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Stars were bright in the dark sky and Little Moon could see all of them clearly. She remembered Wolf Man telling her about the gods, the great Manitou, living up there, in a world that was called "heaven" by the Whites. Her whole tribe, the rest of what has been Sauks, hated Whites, but Little Moon saw no harm in them. She patiently listened to the stories the elders told, about the cruel Whites, who destroyed their culture, but Little Moon somehow didn't care which way Whites were, as long as Steve Hopkins dated her. He was the reason she was waiting in the darkness now, at the border between the reservation and a small town, Winchfield, in Maryland.
Well, the white girls were stupid enough to be afraid of darkness and of the animals hiding in the woods. Little Moon was not that silly, she knew and respected the laws of nature and she has never been afraid of darkness. Though sometimes mocking her superstitious folk, she nevertheless believed that the good spirits of Earth would protect her from evil. As for the Whites… well, they missed a chance to be with Steve who seemed to be as daring as his date.
Little Moon didn't have a watch but she knew that something was preventing Steve from coming; it was unusual for him to be that late.
She just sat and watched the sky. Why did Whites say stars didn't move? Of course, they do and she could tell the hour just watching them. It was one of the advantages of being an Indian. Of course, you don't have running water or electricity, the elders reject it, but nature is sometimes more fascinating than any invention of humans, Little Moon thought. The elders were right. If not always, then at least sometimes.
She waited another half an hour but Steve didn't come. Little Moon started to walk home as she heard someone's footsteps behind her. She turned around but saw nothing but darkness. She shrugged: she wasn't scared that easily, just curious who could be walking at such ungodly hour. Perhaps some another Sauk girl, dating a White but it was not possible. She'd have known. Little Moon quickened her steps. She had to hurry, otherwise her family would know that something was on and that was the last thing she wanted. The steps behind her back quickened as well and then suddenly Little Moon felt someone's hand on her shoulder. She shrieked and span around, facing an old man behind her.
"Don't be afraid, little girl," the voice in the Language told her. Little Moon was numb with shock but still she understood he spoke a very old language. The kind the elders spoke when they prayed.
"Who are you?" she managed.
"I'm Silver Cloud, the last Indian," the answer was, "the last shaman. My soul wouldn't find peace until there are white people on this land, robbing the tribes, killing Indians."
Little Moon sighed, exasperated. She wasn't afraid now; just irritated some crazy old man would halt her.
"Take me to your shaman," he asked the girl, "before it is too late."
"We don't have a shaman," Little Moon replied, "just the elders. But if you insist…"
She didn't finish for as she again turned to face the old man, the latter was gone. Disappeared in the darkness and the rising mist.
Little Moon sighed: these old people, they behaved really strange. She returned to the road and continued her journey, angry that now she'd surely be seen.
But nothing like this happened. Next morning as Little Moon woke up, the whole camp was moving and shouting. She sleepily crept out of her bed and went to the street. Everywhere her own people were to be seen, accompanied by the Whites and - Little Moon froze - police.
"What's on?" she asked a little boy, who ran past her.
"Don't you know? They found a dead white, not far from the reservation," he answered and sped along before she could ask for details.
Little Moon followed the direction in which everyone seemed to be going. It was then she saw a body on the earth, circled by the police and the elders. She choked: the guy lying there was Steve!
"Steve, Steven," she sobbed in English, forcing her way through the crowd, "Steve, what happened to you?"
She touched his cold hands and knew at once he was dead. She still couldn't let his hand go. "Please, Steve, please, don't be dead!"
The policemen looked down on her.
"You knew him?" one of them asked rudely.
The other added gently: "You see, girly, he was found dead two hours ago and no one has seen the murderer. Do you know something about it?"
Little Moon shook her head: "No, I don't. I was a friend of him, it's true and we met several times but I knew nothing about his friends. Or about his enemies."
She knew the elders would be angry with her, firstly for dating Steve and secondly for admitting it, but she also knew she had to say the whole truth. It was the least she owed Steve.
The ruder policeman shrugged: "Archie, don't you see that she knows nothing about the guy? Just wishing to be in the spotlight for a while. We won't get something out of her."
He turned to Little Moon: "Go away, we don't want too many people around."
The one called Archie looked at her with some compassion: "If you can help us, just call me, ok?" He handed her a card: "And please make sure that it's me who you're talking with, right?"
Little Moon nodded and clutching the card left Steve's body. Though reluctant to go, she knew she had to; otherwise she would attract too much attention. She only hoped the elders didn't understand what was going on so that they wouldn't scold.
She didn't even remember the strange man she met at night, he remained a shadowy figure in her memory.
Four months later.
"Andy, come back," Silvia cried to her boy - friend, trying to catch hold of him, "Andy, wait, please! You've got no right to go to the reservation! Andy!"
But he wouldn't listen. He was so obsessed with the thought to visit the reservation, to see what the Indians were doing within.
Silvia finally lost track of him and sat down to a stone. It was a cold January day but she was sweating from the exertion, exhausted from a long run. So she just sat and stared ahead. For a moment she looked up but the sky was clouded and promised more snow so she returned the gaze to the road, hoping she'd soon see Andy and they return home together.
Suddenly she heard footsteps behind her and as she span around, ready to see Andy, she faced an old Indian. He was probably very old, weather beaten skin pergameneous, long white hair falling down his shoulders. He was dressed strangely in what Silvia later called "rags" but then she wasn't knowledgeable about Indian way of life. The strange man asked her something.
Silvia shrugged: "Sorry, I don't speak your language, old man, but you'd better return to the reservation, cops don't like you running around."
The man didn't say anything else, just stood there and stared at her.
"Go away or I'll call the police!" Silvia threatened, unnerved. He didn't move. Then spoke slowly and deliberately: "It is the land of the Sauks. I am Silver Cloud, the last Indian. And I will make the white barbarians return me our land."
