Chapter Four

"Mother Earth, have pity on us and give us food to eat. Father, the Sun,

bless all our children and may our paths be straight."

Blackfoot prayer

The sky spun overhead and the galloping horse beneath Anya made her sick to her stomach. "Must you push the horse—whatever his name is— so hard?"

"His name is Kitchi. It means brave one, and you said you were in a hurry to get back to your boy."

Willie-boy. Yes, I must hurry. How long have I been gone? Oh, if I could only think. "How do you know we're going in the right direction?"

"I know where you live, and before you get any fanciful notions about how, I've never asked. Cobb told me. We've crossed paths now and then." He slowed the stallion to an easy canter. "What do you think is wrong with your son? I mean, is it a stomach ailment, does he have a rash or is it possible he fell and hit his head?"

"No, he doesn't act like he's in pain." She pictured him limp and unconscious in Cobb's arms. "He wasn't clutching his stomach and there's no wound or lump to his head, no rash of any kind."

"What aren't you telling me, Anya?"

"About Willie-boy? Nothing. I told you he found Lewis dead in the barn and hasn't spoken since. He's suffering some kind of shock, trauma."

"What aren't you telling me then about something else? You forget I've known you since we were children."

She squirmed in the saddle. Sutter knew her better than she knew herself, despite the ten years separating them. She wanted to change the subject until she worked up the nerve to tell him about Lewis haunting them, and she wanted to know about his family. "Tell me about the Baker Massacre."

"That's my Anya; change the topic when it gets too close to the truth."

"You said, “My Anya."

"Slip of the tongue. Don't make it into anything other than I know how you think, that's all I meant."

"All right. Quid pro quo then."

"What?!" She felt his back stiffen. "What's that supposed to mean?"

To stop the clouds overhead from spinning, she laid her head against his shoulder. "It means, you tell me about the Baker Massacre and I'll tell you . . . ."

"Continue. Tell me what?"

"I will, I promise. I need to think about how to tell you."

"Anya, this isn't funny, and I don't know what to think. Just what are we riding into?"

"Bah." It must be the mescal that made her giggle. "Since when have you ever been scared of anything in your life?"

His voice took on an offended tone. "Did I say I was scared? A man likes to know what lies ahead of him, that's all."

"I know what happened to your father, Tall Feathers, and your mother, Koko dabun. Cobb told me. I'm sorry, Sutter, so sorry."

He spoke soft and low. "You remember what Koko dabun means?"

"Yes, of course, Night Star."

"She didn't deserve to die like that. She could have left the tribe anytime. Tall Feathers always said she could have her freedom after he saved her from the fire and married her."

"I remember the story. She was a white captive, and the tribe wanted to put her to the fire. Tall Feathers spoke up and said he had captured her and he had the right to save her." Nostalgia laced her words. "It is a romantic story."

"I suppose a woman would think it romantic. I only know she stayed because she loved him and he loved her." A long sigh left his lips. "At least they died together."

She dreaded asking him about Old Person, his grandfather. The ancient healer had taught Sutter everything he knew. "What about your grandfather?"

"Too old to fight, he slipped away and headed for the mountains once the shooting started."

A moment of joy crowded her heart. "I'm so happy he lived. Where is he now?"

"Deep in the Bitterroot Mountains where he can enjoy a warm fire and a good pipe. Where no one can find him."

"Not even you?"

"I can find him any time I want to."

"Why did the army attack the village?"

He blew a breath of disgust. "Ha! Why do they attack any village? Why do they take our land?"

"The newspaper said 173 men, women and children were massa . . . killed and the scout told Major Baker they were looking down on a friendly Blackfoot camp. Many people in Butte and Helena were outraged when they heard the truth."

Disgust and hatred rang in his voice. "The men were away hunting, and most of those massacred were sick with smallpox. Don't tell me about the outraged Wa'piski-wiya, Anya. I have nothing but hate for the white man in my heart."

"And yet, you'll help Willie-boy?"

"Like I said, he's a child, had nothing to do with what's happened to the Blackfeet." He brought the stallion to a slow walk. "I don't want to talk about the massacre ever again, understand?"

"All right."

Sutter's arm tightened around her chest. "Tell me, Anya, what am I riding into?"

