Murder By Skinwalker

By Linda L. Millard

While it is true, the small town of Anadarko, Oklahoma is located in the heart of Indian country, neither Isaac Silverhorn, Kiowa medicine man, nor Grady Ledbetter, his life-long friend, and Caddo County sheriff, ever expected to have to deal with a series of murders committed by a nefarious skinwalker; not in this day and age. When the death of a local rancher is the first of a series of fatal attacks by what seems to be a large, rouge, coyote, the need to solve the case qickly becomes paramount. The residual problem for Sheriff Ledbetter is, even if he can somehow apprehend this skinwalker, how will he ever be able to have the case prosecuted in a court of law.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781312890589

Book preview

Murder By Skinwalker

Murder by Skinwalker

Copyright© 2015 by Linda L. Millard

All rights reserved.  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or a scholarly journal.

Cover art and design by Linda L. Millard

Chapter 1

There was a faint rustle in the deep mat of newly fallen leaves.  The copperhead moved cautiously towards the perceived heat source, its tongue continually darting in and out, testing the crisp October air.

Isaac Silverhorn sat upright and became still. He turned his head slightly toward the sound; then continued placing the fallen sweetgum balls from the ground around him into a small medicine wheel pattern. He chanted softly as he worked and waited patiently. The thick body of the snake was almost impossible to see among the brown and rust-colored autumn leaves. Were the reptile not in motion, it would be easy to pass right over it and never know it was there.  That ability to be invisible was the shy copperhead’s prefered defense against a fight.

Within a few minutes, the snake had moved very close to the man sitting cross-legged at the base of the huge sweetgum tree.  It stopped, as if waiting for an invitation. "Ho, Brother sah-nay.  Isaac spoke respectfully to the serpent.  Why aren’t you asleep in your winter home? Don’t you see the days have grown short and the nights are cold? No matter. Come sit with me a while.  We will talk and then you must find your long sleep."

The snake stirred again and deliberately crawled into the circle of the sweetgum medicine wheel through its western portal. It then made its way directly to the medicine man’s crossed legs and gently slithered into the bowl created by his sitting position. Man and snake sat like this for a long time; each content with the other’s company.

Somewhere deep within the medicine man’s meditation, his voice seeped into the forest’s calm with a slow, deliberate chant; asking his ancestors for a vision; a knowing to the question within his being.  His eyes were closed and his breathing became shallow and deliberate.  He focused his attention upon the back of his eyelids and waited.  Soon, brilliant red filled his mind’s eye, the color of the west, and a spotted horse appeared, only to turn and gallop into the distance, then fade away into the red background.  The intensity of the man’s chanting grew stronger and faster.  His heartbeat increased with the tempo.  A man’s face appeared against the now fading red background.  Almost immediately, the chanting ended and the forest was quite again.

With his medicine wheel ceremony complete, Isaac slowly stood erect, leaving the copperhead coiled on the ground. He scattered the circular formation of sweetgum balls with the toe of his boot. He then reached into his coat pocket for his tobacco pouch and liberally sprinkled the sweet smelling concoction on the ground where the medicine wheel had been. "Thank you, Brother sah-nay. It’s time for me to leave. Go find your brothers and sleep well."

Isaac turned and made his way back to the dirt road where his Jeep was parked. He climbed into the old weathered vehicle and headed back toward Anadarko.

Isaac’s family had lived in this part of Oklahoma probably since the Kiowa had moved south from Montana, and that was a long time ago; many lifetimes ago.  Without any desire to have it any other way, he had lived the entire fifty-four years of his life just outside of Anadarko on what was fondly called ‘the home place’. When he was younger, he had ventured as far as Oklahoma City to attend a big Pow Wow, but he wasn’t very impressed with the big city, so he never went back again.

As he turned onto Hwy 62, he was beginning to wish he had put the top back on the old Jeep.  He took it off way last spring, but now the wind whipping around the windshield was putting a chill in his bones. He decided to get in touch with his neighbor, Jerry Holcomb and see if he would help him lift the top back on the Jeep in the morning.  Jerry was a big ol’ boy and always willing to lend a hand.  By the time Isaac walked into the Caddo County Sheriff Department, his knuckles were blue and his nose was running.