Of course it was said in a long forgotten language and Silvia couldn't understand it. But nevertheless she shivered, suddenly frightened.
"Andy?" she called, wishing he were there.
As she turned around, the Indian was gone.
"Silv," there Andy came, running, "you can't imagine such a fun it is! But you look…" he didn't finish, suddenly grasping for air and sinking to the ground. "Silv, I'm choking," he whispered with last strength, "what's happening? Please, Silv, help!"
Silvia couldn't move, too terrified to speak or to go. But as she saw his face, distorted with pain, some of her old self returned as she hurried to Andy's side.
"Andy, Andy, how are you? What's wrong with you?"
He didn't answer. He was already dead.
"Lindsay," Peter's voice seemed to come from far away. She was again lost in her thoughts. "You don't seem to hear me."
"Hmm?" that was all she managed, feeling a bit guilty.
"I've been telling you that there's a very interesting case in Maryland but we don't have enough evidence to investigate it."
"You mean, the men are noncommittal?"
"No, it's not like this. You see, it all involves the Indians living there and since there have always been problems between whites and Indians, the officials just left the case without due attention. And so I thought since you're on a holiday now…" his voice trailed away.
"I would hardly call it a holiday," Lindsay smiled, looking down at her protruding belly, "but I have to admit I already miss OSIR."
"You've been away less than a fortnight!" Peter exclaimed. "It's unfair, why don't guys get a maternity leave?"
She laughed: "I think if you knew how hard it is to have a child, you'd preferred to stay a man."
Pete wasn't convinced: "I don't really know…"
"Well, I could talk to Anton. As soon as the kid is born, you'll look after her and I'll go back to work. Changing diapers, cooking baby food, feeding her in the middle of the night…"
"Enough, I give up!" he cried. "I admit I was mistaken! But that doesn't mean that I wouldn't have liked you to go to Maryland. Just sniffle around a bit." He also threw a look at her figure and added hastily: "I mean, if it's not too much to ask."
"I'll be perfectly all right," Lindsay reassured with a smile, "I'm already looking forward for a nice winter. This one here looks more like late autumn."
"You don't mind it, do you?" he asked one more.
"Now don't you behave like a mother hen," she laughed, "I'll be all right. You know that perfectly well, don't you?"
"I do," he said guiltily.
"I know you're worried about me," she added softening, "but you have to understand that I'm grown - up and that my whole life I spent running away from persons who tried to smother me. Please, don't become one of them, Anton's quite enough and I enjoy having you as a friend. Not as a Daddy."
"I won't," he promised, "if you promise to watch out."
"I will," Lindsay stood up. "I'll take the night machine, what're the directions?"
The full force of the icy wind met Lindsay as she got out of the plane and headed for her rented car. Unlike in all the other cases, there was no one to meet her and no one to be asked the details. She was all alone in this city and she'd be alone in the village covered with snow, facing something that can be more than a coax.
Well, she agreed to go and it would be a fun. That was what Lindsay promised herself and the baby as she got into the car.
"You must be Lindsay Donner," the elderly woman at the reception, who looked rather forbidding because Lindsay interrupted her reading, looked up at her through the thick glasses.
"I am," replied Lindsay and smiled one of her charming smiles.
The woman didn't change her expression but looked a bit nicer: "All right, here you've got your keys. We have no meals served for you're for now the only guest staying here, you can get to the Tony's, there's always something served."
"Thank you very much," Lindsay said politely, trying not to smile. She has seen a lot of small villages and in each the people were the same. It didn't matter if they lived in US, England, France, Germany or elsewhere, their attitude towards strangers was the same. They didn't mean it possibly and Lindsay learnt not to be put out by their rejection, she was only amused by the likeness.
Therefore she went upstairs to the small room, casting a quick glance at the receptionist. The woman shook her head, obviously thinking that to come along in such a state was a shame for a woman. But she didn't allow herself to giggle so that the woman could get more possibilities to dislike her.
The room was rather pleasant, the windows facing the forest across the road. The road, covered with snow, was deserted. There were few people living in this place and even fewer outside on such weather.
Lindsay crossed the room to the old fashioned radio standing on equally old fashioned dressing table. But no matter how she tried, the thing just didn't seem to work. Finally she gave up and looking at the watch decided it was the time to eat something. So she locked the room, went downstairs and crossed the hall under curious glances of Mrs. Potter (that was at least written on the card on her table). The wind outside was a shock but she bravely faced it, hurrying down the street to the Tony's and trying not to fall on the slippery pavement.
I bet the guys here don't know what it means, to clean streets from ice and snow, Lindsay complained to the baby as she almost fell down.
Still she managed to get to Tony's and just as she struggled to open the door, she felt how it was easily opened and turning around looked into a smiling face of a bearded man.
"A lady in your condition shouldn't walk around in such a weather," he said.
Lindsay just wanted to say it was none of his business but changed her mind: "I have to eat something. You know, the two of us."
He grinned: "Yeah, I bet you're over at old dragon's, aren't you?"
"You mean Mrs. Potter?" Lindsay giggled.
He nodded and stretched out his hand: "Harry Lewis."
She took off her gloves: "Lindsay Donner."
Together they went through the hall and Harry showed her the table at the window, "the best here" as he said.
"So what are you doing here on such a winter, hon?"
Lindsay didn't quite like when she was called "hon" but it was the usual word for this man, not meant as an insult.
"My maternity leave," she shrugged, "I love real winter."
Harry's face lit up: "That's what really nice people say, I don't think that this kind of foggy, rainy weather like in London can be called "winter"."
Lindsay smiled back: "I also think it's far fetched. But what people are used to. In Australia there's no winter at all. Why Australia? Even in Florida!"
He nodded and waved for a waiter. "It's a nice place to stay, hon, believe it or not. Except for the troubles we had in the last six months."
"What kind of troubles?" Lindsay asked nonchalantly while her heart started beating a bit faster like always when she was excited about new information.
