Открыть фик целиком в отдельном окне
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."
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