Isle of the Ghost Walker: The White Owl Mysteries, #3

By Alan G Button

Sabrina, red-haired and with a short fuse, tried to be patient. But when her spirit-brother, Copper, not-so-sort-of splashes her with the paddle from his kayak, enough was enough. To get away, she paddles to a small isle out in the harbor from Rockland, Maine, only to discover a strange burial mound, and a ghost seeking a body to possess.

With Copper trying to understand Sabrina's mysterious words, and a mother seeking help from ancient Elders, the combined spirits of two strong-willed woman must confront a local drug dealer who has defiled the sanctity of the small island. But what he is about to learn? You don't wanna' mess with a ghost that's over two-thousand years old...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alan G Button
• Release date: Oct 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201555771

Alan G Button

With a Bachelor's of Environmental Science, the extensive fields of research include archaeology, 20 years of shell-midden research, wildlife behavior, ancient cultures & beliefs, Native American spirituality & mysticism, and world mythology. The writer of several screenplays, novels, and short-stories, Alan G Button lives alone in Waldoboro, Maine where he enjoys a menagerie of backyard wildlife and woodland trails.

Book preview

Prologue

Trees along the expansive shoreline were beginning to change. Colors, seen but once a year, hinted of what lay ahead.

And on a tiny island, more than a mile offshore, where, in the future would be known as Penobscot Bay, an ancient people known as People-of-the-Sun were busy as bees.

A late fall encampment of six bark-covered wigwams bustled with activity. Piles of shellfish steamed over hot coals smothered by rock-algae. And hanging strips of flounder and sculpin dried and smoked in the mid-day sun, soon to be combined with liquified animal fats, creating the valuable pemmican that would see these people through another harsh winter. Only one more moon, and the entire encampment would be moving upriver.

Wacinami, the chieftain’s daughter, mother, and Spiritual healer, was in charge of the activities, overseeing fires, with ceramic pots to cook with, instructing children what to do and who to help, and keeping the camp’s two dogs out of trouble, mostly from stealing what they did not need.

She was scooping a hand-full of beach sand into the bottom of a new firepit, to protect a pointed-bottom pot, that would lay down in the hot coals, from over-heating. But her attention was summoned by one of the children working nearby, suddenly crying out for help...

Nami, I cut my finger, stated a little girl dressed in a knee-length soft buckskin covering. It was Taeena, her daughter, always unsure of herself, getting ready to see her fifth winter. She had been helping a number of older children shucking clams.

Tall and attractive, the village healer looked briefly at the small hand being held out, its fingers slippery with clam juice, one stained with blood.

Is Cheena showing you how to remove meat from the Thin-shells? Wacinami asked.

Yes, but some are hard to open, Taeena pleaded, revealing her deep brown eyes.

They break easy, don’t they? And this is what happens.

I’m sorry, Taeena stated teary-eyed. But I don’t know what else to do?

Proud and confident, leader and healer, Wacinami carried the wisdom of her people, having learned from her Great-Grandmother how to read and listen to the natural world.

You must take the ones not open back to the fire-tender, Wacinami instructed, so he may place them beneath the sea-moss to reheat.

As Taeena held back her long free-flowing black hair, Wacinami, her long hair woven neatly into two side braids, applied salve to the wound, then wrapped it with strands of a soft bark lining that had been dried by the sun and rubbed with healing herbs.

Wacinami, seeing that the cut was not deep, instructed her daughter on how to purify it. Now listen to me little one. Next time you stoop to water our Mother Earth, hold the finger like this to wash it. It will better clean the wound, and take away any bad Spirits.

Taeena smiled briefly with thanks, hoping to delay the inevitable. She grasped her mother’s calloused hand, and then her other arm, eyeing the scar on the inside of the wrist received when mishandling a hawk caught in one of her snares. Wrapping the strong and tender arms around her, Taeena needed a hug.

I wish we didn’t have to leave the island? Taeena stated as she buried her face within her mother’s chest.

You know the winter storms are just too dangerous to stay, little one. Besides, I thought you liked playing snow-snakes out on the frozen lake with the boys.