"You know, there's a kind of reservation not far from here, where the Indians live. Normally we don't have troubles with them; they're quite nice really. But from time to time there's something strange happening over there. Not that I have seen something during my life until now, I've been told by my grandfather as I was a little boy. But I don't think that the kind of troubles we have now is the same as then, no it's different.
Everything started when Steven Hopkins was found dead. Somehow he must have been connected with the Indians, perhaps dating one of their girls. Anyway, he was found dead. And four months later Andy Walts, Tony's son by the way, was dead as well. His girlfriend, Silvia Sullivan, mumbled something about an old man, probably Indian, she has talked to before Andy died, as found out, of a heart attack but no one really believed her. You know girls, they get hysterical about everything and Andy died directly before Silvia's eyes so it's not surprising that she can fantasize."
"Interesting," said Lindsay, sipping her tea, "and was there anyone around when Steve died?"
Harry frowned to remember: "No, not as far as I know. There's been some Indian kid who said she knew he'd die but I think she had a shock as well. Besides you know how bad they know English, perhaps she forgot everything she knew when she saw him. Steve must've been her friend. Police didn't follow the case further but I've got a feeling," he bent over to Lindsay to stress his words, "that it's not over. There's a curse over this town, that's clear but no one wants to admit it."
Lindsay nodded. The talk was interested indeed. She only had to play a disinterested one. Somehow it walked with men like Harry. He wasn't the talkative kind like the most old ladies Lindsay has met during the investigations. "A curse? Really?"
The main course was brought.
"And what did you do before you got the maternity leave?" Harry asked suddenly.
"Biologist," she answered, being partly truthful only not to forget what she has told him.
"Hmm, nowadays the most women think they should work. And what about their men and children?"
"Well, it's the different kind of life, I guess, not every woman wants to spend the life looking after pots and kids."
"Like you?"
She met his gaze: "Yes, like me."
He looked at her hands: "You're not married, are you?"
Lindsay shook her head: "No, should I be?"
"I didn't say this. But what about the baby? How do you think it'll like to be brought up without a father?"
She raised her brow: it was an unusual question for a man like Harry.
"Well, the fact I'm not married doesn't mean she'll stay without a father. That means she won't have to see how her parents quarrel all the time."
"It's surprising a girl like you would stay unmarried," he changed the subject.
"Like I've already said, some women have other priorities."
Their glances met and both burst into laughter.
"We're sitting here like two philosophers while we know each other only for an hour," Lindsay smiled.
Harry nodded: "Yeah, I guess I had no right to teach you morals."
"It's all right. Somehow everyone I know seems to think I need guidance and advice. I've got used to being "a little helpless girl" so don't mind."
The end of the dinner they talked about unimportant stuff like weather and clothes. Then Harry apologized, saying that he had to go.
"You know, I work as a truck driver and it's my time to go. Otherwise I'll be late."
"Ok, thanks for the nice company. It was good talking to you," Lindsay answered.
"No, it was you who was a great company," he said, "I hope we'll meet again!"
"Same with me," Lindsay hoped that perhaps some other time he'd tell her more about the "curse" if she didn't find out something for herself.
So Harry left and she stayed at the table, thinking of where she could go on a snowy Friday night, lost in a small town where she didn't know a person.
"Would you like more coffee?" a voice asked, materializing from somewhere behind her.
Lindsay looked at the man who as Harry said, was the unfortunate father of Andy.
"Yes, thank you. Do you think there's a place to go here? I'm all alone in this town and there's no one I know."
The man looked at her suspiciously, searching for some hint that she was trying to cheat him. But the beautiful face was serene and the deep gray eyes watched him attentively and friendly.
"I don't know, what you think about me, but I just ask for more coffee. It's not that I want to stay here for the night or rob you. So please don't look at me as if I were a criminal," her voice was surprisingly soft and her eyes sympathetic.
"All right," he softened, "would you like a piece of cake?"
"Sure, why not?" she smiled. "I adore bakery but I'm quite hopeless at baking."
"Of course, of course," he went away from the table leaving Lindsay looking after him.
Tony came back with more coffee.
"Here you are," he said and Lindsay was sure she melted his heart a bit. She smiled again.
"Thank you so much, we're both really grateful for the coffee."
"Both?" he asked, puzzled.
"'Course, my baby, and me" she patted her belly.
He smiled back then, but then his face clouded. "Oh well, I also used to have a baby. Andy was such a dear boy! I wonder why he had to die, you know. The doctors said it was a sudden heart attack - a deadly one. But I don't know, Andy was still so young! Only a little boy, not even eighteen!" He sighed deeply.
"Was he your only child?" Lindsay asked.
"No, no, got another two guys and two girls, all of them married. Andy was our baby, Meg's and mine. Even got grandchildren, twins. But nothing can substitute Andy."
"He isn't a thing to be substituted, Tony, you have to understand that. And if you admit that and grieve a bit, you'll feel better."
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"I am, I really am."
Something in her voice made him look at her closer.
"What's wrong with you? Have you also lost a child?"
"No, not a child," she swallowed, "it was a friend. A very dear friend. You know, I often wonder who things would be if he stayed alive. I wish I could hold him back then."
Tony's look was sympathetic. "Same with me. I wish I knew why Andy really died and why I couldn't warn him." He made an emphasis on the word "really".
In this moment, the front door was thrust open and a copper haired girl burst in, snow melting on her hair and the woolen parka.
"Hi, Uncle Tony, I thought on such an evening there'd be someone around here and so I came to give a hand."
He smiled warmly at her: "Thanks, Silvia, that's really nice of you. However, there's no one here so you could go home."
"No, thanks," her bright green eyes watched Lindsay with curiosity, forehead creased. Lindsay could see she tried to remember where she saw her.
"Hi, I'm Lindsay Donner and I'm new here," she stretched out her hand, "I came here to have a bit of rest from work."
