Manito

By Kate Kilmer-Jackson

Manito is a fictional trilogy about a house and piece of land that were cursed in the late 1700's by a female Shaman who was raped and murdered as she isolated herself for child birth. The land becomes the sight of a homestead that changes hands several times until the early 1800's when the Hudson family becomes the inhabitants of the house. The Hudson family is plagued by repeated tragedies while living in the home and the line ends in a double suicide in the mid-1900's. The house eventually becomes the home of the Bowman family who must set about to solve the mystery of the house and land and prevent the death of their own child at the hands of the Manito.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Jun 13, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490730646

Kate Kilmer-Jackson

Kate Kilmer-Jackson is a Registered Nurse and mother of 13 (5 daughters, 3 step daughters and five step sons). She is happily married to her husband Clyde Jackson. Kate became interested in writing as a past time during a lengthy illness that prohibited much activity. She grew up on the banks of the Mississippi, listening to the many tales of the Native Americans that had inhabited the area. As a devout Christian she is also intrigued by the spiritual. She enjoys spending time with her children and grandchildren, crocheting, writing, singing Southern Gospel and playing the piano. Kate would like to acknowledge the support she has received from her husband, Clyde Jackson, and her children as well as her late husband, Larry Williams, in the realization of this project.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

1750

S he could hear the fading thunder of the horse’s hooves as the hard earth, beneath her head, echoed the hollow sound. There was a peace that settled over her soul. Finally, it was done. Perhaps she would die, but at least they would not be there to see her give in to death. She slowly moved her arm down to her abdomen. Down to the swelling that was her child. There was no pain. The child made no movements, but when the birth pains began she knew that the child would not move.

The old women loved to sit by the fire at night and tell the young girls about the birth experience. It was the proof of woman hood and the proof that the ancestors were well pleased. The great father spirit had sent another for the tribe. It was a great event that could not be matched by a brave no matter how hard he tried. Even the Great Spirit journey of his fifteenth year could not rival the birth of a child in its importance to the tribe and to the ancestors.

She had remembered the old women saying that quite often the child would lie still in the womb for hours or even days before the birth. It was during this time that the spirit of an ancestor would join with the spirit of the unborn child. It would only be a matter of hours before the child would be born and the ancestor would re-enter the life cycle.

She moved her arm to her face and felt the huge gash that ran down the side of her cheek. There should have been great pain, but there was no pain. She looked at her hand which was covered with dirt mixed with the bright red blood from the wound.

She tasted the fluid in her mouth and she knew that it was blood. That slightly familiar taste sent a flood of memories into her mind, memories of her childhood, and memories of the taste of blood.

It was her fifth summer. She was playing with some of the other children just outside of the Shaman’s lodge. There was a big willow tree from which the Shaman would scrape bark and make a potion to heal the sick and to stop pain. The children of the village knew that they were not to play on the tree and that they were to never disturb the Shaman when he was in the lodge. This is where he prayed and spoke with the Great Spirit. This was the most sacred of all the places in the village.

Kitiko had climbed to the top of the tree, not because she wanted to disturb the healing spirit of the tree, as her mother had later accused her, but because she wanted to prove to the young braves that were teasing her that she wasn’t just a frightened little squaw. She was just as brave as any of them and braver than most. As she neared the top of the tree she could feel her foot slip and the next thing she knew she was falling. It seemed like it took forever to hit the ground and when she did the whole world went black. She awoke a short time later to the smell of firewood and the funny taste in her mouth.

Her mother and father were both standing beside her, and the Shaman was standing over her, looking into her eyes. Take her home. She will live, he said in the solemn voice that Kitiko had always known as her Grandfather’s Shaman voice. On the rare occasions when she had been allowed to go into the lodge, her grandfather always seemed so different than when he told her stories at night by the fire or took her for walks in the woods.

You could have harmed the great willow and disturbed your Grandfather’s prayers. Her mother told her when they were back in their own lodge. Her mother was cleaning the many scrapes on her arms and legs, but Kitiko couldn’t get her mind off of the strange taste that filled her mouth. She put her hand up to her lip and wiped her mouth. Then she saw the bright red blood.

She winced in pain as her mother explained that she had knocked out her front teeth in the fall and that because of her foolishness she would have to eat the mush of the babies and the old ones. Kitiko’s eyes filled with tears. Not because she would have to eat the mush, but because now the braves would have one more thing to tease her about and one more reason to call her a baby. She had tasted her own blood and she would never forget that taste, not ever.

Many years passed since that day and the tribe had been pushed closer and closer to the bank of the great river. Kitiko had become the wife of one of those same young braves that had teased her so when she was a child.

Shakina was a fine leader for the tribe and a fine husband for Kitiko. Kitiko’s ancestors had once been a great and fearsome people, but now the white man had raped their lands, killed their warriors and pushed them to the river’s edge.

All of the leaders before Shakina had believed that the warriors must fight the white man at all costs, and it had cost plenty. The people were weak and dying. Droughts in the summer had led to famine in the winter and the white men as well as other Indian tribes from the north had come into the villages and taken the food and animal skins. Most of the warriors had been killed by the raiders. The children, the old, and the weak either starved or froze to death.

