Thunder & Lightning

By Dana Hollister

Jim and Christine, with their family and friends, finally go to Hawk’s village and have a vacation. There were no emergencies and thankfully no one needed rescue. On their return to the Old World was when things started to get exciting. Passing through the Window on the way home, they were spotted. It was feared that the secret of the Cheeka people may be in danger of being discovered.
One night a young man shows up at Jim and Christine’s door and they learn their secret of the Window is still safe. However, the boy asks them to return him to his people. The Legend of Tawkaw is no longer just a tale or an ancient story. Jim and Christine realize that the boy at their front door is, in fact, Tawkaw. He is real and very much alive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dana Hollister
• Release date: Sep 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311030658

Dana Hollister

The Window, of the series, I Know Where They Went, is Dana Hollister’s first novel. He has been published in rock and ice climbing magazines, guide books and aviation magazines. Dana’s first book was a river runner’s guide to the Salt River in Arizona, in the mid 80s. He lives in the Phoenix area with his wife Cindy. Most of their time is spent traveling in their motor home always looking for another adventure. Dana is also a musician and released a cd in 2010. The inspiration for this series comes from spending countless days and nights with his wife roaming southern Utah.

Book preview

Thunder & Lightning

Book three of the series

I Know Where They Went

***

Published by Dana Hollister

Smashwords Edition 2014

Copyright 2014 Dana Hollister

danahollisterbooks.com

This book is available in print and audio.

This is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, the Indian tribes, places and incidents

are either products of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously.

Cover and inside chapter photographs and design by

Dana and Cindy Hollister

***

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

***

Dedicated to

Our long walks

Our secret places

And

The imagination

Special thanks to

Karen Mills

My editor and dear friend

***

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 Canyon of Thunder and Lightning

Chapter 2 Legend of Tawkaw

Chapter 3 The Chatan Village

Chapter 4 The Waiting

Chapter 5 The Island in the Sky

Chapter 6 Unexpected Guests

Chapter 7 Last Days of Vacation

Chapter 8 The Disappointment

Chapter 9 The Annual Trip

Chapter 10 The Discovery Channel

Chapter 11 Winter in the Village

Chapter 12 The Search

Chapter 13 The Christmas Present

Chapter 14 Christmas Day

Chapter 15 Back to Grandfather

Chapter 16 The Meeting

Chapter 17 The Decision

Chapter 18 Tawkaw’s Return

Chapter 19 The Reunion

Chapter 20 The Cold Trip Home

Chapter 21 Grandfather’s House

Chapter 22 The Tokala

Chapter 23 The Chatan Village

Chapter 24 Flying Lessons

Chapter 25 Tawkaw and Star

Chapter 26 The Necklace

Chapter 27 Home

***

Chapter 1

Canyon of Thunder and Lightning

Asosha awoke when he heard a snap. Eyes wide open, he did not move for a second. Then he heard it again. Slowly he turned his head, knowing now what the noise was. He saw his grandfather sitting by the small fire breaking twigs, setting them on the still warm coals from last night’s fire in an effort to bring it back to life.

Asosha closed his eyes and began to get mentally prepared for another day, another long day. It was always the same it seemed; roam the canyons, scout, search, hunt, and come home.

Asosha loved his grandfather. In a way he was not a grandfather at all. He was his father, his dad. Asosha’s mother had died when he was born. Shortly thereafter, his father left, never to be heard from or seen again. Some said he could not bear the loss of his wife, which was probably true, but what no one could believe was that he had abandoned his newborn son. He just walked away.

It was a stroke of luck that Grandfather was in town when his son disappeared. He was almost never there, but Grandfather did not hesitate for a second when he heard that his son’s boy had been left. He cared for the baby like it was his own.

At the time Grandfather was alone, too. His wife had passed some time ago and now his son was gone. There he was an old man, all alone with an infant boy. Grandfather was proud to care for the little boy, and for awhile, a short while, he stayed at his son’s house. As soon as he felt more comfortable with Asosha, once he had the routine figured out, he left the small town in northern Arizona to take Asosha home.

Grandfather missed his wife, especially now. A day did not go by without him thinking about her. And now, more than ever, he wished that she could be by his side. Sure, the help would have been nice with the little one, but he knew she would love this child like her own. He could envision her fussing over the baby, singing her soft sweet songs to lull it to sleep and he smiled thinking of how she would scold him for rough housing with the infant, or ignoring the cry in the middle of the night so she would have to get up. These kinds of thoughts always brought a change of expression to his face and sometimes, more often than not, tears to his eyes.