"Silvia Marlow," the girl answered, "great to meet you." Then her attention was turned to Tony: "Uncle Tony, do I really have to go?"
"You don't have any plans for a Friday evening?"
"No," Silvia shook her head, "we used to go with Andy but now when he's gone…"
"You knew Andy?" Lindsay felt it was time to interfere.
"Yeah, who else knew him better?" the girl sighed. "He was my best friend. Well, Uncle Tony, I guess I'll go now. Have a nice evening."
A gust of cold wind and she was gone.
"Such a nice girl," Lindsay mentioned to Tony.
"Yes, indeed. Her family is our closest neighbor, and she's almost as old as Andy. Was," he added after a short while and seemed to forget where he was.
Lindsay thought it was time to go. "Thank you very much, the food is delicious here, I'll come here tomorrow."
Tony didn't even look up: "Good bye then."
"Good bye."
Outside the wind got even colder and it was very dark. Too dark for Lindsay's taste. There were no lamplights on the narrow street and for a moment she didn't know where to go. There was nothing to see in the whirling snow. Against her will Lindsay wondered how Harry managed driving in such weather.
She stumbled down the street, in the snow up to her waist and cursing under her breath.
"I love winter. Why, I love real winter," that somehow helped and by the time Lindsay was in front of the hotel, she laughed at her own clumsiness.
Mrs. Potter looked up from the women magazine she was reading and disapprovingly eyed her, white from snow.
"That'll leave damp traces on the stairs," she complained.
Lindsay shrugged good-naturedly: "Sorry, I couldn't help it. You must see the blizzard outside."
Mrs. Potter sniffed but said nothing more.
"Good night then," she cried from the stairs and walked to her room.
It was very warm in spite of the fact that there was no central heating, just a big fireplace with burning fire. She took her mobile phone. Of course, Peter has called. He just can't help being a fusspot. Lindsay smiled. Well, she'll certainly ring him later but all she wanted now was a bath. A nice hot bath.
The sound of someone knocking made Lindsay look up from the book she was reading. She imagined Mrs. Potter standing outside and demanding something and couldn't help smiling. But it was not the innkeeper. Outside, shivering in the dim lamplight of the corridor was Silvia, the girl from Tony's.
"Hi," she started somehow awkwardly.
"Hi," replied Lindsay, "do come in, you must be freezing."
"I am," Silvia said and timidly entered the room. "Gosh, it's so warm!"
"You're welcome," invited Donner, "if you wish I'll give you some of my clothes and we'll dry yours."
"Thanks, that would be great," she sat down and looked at the flames, dancing in the fireplace. Lindsay, searching through her case some appropriate clothes, cast a sidelong glance at the girl. She seemed to be gathering strength to say something. Then Lindsay turned away for she found what she was looking for. Just as she wanted to hand the things over, Silvia spoke: "Lindsay, it's what you're called, aren't you?"
Lindsay nodded.
"Well, anyway, I have to tell you about it, just have to do it! I don't know but I just have the feeling that somehow what I tell will help Andy. Well, not quite help but you know what I mean, don't you?"
"Yes, I do, go on, Silvia," encouraged Donner.
"So, I want to tell you about Andy's death. That day we went out of town not because we just wanted to walk a bit and to kiss, like the others presume but because Andy wanted to see how the Indians live."
"The Indians?" couldn't help Lindsay. Everything she has heard seemed to fall into a muster but she still couldn't say what it was.
"Yes, he was very interested in their way of life and so we went there. I didn't want to go, you know, I was terrified. I'm kind of afraid of Indians, Lindsay," Silvia raised her green eyes and looked directly at Donner.
"Why?" she asked softly.
"Well, they're kind of mysterious and the old people there are so strange! Anyway, Andy ran away and I stayed where I was, waiting for him to come back. And then I saw him."
Lindsay waited.
""He" was a very old man. He looked as old as Earth; normally people don't live to become that kind of old. And then he was dressed in some kind of rags. So I thought he was an Indian. And then he stretched out his hand and mumbled something in a language I don't know. Or I couldn't understand. I stood there and waited. Then I asked whether he could speak English. He didn't answer, just kept on staring at me. I got frightened, told him I'd call the police but he didn't go away, repeating the phrase he already said. I called for Andy and as I turned around once more, the Indian was gone."
Silvia sighed, tears in her eyes: "And then Andy came back, running and shouting something about Indians. He was delighted." A sad smile. "Suddenly he fell down and cried he couldn't breathe. Lindsay, what happened?"
Lindsay returned her gaze: "I don't know, Silvia. Not yet. But I will find it out; at least I'll do my best. Of course if you want me to do it."
"I want," the girl nodded vehemently, "I know that it can't help Andy any more but it can help me. You know, I'll suffer less then."
"I know and I understand. And I'll try to do it as soon as possible."
And then they just sat and chatted about everything and nothing. Later when Silvia was long gone, Lindsay still remained curled on the sofa, watching the flames. The girl asked whether it was nice to have a baby. And she said: yes, it was. It was indeed: an overwhelming feeling of deep love and a wish to protect it. All of her life Lindsay looked for someone whom she could love but somehow she failed. Now she started to think it was her fault that she never got to know someone for more than a casual small talk. But she just couldn't love someone more than she could love Connor. She has lost him five years ago. Five years! It was crazy, the life. Time slipping away just like sand among her fingers and a certainty that he'd never come back. A tear slid down her cheek but at the same moment she gathered herself: it wasn't the right time to cry. And she won't cry any more. She has always secretly despised weakness and to cry now meant to be weak for her. Therefore Lindsay stood up and crossed the room to the night table.
Her fingers flew, dialing the number.
"Pete, hi, it's me, Lindsay, I've got a story to tell you."
Little Moon had nightmares. It was not for the first time. People of her tribe would say it were nerves, the Elders would say these was ghost of Steven who didn't want to calm down. And this time she was ready to believe them. It somehow troubled her that she hasn't told the police about the old man. She had a feeling it had something to do with Steve's death. But who would listen to an Indian girl? Even the kind policeman who asked her to call if she has got something new to tell him but Little Moon knew that even if he listened, he would do it absent mindedly, not really going to deal with the situation. And she didn't know what else to do.