Shakina believed that if his people were to survive then they must become the friend of the white man. They must show the white man that they can be more useful alive than dead. There were too many white men and more came every day. They all had guns and strong healthy horses.

The tribe could serve as guides and teach the white man how to survive in the wilderness along the banks of the great river. They could trade furs for the guns and teach the white man to hunt the Indian way. The wilderness was vast and the winters were cold. It would serve the white man well to have the Indian as an ally rather than an enemy.

Many of the white men had lost their lives along the great river. Many froze or starved in the winter, but even more died at the hands of tribes that were led by chiefs that were less friendly than Shakina. He believed that the proud ways of his people were noble, but nobility would not save them from extinction. Only learning to survive alongside of the white man could do that.

Kitiko remembered the night several months ago when she told Shakina of the news that they would have a child. She had believed it was true and when she went to see the Shaman he had told her that she was with child and that the child would be born in the spring time.

The Shaman had laughed at her for not having this knowledge herself. She told him that she had believed in her heart what he had told her, but she was afraid to speak such a thing without his confirmation. Again he had laughed, and this time Kitiko felt that it was her grandfather that laughed and not the Shaman.

He had been teaching her the ways of the Shaman for the past two years, but there was still much to learn. Many of the elders in the tribe felt that it was blasphemy to teach a female the ways of the Shaman, but her grandfather was quick to chastise anyone who disagreed with his decision. It was up to him to decide who the next Shaman would be.

Normally, it would be a male of the Shaman’s bloodline, but the Shaman had only one son, and this was Kitiko’s father. The Shaman had never taught his son the ways of the Great Spirit or given him the knowledge of the Shaman, not because he did not believe that his son was a fine and noble warrior, but because he did not believe that his son had the gift of the Shaman.

One day, during Kitiko’s fourteenth year, and after she was promised to Shakina, her grandfather had been walking with her along the bank of the great river. An eagle had swooped down from one of the great bluffs that sat high above the river bank and Kitiko had stretched her hand out toward the eagle.

She wasn’t sure why she had done such a thing. She knew the eagle would never perch on her hand, but as she stretched toward the great bird he swooped even closer and their eyes met. In that instance Kitiko new that the teachings of the elders were correct. She saw an ancient knowledge in the eyes of the eagle, and somehow, she felt that the eagle knew her. The eagle let out a great cry and soared over the river and out of sight. Kitiko turned and looked at her grandfather, and the old man had tears in his eyes.

They were not the tears of sorrow or even of joy, but rather the tears of awe, the tears that come from deep in your soul when you look at an exquisite sun set or a beautiful field of wild flowers, the tears for all the wonders in our lives.

The old man closed his eyes and let out a great sigh. He motioned to a spot under a tree as he said, Sit here with me child.

Her Grandfather was quiet for what seemed like an eternity to Kitiko, and then he began to speak.

When your father was born I asked the Great Spirit to show me when the time would be right to teach him the ways of the Shaman. The time never came and he soon became a man. I expected that he would eventually ask me why I hadn’t begun the instruction, but he never did.

Many of the elders had asked, and I told them that when it came to spiritual matters, the Shaman answers to no one, except the Great Spirit, but then they questioned why I did not believe that my own son was worthy to be the Shaman. I explained to them that I could train no man until the Great Spirit instructed me to do so.

Finally, one day your father came to me and said that he knew there were many of the elders that believed that he should have begun instruction as the Shaman, but he did not feel that it was for him. He said that he believed that someday he would have a son to carry on the blood line of the Shaman.

I too believed that this was the case, but you were the only child born to your father. The first time I held you, I knew that you were special. I had always believed that you would give birth to the son that would be the greatest Shaman that our people have ever known, but even I could not have anticipated what the Great Spirit had intended.

I was in my lodge praying the night that you were promised to Shakina. I went on a Spirit journey, and I came to a great well. When I looked into the well I could see nothing but great darkness. Then I began to hear the cry of a mighty eagle.

The bird came up out of the well and circled around me three times. I fell to my knees, because I knew that the Great Spirit had taken the form of an eagle to come to me. I knew then that it would be an eagle that would show me the right path to take.

The Great Sprit has now come to you in the form of an eagle, and you are to be the next Shaman of our people. The eagle will be your spirit guide, as you learn the ways of the Shaman.

Grandfather, I would like nothing more than to please the Great Sprit, but I am but a female. Perhaps someday I will have a son. Kitiko said as she looked at the old man.

No child, the time is now. You have the gift. The instruction will begin in the morning when the sun rises. The old man replied as he turned and walked with her in silence back to his lodge.

He removed his moccasins at the door, bowed his head low and entered the lodge. Kitiko stood at the door of the lodge and stared at the skin that draped the doorway. She knew that the old man would spend the night in prayer, asking the Great Spirit for the guidance to begin the training of the next Shaman, to begin her training.

Some of the elders scoffed at having a woman as the Shaman, but many remembered the stories that were told of the greatest Shaman the tribe had ever known. It was Kitiko’s great grandmother. She had healed many of the sick, and had placed great curses on the enemies of the people. She had brought great harvests and great hunts. It was a time of plenty and of great happiness. She had the gift of medicine, but she also had a very special gift of magic. Perhaps now it was time once more for a female Shaman.