Peering up into her mother’s comforting eyes, the girl’s face brightened from past memories.

I do, Taeena stated with excitement. And I saved the shoes you made me last year. She then remembered something special, something only the older children were allowed to do. Do you think I could hunt for the White Hares this winter? Their fur is so soft.

Perhaps. And maybe I’ll make a bow for you this winter, one that has more strength. But you will need to practice, and build up those tiny muscles?

Now content, Taeena shows off the muscle of her flexed arm...

Cheena showed me how to remove the skins, Taeena informed proudly. But I don’t like the icky part.

Wacinami anticipated her daughter’s thoughts.

Taking the beating heart is important, Taeena?

No. I mean cracking the head and taking out all that mushy stuff.

Ahhh. And for you to enjoy those soft furs, they must be washed and stretched and cured properly, do they not?

I suppose, Taeena relented, looking back to see her grandmother down on the shore calling out her name.

Gently pushing her daughter away, the village healer encouraged her stubborn girl back to work. Now, let’s go join grandma-ma before she lectures me on how much I spoil you.

Walking to a shoreline work area, a male voice called suddenly from a perch in a tall tree at the southern island point. Wacinami and Taeena joined others to learn of the commotion.

Wacinami, your brother Taki is up in the look-out, Cheena informed. He says there is something far out on the water he does not recognize.

What do you see Taki? Wacinami yelled. Have the birds that do no fly returned?

No. Out there, a large canoe approaches... like I’ve never seen before!

What do you mean? Tell me?

It looks as if trees are growing from within... And up above, I can see men, flying in the clouds.

Taeena noticed the look of concern on her mother’s face. Nami, what is wrong?

Wacinami drew her thoughts within, seeking guidance, listening to the Spirit world, knowing of the dangers her people often faced.

But this was different.

I do not know, she tried to answer her daughter. But I sense, our people will soon be facing a great danger...

Chapter One

It was a difficult trip traveling alone, down the banks of a long and powerful river. Stopping briefly to view the now widening waterway, Coyote raised his nose and breathed in the scent of a cool and salty air moving up from the south. Hoping things would be different here, the Trickster moved on, often walking within shallow water running over flat rocks... only to stumble when he stepped into a River-Kettle—a round hole within solid rock that had been carved out by the Water Spirits...

See the source image

Present day...

Weaving back and forth in unison they moved swiftly across the water, a flock of nearly a dozen semi-palmated plovers flashing alternating snapshots of black and white. On rapid wing-beats they swung across the outgoing tide, exhausted from their flight through a storm that had temporarily blown them off-course.

Now half in number, the group arrived two weeks late. They were hungry, and the leader searched for an inviting shoreline to rest upon.

Nearing a small spot of land out in the middle of the bay, he sensed familiarity, a place isolated, and without human activity. In loose formation the flock approached low and silent, setting down on its eastern side, on a narrow patch of sand at the water’s edge, where overhanging trees helped to hide their temporary respite.

Off the west side of the island, a lobster boat could be heard, out of site, revving up, then down. But the lead plover remained restless, sensing the distant approach from the north, of two kayaks, occupied by two noisy youths spouting words of discontent...

Chapter Two

Coyote had reached the mighty sea. Now he was hungry beyond words and had stolen someone’s canoe to go fishing, hoping its owner would not miss it. But out in deeper water, ready to spear a fat cod, the canoe sprang a leak. That’s when the large fin of a giant fish appeared, carving a path across the water...

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Looming over the plovers now resting on the small sandy shore, hanging outwards from its tenuous foothold, an enormous white pine grasped onto the jagged rocks of the small isle where it had stood poignantly for a hundred years. Storm-worn and scarred, it tested a light breeze, its needles curled inwards, foreseeing the change about to take place.

Two kayaks approached.

A-a-ah-h... What did you do that for? yelled out a frustrated feminine voice, her back and ponytail now dripping wet.

The restless plovers burst suddenly from their temporary respite and scurried off just inches above the water, disappearing into the distance.

I’m sorry Bree... it was an accident.

Strong-willed, and always wary of her spirit-brother’s mischievous behavior, Sabrina ignored the temptation to jump into his boat and throttle the crap out of him.