Afternoon, Louise. He stomped the red clay mud off his boots onto the large floor mat just inside the door.  The mat was stained with the efforts of others who had come before him attempting to do the same thing. Once the red goop, that gave the nearby Washita River its signature rusty color, got a hold on anything , it was nearly impossible to get it off. Everyone in the area was resolved to that fact and just learned to live with the permanent rust-colored stains on pant legs, boots, vehicles, roads and buildings.

Louise Prather, dispatcher for the Sheriff’s Department, looked up from her work and smiled, Hey, Mr. Silverhorn. What brings you in so late in the day?

Louise was a good looking woman in her mid thirties; slightly plump with enormous dimples in her cheeks that lit up her face when she smiled. Isaac had always liked her. She had gone to school with his oldest daughter, Tessa, who was now a prosecuting attorney in Tulsa. When the girls were growing up, Louise was at the house often and was always eager to spend the night. She like the adventures county living constantly afforded.

Isaac stepped over to the counter and leaned his elbows on it as he spoke, I need to see Grady.

Sheriff Ledbetter’s not here, but he’s on his way in if you want to wait a few minutes.

Naw, just tell him that Walter Goheen can find his Appaloosa mare on the west side of the Washita. There’s a fat man with a head-full of red hair that’s got her up in his barn.

Louise picked up her pencil and began to take down the information on the steno pad she kept on her desk. Okay, I’ll be sure to tell him. Do you know the man’s name?

Nope.

Louise frowned. Can you tell me more precisely where this barn is?

Nope.

She put her elbows on her desk and leaned forward, Walter reported that mare stolen over two weeks ago. Did Sheriff Ledbetter ask you to help find it?

Yep.

Now she began to impatiently tap her pencil against the pad.  Well, sir, if you don’t know where the barn is, how do you know the mare is in there? Louise knew the answer to the question before she even asked it; but she wanted to hear Isaac Silverhorn say it out loud.

Isaac flashed her a toothy grin, Because I ‘saw’ it. Besides, I told you where the barn is. It’s on the west side of the river.

For as long as Louise could remember, it had been common knowledge that Isaac could ‘see’ things. She didn’t understand how he did it and he was never able to explain it to her in a way she could understand. Still, her law enforcement background made it difficult for her to transmit information to the sheriff that was less than factual; in the normal sense of the word, that is.

She scrunched up her nose and looked intently at Isaac. You know, your description of the man sounds a lot like Willie Callows, and he does have a place on the other side of the river. The deputies have been out there a few times. She paused, then blurted out, Okay, okay, I’ll be sure to tell Sheriff Ledbetter as soon as he comes in. Thanks for the information.

Isaac rapped his knuckles twice on the counter. No problem. See ya later.

Louise watched as the tall Kiowa medicine man walked out the front door.

Chapter 2

Isaac was up early. He was restless. Truth be known, he was bored. He was usually in touch with Sheriff Ledbetter on a pretty regular basis.   The sheriff found the assistance of a ‘seer’ often to be a helpful thing when dealing with law enforcement investigations, and he wasn’t shy about calling on Isaac when he thought a different perspective might be helpful on a case. However, it had been over two weeks since he had heard from the sheriff or even been into town. 

The sheriff and Isaac had been good friends since they were boys, although Grady’s father didn’t always like him hanging around with that ‘Kiowa kid’.  Grady’s mother, on the other hand, always welcomed Isaac into their home and had herself been a long-time friend of Isaac’s mother.   As children, the boys were not allowed to attend the same school.  Grady attended public school, for the ‘white kids’, in Anadarko and Isaac attended Riverside Indian School, just outside of town. Regardless of their segregation during school, because their family’s farms were only about a half mile apart, the boys saw each other almost every day.