Kitiko listened to the stories and doubted that she could ever have the power of her ancestor, but she loved her grandfather, and she loved her people. Shakina had told her to try her best and to not let herself or the tribe lose hope in the possibility that she could help to bring about prosperous times once again.

Kitiko spent every day with her grandfather, as he taught her the ways of the Shaman. First she must learn when to pray and how to pray. She spent many hours in the lodge alone in prayer and meditation, and many more hours in the woods with her Grandfather as he showed her the roots and leaves that would heal different afflictions and taught her the prayers that went with each.

Each passing day Kitiko felt that she understood the ways of the Shaman better, and each day she felt her grandfather grow older and weaker. She knew that the time would soon come when she would have to take her place as the Shaman, but for now she was content to help her grandfather with the sick and share the lodge with him. She knew that she still had much to learn.

The day finally came when her grandfather told her that it would be the right time to marry Shakina. She could continue to study the ways of the Shaman, but she needed to start a family. There must be another to carry on the blood line of the Shaman.

As she lay with Shakina on the first night of their life together in his lodge she knew that she had conceived a son. She felt it in her heart, but she had to go speak to her grandfather. Early the next morning she entered the lodge to find her grandfather in prayer. She had learned in the beginning of her instruction that she was not to disturb him, but to kneel and quietly join him in prayer. As she knelt beside the Shaman he said, Ask the question that you have come to ask.

I believe that I am with child. Is this true? She asked as she stared into the fire that was smoldering in the circular pit.

Don’t you know the answer? the old man asked after a long moment of silence.

Well, I believe that I am, but I don’t know for sure.

Some fine Shaman you’ve become her grandfather laughed as he rose to his feet.

You are with child, a son. He will be born in the spring, and he will be a very gifted Shaman, perhaps the greatest Shaman of all times. Now stay here and pray for guidance and wisdom for both you and Shakina. The old man said as he turned to leave.

CHAPTER 2

T he winter was long and fierce. The white man had not raided the village for many months. Some of the warriors reported seeing the tracks of the white man in the snow, but they did not come near the village.

Shakina was worried about his mate and about his unborn child. Kitiko had been very weak and very sick in the early days of the pregnancy. She had lost weight and Shakina feared that she might lose the child. He brought her extra food, but it only made her that much sicker. The Shaman made potions, but they did not seem to help much either.

Finally, in the early winter, Kitiko began to feel better, but food was scarce and she did not want to eat what might belong to a child or one of the old ones. Shakina would often rise early and go alone to find extra food for her and the child that grew within her.

The tribe had endured a fierce blizzard for two days and nights. It was an especially cold morning after the blizzard had ended when Shakina rose early, put on extra skins, took his bow and quietly left the safety of the village to look for small game.

Shakina traveled down the river’s edge for most of the morning. He had two rabbits in his pack. That would help. He knew that Kitiko would not take more than her share from the common food, but she would eat the extra game that he caught. He brought it as a gift, and to refuse it would be disrespectful.

Shakina stopped. Something was different. The air felt different. At first he thought that perhaps a deer had wandered onto the river bank, but it was a feeling of danger that crept into his heart and made the hair on the back of his neck tingle. The animal that he sensed was much more dangerous than a deer.

Every muscle in his body tensed, and then he saw it, a footprint, partially covered by snow, but Shakina knew from experience that it was the foot print of a white man. He searched the area and found several more. There were no hoof prints, just those of one man, and the man was injured.

Shakina brushed away some of the snow and found drops of frozen blood. The man must have been here at the end of the blizzard last night. There was just a dusting over some of the prints. Shakina grabbed for the branch of a huge Oak and quickly scurried up the tree.

His keen eye carefully circled the area where he perched. He did not see anyone, but he did see a clump of fir trees a few hundred feet away. It would be the only place that someone unfamiliar with the river bank could find any shelter. Shakina climbed back down the tree and started in the direction of the firs. He must move cautiously. All of the white men had guns, and his bow would not be a match. The man was wounded, and because of his pain and fear he would be even more dangerous.

Shakina slowly entered the growth of trees and found the white man. He was sitting against a tree and had his coat pulled up around him. His hat was down over his face and Shakina could not tell if he was alive or dead. His hands were nowhere to be seen and Shakina expected that a half frozen white hand might emerge at any second and fire a white man’s gun at him. At least death would be quick, Shakina thought to himself as he slowly picked up a fallen branch and carefully poked the man’s leg.

The man did not move. Perhaps he’s dead, Shakina thought to himself as he poked at the man’s shoulder. The man fell to the side and Shakina could see that his eyes were closed. He came near to the man and un-wrapped the coat.

His hands were in his shirt and as Shakina pulled them out he could see that if the man had a gun, he was not holding it. Shakina put his ear on the man’s chest and could hear the faint beating of his heart. It sounded fast and weak.

Perhaps the man will die quickly, Shakina thought as he stood back up. Should he leave him? Surely the coyotes will find him. He must have an open wound. They will smell the blood and come.

Shakina stared at the helpless man that lay on the ground in front of him. He could not leave the man here. Not even a white man should suffer such a fate, but where could he take him? Certainly not back to the tribe. There were many there that hate the white man. He would not survive.