The girl turned to her side and decided that tomorrow the first thing she would do in the morning would be to go to the place she has met the old Indian man and lost Steve. This thought made her feel better and finally she even fell asleep.
Early in the morning Lindsay woke up. It was still dark and as she turned to check the time on her mobile phone, it turned out to be six o'clock. She put out her hand from under the blanket and shivered: the fire has gone out somewhere during the night and now it was piercingly cold. So Lindsay remained lying where she was until she found enough courage to creep out and face the cold morning.
As she looked out of the window, she gasped involuntarily: under the silvery beams of the moon, the snow glittered like diamonds. It must have been snowing the whole night for every single house and every single car on the street (including her own) was covered with about ten inches snow, if not more. She couldn't see the forest right now, just a big black spot looking magnificent but a bit malicious to her. The road was covered with snow and while Lindsay tried to figure out how she was going to go out, she couldn't help smiling thinking how sour would Mrs. Potter look when she returned.
Finally the movements of the baby inside her made Lindsay make her mind: she put on the warm coat and shoes and headed for the stairs, having locked the room.
The small town was still sleeping: no pedestrians, no cars, and no noises at all, just a crunching of snow under Lindsay's boots. She looked back at the track she left in the fresh fallen snow and felt light hearted. Snow flakes always made her remember childhood when everything was so different: big and bright and so colorful. There was magic for her in every Christmas, the childish wish to see a wonder. Of course she was too much of a scientist to laugh at her own superstitions but now, lost in the little town covered with snow, she felt like childhood returning. And she loved the feeling.
She looked up at the sky: now it was clearing up a bit, perhaps sun was just about to rise. She must be walking for hours. Lindsay checked her watch and in the dim light she could see that she left the hotel an hour ago. She was breathless and hot after so much exercise and stopped for a moment to take a look around. Now that she watched her surroundings, she could see that she wasn't in the town any more.
She was walking down a rather wide road, fields to the left and the forest to the right.
Lindsay searched in her pockets and cursed under the breath: of course she has forgotten the map of the town and the surroundings! It could be just the right time to take a look at the Indian settlement but it looked like she had to turn home.
Just at the moment as Lindsay turned to go, she caught a movement in the forests not far from her.
"Anybody's here?" she asked, her voice unusually loud and echoing in the crispy air. The figure stopped.
"Please, come out there, I won't hurt you, promise, it's just that I can't run, my baby wouldn't like it," coaxed Lindsay.
Perhaps the baby - part did the job, because whoever it was, it approached her.
Now, in the faint light of dawn, Lindsay could see it was an Indian girl, dressed in a parka, long dark hair falling over her shoulders like a cloak.
"Where's the baby?" the girl asked in a good English.
Lindsay smiled and patted her belly: "Here. The doctors told me it's due in a fortnight or so."
"Then what are you doing here?"
"Well, I was having a rest from the big city and then a friend of mine told me about an accident with her friend and I thought I could as well try to figure out what happened to this boy."
"And what happened to him?" the Indian asked, fearing worst.
"He died from a heart attack. A boy of seventeen."
The girl turned away. Then faced Lindsay again and Donner could see unshed tear in her eyes: "You know, my friend died as well. Of a heart attack."
"Really? Was it an Indian?"
"No, it was a white. His name was Steve."
The name rang a bell. Then Lindsay remembered: of course, that's what the first victim was called!
"And you were right there as it happened?" she asked.
"Not quite," the Indian again looked at the forest, "but tell you what? I'm going to talk to you about everything what happened and it's a long story. Let's meet somewhere else, right? It's too freezing standing here in the wind."
"Ok," Lindsay agreed, a bit bewildered, "you could come along at mine at the hotel."
"No, thanks but no. You know, people would talk what an Indian is doing in their hotel of the Whites," the girl didn't sound bitter, just casual. "Have you got a car?"
"Surely," Donner replied.
"Done then, just come here round three in the afternoon and I'll tell you where we could drive. Then I'll tell you my story."
"Fine," smiled Lindsay, still a bit put out, "see you later then."
"Bye," and the girl was gone, disappearing in the forest, dark hair blowing in the wind as she made her way through the trees.
Lindsay shrugged: the case was getting stranger with each minute but wasn't it always like this in all O.S.I.R. cases? Now she was pretty sure it was one.
The following afternoon Lindsay was sitting in her rented car at the spot where the Indian girl agreed to meet her and listened to the radio. She has talked to Peter after she had returned to the hotel this morning and told him that she thought it was the case for O.S.I.R. Pete's answer was some humming and Lindsay understood that she wouldn't get any help in this investigation.
"It's all right," she told him then, "I'll cope well on my own."
Pete had another opinion but he didn't dare tell her to get out of the town because it was too dangerous for her. Firstly, they would have quarreled and secondly Lindsay would have stayed anyway. Thirdly, she hated any fussing over her. And of course he wouldn't have liked her to break the connection. She could do something like this - once she got angry - therefore he decided better to have at least some calls and try to get the nagging worry out of his mind.
Lindsay looked out the window. The picture was still the same: the forest, frozen ground covered with snow, empty road and leaden sky, bearing no doubt a new snow fall. She sighed and threw a glance at her watch. It was already quarter past three and the Indian girl was still not there. Lindsay thought that perhaps it was wrong to agree to meet her but it was too late to turn back anyway. Was it better to sit in the hotel or at Tony's? Lindsay doubted that, the whole atmosphere was somehow tense, no matter where she went. It had something to do with the deaths of the two teenagers but she believed there was more. And her job was to find out what.
"I'm sorry, couldn't break away," the Indian materialized from somewhere just as Lindsay was about to throw another impatient glance at her watch.
