Our final guest author is the talented western and mystery author, Paty Jager, with her gifted short story. Enjoy!
***
Catch a dream and hold it in your heart.
***
Shandra Higheagle stirred her cup of tea and
reread the letter written in her grandmother’s scrawling penmanship requesting
Shandra attend the drum ceremony after her funeral. Shandra knew nothing of the
drum ceremony her grandmother requested she attend. For that matter she knew
little of her grandmother other than she was a Nez Perce elder, grieved her son
as much as Shandra grieved her deceased father, and Ella, Grandmother, had
touched Shandra in a way she didn’t understand as a teenager twenty years ago.
Memories
of that summer emerged as Shandra thought of her grandmother.
Shandra
had been angry with her mother and stepfather. They’d chosen to take a month
long summer vacation and leave her home with the housekeeper and ranch hands.
Shandra
had other ideas.
After
her parents left, Shandra asked for a ride to Missoula from a ranch hand. There
she boarded a bus to take her to Brewster, Washington. From there she’d
hitchhike to the Colville Indian Reservation where her grandmother and aunt
lived. With forty dollars in her pocket and a backpack carrying her music, art
supplies, and two pair of clothes, she’d stepped out of the bus at the station
in Brewster.
A
woman with a gray braid tucked into a beaded bun wrap, weathered skin, and
wearing moccasins, jeans, a white blouse, and silver earrings and necklace
walked up to Shandra.
“Welcome,
Shandra. I am your grandmother.” The woman extended her hand and smiled.
“How
do you know who I am and that I was arriving?” Shandra knew by the woman’s
features she was her grandmother. She only had one photo of her father and his
family. Over the years she’d spent countless hours staring at the photo and
then herself in the mirror, trying to learn more about her side of the family
that her mother and stepfather refused to acknowledge.
Grandmother,
or Ella as her grandmother told her was the word for grandmother in Nez Perce,
smiled and said softly. “When a bird returns to the nest, the mama bird knows.”
She motioned. “Come we must return by dinner time.”
Shandra
fell in step beside her grandmother, taking furtive side-long glances at her.
She walked straight and tall with an assurance Shandra remembered in her
father.
“Really.
How did you know I was here? I didn’t
tell anyone I was coming to see you.” Shandra thought hard. She’d told no one
and had caught a ride to Missoula after telling the housekeeper she was
spending the night with a friend.
“But
you dreamed. Your dreams go into the air and anyone who knows how to look can
find them.” Ella stopped at the driver side of an old, faded green pickup.
Shandra
stared at her grandmother. “You didn’t know I was coming from my dreams. I
don’t dream.” The comment was partially true. She didn’t know if it was because
she’d had a dream about losing her father before he died or because she didn’t
sleep soundly enough, but she rarely had dreams.
Ella
slid in behind the steering wheel and motioned for Shandra to climb in. “You do
not have to be asleep to dream. Many dream of their futures as they walk down
the street or sit outside staring at the stars.” The vehicle revved, and they
shot away from the curb.
Shandra
clutched the door handle as Ella punched the pickup into the traffic. Luckily,
they soon turned off the busy road, traveling over gravel roads. The pickup
rattled and clanged making conversation hard. Shandra didn’t feel like yelling
to be heard. She pulled out her CD player and stared at the scenery. They drove
through country covered with sagebrush and juniper. The two plants her
stepfather hated most. He paid good money to make sure not a sagebrush or
juniper grew on his Montana cattle ranch.
They
traveled for two hours over gravel roads, passing through woods and finally
other than an occasional building, she spied what looked like a town.
“That’s
the Trading Post store and gas station.” Ella pointed to a long building with
gas pumps in front of it. “Over there is the agency buildings. That grassy area
on the left is where we hold powwows once a year.”
Shandra had known coming to the reservation
would be different from what she was used to, at the moment fear had started to
override the anger she’d used to get her this far. She instinctively knew her
grandmother wouldn’t hurt her or let anyone hurt her, but that didn’t stop the
swelling of unease that she shouldn’t have come.
They
entered what appeared to be a small town. Ella waved to several people. The men
had braids, the women wore long skirts. Little kids ran around the dirt and
weed yards.
“This
is Nespelem. Your father, grandfather, and great-grandfather are buried here,”
Ella said.
“What
about my great-grandmother? Isn’t she buried here?” Not that she wanted to
know, but she didn’t like how Ella only referred to the men. In her short
thirteen years, Shandra had yet to run into a male who warranted special
treatment.
