The brave skidded to a halt. Swinging his hatchet at the other eye. It bounced off harmlessly. The fog enveloped both the brave and the creature.
“Crazy Horse!” The woman’s voice echoed into the darkness.
The brave stood still for a moment, his figure slowly fading from view in the fog, then Crazy Horse slowly backed up, hatchet at the ready. The fog stopped and Crazy Horse came out of it as Bouyer brought his musket to his shoulder, at the ready. He couldn’t see the first two creatures, as the fog had swallowed them. The third wasn’t moving, black smoke seeping from the hole in its right “eye.”
Bouyer fired as another creature swooped in from the right toward the damaged one. His bullet hit the left side of its “head” and ricocheted off, causing no apparent damage. This latest creature swept up the damaged one with one taloned hand and disappeared into the haze.
Slowly the fog began to dissipate, but that didn’t stop Bouyer from quickly reloading. Bridger had taught him never to have an empty rifle in his hands.
“It’s been a long time,” the woman said to Bridger.
The mountain man was watching the fog disappear, weapon at the ready. “I’m here like you wanted. With the boy.” As the fog disappeared completely, he turned to her. “And I see you brought his brother.”
Bouyer could feel both the connection to the warrior and the hate that rode over it.
“Very courageous charge,” Bridger commented in Lakota, “but not very smart.”
“A coward stands at a distance and fights his enemies,” Crazy Horse said.
Bridger chuckled. “A smart warrior uses the best weapons available.”
Crazy Horse spit at the ground to indicate what he thought of that.
The woman stepped between the three men. ‘’My name is Amelia Earhart.”
Bridger made the sign for peace to Crazy Horse, who ignored him. Bouyer did the same, but again, the sign had no effect on the warrior. Bouyer studied Crazy Horse. The war· nor was physically impressive, with broad shoulders and a noble face, marred only by the anger that consumed it. His skin was surprisingly light for a Sioux. A very dangerous man, Bouyer realized, and one full of rage.
“And your name?” the woman asked, startling Bouyer out of his examination. She was staring at him intently, which made him shift his feet m discomfort, unused to such attention.
“Mitch Bouyer.”
Bridger put the stock of his Hawkins rifle on the ground and leaned on the long rifle. He looked from one young man to the other. “Not much resemblance.”
Crazy Horse spoke for the first time. “’That is because we are not brothers.”
Earhart reached out and placed a hand over the one Bridger had on his rifle. “I must speak to the young ones alone. I must talk to them of their destiny.” She removed her hand.
Bridger picked up the rifle and moved off. upslope to an over watch position. The woman slowly sat down on a log, then indicated for Bouyer and Crazy Horse to sit in front of her. They did so, Crazy Horse angling himself so that both Earhart and Bouyer were in front of him.
“You were born out of the same mother,” Earhart said. “You were connected at birth, and you will be connected in death.”
“He is not my brother.” Crazy Horse said it flatly, slapping his open palm onto the flat side of his hatchet blade to emphasize the point “He is not of the Lakota. He is white.”
“So you can see with your eyes if you wish,” Earhart said as she leaned forward and pointed one hand toward Crazy Horse’s face. “Do you see that he has two hands? Two feet? Two eyes? That he is a man just like you?”
“He is not like me,” Crazy Horse argued. “He has blue eyes and pale skin, and his heart is not like mine.”
“That is where you are most wrong.” Earhart said. “Your hearts are more alike than you can imagine.”
“Why have you summoned him,” Crazy Horse demanded, “and brought me here?”
“I have been shown things and heard the voices,” Earhart said.
Crazy Horse interrupted her. “What were those things in white?”
“Servants of the Shadow.” Earhart said. She held up her hand as Crazy Horse opened his mouth to speak again. “You must listen. You and your brother will meet in a great battle and a victory.”
It made no sense to Bouyer. But he said nothing, listening as Bridger had taught him.
“That is the prophecy my mother gave me,” Crazy Horse said. “Which she received from. You. But I do not accept it as my fate. I do not accept the end of our way of life for my people.”
“It doesn’t matter whether you accept it or not,” Earhart said. “It is what will happen.”
“Not if I don’t allow it to,” Crazy Horse argued, which brought a slight smile to Earhart’s lips.
“Do not laugh at me, woman,” Crazy Horse spit out. “I do not have to lead anyone into battle. I can ride away.”
“And be called a coward?” Earhart asked.
Crazy Horse leapt to his feet, hatchet raised. Bouyer was up as quickly, his Hawkins rifle half aimed toward the warrior.
“Sit down!” Earhart snapped.
Surprisingly, both young men reclaimed their position on the ground.
“I have only been shown so much,” Earhart said. “I have been told by the voices that when enough men come together in a desperate situation they can achieve that which cannot be achieved any other way.”
Seeing the looks on both men’s faces, Earhart tried to explain as much as she knew. ‘’There are pathways, gates, that lead from one place to another. Paths you cannot see, and gates that only open at certain times.” She looked at Crazy Horse. “You just traveled through one of the gates. Will you deny that?”
Reluctantly, Crazy Horse shook his head.
“Will you deny there were strange creatures in the darkness?” She pressed. “Creatures you have never seen before?”
I have not been everywhere,” Crazy Horse argued without much conviction.
“The two of you have some power,” Earhart continued. “Combining that power with that of others in a battle. You can do that which needs to be done. Along with this.” Earhart reached into her bag and brought out a crystal skull. She extended it toward Bouyer. Who carefully took it. He was surprised how heavy it was.
“What is this?” Bouyer asked.
“It will channel the power. Use it carefully at the right time.”
“And how will I know when that is?” Bouyer asked.
“You will know it when it happens.”
Bouyer caught Crazy Horse’s look, and he felt a flickering kinship with his ‘’brother.’’ That feeling was gone in a second as Crazy Horse stood.
“Your words are those medicine men use when they do not know the truth and seek to confuse the stupid with many words.”
“But you are not stupid, are you?” Earhart asked.
Crazy Horse stared down at her for a few moments before gesturing at Bouyer. “If he will know it when it happens, then I will know it, too. But do not count on it to be what you want, woman. Until then I will go my own way.” Crazy Horse walked off into the darkness and disappeared.
Earhart stood. She looked down on Bouyer, who was turning the crystal skull to and fro in his hands. She switched to English. ‘There will be more.”
“More?”
‘’More visits, more signs, more parts. I hope you can keep your mind open, unlike your brother.” Then she turned to walk away.
“Where are you going?” Bouyer asked.
“Back where I came from,” Earhart said.