Grady Ledbetter was probably the only man on the face of the earth that felt safe calling Isaac by the shortened form of his name and he had done so since they first met.    Isaac never really liked to be called Ike, but it always seemed like a natural, inoffensive thing when Grady did it.  Even his wife, Josie, had never called him Ike.  There were times he sorely missed Josie.  She was a beautiful Kiowa woman; good way down into her soul and an excellent cook.  She passed on from cancer when their youngest daughter was only eight years old; leaving Isaac to raise their three girls by himself.  He always figured he’d done a pretty fair job of it. Tessa, the oldest was a criminal trial attorney in Tulsa; Jolene, the middle child, was an anthropologist at the university in Norman; and Caroline Josephine, always called C.J., was his little free-spirited artist who lived in Tahlequah.  Her native-inspired paintings were featured in several galleries throughout the state as well as The Five Civilized Tribes Museum in Muskogee.  Isaac was proud of all of his girls and he knew Josie would have been also.  With Josie gone and the girls off making their way in the world, Isaac was alone most of the time. But there’s a big difference between being alone and being lonely.  He was content with his life and was seldom lonely.

He had finished all the chores from his mental ‘got to do it’ list; the loose hinge on the barn door, the firewood that needed to be split, the cinch strap that needed to be spliced, and the leaky drain pipe under the kitchen sink. Even the chicken coop had been taken care of; all the droppings in the coop had been shoveled out and hauled to the garden spot and fresh straw tucked into the nest boxes. Now he was craving one of Miss Martha’s homemade cinnamon rolls down at the diner, as well as a chance to hear the latest gossip around town. Most anything you needed to know could be found out down at Miss Martha’s Diner.

It was still just barely dark when Isaac stepped outside and headed for the barn. The air was crisp and it smelled of wood smoke from the pot-belly stove, mixed in with the heady aroma of the fallen, damp leaves that carpeted his yard and the woods nearby. He filled the grain bucket and whistled softly to the big strawberry roan gelding standing at the far side of the corral.

Red Dog, come on old man, breakfast. The horse lowered his head and snorted a greeting. Great puffs of steamy breath burst from his nostrils as the trotted over to the corral gate. Isaac smiled and thought to himself that the old warrior still stepped out pretty good to be almost nineteen years old. All those years ago, he had named the feisty gelding in honor of Chief Red Dog, an Oglala Sioux war chief. It was a good name for a good horse.

As the big horse buried his nose deep in the grain bucket to get the last morsel, Isaac’s mind kept drifting back to the cinnamon rolls down at Martha’s.  He could almost smell them.  It was near full daylight by now.  A false dawn was beginning to cast a faint light and he knew by the time he got into town, the diner would be open and the coffee would be fresh.

As Isaac walked toward his Jeep he glanced over to the open field behind his house.  He saw a coyote sitting near the edge of the field, not far from the tree line.  This wasn’t unusual.  He spotted coyotes around the place all the time. However, this one was different; it was abnormally large for a coyote, huge in fact, and it was just sitting there watching him. The animal’s ears were in constant motion, back and forth.  He immediately felt a shiver run down his spine and knew this was not good. He didn’t take his eyes off the large animal, but stood there watching it watching him. He was careful not to lock eyes with the coyote, but instead, gazed in the general vicinity and kept the animal in his peripheral vision.  After a few minutes, the stand-off was over and the coyote stood and loped off towards the cover of the woods.

Isaac’s immediate thought was to wonder who that was. There was no doubt in his mind; this was not an ordinary coyote. He knew the animal he just saw was a skinwalker and there could never be any good come from that fact.

In order to become a skinwalker, a witch must kill a close relative, usually a sibling.  Under any condition, this is an unthinkable crime for any tribal person.  Why was this skinwalker interested in him, and why was it out with daylight so close at hand?  Skinwalkers normally do their dirty work at night under the cover of darkness when they are less likely to been seen.  Darkness gives them an advantage over their victims.  Darkness is a time when people feel vulnerable and fearful. It’s been told, a skinwalker can control a person’s mind and make them do things they would typically never even consider doing; like kill themselves or someone else  Isaac couldn’t think of anyone he had pissed off so badly that they would call in a skinwalker to deal with him; at least not lately.  He walked on over to his jeep, got in, and turned the motor on to let it warm up.  He sat there for a few minutes, then glanced over to the woods to see if anything was still there.  Nothing. 