“Your
great-grandmother is buried alongside your great-grandfather. She would be
pleased you have come to visit.” Ella swung off the main road through town and
guided the pickup down a bumpy gravel road.
“Your Aunt Josephine is excited to see you. The last time we saw you,
you were very small.”
The
pickup veered down a road. After fifteen minutes of bumping slowly over ruts
through the pine trees Shandra saw a large barn with corrals and a small two
story farmhouse.
“This
is the ranch where your grandfather and father spoke to horses. They trained
many and we still breed good stock today.” Ella stopped the pickup beside the
house. Three large dogs came bounding around the side of the house. Ella talked
to them in a language Shandra didn’t know and all three dogs stopped and sat,
waiting.
“What
did you say?” Shandra patted each dog on the head as she and Ella walked by.
“I
told them to show respect. If you show an animal respect, they will give it to
you in return. Same with people.” Ella opened the back door of the house.
Wonderful smells circled Shandra’s head. On
the trip she’d only purchased junk food and water. It was another way to rebel
against being left at home. At least that was her way of thinking.
A
younger version of Ella stood in the middle of the kitchen. Her face glowed
with good humor and steam from cooking. “Welcome! I’m your Aunt Jo.” She
wrapped her arms around Shandra and hugged. Her stomach was round and hard. Her
aunt was pregnant.
Shandra
stood still, her arms at her sides. She didn’t know this woman. They might be
family, but it was a family Shandra knew nothing about. She didn’t even hug the
family she knew.
“Shandra
is hungry and tired,” Ella said, motioning for her to sit at the table.
Shandra
looped her backpack over the back of a chair and sat. Aunt Jo set bowls and
platters of food on the table. Shandra noticed the table was set for four.
Within
minutes, stomping at the back door ushered in a tall, broad-shouldered man. He
had dark braids hanging down the front of his chest, a big smile, and friendly
dark brown eyes.
“This
is my husband, Martin Elwood.” Aunt Jo’s eyes shone like stars as she looked at
her husband. “Martin, this is our
niece, Shandra.”
Her
uncle held out his hand. “Welcome. What brings you out for a visit?”
Shandra
shook his hand and stared at her grandmother. Never one for lies or tales she
said, “Mother and Adam left for a month, and I didn’t want to stay at home with
the housekeeper.”
Ella
smiled. “I’m glad you came to visit.”
Shandra
had expected questions and reprimands for heading out on her own. Instead they
started passing the food and talking about their day and the horses that were
yet to foal.
After
dinner, Ella led Shandra upstairs to a room at the end of the hall. “This was
your father’s room. It will now be yours whenever you visit.” She opened the
door and Shandra slowly walked into the room. Belt buckles, photos of her
father holding up a trophy, and two pairs of silver spurs shined on the small
bookcase beside the bed. “It is time you discover your father again.” Ella
turned to leave.
“Wait.”
Shandra’s heart raced in her chest. She didn’t want to sleep in her father’s
room. “Can’t I have another room?” she asked.
Ella
peered into her eyes. “Your father’s story never finished. You are part of that
story. There is no other room you can sleep in.”
Shandra
wasn’t sure what her grandmother was telling her, but she wasn’t as scared
about staying in the room. “Okay.”
Crossing
the room, Ella stopped at the head of the bed and tapped a circle with what
looked like a spider web in the middle. A feather hung down from the circle.
“This will catch the dreams and only allow the good dreams to slip down the feather
and into your head. Sweet dreams.”
Ella
grasped Shandra’s hand as she passed and muttered words in what Shandra now
realized were Nez Perce.
Shandra
spent the next hour reading all the inscriptions on her father’s things. Her
eyelids lowered, and she could no longer stay wake. Leaving the bedside light
on, she slipped between the covers and immediately fell asleep.
Dreams of her father floated through her
head. He held her on a horse, played with her, and teased. She was small, but
she understood his love for her and his joy to show her everything around her.
Knocking
woke her.
“Time
to wake. There’s work to do.” Ella’s voice carried into the room and soft
footsteps moved down the hall.
Shandra
stretched and felt rested. Her dreams remained fresh in her mind. All the faint
memories of her father were bright and reminded Shandra he’d loved her.
Downstairs
she ate breakfast of eggs and toast. Uncle Martin headed out to do the chores.
Aunt Jo cleaned up the dishes, and Ella motioned for Shandra to follow her
outside.