Then Shakina remembered the secret place. He had found it one summer when, as a child, he was playing on the bluffs. It was high on a cliff and the small opening was overgrown with weeds and dried brush. He kept the place a secret from all the other braves, but one summer day he took Kitiko to the place. It had become their secret place, and they never told anyone about it. Many days they would slip off alone and climb the bluff to the cave.

The mouth of the cave was small. As children, they could enter standing, but by the time Shakina had reached his full height he had to stoop over to enter. Once inside, it was huge. They would pretend that it was the cave of the Great Spirit or that they were fighting off the white man.

When they were older they would sit in the cave and talk for hours about what their lives would be like and how they would have a family and grow old together on the bank of the great river. It was in the cave that Shakina had explained that he felt that the Indian and the white man must learn to live together in order for either to find peace. So what if the land was the Indian’s? There was enough for all. Kitiko had never agreed, but she kept it to herself. The white man was evil and he would kill the Indian if given half a chance. She knew it in her heart.

Shakina wasn’t sure that he could carry the man up the steep bluffs, but he could at least try. He hoisted the man up over his shoulders and started the trek back down the river. It would have been hard enough to carry the man on the flat land of the river bank, but the deep snow made the task that much harder.

By the time he came to the foot of the bluffs, Shakina’s back and shoulders ached as if they were on fire. His eyes slowly followed the hidden trail up the steep slope of the bluffs. He would never make it with the man on his back. Surely they would both die if he even attempted such a feat.

The man will die here on the river bank, Shakina thought as sadness welled within his heart. He bowed his head and said a prayer to the Great Spirit for the man. He wasn’t sure what happened to the white man when he died. Perhaps the Great Spirit of the Indian also cared for the white man, Shakina thought as he turned to leave.

The Indian had walked only a few feet when he heard the man moan softly. Shakina turned and looked once more at the white man, lying helplessly on the ground. He could not leave the man, even if it meant that they would both die on the bluffs. He hoisted the man back up on his burning shoulders and winced in pain as he started the climb up the bluffs.

Shakina had come to the flat edge of the overhang. There would be room to put the man down and rest before he climbed the rest of the way, but Shakina knew that if he stopped the man would die. Shakina would not have the strength to get him back up on his shoulders again. Shakina lifted his head to the sky and asked the Great Spirit and the Ancestors to help him. He stood still for a moment and listened to the wind sigh through the trees. He then firmly set his jaw and resumed the climb.

When Shakina finally reached the top of the bluff and the mouth of the cave every muscle in his body burned. He had never felt such pain. He sank to the ground and thanked the Great Spirit for answering his prayer.

A huge snow drift blocked the entrance to the cave, but the snow was dry and easily moved away. After the entrance was clear enough, Shakina drug the man into the cave.

The huge cave was dark and cold, but as Shakina drug the man deeper into the cavern the temperature seemed to rise slightly. It was not nearly as cold as the edge of the bluff had been. A man could survive in this place, Shakina thought as he looked around.

There wasn’t enough draft to start a fire. The cave would quickly fill with smoke, and Shakina was afraid that there might be other white men close and a fire outside of the cave entrance would give away his location.

No, for now the white man would have to settle for the shelter of the cave. The Great Spirit would either save his life or take it, because, for the time being, Shakina had done all that he could.

He pulled the man’s coat up around him and left the cave to gather a hand full of snow which he gently pressed between the lips of the stranger. The man moaned and sucked the wet snow off of Shakina’s hand. Shakina looked at the man in amazement. He was no different from an Indian. He needed shelter and water just like Shakina. Surely they were really not that different.

Shakina pushed snow against the entrance of the cave. It would help to insulate the shelter from the cold of the rapidly approaching night. He then turned and headed back down the bluff and to his own shelter.

Kitiko had been very worried about Shakina. It was not like him to be this late. He usually returned by the time the sun was high overhead, but today it was nearing sunset when he entered the lodge. He looked exhausted and all he had to show for an entire day was two rabbits.

It is not worth this, Kitiko complained as she took the rabbits and prepared them to be skinned. I get enough to eat. She said as she examined the scratches on his face.

I need to be sure. The child you carry is the future of our people. He must survive, Shakina said in the most solemn tone she thought that she had ever heard him use.

He will survive, but I am not so sure about his father. Kitiko replied, trying to mock her husband’s solemn tone.

I need your help. Shakina said as he moved closer to where his wife was busily skinning the two rabbits.

Kitiko lay the scraping stone down and slowly turned to look at her husband. She was sure that he must have been able to read the awe on her face. She had never heard Shakina ask any one for help, and especially not a female. She stood frozen and waited for her husband to complete his request.

I found a man today, half frozen under a clump of fir trees. Shakina stated as he turned his eyes away from his wife and waited for her response.

What do you mean, you found a man? Where is he? Take him to the lodge and I will get Grandfather.

No Kitiko, I can’t. Shakina said as he focused his gaze on the lifeless rabbits.

What do you mean you can’t? Is he Iroquois, Cahokia, Iliniwek? What tribe is he from? We must care for him. It is the way of the Great Spirit.

Would the Great Spirit want us to care for a white man? Shakina asked as he turned his gaze back to his wife.

He saw the rage in her eyes, but there was something more. Shakina wasn’t quite sure what was behind the brown eyes that he loved so much. He had never seen this particular emotion before. Was it fear or was it hate?