As he drove into Anadarko, he continued to ponder the puzzling appearance of the coyote. Isaac had known only one true skinwalker in his lifetime; an old woman that was long dead.  She always took the appearance of a wild boar hog with long ugly tusks.  It was a terrifying sight and everyone who knew her, feared her.  She was found dead in her cabin one day, but no one questioned her death.  After all, she was old as dirt and it was easy to say old age finally caught up with her.   Others say someone in the tribe had the courage to call her down.  It is understood among people who know about such things, if you confront a skinwalker and say their full name, then say, you are a skinwalker, the witch will die within three days.  But, as far as Isaac knew, no one ever owned up to doing that.

Chapter 3

The tires of his Jeep crunched onto the gravel parking lot at the diner. For the moment, he dismissed thoughts of skinwalkers and gave over to the anticipation of a warm cinnamon roll, slathered in butter, melting in his mouth.

He fairly burst through the diner door and was immediately enveloped by warm moist air laden with the aromas of cinnamon, coffee and bacon.

Martha glanced at him from behind the counter when she heard the jingle bells, dangling from the entrance door, announce the arrival of another hungry customer.  Martha was always glad to see customers come in and she made sure they felt welcome.  She had a quick smile and a bit of a rotund Mae West figure.  Her good heart and generous nature made her well loved and respected within the community, but it would be a serious mistake to think she was a push over. 

Hey, Isaac. Good to see ya. Find yourself a place to sit and I’ll have Patsy bring ya over some coffee.

Isaac waved at Martha and headed for an empty booth by the front window. He had no more than sat down when Patsy appeared with a cup of coffee and placed it on the table in front of him. She was laughing at something someone had just said to her and it made the little shock of hair she had put in a pony tail on the side of her head bounce back and forth. The little pony tail and her bangs were dyed a hot pink and contrasted drastically with the rest of her coal-black hair. She was obviously Indian, probably Cherokee, but definitely danced to the beat of a different drum. Regardless, most everyone liked Patsy. She was hired on by Martha right out of high school and did a good job keeping home-cooked food on the tables and coffee cups filled.

Morning, Patsy. I’ll have the biggest cinnamon roll you got in the pan and lots of butter to go with it.

You bet Mr. Silverhorn. If you’re not worried about a heart attack, I won’t worry either.

Chuckles and snorts lifted into the air from those sitting close enough to hear. Isaac laughed too, but thought to himself that back in the day he would never have got that kind of comment from a pretty, young waitress.

Tiny Sun Bear sat at the counter finishing off a huge stack of pancakes and a thick slab of ham. The fact is, Tiny was anything but tiny. He was a big Kiowa man in his mid twenties; very handsome, despite his almost three hundred pounds of body mass. He worked as a farm hand on a nearby ranch and was in high demand by other ranchers during hay season. He took a swig of his coffee and turned on his stool to face Isaac.

Ho, Isaac.  You going to the Gourd Dance Pow Wow this weekend?

Hey, Tiny, Isaac replied, I haven’t really thought about it.

Aw, come on, Isaac. I’m making fry bread for the contest and I need your vote. Tiny gave Isaac an imploring look.

Martha smiled as she picked up Tiny’s empty plate, Tiny, you’ve been entering that contest for years and you always loose to Grandma Elba.

Yeah, but last year I came in second. This is gonna be the year I beat her. She’s getting’ older by the minute and maybe she’s not on top of her game anymore. There was hopeful enthusiasm in Tiny’s voice.

A gruff voice called out from the back of the room, Hey, Tiny, how come you’re the only guy that ever enters that fry bread contest?

Tiny stood and lifted his six foot four inch frame until it looked even taller.  Because Ma had all boys and I’m the one she taught to make the fry bread.  Any dispute regarding Tiny’s manhood ended right there.

The bells on the door jingled loudly and Sheriff Ledbetter walked in and looked around until he spotted Isaac. He took his Stetson off and hung it on the rack just inside the door. He grinned as he made his way to Isaac’s booth. By now Isaac had all but finished his cinnamon roll and was ready for a coffee refill.