Grandfather had fond memories of her with children. Grandmother was always watching or babysitting for relatives and friends. Everyone in their community thought that she should have been a teacher or a nurse. She was a patient, caring, nurturing type of person.

Unfortunately Grandfather and Grandmother were only able to have one child of their own. They had planned on having a big family. Grandfather’s prayers for having more children had finally been answered, even if it was a little late in life for him to be raising a baby.

As it turned out, Asosha was just what Grandfather had needed. He gave Grandfather a purpose, a responsibility, a reason to get out of bed every day. It gave him something to look forward to. Looking back was not easy for him to do, not with the losses he had suffered. He felt like he had been given the gift of tomorrow, a future.

It wasn’t easy taking care of an infant, especially at his age. As a matter of fact it was downright hard at times. Grandfather had to learn a lot without any help at all. He did have a few weeks of guidance from a family member before he left town, but that was all. For the most part, he learned how to not sleep most of the night for quite some time.

It had been Grandmother that had always changed the diapers, did the bathing and feeding in the early stages of child rearing. Now Grandfather had to do everything. When Grandfather looked back on this time, he would happily do it all over again given the chance. The experience for him had been a rewarding one. Asosha was a fine young boy.

Grandfather’s life was different from others, a lot different. He was one of a kind. He did not have a home. He did not have a car. All he had of evidence that he even existed was a P.O. Box as an address in Blanding, Utah.

Grandfather roamed the canyons in a place called Cedar Mesa, in the southeast corner of Utah. When he was younger he was up in the canyons most of the time, but spent the winter months with his wife on a nearby reservation. After his wife passed away, the mesa was where he called home full-time. He had a secret place where he hung his hat. It was hidden, safe, and secure. This place was more like a cave than a house. This was Grandfather’s home.

Asosha was not going to have, and did not have, a normal childhood ─ not by a long shot. He did not go to school. He did not play football and basketball like other boys his age. He did not have friends to play with. He had never spoken on a telephone or played a video game. He had never been in an airplane and had never traveled. The only places he had seen was the area known as Cedar Mesa, where he lived, and the small town of Blanding that was nearby.

At first, after Asosha was born, and they left the small town in northern Arizona, Grandfather stayed in a couple of canyons that were closer to Blanding in Utah so he could have easy access to the things that a newborn would need, like formula and diapers. But it was not long before the child was walking and this was when Grandfather started venturing back closer to Cedar Mesa.

Grandfather had the happiest of memories when Asosha started getting around on his own. The canyons were his playground. Like any youngster, he was curious about everything. He climbed trees and fell out of them on a regular basis. He chased squirrels and rabbits in an attempt to catch them and skinned his knees every single day. He was always filthy dirty from his little adventures. Asosha was a happy, healthy, smart kid.

Without going to school, Asosha learned everything he knew from Grandfather. Grandfather did what he could for the boy in the way of education, but that was limited since Grandfather was far from a scholar himself. Grandfather had spent only a few years going to school, and decided at a young age he had other things he needed to do. Attending classes only got in the way of what he felt he must do. More correctly, what he knew he must do.

What Grandfather did pass on to Asosha was how to live off the land and how to take care of himself in the wilderness. Asosha couldn’t read all that much and was not good with numbers, but he could survive in the canyons without any help from anyone. He could make tools to hunt with, and make clothing from the game he killed. He could build a fire in a matter of minutes, without a match, and never go hungry or thirsty for very long.

Some of the people that knew Asosha’s grandfather in the small town of Blanding referred to him as a hermit, a recluse, a lost, wandering soul. He danced to the beat of a different drum, a distant drum, a drum far, far away and the drummer even farther. Since he did not stay on the reservation where he had some extended family on his wife’s side, and a couple of old friends, no one knew where he was or where he went. He was rarely seen, and he liked it that way. Since his son disappeared, and his daughter in-law had passed away, he had not gone back. Not even once.

In the past, before losing his son and daughter in-law, Grandfather rarely visited the reservation. He was not comfortable there with the way everyone would distance themselves from him. At least that is the way they made him feel. He was avoided because he only wanted to talk about one thing, the canyon of Thunder and Lightning and little else. For the most part he was ignored. He was considered aloof.