The Great Spirit cares for all, but He also deals out His wrath on those who murder and rape and steal. The Elders would not be pleased if they knew you had helped a white man. Where did you take him?

I put him in the cave in the high bluffs. I asked the Great Spirit to help me carry him up the bluffs and he answered my prayer. I packed snow in the cave opening and left him there. If he is alive in the morning I will try to help him, but I need your help to give him the right potion. He is very sick.

You can’t be planning to go back. He may be playing a trick and wait to kill you when you return. Let him die if that is what is to be. Kitiko stated with finality as she turned back to the rabbits.

I must try to help him. He is sick. It is no trick. If I help him regain his health and he can return to the white men, then he will be able to tell his people that we are kind and peaceful. This may be how the Great Spirit plans to help us to survive with the white man. Shakina replied.

How can you be a Chief of this people if you do not know the ways of the enemy? Kitiko asked as she slammed the knife down onto the stone where the rabbits lay.

How can you be the Shaman if you have no compassion? Shakina stated as he turned and left the lodge.

Kitiko was asleep when Shakina returned from sitting with his own Grandfather. The old man was frail, but Shakina always drew strength just from being in his presence. He quietly lay down next to his wife and closed his eyes. Sleep came quickly as a peace settled over his soul, a peace that comes when you have made a decision and are no longer struggling with the right and wrong of it. He knew what he was doing was the right thing.

CHAPTER 3

W hen Kitiko awoke she heard the steady breathing of her husband. It gave her some peace to know that he was beside her. It was almost daylight. She knew that there would be no changing his mind. He would return to the white man. Kitiko quietly left her bed and went to the lodge to pray for the safe return of her husband and for the Great Sprit to show her the way.

Shakina awoke to find his wife was gone. He knew where she had went, but what he didn’t know was when she would return. He would need a potion for the sick if he was to help the man, but he had no idea what to give him. He could only ask Kitiko again for her help.

As chief he could demand that she give him the roots he needed, but that would probably be a disaster. He had learned as a child that to demand anything of Kitiko was futile, to say the least. He would just have to make do with what he had, he thought to himself as he put dried meat and roots in the pack. He selected several hides and furs from the stack in the corner and was just about to leave when Kitiko entered the lodge.

I brought my medicine sack and a bowl to put the potion in. She stated as if there had never been a question that she would help him.

I love you Kitiko. You will not regret this. He said as he took her in his arms and gently kissed her. I’ll be back before the sun is high. He stated as he reached for the bowl that Kitiko held.

I can carry this and the medicine sack. She replied as she pulled the bowl back toward herself.

What do you mean? You cannot go. It is far too dangerous and the climb is too hard in the snow and ice. He replied as he looked at her in shocked amazement.

It is still many months before the baby comes and I can climb as good as any warrior. I will not know what potions are needed until I see the man, and besides, the potions are best administered by a Shaman who knows the correct prayers to use.

It is just too dangerous Kitiko. You can’t go. I am the chief and I have spoken Shakina stated with all of the determination he could muster.

He could see the color flare in Kitiko’s face and eyes. He knew as soon as he spoke the words that it had been a mistake.

You are chief to this people and I am Shaman. You have the say for all things of the natural, but I have the say for all things of the spiritual. I will go alone. Kitiko stated with just as much determination.

She knew that Shakina would go, with or without her, but she also knew that he would never allow her to go alone. If her husband was to die at least they would die together.

She knew the prayers of the Shaman. She had already asked the Great Spirit to protect them on their journey. Grandfather was much wiser and had the knowledge that only comes with age, but Kitiko’s medicine was much stronger. She seemed to know just what to do and often acted while Grandfather was still praying and asking for guidance. Grandfather often stated that he had chosen the next Shaman well, for Kitiko truly had the gift of the Shaman. She glowed with the light of protection that surrounded her as soon as she left the Shaman’s lodge.

I must remain focused. I must not let pride or anger hinder the protection that surrounds us, Kitiko thought as she closed her eyes and pulled in the warm light. She could feel it wash over her body and to the very depths of her soul, but she must not be distracted. She must focus. Maybe someday her magic would come naturally, but for now she had to concentrate and keep her mind clear to summon the power within her.

Shakina stood in amazement of his wife. He had never seen her like this. Perhaps this was the Kitiko that the Shaman had seen. Shakina had never quite seen why the Shaman thought that Kitiko, who after all was a female, should be the next Shaman. There were several young braves to choose from, yet Kitiko had been his choice.

Shakina had always seen her as Kitiko, the little child that was always falling out of trees or off the bluffs, or Kitiko, the adolescent who was becoming the most beautiful thing he had ever seen as she entered her womanhood, or Kitiko, the wife and lover who caused him the deepest pleasure he had ever known and now, Kitiko, the mother of his child, but at this moment he truly did she her as Kitiko, the Shaman.

Kitiko turned and left the lodge, carrying the medicine bag and bowl. Shakina picked up the skins and the pack and quickly scrambled after her.

The rest of the village was still asleep. The morning was crisp and cold, but there was no wind. The cold felt invigorating. The snow was still powdery and walking was not difficult. They walked in complete silence. The sun was beginning to peak out over the bluffs as they neared the beginning of the path up to the cave.

