the oral history presented while the other half was thinking about Whisper's pretty teacher. Then he stopped, his body suddenly tingling with a thousand pins and needles. He backtracked, rereading the words with every ounce of his attention.

“Back before the turn of the century, even before the days when the North West Mounted Police came to bring law and order to the plains, there was a powerful elder—a medicine man known as the ‘Wise One'. He held influence. People came from miles around to consult him, even sending envoys from tribes who were normally at war with the Cree nation, all to hear his wisdom. Their meeting place was a large, shallow lake that sometimes dried up into nothing but a salty, alkaline plain. It became known as Old Man's Lake.”

Thomas paused in his reading. This first part was nothing new, but it was the next half of the narrative that really caught his attention. He continued reading.

“The Wise One frequently prayed to the Creator on top of the rounded hills surrounding the lake. When the great herds of bison began to diminish in number, he prayed, asking for the restoration of these life-giving animals. It is said that the Creator demanded a blood sacrifice, and so the man
—
the ‘Wise One'
—
took it upon himself to become that sacrifice, allowing the stampeding herd to trample him to death in exchange for sustenance for the people.”

Sweat had broken out along Thomas's forehead and he sat trembling. He could feel it—feel the old man's determination and purpose as he prayed, beseeching the Creator to have mercy on the people. He could hear the rumbling sound that started low in the bass section of the earth's core, gradually gaining in momentum: the thundering of a thousand hooves pounding the ground in unified timpani. He smelled the sweat of the giant robed bodies as they approached, bracing himself for the initial impact.

It was as if he knew exactly what the elder was thinking—because he did. They had become one in his dream.

****

“Who will be next?” Mirna Hyde asked, her gaze penetrating. Incense filled the air with its heady scent while the flickering light of several candles danced across the woman's features. Two girls stood wide-eyed in the darkened shadows of the living room.

“You go,” Shaylee giggled, pushing Bonita forward.

Bonita hesitated, swallowing visibly.

“Have a seat,” Mirna directed cryptically. Bonita did as she was told and perched on the edge of the chair that was in front of the small table where Mirna sat.

“Now, let us see what the cards have to say,” Mirna said, laying the tarot cards down one by one.

****

“Okay, let's get a move on,” Con called to the group of teens piled into his pickup. Three boys jumped out of the back while the two girls present slid from the cab. The youth group had split up into groups to canvass the town for empty bottles and cans. His nephew, Tyson, and Billy Chang were among Con's group and Billy had assured them that his parents had set aside a good number of empties at the restaurant for them to pick up. Sonny's Café was their last stop.

The fact that his niece Bonita was not present was a bit of a worry, but Tyson had said she was at volleyball practice. He just hoped he could believe it. He knew his niece.

“Why don't we try the hotel?” one of the girls suggested once they had congregated on the sidewalk in front of Sonny's. “I mean, it is right next door.”

“I don't think so, Faye,” Con said with a shake of his head. “They weren't too keen on it last time. Empties are probably an important part of their revenue. As it is, it's pretty nice of Billy's folks to donate bottles like that. Okay, so why don't you kids head into the café and maybe I'll just drive around back. That would probably be less disruptive, eh, Billy?” Con suggested.

“Sure,” Billy nodded. “Come on,” he said to the group.

Con watched for a minute as they jostled one another at the door. Teenagers. He couldn't help but smile. He turned back to the pickup and noticed two females just leaving the hotel. It was that new teacher, Rachel, and Grace Acken. He touched the brim of his hat politely. “Good evening, ladies.”

“Hi, Con. Coming in for a cool one?” Grace asked, gesturing to the saloon.

“Uh, nope. Looks like a nice evening, though,” he replied. “I'm out with some young people doing a bottle drive to raise money for a trip.”

“Too bad,” Grace laughed. “We might decide to stick around if you did, eh, Rachel?”

Con just smiled. What some people said when they'd had a few drinks! Grace Acken was fun, but he never thought of her in
that
way. Now Miss Bosworth, on the other hand… The other night when he'd picked her up out on the back road, he couldn't help but notice her feminine curves. No wonder poor old Bart stopped! He probably thought an angel had landed right there in front of his truck. Her scent had lingered long after she'd disembarked, too.