Her
grandmother walked slowly toward the barn. “We raise good horses. Many people
come to us for trained horses.”
“Who
trains them? Uncle Martin?” Shandra said.
“We
all work with the horses. It makes them more accepting of who buys them. You
will help us while you’re here. I feel you are like your father. A horse
talker.” Ella opened the barn door. There were stalls on one side of the barn.
A couple of heads poked over the stall gates. “These fillies are expecting
their first foals. Martin is keeping an eye on them.” Grandmother petted each
on their noses.
Shandra
reached out, allowing them to sniff her, then pet their soft noses. “Will they
have their foals while I’m here?” She’d never witnessed a foal being born, only
calves.
“I
believe Fancy, this one—” Ella stopped at the last stall “—is ready.”
The
mare stared at Shandra. Her big, brown eyes peered into hers. There was a
slight dullness to the mare’s eyes. “She’s in pain,” Shandra said.
Ella
smiled, nodded. “You are to stay with Fancy today and help her.”
Shandra
stared at her grandmother. “I don’t know anything about a horse having a baby.”
Her hands shook thinking about what could go wrong.
“Stay
with her. Ease her stress. Martin and I will check in on the two of you often.
If she begins birthing, come get me or your uncle.” Ella motioned to the gate.
“You can go in. Fancy is gentle and only wishes company.”
Shandra
unlatched the gate and walked in. Fancy was a bay appaloosa with a well-defined
white blanket and large black spots on her rump.
“Fancy,
I see you’re in pain.” Shandra stroked the horse’s neck and whispered the story
of how she came to be in the stall. She spent several hours talking to,
petting, and brushing the horse. The longer she remained with the horse, she
understood the animal’s actions. When the mare hurt she needed reassurance.
Fancy
lay down and curled her neck, looking at her tail.
“I’ll
get Ella.” Shandra climbed the stall gate and ran to the house.
“Ella!
Ella! Come she’s in pain and the foal is coming.” Shandra found Grandmother
sitting in a small room beading a round circle.
She
calmly set her needle and the circle down, then put a lid on the tray of beads.
“Come!
She’s in pain!” Shandra wanted to get back to Fancy.
“I’m
coming. Always put things away. You do not know when you may get back to it.”
Grandmother stood and headed to the door. Shandra wanted to run back to the
barn, but Grandmother stopped at the kitchen. She filled a bucket with warm
water.
“Carry
this.”
Shandra
grabbed the handle of the bucket and headed to the barn. At the stall, she
looked back. Grandmother was strolling along with a leather bag that looked
like a shoulder purse in her hands.
“What
is that? Are you going to town for a vet?” Shandra asked, unlatching the gate.
“No.
This satchel has medicine to ease her pain and help with the birth.”
Grandmother stepped into the stall. She said more words Shandra didn’t
understand while sprinkling herbs and powders into the bucket of water.
“Make
her stand to drink this.” Grandmother walked to the gate and stood.
Shandra
looked down at the horse and then at Ella. “She is more comfortable on the
ground.”
Ella
nodded. “But she needs to drink the water. Get her up.”
Placing
her hands on the animal to get her attention, Shandra felt the animal tremble.
“She’s scared.”
“She
trusts you. Get her up and make her drink.”
Shandra
curled her fingers around the halter on the animal. “Come on, Fancy. You need
to drink the water. It will help.” Gently, she pulled on the halter. “Come on.
You’ll feel better.” The horse stared into her eyes then stood. Her legs shook,
but she put her muzzle in the bucket and drank the water.
Shandra
stared at Grandmother. “She trusted me!”
“When
you care about someone they will trust you.”
A
loud bark and whimpers drew Shandra from the memory. Sheba wanted in. Crossing
the room to let her large, furry sidekick into the house, Shandra smiled.
Grandmother’s gift that summer had taught her if you respect you will be
respected. She touched the round, beaded barrette in her hair. “Thank you, Ella
for teaching me respect and to dream.”
***
This story
sets up how after her death, Shandra’s grandmother comes to her in dreams and
helps her solve mysteries in the Shandra Higheagle
Mystery Series.
Author
bio.
Award-winning author Paty Jager and her husband raise alfalfa hay in rural
eastern Oregon. She not only writes the western lifestyle, she lives it. All
Paty’s work has Western or Native American elements in them along with hints of
humor and engaging characters. Her penchant for research takes her on side
trips that eventually turn into yet another story.
You
can learn more about Paty at
No comments:
Post a Comment