Kitiko stopped and placed the bowl and the medicine bag on the ground. She lifted her arms to the sky and silently asked for protection and guidance. It was as if the air around them had become charged. Shakina stood in awe. He had never felt anything like it. Kitiko was truly special. She picked her bowl and bag up and began the steep climb.

Shakina had thought once more that he should try to stop her, but he could not speak. He felt like he did when he was a child and the Shaman had come to heal him from a sickness that had kept him confined to the lodge for many days. He knew that it was Kitiko’s grandfather. He had set with them many times while the old man told stories about the ancestors and the way things used to be, but it was as if he didn’t even know this man that came to make medicine and say prayers for him, and at this moment, this did not seem like the same Kitiko that was his wife and the mother of his child.

The climb was much easier without the man on his shoulders. As he watched Kitiko it seemed as if she were in another world. She certainly didn’t seem to notice that he was behind her. She did not speak, but she climbed, quietly and resolutely to the top of the bluff.

Once Kitiko arrived at the flat ledge that held the mouth of the cave, she turned and looked at Shakina. There was no need for words. Shakina knew that he needed to move the snow. He hesitated. Perhaps Kitiko was right and the man was waiting in the cave with a gun drawn and ready to kill not only him but also Kitiko. Shakina had not searched the man for a gun. Will that be a mistake that I will live to regret Shakina asked himself as he neared the cave and the mound of snow.

He quickly moved the dry snow away from the entrance, and then he breathed a sigh of relief when he did not hear the discharge of the white man’s gun. The cave was dark and he drew in the cold air as he peered into the darkness and prayed that the man did not have a gun.

He took the dry wood from his pack and lit the end of the stick. As it glowed bright in the darkness of the cave he strained his eyes to see deeper into the chasm. There was nothing in the entrance and there was a deafening stillness in the cave. Shakina bent over and slowly entered the mouth of the cave.

Once inside he was able to stand straight again. He moved quietly and cautiously farther into the huge cavern. There was the white man. Just as he had left him and still with his coat pulled up around him. Shakina turned to see Kitiko standing behind him in stunned silence.

Oh, Shakina, I don’t even think Grandfather’s medicine could help this man. Kitiko said in almost a whisper.

Is he even still alive? Shakina replied.

I think so, but just barely. We have to move him to the mouth of the cave so a fire can be built. We must warm him. It is good that you brought him here, but he must be made warmer before I can even begin to work the medicine.

Kitiko, I can’t build a fire. The other white men may be close and they could see the smoke and come to look for him. It is too dangerous. We must make do.

No. We must have a fire. If you cannot trust in the Great Spirit to protect us then you are a hindrance to the medicine and you must leave. I will build the fire. Kitiko stated with determination, but no emotion in her voice.

Let’s just go back to the camp together. You were right. This is all a bad idea. He will live or die, but neither will be by our hand. Shakina said as he stared at the dying man on the cave floor.

Shakina, it is the will of the Great Spirit that we help this man. I do not know why, but I know that it is so. We will be protected, but we must stay focused. Get the wood and prepare the fire. I will prepare a mat. Kitiko said as she opened the stack of hides and furs that Shakina had carried to the cave.

We must hurry, she added as she waved Shakina on, His life is quickly slipping away.

Shakina hurried out of the cave and down the bluff to the clump of fir trees and the branches that were buried under the snow. Branches that had fallen many winters before, perhaps because of the heavy snows and blizzards that were so common to the area. He hurried back to the cave entrance and began setting the fire. Once the blaze had started he returned to the deeper recesses of the cave, to the dying white man, and carried him to the mat that Kitiko had prepared.

Undress him, Kitiko stated as she began to examine the man’s face and head for injuries.

Shakina removed the man’s coat and placed one of the furs on top of him. He then went to the man’s feet and looked at the heavy leather boots. How can white men walk and hunt in such a thing, Shakina thought to his self as he examined the foot wear for any possible way that he could get it off. There were no laces. It appeared that the man had just pulled it on, but when Shakina tried to pull it off he realized that it would take much more force than he had originally thought it would to get the man’s foot free of the thing.

Just fill the bowl with snow and sit it by the fire to melt. Don’t pull on his legs until I see where the injury is. You said there was blood on the snow where you found him? Kitiko asked as she gently worked on removing the man’s shirt.

Yes, but not a lot. Will he survive?

I don’t know. All I know is that it is meant that we help him. I wish Grandfather were here. He has much more experience with injuries than I do. His medicine is much wiser than mine, but this is not for Grandfather. It is meant for me to help the white man.

Kitiko examined the man’s chest and arms and found no injuries. She gently laid her head on his chest and listened for the sound of life. It was there, but it was very weak. She knew she must work quickly if the man was to survive.

Roll him over so I can see his back, she instructed Shakina.

There was no injury on his back, but there was dried blood in a gaping hole in the back of his right leg. Shakina used his knife to quickly cut the leather chaps and the cloth of the man’s pants away from the injured area.

Kitiko quickly set about to put roots and dried berries in the bowl and mix them with the melted snow.

You may leave us now. She announced as she prepared a poultice.

"Leave. I can’t leave. What if he wakes up or what if there are others who see the fire? Shakina stated in amazement.

This man will sleep for many days, and as far as the other white men coming, there is a wall of protection on this place. No one will see the fire. Of that I am sure. You must leave so that I may focus on the medicine. Kitiko stated as she continued to add ingredients to the bowl.