I saw your Jeep outside and figured you were in here working your way through one of those rolls.

Sit down, Grady.  I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.

You old horse trader, you know good and well that Martha never charges a law man for his coffee.

Isaac tucked his head and took the last bite of roll off his plate, That so?

Patsy appeared at the booth with coffee for the sheriff, refilled Isaac’s cup, picked up his empty plate, then bounced away to the next table needing attention.

Sheriff Ledbetter stirred sugar into his coffee. You know, we found Walter’s mare.

Yeah?

Yeah, it was in a barn on the west side of the Washita. Willie Callow’s barn to be exact. Walter was glad to get her back and Willie’s in jail. Thanks.

Glad I could help. Isaac took a sip of his coffee and waited. He knew by the look on the sheriff’s face there was more.

After a few moments, Sheriff Ledbetter spoke again, Did you hear about Same Blake?

No, been too busy eat’n to pick on any of the latest news.

The sheriff stirred his coffee again, He didn’t come in for supper the other night so Peggy went looking for him.  Found him out on his tractor. The tractor was still running and Sam was dead.

Isaac looked thoughtful, Heart attack?

Ledbetter shook his head, Nope, best I can tell it was an animal attack. Strangest thing I’ve ever seen.  Can’t really tell what it was, maybe a big cat; couldn’t be a wolf; there hasn’t been any wolves out here in over a hundred years. Sam’s throat was ripped open and he bled out right where he sat. You got time to ride out there with me? Maybe look things over a bit?  My deputy’s going to meet me out there in about an hour.

Okay, Isaac replied and finished off the coffee in his cup.  Even though he hated to hear about Sam Blake, he tried not to let on that he was so eager to help with the case, That doesn’t sound like your regular accidental death.

Chapter 4

Sheriff Ledbetter pulled his SUV onto the lane leading up to the Blake place, then turned off to the side of the gravel drive before he got to the house. Sam Blake’s tractor sat out in the field to the right of the lane, surrounded by yellow crime scene tape.

Isaac got out of the cruiser and gave the sheriff a quizzical look. He reached down to pick up a stick laying at his feet, Why the tape Grady?

The Sheriff started walking toward the tractor, I wanted to keep people out until you had a chance to look things over.

When the men were about twenty feet from the tractor, Isaac put his arm out in front of Sheriff Ledbetter, Wait here and let me have a look.  He continued walking toward the tractor, watching the ground as he went, placing his feet on top of the existing boot prints he knew belonged to the sheriff. There had been a lot of activity in the field since Sam’s death.  The freshly disked ground was pretty well covered with foot prints; Peggy’s small pointed toe shoes with a spike heel, paramedic’s tennis shoes, law enforcement’s lace-up utility boots, and the coroner’s western boots. He stopped and bent down to get a closer look at the ground, then used his stick to circle a track.  He looked up into the cab of the tractor.  There was a lot of blood all over the inside, on the floorboard, on the door, as well as on the outside of the equipment; running down the side and pooled onto the ground.  It was obvious Sam never stood a chance against whatever got at him.  A shiver ran up Isaac’s back just like the one he felt earlier in the morning when he saw the coyote at his place. 

He continued his scrutiny of the ground all around the tractor and in a few minutes made another circle in the dirt. When he finished working the area around the tractor, he stood erect and turned his gaze to a stand of trees about a hundred yards away, then began walking in that direction in a close zig-zag pattern.  Soon he stopped and plunged the stick into the ground, looked up at the sheriff and motioned for him to come to him.

Sheriff Ledbetter walked over to where Isaac was standing. Isaac pointed to the ground near the stick. You see that? It’s coyote tracks and they’re stretched way out.  It was moving fast.  See how deep the tracks are, and how far apart the front and back paws are?

The sheriff looked closely at the ground and exhaled with a low whistle. That can’t be. I don’t know what it is, but it’s way too big for a coyote. That print is as big as my hand.  It’s got to be a dog the size of a small horse.

Nope, Isaac shook his head, That track is too compact and the toes and claws are too long to be a dog. But this print of the back paw seals the deal. See the shape of the pad? It’s like a thick crescent moon. A dog print won’t ever look like that. I circled tracks like this back at the tractor too.