Her heart drummed against her ribcage. "I wasn't completely truthful when I said I was desperate. I mean, everything I told you about Willie-boy is true, but . . . ."

"But?"

"We’re being harassed by a ghost." How she wished she could see Sutter's face. "I'm certain it's Lewis."

Long moments of silence passed.

"You think a Hooki haunts the ranch?"

"Hooki. I haven't heard that word for a long time. She shuddered. "I don't think, Sutter. I know. Ever since Lewis hung . . . after Lewis died, an evil spirit suddenly appeared."

What reason would Lewis have to return to haunt you?"

"Don't you think I've asked myself that a thousand times?"

"You said Lewis killed himself. Why would he do that?"

When a crow sprang from a nearby branch of a red cedar, Anya jumped. "Six months before he died, he was stupid with drink every night. Before he passed out, he'd rant and rave, senseless words I couldn't make out. I had no idea who he was talking to." Nausea continued to roil in her stomach, from the mescal and from the conversation about the ghost. In the west, the sun began its descent. They couldn't have too many miles yet to cover. "Say something, Sutter. At least tell me what you know about ghosts."

"What do your People say about ghosts?

“I don't see how that will help since Lewis wouldn't have held the same beliefs."

She put a hand to her forehead. "How do we know what anyone believes or what is true? Some days, I think I'll just crack. All I know is Lewis went loco and killed himself. Now my son doesn't speak and he's come down with some unknown illness."

"The Blackfoot believe if a person was a good friend while alive, their spirit will come back after death to visit the friend." Sutter paused for a brief moment. "And they believe ghosts revisit the earth every night. They might appear to friends and relatives in dreams and beg them to join them in the afterworld. Or, they might curse them thinking the curse will kill them, and then they'll have to come with them to the afterworld."

"And where is their afterworld?"

"The Sand Hills, an area south of the Saskatchewan River."

"That is not what's happening at all. This ghost does not visit me in dreams nor did he appear only to curse me." When she laughed, her head throbbed. "Lewis didn't want me in this world; he most certainly doesn't want to drag me into the afterworld."

Anya had never heard him sound so serious. "Tell me exactly what the Hooki does, and don't leave anything out."

"All right, but this is very difficult to talk about, much less hear. He screams like a banshee, knocks on the outside wood of the cabin, howls like the wind, and he can move objects."

"You have seen this?"

She nodded. "One morning, after gathering eggs, I noticed what I thought was bright red paint on the north side of the house. As I got closer, I realized it wasn't paint, but blood. I hustled inside, put the eggs down and grabbed a bucket and a rag. After I filled the bucket from the pump, I began to scrub the blood from the wall. I heard footsteps near the wood pile and before I knew what was happening, a log sailed by my head."

"Ghosts who can move objects possess much power." He paused again as if mulling over the scene she described. "What did he write in blood?"

"Nothing," she said with an exasperated sigh. "They were handprints, big, bright, dripping with blood, handprints."

"Does the boy know, and what about Cobb?"

"Willie-boy knows, and I think he saw the dead spirit. He drew a picture of a ghost one day and wrote Papa under the drawing. And yes, Cobb has heard him many nights."

The ranch came into view and anxiety settled in. Anya prayed Willie-boy was still alive or hadn't slipped further into the illness that had struck him. Smoke from the chimney curled skyward, a comforting sign right now. "I'm sorry, Sutter. I should have told you right off, but I was afraid you'd think I had made it all up to get you to come home with me. I mean, Willie-boy is the most important thing, the main reason I came to you. I don't know why, but I didn't think the doctors in Butte could help him."

"We won't know until we get there and I can look him over, but you should be prepared for anything."

For the first time since they'd mounted, she turned and looked at him. "What exactly does that mean?"

A somber look crossed his eyes. "I don't know, won't know until I look him over, but has it occurred to you that your son's illness might have something to do with the ghost?"

"Oh, dear God, please don't go there."

"Just trying to prepare you. The ghost brings a whole new way of thinking to what is going on at that ranch."

Sutter stopped the stallion near the front porch, jumped from the horse and lifted her down. "You go ahead and check on your son. I'll take care of the horses."