Shakina quietly left the mouth of the cave. If he could not stay in the cave at least he would remain nearby. If he returned to the camp there would be too many questions about why Kitiko had not returned with him, and besides, he would constantly worry about her. He did not have nearly as much faith as his wife did in the protecting power of the Great Spirit.

Shakina decided that he would remain nearby and hunt for small game for dinner. He was getting quite hungry, but he didn’t dare return to the cave to get the pack with the dried meat in it. He had left his bow and a few arrows covered with snow at the foot of the bluff when he had carried the man up to the cave. They would still be there and he could surely get a squirrel or rabbit to cook on the fire by the cave. By then Kitiko should be nearly finished with the medicine.

The sun was high overhead when Shakina returned with a squirrel. The fire was almost out, but the man still lay in the same spot as when Shakina left, except now his chest and head were covered with pieces of skin that had been dipped in an oily substance. The medicine bowl was setting nearby and it had a small amount of milky substance in the bottom, but where was Kitiko.

Surely she had not gone back to the village. Shakina quietly called her name into the deep recesses of the cave. The empty sound of his echo came back a few seconds later, but Kitiko did not answer his call. He quickly turned to examine the snow that was on the ledge. The only tracks were the ones that he expected to see. There was one set of female prints to the cave and none returning. She has to be in the cave, Shakina thought to his self as he quietly entered the dark chasm.

He stopped and listened and put all of his energy into focusing on the sounds that were around him. He slowly heard the rhythmical sound of breathing fading into his circle of awareness. He immediately recognized the sounds of his wife. Was she sleeping? He questioned as he cautiously stepped deeper into the cave, and then, in the dim light, he saw her. She was lying on the cave floor, wrapped in a heavy fur. Shakina stood in amazement as he listened to the peaceful sound of her sleep. There was a peace that surrounded this place. It had not been there earlier, but it was here now. He took a deep breath and felt a wave of calm wash through his soul, a calm that he had never felt before.

Even as a child there was always fear. Fear that the white man would come or that a wild animal would kill him or his family or even that another tribe would decide that they wanted the river bank and force Shakina and his people out of their homes. As a young man, he had decided that the life of the Indian was a life of fear.

As an adult, he always feared that the white men would come and kill his people or that there would be no game left to hunt or no roots left for the women to dig or that a sickness would come, and many would die, but for the first time in his entire life there was no fear. There was only the feeling of perfect peace.

Shakina wrapped himself in the remaining fur and sat against the cave wall near where his wife was sleeping. We will need to go back to the village later today so that no one will come to search for us, Shakina thought as he too faded into the peaceful realm of sleep.

Shakina awoke with a start. I cannot let my guard down for even a short nap, he thought to himself as he quickly scrambled back to a sitting position. I must remain alert and watch for the enemy! Then slowly realization began to fade into his consciousness.

The light in the cave was much dimmer than it had been when he sat down by the cave wall, and where was Kitiko? She was not lying on the floor as she had been a few minutes earlier, and the fur was neatly folded in the spot where his wife had been sleeping. But, had it been only a few minutes? Or, had it been hours?

Shakina slowly got to his feet and walked to the mouth of the cave. There lay the white man, just as he had been earlier, but the skins were gone and in their place was a thick fur. The man’s face that had been pale and looked like the face of death was now much pinker and the man seemed to have a peaceful glow that emanated from somewhere deep inside. But where was Kitiko?

Shakina quickly surveyed the area around the cave. The fire was burning warm and all of the snow had melted in a large semicircle in front of the cave.

The dimness was not because the sun was fading, but because it was rising from over the bluffs. It was morning, but how could that be? Surely I have not slept an entire day, the Indian thought to himself as he started down the bluffs to look for his wife.

How could she return to the village and not let him know that she was leaving, Shakina thought with rapidly growing anger toward his mate. She had no respect for him as her husband or her chief. This must stop. He would not allow this! He wasn’t sure if it were anger or fear that he was feeling. He watched Kitiko’s prints in the snow and sighed with relief when he was sure that she had returned to the village and had not been kidnapped by the white man or the Iroquois. As he neared the village he saw Kitiko walking toward him. She had her medicine bag and a stack of furs.

Why did you leave? He whispered as he took the stack of furs from her.

I needed more medicine. She replied.

You should have awakened me. Shakina said, taking on a disgusted tone.

There was no need. Kitiko stated as she continued to walk toward the bluff.

Shakina had a thousand things that he wanted to say to her. A thousand reprimands to levy toward her, but he could not. To reprimand her would be to reprimand the Shaman.

Shakina’s heart welled with an outpouring of emotion; anger, love, fear, relief, awe. They were all there. The problem was that Shakina didn’t have a clue which to act on, so as a wise chief he decided that silence was the best.

We must move the man back into the cave. His fever is breaking and it will be too cold out here. Kitiko stated as they climbed the last few feet of the bluff.

Will he survive? Shakina asked.

I do not know. Only the Great Spirit knows the answer to when any one will die.

Kitiko, how is it that none of the villagers saw the fire on the bluffs last night and came to investigate?