Sheriff Ledbetter was still looking at the ground trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

Well, Isaac continued, if you’re having trouble wrapping your head around that, look over here.

They both followed the tracks through the freshly disked ground toward the trees. Abruptly, the animal tracks ended and human footprints appeared.

Looks like a man, Isaac said, maybe 180 to 200 pounds judging by how deep these tracks are, wearing moccasins, about a size ten.  His voice was calm, but all kinds of bells and whistles were going off in his head. 

Ike, this can’t be right.  I’m seeing it, but it can’t be right.  Where’d the coyote go and where’d the man come from?  Don’t tell me this is some more of that weird Indian stuff that always happens whenever you’re around.

"Now hold on Grady.  This aint none of my doing; but I’ll guarantee, it is some of ‘that weird Indian stuff’ as you put it.  This is a bad one.  You’re not going to like it."

Okay, that does it.  The sheriff’s voice was beginning to rise, Stand right here, I’m going back to the cruiser for my camera. He immediately turned on his heel and headed back to where his vehicle was parked.

As the sheriff opened the door of his cruiser, he heard another vehicle approaching. He looked up and saw his deputy, David Paulson, coming down the lane toward him.

The deputy pulled in behind the sheriff, got on the radio and told Louise where he was, then got out and called to the sheriff, Is that Isaac out there in the field?

Yeah, the sheriff retrieved his camera from the glove box of his cruiser, get a couple of bags of casting plaster out of your trunk and follow me out there. But, I’m warning ya, Dave, you’re not gonna believe what we found.

Chapter 5

The three men sat on the back bumper of the sheriff’s cruiser and studied the six plaster casts on the ground at their feet.

Deputy Paulson took his hat off and scratched his head. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. Isaac, I’ve seen some strange stuff when we’ve worked together in the past, and always like working with you because of it. But this beats all I’ve ever seen. What do you make of it?

Isaac stood and walked around the casts. There’s not but one way to look at this. A skinwalker killed Same Blake.  I saw it out at my place this morning, just checking me out.

The sheriff frowned, Okay, this has got to be the part you said I wasn’t going to like.  What the hell is a skinwalker?

Isaac walked back around to the bumper and sat down.  He put his hands on his knees and gazed off towards the woods where the tracks led, Well, it’s bad medicine, Grady.  A skinwalker is somebody that can transform themselves into pretty much any animal they choose.  Sometimes they’ve got to have the hide of the animal they’re going to turn into.  They put it on and this lets them change.  But, not all skinwalkers need the hide though, they can just do it.  They’re tricky; they try to lure their victims to them by mimicking the sound of a baby crying or the voice of someone the person knows, or maybe an animal in distress.  They’re fast and mean.  Most times, when they change, they’re out to do some killin’.  I just can’t figure why it would go after Sam.  There’s got to be a reason. He looked toward the house, Do you suppose we could go up to the house and talk to Peggy?

Sheriff Ledbetter stood and hitched up his pants. Sure, let’s go on up there. Dave, will you get these casts back to headquarters and log them into evidence? Let Louise know I’ll be with Isaac at the Blake residence.

The sheriff and Isaac got back into the SUV and continued down the lane toward the house. Sheriff Ledbetter looked over at Isaac and questioned, You think Peggy knows something?

Maybe, Isaac pondered, She always struck me as an odd match up for Sam. I think everybody that knew Sam, pretty much dropped their jaws when he came back from Amarillo with a new wife a few years ago.

Yeah, Sheriff Ledbetter agreed, That must have been one hell of a Cattlemen’s Convention.

The men rang the doorbell and waited.  Soon they heard the quick click, click, click of high heels on the tile floor and Peggy Blake opened the door. She looked surprisingly refreshed for a woman whose husband was torn apart by a wild animal just the day before; no tell-tale signs of a sleepless night or even tell tale of any tears that may have been shed during the night. 