Whenever Grandfather was given a chance he would tell stories about how his people had been led through the Kemapi hundreds of years ago, and how he needed to find it. He was going to rejoin his people one day, he would tell them. He kept insisting that the story his grandfather had told him was true, of how his great grandfather seven centuries ago, had been left behind when he was swept away in the river. No one believed a word of the old legend or wives’ tale. Some, most, even called him crazy.

~~~~

Asosha finally got to his feet and went to the fire to finish off what was left of the rabbit they had for dinner last night. Asosha had a poor day of hunting the day before and the meager meal was all that was left.

Good morning, son, Grandfather said, quietly.

Good morning, Asosha said, sitting down next to the old man.

They sat in silence and ate what was left of the rabbit, picking the last of the meat from the bones.

I will go to the canyon to the north this morning. I saw some deer tracks between here and there yesterday. Maybe we will eat well tonight, Asosha said.

I wish I could help you. I am sorry I can not travel like I used to, Grandfather said, not looking away from the fire.

Old age had caught up with Grandfather. Much to his dislike, he now depended on Asosha, like Asosha had depended on him when he was a small child. Grandfather felt bad about it. For him it was humiliating. It hurt his pride. It bothered him that his grandson was in a position of having to care for him more and more with each passing year.

I know you would. Remember all the years that you took care of me? Asosha said.

That was different, son, Grandfather responded slowly.

No, it was not. How was it different? What would have become of me without you? I am proud to finally return the favor. We have spoken of this before. There is no need to speak of it again, Asosha said, frustrated with Grandfather.

Asosha got up and went to the ancient ruins back in the depths of the amphitheatre, returning with a leather sack, bow, and a quiver of arrows.

As he passed his grandfather he said, I will see you tonight. Is there anything you need before I leave?

No. Be careful. Good hunting, Grandfather said.

I brought water in yesterday, so there is plenty, Asosha reminded him.

Yes, I remember. Thank you. Good luck.

Asosha nodded and made his way to the breakdown of huge sandstone boulders that had fallen from the rim of the canyon above. He followed the narrow, winding path through the giant monoliths to make his way up and out of the canyon.

Grandfather had found this hiding place many, many years ago, long before Asosha was born, when Grandfather was still a young man. Their home was in this big alcove carved by wind and water over thousands of years. At the top of the rim a big section of rock had given away and covered the front of the overhang, leaving the ruins and the deep depression that protected them hidden.

Grandfather had recognized the rock fall and guessed it probably secreted a large overhang. In his youth he began searching for a way through the debris for an entrance to the buried alcove which he was certain was still there.

It took most of a year to find a way in. He painstakingly moved rocks and dirt out of the way in hopes of finding a passage through the pile of debris. It was tireless work, but he was rewarded handsomely for his patience and dedication to the task. Not only was it a safe place to call home, protected by the elements, it had also been home to his ancestors. Many cliff dwellings that had been left undisturbed lay deep inside. An assortment of tools, pots, mugs, clothing and turkey feather blankets were in the ruins. He moved his belongings into the largest room and left the others untouched. This was where he had spent most of his life. This was also where Asosha had grown up. To Asosha this was home.

Asosha made his way up through the obscured entrance. When he reached the exit he peeked out, not moving for a moment. He listened with a trained ear. Moving only his eyes, he looked around so very slowly. He saw birds in the nearby trees. He knew these birds as well as he knew his grandfather. It was a good sign that they were there, singing their songs and flitting around among the branches. He knew now that he was alone. Still, he waited patiently. He was thinking about what Grandfather had said to him long ago.

When do you see the rabbit? Grandfather had asked him.

Asosha smiled with the thought. The next statement Grandfather made was the one that held the wisdom.

Only when he moves, Grandfather said.

Ten minutes later, Asosha exited the boulders. He was careful to step only on rock. He did not so much as break a branch on the small bushes as he climbed up the steep embankment, making his way to the rim of the canyon. There was not any evidence of a trail to the alcove, none what-so-ever, which was remarkable since they had used it for so many years.

Once he was on the mesa top, well away from the rim, Asosha began his lope, or slow run, across the plateau. He stopped briefly, inspecting some deer tracks a couple of times. He looked around remembering landmarks so he could find them again when he returned. Asosha knew every tree, rock, and fallen limb in this area. It was his backyard. He was as familiar with it as the back of his hand.