“Hi, Miss Bosworth. Miss Acken,” came a sarcastic voice from a small group of teenagers who had congregated near the entrance.

Con squinted at the group. The street light beside the hotel was the local hang out for many of the town's more rebellious kids. They came to share a cigarette, maybe score some liquor, or just generally chill and try to act cool. He recognized most of them. “Loitering outside the hotel is no place to be at this time of night,” he said. When nobody moved, he added, “Remember, I know most of your parents.” There was some general grumbling, but the group filtered off.

“You two need a ride?” Con asked, turning back to the women.

“A walk'll do us good,” Grace laughed, shaking her head.

“You're sure?”

“Um, no thank you.” This time it was Rachel that spoke. “Mr. McKinley,” she added, as if it were an afterthought.

“It's Con, remember? And I thought we already established that walking alone after dark wasn't such a good idea.” He grinned, catching Rachel's eye for a moment. With a sudden flutter of eyelashes she pulled her gaze away, focusing on her feet. Hmm. Her lips were nice, too. What would it feel like to kiss them?

“Oh? And when did we establish this?” Grace asked, surveying both Con and Rachel with wide eyes.

Rachel's, “Never mind,” was drowned out by Con's explanation. “Let's just say I rescued her from Bart and the coyotes,” he laughed.

“This is getting more interesting by the minute,” Grace said. “Tell me more!”

Rachel grabbed her friend by the arm and physically yanked her in the opposite direction. “Nice seeing you again,” she called over her shoulder. Con watched as both women tripped on the curb, as if on cue. He shook his head. Rachel Bosworth was definitely pretty, just like his niece Lisa said. Why were all the pretty ones off limits?

 

“I really love your house, Sherri.” Rachel surveyed the family room from her position on one of the comfortable leather love seats. It was tastefully decorated in earth tones and featured a large gas fireplace along one wall. It was Saturday, and the trip into Regina was just the distraction she needed. A couple of aspirin and some orange juice had done the trick in chasing away the slight headache she'd felt upon waking. Now she hoped the visit with Sherri and Dan would counter the oddly confused and uncertain feelings she was experiencing.

“We never could have afforded a house like this back in Toronto," Sherri confided. “The cost of living out here is so much lower. And the pace of life is much more relaxed. There's really no rat race to speak of.”

“It's great," Dan offered, laying his newspaper in his lap for a moment. “No more six-thirty subway rides! I can be at work in fifteen minutes."

“It's about time you came in for a visit,” Sherri stated. “I was beginning to think you fell into a gopher hole or something.”

Rachel laughed. “I am feeling a little bit like Alice in Wonderland, that's for sure.”

“Adjusting to small town life?” Dan picked up his paper again.

“That's one way to put it, I guess. It's pretty tough to remain anonymous in a place where everybody knows everybody else's cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents.”

“The fish bowl syndrome.” Sherri nodded. “So, any cute guys in Marshdale?”

“Who knows? I'm not looking,” Rachel replied. She was suddenly very interested in a speck on the armrest. Two conflicting images popped into her mind. One had blue eyes and firm biceps, while the other was tall, dark and mysterious.

“Hmm,” Sherri mused, eyeing her friend suspiciously. “I recognize that look. Are you holding out on me?”

Rachel scrunched her forehead and forced a laugh. “Don't be silly. If I meet someone you'll be the first to know.”

“Not every man is like Ronald, you know, Rachel. There are some genuinely honest men out there.”

“Maybe. I'm just not interested right now, that's all.”

“Did Sherri tell you our good news yet?” Dan piped up from behind his newspaper.

Rachel looked from one to the other. “What good news?”

“Dan Walker!” Sherri frowned, throwing a pillow at him. “You weren't supposed to say anything to anybody yet!”

“Why not?” He looked out from behind the paper, the picture of innocence. “Everybody's gonna find out sooner or later anyway.”

“Okay, spill it,” Rachel warned. “Is this what I think it is?”

Sherri nodded mutely and then squealed, “We're going to have a baby!”

“Oh, Sherri! I'm so excited for you!” Rachel exclaimed. “When?”

“April. Can you believe it? Me? A mother!”

“April? How pregnant are you? You must have just found out yourself.”