Peggy was an attractive, petite woman.  The stiletto heels she was wearing pushed her height to almost five foot six, with another two inches of thick hair, curled, teased, and hair-sprayed into submission on top of her head.  Her slender figure was clad in purple stretch leggings and a long tie-died, off-the-shoulder top, secured at the waist with a large rhinestone encrusted belt. You just would never see many like her down at the local Piggly Wiggly grocery store.

Why, Sheriff Ledbetter, she purred, And I believe this gentleman with you must be Isaac Silverhorn. We’ve never formally met, but I’ve heard a lot about you. She nodded toward Isaac and smiled. Come in gentlemen. Come into the living room and sit down.  Could I get you something to drink? She stepped back from the door and allowed the men to enter.

Isaac glanced from the foyer into the spacious living room and was surprised by what he saw. The room was filled with artifacts and displays of arrowheads. It had been quite a while since he had been out to Sam’s place, but none of these items had been on display before. Oh, Sam had a few nice arrowheads he had picked up out of his fields, but nothing like this. He gave a knowing glance to Sheriff Ledbetter and spoke to Peggy, I wouldn’t mind having a cup of coffee, if you’ve got it made.

Why, certainly. Have a seat and I’ll be right back. Sheriff, what about you?

No, thanks, I’m fine.

Peggy headed off towards the kitchen, heels clicking and hips swaying.

"Grady, you still got your camera?

Yeah, it’s in my pocket. Why?

As they stepped into the living room, Isaac nodded toward an effigy figure on the fireplace mantel, Get some pictures of this stuff while I keep Peggy busy. He then turned and followed Peggy into the kitchen.  She was pouring coffee into a cup when Isaac walked in behind her.  Mrs. Blake, I was sure sorry to hear about Sam. I liked him a lot. He was a good man.

Thank you so much, and please call me Peggy. I’ll have to tell you, it has all been a terrible shock. She looked up as if she could see Sam hovering somewhere on the kitchen ceiling, I’ll miss Sam, but I know he would want me to carry on.

Isaac feigned a look of confusion, Carry on with what, ma’am?

Oh you know, life, living, that sort of thing. Sam was all about living life to its fullest.

Yes, I suppose he was, Isaac agreed. He picked up the coffee cup and took a sip, Good coffee. Thanks.

They both headed down the hallway toward the living room.  Isaac spoke a little too loudly, This is a very nice place, Peggy. You going to be looking for someone to finish putting in winter wheat? I’ll bet Tiny Sun Bear would be able to give you a hand.

When they entered the living room Sheriff Ledbetter was sitting on the sofa looking a bit bored. Isaac took a seat beside him and Peggy gracefully lowered herself into Sam’s big overstuffed chair by the fireplace. She kicked off her shoes and tucked her legs demurely up under her. Oh no, I don’t think I’ll bother with that.  I’m not sure what I will do with the place now that Sam is gone.

Isaac nodded sympathetically, and picked up a stone effigy from the coffee table in front of the sofa. This is interesting. Looks like you’ve collected several nice pieces.

Peggy smiled and looked uninterested, Sam started bringing that stuff in over a year ago. Said he found it when was working the fields. Then he’d wash it up and set it around in here. Not really my idea of desirable décor; but he liked it, so I never made much of a fuss about it.

Isaac replaced the piece on the coffee table. That’s interesting.  I never seen nothing like this around here before.

Sheriff  Ledbetter leaned forward and spoke to Peggy, We just wanted to stop in to make sure you were alright and see if there was anything you needed, Peggy. I also wanted to know if you were able to think of anything about yesterday that was unusual or out of place. Sometimes, even if it don’t seem important at the time, it might make a difference in figuring things out.

Peggy gave the sheriff an impatient glance, "I don’t need anything sheriff, but thanks for asking.  And like I told you yesterday, there hasn’t been anything unusual happen. Now , if you gentlemen don’t mind, I think I’d like to lay down for a nap. That dern basset hound of Sam’s carried on all night. I swear, I barely got a wink of sleep. I called Neva early this morning, she lives just down the road, and asked if they wanted a dog.  Her and Clyde were glad to take Elvis. Clyde always liked him anyway."

Sheriff Ledbetter stood and started toward the front door, Sure, Peggy. Just let me know if I can help in any way. Come on Ike, let’s head back to town.

