River Dog had told him that several people in the tribe over the past few days had begun having visions of dead family members. At first, those visions had been elusory, vaguely glimpsed shadows that could have been a trick of the light. But none of them had manifested physically as River Dog's ancestor had.
"In those long-ago days," River Dog said, nodding, "they saw the ghosts."
"What did they do to make them go away?"
"At first," the shaman said, "they didn't. My people picked up and moved from these hills. After a time, when hunting grew scarce and life turned hard in the areas they'd traveled to, my people sent scouts back into the area. The ghosts were gone, and people moved back into the territory."
"Why were the ghosts gone?" Max asked.
River Dog lifted his shoulders and dropped them. "No one knew. One of the shamans tried to take credit for their absence. He had prayed and danced for such a thing to happen, and in the end he said it was his efforts to get the favors of the gods that took the ghosts away."
"How long was the tribe gone before they came back and found the ghosts had disappeared?"
River Dog shook his head. "My people have never measured time the way the Europeans did. They didn't care to mark the years, much less weeks, days, or hours. There was only before and after. I know considerable time had to have passed, because several scouts were sent to these lands again and again to learn if the ghosts still walked."
"Do you believe that my friends and I are responsible?" Max asked, watching River Dog carefully.
River Dog shook his head, then grimaced. "No. I don't think you and your friends are malicious or mean my people any harm."
"Then why did you send for me?"
A smile twisted River Dog's lips. "Just because I don't think you're responsible doesn't mean I don't think you can be of some help."
Max stared at the man. "I've never seen anything like this."
"Then we will learn together of the misfortune that has befallen my people." River Dog headed toward one of the small houses on the outside of the small village. A carefully tended herb garden grew beside the house. Two folding lawn chairs occupied a small wooden porch that stuck out from front of the house. Shelves bearing small ceramic pots that contained more herbs stood on the porch as well.
Max followed River Dog up onto the porch. The jutting roof blocked the heat of the sun.
"Sit," River Dog instructed, pointing to one of the lawn chairs.
His mind whirling, Max dropped into one of the chairs. He was worn out and hovering near exhaustion. Worrying about his son and his relationship with Liz had occupied his waking hours and his dreams. Nightmares plagued him constantly. Tess had killed Alex. She'd planned to take him, Isabel, and Michael back to become prisoners.
What would she do with his son?
River Dog disappeared into the house. The screen door slammed behind him.
Max sat in the lawn chair, feeling the straps give under his weight. As he looked out at the nearby houses, all of them pretty much replicas of River Dog's home, he saw that a number of people were watching him with suspicion.
River Dog returned only a short time later. He carried two Mason jars of dark tea and ice. "It's sweet and strong," the shaman warned. "I like it that way, but if you drink it too fast in the heat like we have today, it'll make you lightheaded, maybe even make you pass out."
Max sipped the tea, finding it almost too sweet for him to drink. He wished he had a bottle of Tabasco sauce to tone the flavor down. "What makes you think I can help with this?" he asked.
"I had a vision," River Dog answered. "You were part of it."
"In the vision?"
"Yes." River Dog settled into his chair. An old, arthritic hound came up from under the porch and settled at the shamans feet. River Dog kicked off his shoes and massaged the animals back with his callused toes.
"Tell me more about the prophecy," Max suggested.
"It has been with my people since the dawn of memory. One day, when they first settled into this area, Raven tried to eat the sun."
"Who is Raven?" Max asked.
"He is the Trickster," River Dog explained. "He was the person that could travel between the earth and the places of the gods. In other tribes of the People, Raven is sometimes known as Coyote. He's always portrayed as a man more than human but less than one of the gods. His agenda is always his own."
Max listened as politely as he could. He tried to concentrate on the sweat beading up on the glass of iced tea in his hands. He wished he could pull the numbing chill into himself so he couldn't feel the anxiety that rattled through him.
"On that day, so the story handed down through our tribe goes," River Dog said, "Raven went forth among men and watched them dying of old age. Raven never aged and he didn't understand how men could die, or why the gods would let them."
Max nodded, not knowing how what River Dog was telling him applied to him. There was also the whole unresolved issue of how he was supposed to help. But he waited.
"Raven thought for a long time," River Dog said, "and he decided that since the sun was necessary for all life, to make the plants grow and to warm the world, then it must also hold the secret to eternal life. So Raven flew from this world to the sun."
That caught Max's attention. Was the story about space flight? "How?"
"Raven, like Coyote, has magic powers that he can use," River Dog said. "He used his magic to fly to the sun. Once there, he scooped up some of the sun's flames in his beak and flew back into the world. However, the suns flames were too hot even for Raven. As he reentered this world, his beak began to burn, and that is how Raven's beak came to be black. Unable to withstand the pain of his burning beak, Raven spat the flames out. The ball of fire crashed into the world where the Mesaliko reservation and the desert are."
Max sipped the tea and waited.
"The Elders say that when Raven spat the ball of fire from the sun," River Dog continued, "that was what created the parched lands of the earth. A few of the Mesaliko people who had gone to meet and aid Raven in his quest to steal the sun's flames died when the flames scarred the earth. Days later, their spirits rose again and went and spoke to the Mesaliko people."
"Why would the spirits rise?" Max asked.
"Because the sun was angry with Raven," River Dog said. "The sun punished Raven by taking away his feathers and making him go naked through the world for a time. Raven was embarrassed and angry, blaming everyone but himself, as Raven always did, so he stayed hidden in the mountains for a long time."
"The Mesaliko tribe moved because they were hunted by the ghosts of the dead warriors?"
River Dog nodded. "Those warriors who perished with Raven returned first, but as the days continued, other ancestors returned as well. In the end, the People had no choice but to go."
Max turned the story over in his mind. Somehow it seemed important that the ghosts of the warriors who supposedly accompanied Raven had come back first, but he couldn't figure out why. "What about the prophecy?" he asked.
"When the Mesaliko returned to this land, first by choice and then because the United States government created the reservations here, the shamans protested, saying that the ghosts would rise again. You see, the gods never forget, and the sun would never forget how men tried to steal the immortality that could only belong to the gods."
"Do you know where the Mesaliko warriors perished?" Max asked.
River Dog waved to include all the hills that lay before his home and the village. "Out there somewhere."
Max stood, and leaned against the roof support poles on the porch. He gazed up into the tall ridges overlooking the small village tucked into the foothills. The blue sky looked innocent, streaked by wisps of clouds. Flurries of dust skated over the harsh, parched earth.