I do not know. I only know that the Great Spirit told me that if we helped this man that He would put up a wall of protection. He will make a way. It is not for us to question His decision, but only to do His bidding. She replied as they neared the mouth of the cave and the white man.

Find a place to move him while I make a potion. Kitiko said as she wiped the medicine bowl out with a handful of snow.

Shakina lit a stick and carried it into the cave. The cave was huge and probably went on for miles under the bluffs. He had always hoped to explore it but never seemed to have the time.

In the summer, the tribe moved onto the prairie where the women grew crops of corn and squash and the men hunted the buffalo. In the winter, the tribe returned to the river and the shelter of the bluffs. There were several caves that the tribe used to store food and to hide from the enemy when it became necessary.

As a child, Shakina loved the river bank and he loved to climb on the bluffs. He found the cave by accident while he was hunting for eagle feathers one brisk fall day in his eighth year. At first, he thought that he would show the other young braves the cave, but then as he sat on the cave floor he decided that he would not share this secret with anyone. He had only gone into the cave as far as he could go and still see the entrance. A few hundred feet back it forked into two directions. As a young man he had went a short distance into each chasm, but never actually explored any deeper.

The second year after he discovered the cave he brought Kitiko here but only after she promised that she would never tell a living soul about the cave. It was their secret. They made a pact that no one would ever know about this place. Exploring the cave was completely out of the question when Kitiko was with him since he could never do anything that would put her in danger, and she was always with him.

Shakina moved down the left fork for several hundred feet, marking the cave wall every few feet by scratching in the soft stone with his tomahawk. The passage narrowed to the point that he had to squeeze his stomach in to go any further. He put his torch through the passageway and could see that it opened again a few feet ahead, but he would never be able to carry the man through this narrow section of the passage.

He returned to the center of the cave and tried the second corridor. It was much wider and went several hundred feet into the cave. The temperature was warmer and though they would not be able to have a fire, the area was actually quite pleasant.

Yes a man could be quite comfortable here. He thought to himself as he looked at the mighty stalactites that hung from the ceiling.

As Shakina turned to leave he noticed a small opening at the far end of the passageway. It was about three feet high and just as wide. He knelt in front of the opening and peered into the darkness. Much to his surprise the area wasn’t really dark at all. The walls glowed and gave off their own light. It was beautiful. Shakina crawled into the opening and after going a few feet he was able to stand.

He gasped in awe. He had never seen anything so amazing. The room was huge. There was a well in the center filled with sparkling water. A gentle water fall fell from the wall to his left and ran into the well. The air smelled crisp and cool. Not like the musty smell of the rest of the cave. The temperature was cooler than the area he had just left, but it was certainly pleasant. The walls glowed and there was little need for the torch.

As Shakina stood still he could feel a gentle breeze on his cheek. He followed the breeze as it led him through the center of the room and to another passageway. After he traveled for several minutes he realized that the passage had turned. He was coming to a narrower opening. He peered through the area with the torch and there on the wall on the other side was the mark that he had made with his tomahawk when he tried to squeeze through the narrow opening. The cave actually circled around. Shakina hurried back to Kitiko and the white man.

CHAPTER 4

K itiko stood in amazement as she looked at the great room that her husband had found deep in the cave. The Great Spirit promised that he would supply, but this was beyond even her expectations. Shakina had built a fire by the well that was in the center of the room. He had left to go get the man and Kitiko decided that this would be a good time for her to give thanks to the Great Spirit. She knelt beside the fire and began her prayers.

As she prayed she heard a rustling of wings followed by a great cry. She looked toward the massive ceiling and there she saw a great eagle swoop down and come toward her. She could feel the air as the huge bird flapped its mighty wings and flew around her three times and then rose again toward the ceiling. She watched as it flew up and out of an opening at the very top of the room and she thanked the Great Spirit for this sign from her Spirit Guide.

Are you sure we shouldn’t return to the village? Shakina asked on the second day. People will wonder what has become of us. Your Grandfather will look for you.

The Great Spirit will provide. We will not be missed. Do not ask me how and do not question. Kitiko said as she put a poultice on the man’s wound.

Shakina had many more questions, but he knew that it would be fruitless to ask. He hoped that Kitiko was right, but how could this be kept from her Grandfather. He was, after all, the true Shaman of the people.

Two more days passed. Kitiko made potions and pressed wet skins into the man’s mouth. Shakina watched as the man sucked the potions from the skin. He still did not open his eyes, but he was getting stronger. Of this, Shakina was sure.

Finally, on the evening of the sixth day Kitiko finished her prayers and then stated to Shakina, It is time. We will return to the village now. You will come to the man every day and bring him food. When he is strong enough he will leave and return to his people.

But he is not awake yet. I don’t understand. Shakina said in amazement.

It is not for us to understand or to question. She replied as she headed for the exit to the cave and the village.

When they entered the village everything was quiet. Almost too quiet Shakina thought to himself as he walked toward their lodge. Usually there would be some laughter or the sound of a child crying coming from one of the lodges, but there was nothing but a deafening silence.

I must see Grandfather. Kitiko said as she headed toward the Shaman’s lodge.

Her Grandfather was in prayer as she entered the lodge, and as was her custom, she quietly knelt beside him and began her own prayer of thanksgiving.

I am pleased to see you this evening Granddaughter. The old man said softly as she knelt beside