“I know,” Sherri grinned. “We weren't going to tell anyone for a while yet.” She glared teasingly over at her husband. “Except big mouth here can't keep a secret!”

“Now I'll have an excuse to come visit you more often,” Rachel said.

“You know you don't need an excuse.”

“I know.”

“How about if you and I go for a walk? It's still so nice out. And my wonderful husband isn't being very sociable.”

“You two need some girl time anyway,” Dan said, once again behind the sports section.

The weather outside was beautiful. Rachel breathed deeply as they strolled down the tree shaded street. The trees, mostly elm and poplar, were beginning to display their autumn wardrobe. She missed the extravaganza of rich colors that she was used to in Southern Ontario, but the prairie had its own kind of beauty, albeit more subtle.

“Are you happy you moved, Rachel?” Sherri asked.

Rachel thought for a moment. “Yes, I think so. I'm still feeling a little bit… I don't know. Homesick, maybe. But, yes. I think so.”

“Homesick? I'd have thought you couldn't wait to get away.”

“Yeah, well, screwballs or not, there's something about the familiar.”

“It was about time you got out from under their thumb,” Sherri declared. “I just hope we didn't put too much pressure on you.”

“No, I think I was ready for a change.”

“Hope you won't be disappointed. For me it's different. I've got Dan and now…” Sherri smiled and rubbed her as yet flatstomach. “But you're out in Hicksville by yourself. Remember, any time you need us we're just a phone call away.”

“I know. Thanks.”

****

“Phew! Okay, kids,” Pastor Todd said, wiping his brow with the back of his sleeve. “Looks like we're almost through with the bottles. Now we just have to count the cans.”

The acrid smell of empty beer cans filled the air inside the recycling depot. The place was dingy, as many such establishments were, and the few volunteers that had showed up for the following day's sorting process were feeling sticky and altogether filthy.

“I am taking a shower as soon as I get home,” Bonita McKinley announced. She had driven in with Tyson to help—a way to appease her parents and uncle after missing youth group the previous night, as well as get out of some of the farm chores waiting at home. Of course, it also helped that at present she had a huge crush on Bob Spencer who worked part time at the depot.

Her parents were so old fashioned! If they knew she had gone to see Mirna Hyde, they'd skin her alive.

“How much do you think we made?” someone asked. Bonita looked over at the girl. Faye Rowan—what a geek! She was such a goody-goody and had no friends. Well, at least no friends that counted.

Pastor Todd shrugged. “Couldn't say for sure. Bob'll tally it up soon enough, though.”

“Probably a few hundred for sure,” Bob offered. He was busy moving the already counted items into their proper storage area. He was tall, just a little too skinny to call him truly buff, and had shaggy brown hair which was presently plastered under a wool hat. But he was cool. Bonita smiled.

“I'll be back in a sec,” Bob called over his shoulder. “Just put ‘em on flats, or count them into groups of twenty-four.” He took off his work gloves and slipped out the back door of the building.

Bonita looked around for an opportunity. “I'm just going to go next door to the bathroom at the garage,” she announced.

She found Bob leaning against the back of the building having a cigarette.

“Can I have a drag?” she asked, raising her brows in question and pointing at the cigarette. Bob took one more long draw, then handed her the cigarette with a nod.

“Thanks,” she said with a smile. She took a couple of puffs and handed it back to Bob.

“So what they raising money for?” Bob pulled on the smoke with his lips, his cheeks indenting.

“Some trip in the spring. I'm not going, though.”

“No?”

“It's a church thing,” she said, as if that explained it.

Bob nodded silently. “There's a party out at Jake's trees tonight.”

“Yeah?” Bonita smiled.

“You should come.”

She was about to answer—something provocative and grown up—when Billy Chang appeared. Bonita gave him her best glare. He was always hanging around at the wrong time.

“Oh, there you are,” Billy said. “Pastor wants to know which ones you counted already.”

“Coming,” she said sullenly, pushing away from the wall.

Billy nodded and disappeared into the building again.

“So, maybe I'll see you tonight,” Bonita said to Bob. She gave him a coy smile.

“Sure,” he replied, taking one last drag from the cigarette before flicking it onto the ground.

Now it was just a matter of figuring out a way to get back into town.