"Well, hi," greeted Donner and switched on the engine. "Where do we go now?"
"Just follow the track," the girl replied, leaning back, "we'll be right there."
Where this "there" was remained unclear to Lindsay but she accelerated and directed the roaring car down the road.
The girl resumed speaking only when they were sitting in McDonald's where Lindsay bought her a meal and a cup of cocoa for herself. Before they got in, she looked around, as if expecting someone. Lindsay shrugged: the teens nowadays could be a bit strange.
"Steve was my friend, you know," the Indian said suddenly.
Lindsay waited.
"You don't wanna ask me how the things were between us and such?" she was perplexed.
"Why should I?" Donner asked. "You've made clear you don't want to be forced to speak and after all the relations with Steve are your private matter. Not my business anyway."
"I grow to like you more and more," the girl suddenly smiled. "I'm Little Moon but Steve called me Moni."
"Lindsay Donner," introduced herself Lindsay.
"Well, Lindsay - you let me call you Lindsay, don't you? - As I've already said, Steve was a good friend of mine. We usually met at night: fewer people around and easier to sneak out from under the Elders' noses. They look after everyone in the reservation," Little Moon explained, noticing Donner's questioning look. "So this night I went to meet Steve but he didn't come though I've been waiting for him for ages. Finally I was quite angry with him and decided to live. It was then I turned around and saw an old man."
"An old man?" Lindsay asked, remembering that Silvia used exactly the same words.
"Yeah, it was an Indian, that much was clear. You know, looking like one out of a book, we don't wear such stuff nowadays. Anyway, he started talking to me. At first I didn't understand and then it dawned on me that it could be an old language so I tried my best, remembered the lessons of it and only then I understood what the man wanted to say. He told me: "Don't be afraid, little girl. I'm Silver Cloud, the last Indian, the last shaman. My soul wouldn't find peace until there are white people on this land, robbing the tribes, killing Indians." Well, then I got kinda exasperated. You know, it could be anyone, just joking. On the other side it was rather creepy: if it were just a joke, the person would speak the Indian language we sometimes use or even English. It's rather to speak English in the reservation, you know. So anyway he said: "Take me to your shaman before it is too late." I just started explaining that we don't have a shaman, that this tradition died long ago but as I turned around he was gone. Disappeared without a trace. I headed home and then in the morning I learnt that Steve was dead," she turned to Lindsay her eyes, suspiciously bright, "do you think I abused this old man and that's why he called Steve?"
Lindsay slowly shook her head: "I don't know, Moni, at least not now. I need a little time so that I could think about the story you told me."
She bent forward: "Moni, this old man, is there any story or legend about him?"
The Indian shrugged: "I don't know. I'm sorry to say so but I just don't know. I was always what the Elders call "ignorant" and though I'm ashamed of it and feel quite down because of it now, I don't know Indian ways and Indian legends. I'm kinda surprised I understood what the old man wanted from me."
"All right, thank you anyway," Lindsay said, "it was very nice of you to talk to me. Now I'm going to do my best to find out what happened to Steve. And to Andy, who died four months later. I only hope I'll succeed."
Moni smiled for the first time and her whole face lit up: "Thanks, Lindsay. I hope your kid's gonna be like you."
Then she just turned around and disappeared in the doorway, leaving Lindsay sitting at the table in the overfilled room.
Donner smiled as well: she already got to like the girl and her ways. And she has got a plan: the first thing to do was to find out something about Sauks. And about Silver Cloud.
Silvia sat home in front of TV. Not that she was actually watching: her mind was far away. Ever since the talk with Lindsay she felt strange: relieved that she has talked to someone and yet a bit scared. The whole situation was weird. She was worried sick about Andy, still mourning him, his sudden and - as Lindsay involuntarily implied - useless death. She didn't know for sure about the Indian. Indians were a world for themselves, strange and forbidding and yet she's been used to living, one would say, next door to them, used to the rites they performed. That was the menacing part of the whole, the rites. Most of the time Indians were just normal people: all dressed like the rest of the town, speaking English to each other as if they were English, born and bred. Of course, these were the young Indians. Silvia has seen the older ones, wearing strange garments, their hair done in an exotic way. But these were only few.
Silvia sighed and switched on TV. What's the use? She was too occupied with her problems to care for soap opera characters.
Silvia stood up. She decided she would go to Lindsay. Strangely, but Lindsay already won her confidence and she was looking forward to seeing her again: if not to pour out her troubles, then just to talk about everything possible. Lindsay was somehow just the right person to talk to.
Lindsay stood up to shake off her tired legs and arms. They seemed to have a life of their own now, being quite unnerving. She grinned: everything seemed to be different now she was pregnant, especially now, baby due every day. She looked out of the window: the snow was still - or again - falling, she has lost every track of time, left alone the weather condition outside. What she found in Internet was enough to keep her busy. Sauks weren't just a legend, they were - or better said have been - a great folk with great culture and traditions of it's own until the Whites came and destroyed everything. Lindsay felt sorry for them: left alone her pride for how people managed to create the US, she was more indignant, the more she found out the whole truth about settlers killing innocent Indians, using the fact that latter didn't have any firearms or how they tricked the whole tribes into drinking or selling land for couple beads. Lindsay sighed: it's been hard to be an Indian in the last decades and even harder it was to be one now. Either they became Americans, the way Moni was, disregarding the tribal ways but accepted even worse than Afro-Americans by the rest of the population or they remained close to their own culture but never really able to be free from civilization. A sad fate. A knocking on the door torn her out of her unhappy thoughts. Lindsay came over to open it and was a bit surprised to find Silvia in the doorway.
"Hi, Lindsay, may I come in?" the girl asked.
Lindsay opened the door wider: "Come in. I wonder what's Mrs. Potter going to say about your visits. Which wild speculations."
Silvia giggled: "Do you mind?"
