Revenge of the Manitou (31 page)
The medicine
man raised his hand in the Indian sign which means “so be it,” and then turned
away. All Harry and Neil could do was
watch
him
disappear into the smoke and the darkness.
But even as
they stood there, they heard voices behind them.
Small, young
hesitant voices.
They turned, and there on.
the
bridge where the bodies of the medicine men had been lying were the children of
Bodega school.
Linus
Hapland
, with
his scruffy, red hair, Petra
Delsada
, Ben
Nichelini
.
Debhie
Spurr
,
and Daniel
Sos
-col. Even old Doughty was there. They
turned again, and where the burning body of Broken Fire had been stood Andy
Beaver, dazed but alive. And out of the smoke into which
Misquamacus
had walked, shyly at first, but then with a rush, came Toby.
Neil knelt down
and flung his arms around Toby and cried openly. Harry watched him for a while,
and then went to the parapet of the bridge, took out a cigarette, and lit it.
He didn’t want to go look at the body of Singing Rock. He wanted to remember
his Indian friend the way he always had been before-dignified, wise, tolerant,
and humorous. What lay on the bridge were only mortal remains, after all.
Singing Rock’s real self, his
manitou
, was now on the
great outside, in the magical hunting grounds where the wonder-workers prepared
themselves for each fresh incarnation.
He took a long
drag at his cigarette and then brushed tears from his eyes with the back of his
hand. He thought he must be getting old. The wind always seemed to make him
weep.
They sat in the
kitchen at Neil’s house, polishing off the remains of one of Susan’s
cheese-and-bacon pies, with fresh broccoli and red potatoes. Then Neil brought
some more beer out of the fridge, and they drank a quiet toast to survival, and
maybe to Dunbar, too.
Harry said, “It
was too near this time. I don’t ever want to meet that goddamned
Misquamacus
again as long as I live.” Susan gave him a
gentle smile. “The best thing you can do now is forget it. It won’t happen
again, will it? Not like this.”
“I don’t think
so,” said Harry. Then he added, “No, it won’t.”
Neil drank beer
and said nothing. Toby, at the other end of the table, was playing lumberjacks
with the stalks of his broccoli, cutting them up and floating them downriver on
the cheese sauce.
Harry said, “I
still don’t know what happened with Broken Fire. I thought he was going to burn
you up like a cheap hamburger out there on the bridge.”
Neil lowered
his eyes. “I don’t know, either. But I’ve got a kind of hunch. I don’t know
whether you saw anything in the air between me and that medicine man, but I
could swear I glimpsed my dead brother Jimmy for a moment. It was as if he was
acting as a shield between me and that fire.”
Neil set down
his glass. “You remember what Singing Rock said about Broken Fire? His magic
didn’t work too well against the spirits of people who had been killed by white
man’s technology. Well, that was how Jimmy was killed. We were out working on
our car, him and me, and I accidentally let the jack slip and he was crushed.”
There was a
pause. Susan and Toby and Harry all looked at him in silence, and let him come
to terms by himself with what had happened.
“What I learned
out there,” said
Neil,
“was that Jimmy doesn’t blame
me. He protected me, and saved my life, just like the spirits of all those
settlers protected the American heritage that they’d help to found. I believe
the spirits of the past are with us all the time, whether they’re good or
whether they’re evil, whether they’re fancy and frightening or whether they’re
plain and helpful. I still don’t understand it all, and I don’t suppose I ever
shall, but I thank God that the world is made the way it is.”
Harry Erskine
finished his beer, wiped his mouth, and stood up. “I’m going to have to make a
move,” he said, “or else I’m going to miss that plane.”
“How long are
you going to stay in Dakota?” asked
Susan.
“Just long
enough to make sure that Singing Rock gets buried the way a great medicine man
should. Then it’s straight back to New York.”
Susan smiled.
“Well, you call and see us again, you hear?”
Harry nodded.
“Thanks for the lunch. It was terrific.”
They walked out
to Neil’s pickup and Harry threw his suitcase in the back. Susan and Toby stood
by the kitchen door waving as he climbed into the passenger seat and closed the
door.
“So long,”
called Harry. “And stay away from Indian medicine men from now on.”
Toby grinned
and lifted his hand for a second in the same sign that
Misquamacus
had made before he vanished. The Indian sign for “so be it.” Then the sign was
gone, and the boy was simply waving.
Harry looked at
Neil and tried to appear cheerful.
“Nice boy you’ve got there,” he said, and reached for his
cigarettes.
The End
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