First he would go up and down the canyon that his grandfather called, Thunder and Lightning, just as he did most every day. He would look for anything out of the ordinary. He would locate the backpackers in the canyon, which seemed to always be there in the summer months, and watch their progress, or lack thereof. The latter was usually the case.

He wondered how in the world they could move at all with all the things they would carry on their backs. It was a true wonder to watch the strangers as they walked, talked, banged, and clanged their way up and down the canyons.

He smiled more than once at the memory of Grandfather always making jokes about the hikers. Asosha had asked Grandfather, Why do so many carry sticks in each hand? For what purpose are they needed?

Grandfather had told him, The White Eyes have problems standing up. They can not talk and walk at the same time, so they use the sticks. If they lose them they will fall down.

It was the way Grandfather had delivered what he said that night when they were sitting by the fire that made Asosha laugh. Grandfather suddenly sat up straight and stiff and had let himself slowly fall over on his side. He began kicking his feet acting like he was trying to right himself. When Grandfather stopped the charade he was wearing a huge grin on his face. It was the funniest thing that Asosha had ever seen Grandfather do.

In the spring the canyons would be clogged up with backpackers. The weather was good then, and water was more plentiful than in the fall.

Asosha had had fun with tourists more than once, actually quite often. He would follow them to find out just what exactly they were doing there. He would listen carefully to see if they knew anything that might be of use to him. So far, no one had. The game for him was to see how close he could get to them without being seen or heard. Many times he could have reached out and touched them. Asosha was that good at stalking his prey.

A few times, when he was returning late from hunting, or scouting, and came across a camp, he would move things around for the fun of it. His favorite thing to do was to take everything he could find that the hikers had left outside of their tents, and place them in a perfect circle. He would unpack their packs and move pots and pans, stoves and anything else that was sitting around, and silently reorganize the camp. He would come back in the morning and watch how the hikers would react when they came out of their tents. The result was always fun to watch.

Most of the time, the hikers would accuse one another for the gag. A few times they packed up immediately and left in a hurry.

Asosha had found all kinds of stuff on the trails that led in and out of the canyons. He had several cameras, a bunch of water bottles, all kinds of clothing, food and even a backpack chair. Asosha would not have known what the chair was if he had not seen someone use one in the past when he was spying on a group. He presented the chair to Grandfather and Grandfather loved it. A camera, however, was not something he or Grandfather could figure out.

Asosha did not steal anything. Not ever. It was something that he could have easily done. The things he found had either fallen off a pack unnoticed, or set down and forgotten. He would let whatever he found sit there for a few days before taking it. Sometimes he had witnessed a lone hiker coming back to retrieve what they had lost or left behind. More often than not it was a camera that they would be coming back looking for. It seemed that cameras were the most prized of possessions.

Asosha noticed and saw everything, but he was never seen. Grandfather had taught him how to be ghost-like as he traveled. He taught him how to walk softly and leave no trace of passing.

On this morning Asosha would follow a game trail that he had traveled a thousand times. If for no other reason, he did it for his grandfather. Asosha secretly wondered a few times if Grandfather was right. Was the legend true? However, he never said anything to him about it. It would be disrespectful to challenge him. He knew that no matter what, he would remain loyal to Grandfather. If Grandfather wanted to stay in the canyons and search for the legend, then Asosha would see to it that he did.

Slowly now he continued along the edge of the rim, he had stopped loping and walked to rest. His daydreaming almost got him spotted. When he heard the voices, he fell to the ground like someone dropping a rock, or sack of potatoes. He did not move. Not one single muscle. Not one single inch. He lay perfectly still.

Where were the voices coming from? And who was speaking? He wondered.

The way sound bounced around in the canyons it was always hard to tell where the source was. It would take a minute for him to figure it out. One thing for sure, whoever it was, they were close. Really close.

What confused him was that the main trail that the hikers commonly used was not nearby. Whoever was there had either lost their way going into the canyon, or they were there for a reason.

He slowed his breathing and tried to spit the dirt out of his mouth from when he dropped down into the soft soil face first. He did so without moving or making any noise. He kept the side of his face planted into the dirt for the time being, waiting until he knew where the people were. His knee stung and burned. He knew he had landed on top of one of the small cactuses that littered the mesa top.

Minutes later he guessed he had not been spotted. At least he heard no one say as much. He thought he knew now where they were and he lifted his head slowly turning