"Not a bit," grinned Donner, "if I were a bit younger, I'd have stuck out my tongue at her but somehow it's not appropriated for a girl my age. What kind of mother am I going to be?"
"Great," commented Silvia, making herself comfortable in an old armchair, "a great mother."
"Thanks, Silvia," smiled Lindsay, "I'll regard it as a compliment."
They sat for a while, watching the dusk fall.
"You know, I didn't come because I learnt or remembered something new," Silvia said finally, "so if you've got no time, just kick me out of here. I came just because…"
"You felt like talking?" Lindsay helped.
The girl nodded.
"Then you're free to talk. But first I'd like to tell you that I think I've found the reason for Andy's death," she saw Silvia's eyes widen, "I'm not quite sure of it and even less sure you'll believe, but I reckon it's got to do with a curse. An Indian curse."
"I don't doubt it is the only explanation, I've always thought Indians are a bit creepy. But I don't let you explain: how did you find out?"
Lindsay turned her laptop so that Silvia could see the signs on the screen.
"I've talked to an Indian girl who claims her friend has also died without any explanation."
"You mean Steve?!" Silvia gasped. "I knew he was meeting someone strange but I'd have never thought it was an Indian!"
Lindsay waited till she calmed down and then continued: "And it looks like she's seen the same man you've been talking about. It's just that she understands some of what they call "The Language" and knew that the man was talking about giving the land back to Sauks."
"You've got to say that to that sheriff of ours. Thirty years ago no one wanted to settle here but he made things move and so some people were bribed and some forced to come here," snorted the girl.
"Well, I guess now he's really got a problem, and not only with people unwilling to stay in this town. There's more."
"And what are you going to do now?"
"Have a look around," shrugged Lindsay, "let's see whether Silver Cloud will want to meet me. I don't want any more corps and I doubt he does, just a bit justice for the Indians. And if he fails to do that, I'll make sure he gets what he requires. It's the only way to stop teens dropping dead out here."
Silvia watched her in admiration: when she was grew up, she wanted to be a biologist. Perhaps all of them were just as determined as Lindsay. And just as self sure.
The office of the sheriff was a small tired looking house in an equally dreary room. As Lindsay let herself in, having briefly knocked at the door, he shortly looked up from his papers and stared at the uninvited visitor quite irritated. Lindsay didn't let herself acquire the same attitude: she sat down on a worn out chair, which supposedly had to imitate leather, and started to speak:
"Mr. Olstrey, I don't know why you're so cross with me, I haven't done you a thing, just asked your deputy whether I can come in. He allowed me to do so. So what's wrong? Besides I've got to talk to you and it's quite an important talk."
The sheriff again faced her: "What have you got to tell me?" His tone was icy.
"Quite a lot," continued Lindsay, undisturbed by his attitude. "First of all, I recommend that you tell people to get out of this town. Finally that's what everyone here wants, isn't it?"
The answer was a grunting.
"Anyway, whether you want to hear it or not: the town faces a problem and I know how it could be solved."
"What kind of problem? If there were a problem, I'll be the first to know!" proclaimed Olstrey.
"Oh, there's no problem at all, is it?" Lindsay couldn't help being caustic. "Just two young guys died a quite strange death within four months. But that's nothing, really nonsense."
"How do you know about them?" Olstrey grew annoyed.
"It was as simple as that: just imagine what for you is nonsense, for the most people in this town is quite a shock. Everyone's speaking about nothing but the death of the two teens. And their girl friends are still quite hysterical."
"There's no need to be hysterical," he proclaimed.
"No? I'd stay you're quite wrong. I'm not talking out of blue, I've had similar cases during my work in the Office and I must admit, Mr. Olstrey, that the best thing is to get out of this town and leave it to the Indians, where it belongs."
"Oh, we've got a friend of Indians in my office," sheriff mocked. "Only I'm afraid you're wrong here, Ms. Donner, you see you have to go to the senate with your problem considering Indians."
Lindsay sighed: "I won't let you provoke me but I see now that it was useless to come here. Because of your stupid behavior more people can suffer. However, it's up to you. But please be well aware that I'll make sure it's done my way. Have I made myself clear?"
She stood up and left the office, ignoring Olstrey's curses. Surprisingly she was neither angry, nor frustrated, the whole visit turned out the way she thought it would be. And she has got another plan for her action.
"Excuse me, please, may I speak to Moni?" Lindsay asked forty minutes later, standing in the Indian camp. The woman looked at her, flabbergasted: no White has ever been to the reservation, left alone asked to talk to an Indian girl.
"Please, I have to do it," she begged once more.
The woman shrugged: "Allri, come in and wait here. Be ri back."
Lindsay leaned wearily against the wall: it was a long day and it looked like there was no end to it. She already called Pete and asked him to send a team to the village because sheriff wouldn't listen to her and she thought that sending away the occupants would be the only way to prevent further "accidents".
"Lindsay?!" Little Moon was running towards her, black hair flying. "What are ya doing here?"
"Moni, we've got to talk," she said, "you know, by now I'm pretty sure that the old you've seen, Silver Cloud, is some kind of a ghost and the whole town area is cursed."
"D'ya really believe that?" Moni hardly believed her eyes. She has expected such talk from the Elders but certainly not from the young scientist.
"I mean it, Moni, and this fool of a sheriff wouldn't do what I want."
"What d'ya want me to do?" wondered Little Moon.
"I want you to come with me to the crossing where you've first seen Silver Cloud. Let's see whether he comes out tonight. If yes, then we've got to talk to him, to persuade him not to kill more people. Meanwhile I'll try to do everything possible to make sheriff change his mind."
Little Moon didn't waver: "Righto, let's do what ya propose, no probs. We go now?"
Lindsay nodded and Moni shouted something in Indian to the woman, standing not far from them.
"Let's go," she turned back to Lindsay, "this old man sounds like an important job."
They were walking in circles under the falling snow, trying to get a bit warmth.