Isaac was already standing, Thank you for the coffee. He handed her his cup and followed the sheriff to the door.

The men got into the cruiser without comment and headed back toward the Sheriff’s Department. They drove for a few minutes in silence before Sheriff Ledbetter spoke, How come you wanted pictures of that stuff in Sam’s living room? You think there’s some connection with that stuff and the skinwalker?

Maybe. It’s true what I told Peggy; I never seen those kinds of relics around here. They looked old, maybe even pre-Columbian. I can’t be sure, I’m no expert; but my daughter, Jolene, is. Can you send her those pictures with your computer?

The sheriff was beginning to see some logic in what Isaac was saying. Sure, I can send them to her. Is she still at the Archeology Department at the university in Norman?

Isaac nodded an affirmative reply, Yeah, she really likes it there. She’s doing good. She’s been working on a big project on the early migration of tribes into the Oklahoma area.

Sheriff Ledbetter picked up his radio mike, Louise, me and Ike are leaving the Blake place and headed back to the office. Has Dave made it back with those evidence bags?

The radio spit static and then Louise’s voice came on, Ten-four Sheriff. Dave is back here and let me tell you, he’s really stirred stuff up with those castings. He tried to get them into evidence real quiet like; but it didn’t work. The sooner you get back here the better.

The sheriff replaced the mike and looked at Isaac, Well, that’s just great, he paused and shifted the conversation back to the artifacts, I managed to get pictures of all the big stuff and most of the rest. I didn’t take any pictures of the arrowheads, but there was a big spearhead that I got a picture of. Do you think Sam really found all that out in his fields?

Isaac was thoughtful for a moment, "Yeah, I do. And if it’s what I think it is, Peggy could be sitting on a sizable fortune. We’ll know for sure when we hear back from Joline.

The sheriff slapped his palm against the steering wheel, Ok, things are getting complicated real fast. Does Peggy know how much those artifacts might be worth? Maybe that’s why she doesn’t want anybody working those fields, because she knows. So, if she knows, was Sam’s death really an accident. I mean, would a skinwalker actually pick up a hit contract? And if that’s what happened, how the hell do you prosecute the case in court? ‘Mr. Skinwalker, will you please demonstrate for the court your ability to change into a monster coyote?’ We gotta face it Ike, this is turning into a probable homicide.

Chapter 6

When Sheriff Ledbetter pulled his cruiser into the Caddo County Sheriff Department parking lot; it was full of vehicles. Even his designated parking spot was taken. He circled the lot, and then the block, looking for a place to park. In utter frustration, he parked on the street in front of the Department in the fire zone and put his blue lights on.  Come on, Ike, let’s see what the hell is going on in there. They both bailed out of the cruiser and headed for the front door.

As they approached the glass entrance doors of the Sheriff’s Department, it was obvious the front lobby was crammed with people, mostly men, all apparently attempting to speak at once. When the sheriff and Isaac managed to push their way into the lobby, heated conversations stopped and all attention was on them.  Concerned, sometime angry voices were directed to Sheriff Ledbetter.

Sheriff, what’s out there?

Yeah, Sheriff, what is that thing that got to Sam?

We want to know what we’re up against. You need to tell us what that thing is.

Sheriff Ledbetter made his way to the counter in front of Louise and turned to face the crowd, Now settle down boys. We haven’t had a chance to examine the evidence yet. You’re not up against nothin’ yet and you’re gettin’ all riled up before you even know what’s going on. If we determine there is a threat to the community, we’re going to let you know; until then, I want you all to get on out of here and go home.

A voice near the door rose above the rest, Yeah, I’m gonna go home alright. I’m gonna go home and get my rifle and get that thing before it gets me or mine. Who’s going with me? A chorus of voices rose in support of the man’s bravado.

The sheriff stepped into the midst of the crowd and raised his voice, Now hold on. The last thing we need is a mob of trigger-happy vigilantes out running around. I guarantee somebody’s gonna get hurt or killed if you keep this up.

The angry voice near the door spoke up again, "What about you, Isaac? I’ll bet you know what this thing is and you probably know where it is