Oh, sure it was! the young red-haired woman spouted as she stiffened in disbelief from the sudden coldness of salt-water striking her back.

Her voice had echoed off the low rock-strewn shoreline they had finally reached after paddling back from the head of the bay in the two brand-new kayaks Copper had purchased. Spotting the small flock of birds darting across their path, towards the east, and, at this moment, the main island where she wished she would rather be, Sabrina was feeling miserable.

A boyish Copper, soon to share his 21st birthday with his companion, wanted to laugh at his spirit-sister’s sudden outburst from the water he had sprayed.... a bit more than he had intended. And he knew she would over-react, and probable hate him for the rest of the week. So, for the moment, he decided to remain silent, enjoying her emotional ebb and flow.

With the back of her over-bleached pink tee-shirt soaked through, Sabrina was not only tired, but angry. The long five-hour trip across the bay had taken its toll. Her muscles ached, the up and down movement of the boat’s lightness within a restless fetch had made her nauseous, and she had been hoping they could find a place to stop and take a break.

Turning inwards, she ignored the building cloudbank that seemed to be creeping in slowly far off to the east. Gray and massive, like her maddening mood within, the bank of clouds had blocked out visibility to the open sea, as if to portend.

And as a light cold breeze began to blow in her face, she shivered. Her instincts, from the spirit within which she had learned to listen to, began to force her mind to wander and realize... something, she did not know what, just didn’t feel quite right?

Among four islands lined up in a row, they moved away from the larger north island, paddling within a current now slack but soon to change. With a few smaller islands just ahead, and Little Grand Island standing boldly about four miles to their left, Sabrina was not looking forward to another open-water dash, against wind and water, to get home.

Sabrina stopped rowing and set the wooden double-paddle crossways in front of her. Arching her back, she reached around and tried to create a little distance from the annoying wetness that clung to her shoulders.

Well, brainiac, do you have any idea where we are? Sabrina snapped with skepticism as she challenged her companion’s early morning comment about having a wonderful day out on the water.

Copper was surprised by how quickly the fog seemed to be moving in, blanketing everything in the distance with a thick grayness. He too stopped paddling, but stepped a little harder on the foot peddle, turning the small boat closer in, towards the small island’s uneven shoreline they were now following.

Copper appeared nervous as he unfolded the detailed mariner’s chart purchased two days before, beginning to realize he had underestimated his earlier plans.

Looking behind, from the distant harbor of Islesboro from where they had enjoyed watching rafts of shorebirds resting within the numerous protected coves, some high misty clouds were now descending down on the forest-covered landscape.

A foghorn, in the distance ahead, began to surge with a message of forewarning as a thick bank of clouds moved up the bay and over the main island to the east, blocking out the near midday sun. It was as if they were being surrounded by a destiny that someone or something had magically scripted for them to follow.

Scanning over the awkwardly folded map, Copper tried to anticipate her next question...

We’re more than halfway home, Bree. This looks like Kings Point Isle on the right. If we continue southeast, stay within the shadow of these other islands where there is less current, we should be home soon. Okay?

O-kay? Are you nuts? she spouted with growing anger. I can hardly see the front of the boat! Sabrina exaggerated when the point of land six miles away, and the lighthouse marking the southern rocky shore of Great Haven Island, suddenly disappeared under a cloud of misty gray.

Copper reached for encouraging words. I think if we just follow this compass heading, he tried to point out, we’ll be fine?

Oh, sure! And maybe out there in that open-water we might get run over by one of the ferryboats, or a fishing boat, or even a god-damn whale for all I know.

Sensing the fathoms of her concern, Copper tried to encourage with a bit of humor...

Perhaps if I stood up and barked like a seal, he jested. Maybe that’d keep the boats away?

And why don’t you just fart like a foghorn! Sabrina countered hoping he wouldn’t start one of his useless dialogues of witticism.

Then what do you want me to do? he sounded with frustration.

Sabrina needed answers to calm her agitated state of mind. She stopped paddling momentarily and dipped a hand into the cool water.

"I thought you said this was going to be easy? Just how many frickin’ miles have we