"I never thought winter here's so cold," Little Moon complained, "it used to be warmer."
"Oh yes, it became colder just to annoy you," smiled Lindsay.
Moni didn't answer. They fell silent for a while and then Little Moon spoke: "You know, I never thought it's gonna be that creepy. I'm not exactly looking forward to meeting the old man, you see. Even if he's an Indian, one of my forefathers."
"That's the way I feel. I've seen through a lot of creepy stuff, believe me," Lindsay implied, "but each time I do it, I feel a bit strange. As if I couldn't get used to the feeling!"
Moni nodded: "Yeah, guess it's got something to do with that psychology stuff."
"Perhaps," shrugged Lindsay.
Silence again fell over them.
"Know what?" Moni proposed finally. "I'm gonna go and get us some coffee. There's a little cafe not far from here. You gonna be allri here?"
"Yes, why not?" asked Lindsay.
"Then see ya later," and Moni took off.
Lindsay watched her walking towards the town and smiled: who would say Moni was an Indian? Just another American teenager, a bit fresh and fiercely independent but on the other side warm and caring. She hoped her daughter would be a bit like her.
In the same moment she turned around, feeling someone else's presence. Lindsay wasn't wrong: she saw the old man, standing there. Though it was freezing cold, he was almost naked, wearing only a piece of cloth round his hips. The long dark hair, decorated with feathers, was falling on his shoulders. Lindsay stared at him, unable to move. The man was old, very old only his bright black eyes looked young to Lindsay - and very wise.
"What do you want?" she asked. "You know I've done everything possible to make the people leave the place. Do you still want more victims?"
The man didn't answer, he just kept staring at her.
Suddenly she felt pain but needed time to understand where it hurt: it wasn't the sharp heartache, the pain was coming from below, from her stomach.
"Oh, God, my baby," she whispered, lowering to earth, unable to stand any more. "What have you done to my baby?"
The Indian moved closer to her and started chanting in his own language. Lindsay didn't understand what he was saying, but she already felt better, soothed by the sound of the words.
"Wherever you are going,
I'll go with you…"
Words of a long forgotten language, long forgotten culture.
"I didn't mean to hurt them," the voice said, "I just wanted some justice. Finally some justice for our tribes. You know that, don't you? You understand?"
"I do," Lindsay whispered back. She wasn't sure that she was speaking to Silver Cloud and wasn't sure that she wasn't dreaming but the pain ebbed away as did her worries and the cold that numbed her hands and feet.
"You'll find what you're looking for, white girl but you first you'll have to find yourself."
Lindsay heard subdued noises, then saw blurred faces, bending over her, shouting something. She thought she has seen Peter but she wasn't sure. But there was always Silver Cloud near her, chanting something in his own language, his old eyes filled with wisdom and love.
How could she has ever believe that he meant to hurt those two boys? He had no choice. It was not revenge, it was something else, something deeper and more important but just now she was too tired to think…
"Hey, Lin, your daughter looks really great!" exclaimed Peter, eyeing the baby, lying in Lindsay's arms.
"You don't have to say that to me," she smiled, looking down at the tiny face with tenderness. "She's the cutest baby in the whole world!"
"No one ever doubted," grinned Axon, then threw an anxious look at Lindsay: "Are you sure you're all right?"
"Of course I am, Pete, where's the problem?"
"Well, the doctors were kind of perplexed when we brought you in yesterday. You looked as if you were in coma. And the yelling baby, who have them a start."
"I don't remember anything," admitted Lindsay, "except for faint cries of Colleen. Things were somehow blurred for me."
"You don't remember a thing?" wondered Peter. "Wow, that's what I call calmness. This Indian girl brought you to the reservation where Colleen was born, then she called me and we came here with a helicopter and brought you to a hospital. Well, I must say, Ms. Donner, you like to create a lot of fuss about you."
"Pete, that's…"
There was a knock at the door, interrupting Lindsay. Moni's face appeared in the doorway.
"Hi, Lindsay, Silv and I thought you'll prefer our company to the one of the boring old man here," she pointed at Peter.
"Boring old man? Me?" Axon asked, shocked. "Hey, what do you think you are?"
The girl burst into laughter and Lindsay joined them. "Oh, Pete," she wept away the tears of merriment, "I guess you better go. Perhaps you'll hear other things you won't like."
"I'll go," he threatened with a grin, "but I'll come back. And you'll pay."
Little Moon picked up Colleen: "Isn't she cute, Silv? Just imagine someday you'll have one as well."
Silvia blushed and Lindsay smiled: she hasn't met someone as direct as Moni.
"Imagine, Lindsay, our friend Olstrey's gone," reported Little Moon, "disappeared without a trace. And people are packing their stuff, ready to leave. No one actually liked the town, it was Olstrey who made them stay."
"Are you glad?" Lindsay asked both girls. They nodded.
"Well, I'll finally leave the place," explained Silvia," perhaps it'll be easier to forget Andy once I'm not here. Besides it's easier to get a job in a bigger town."
Moni grinned: "Yeah, now we've got enough place to build proper houses. And old fuddy duddy gonna be content."
"You mean Silver Cloud?" smiled Lindsay.
"Yeah," agreed Little Moon, "I'm never respectful but I doubt he's gonna be angry with me. By the way, he must have liked you." She eyed Lindsay for a while and added: "But then no man will ever find you boring."
Lindsay looked at Silvia and they burst into laughter. Moni watched them, shrugged and laughed as well.
Snow was softly falling on the road, covering trees and fields. The wind made cornflakes dance in the falling light of the dusk. An old Indian was standing at the crossroad, looking up to the sky. A very old man but still standing straight. Unbending. He stood there for a while, as if listening to the wind, then spoke softly: "The justice is restored. At least some of the land, belonging to Sauks, is again theirs. You can sleep well."
The wind carried the words away and snowflakes still fell down on the place where the old man stood. But he was already gone.
The End
27 October, 2001,
by Anastasia.
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