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"Above the Clouds, the Eagle Star Is Rising"
3/29-3/30/1921
I.
Wrapped in a heavy blanket woven with the emblems of forgotten gods, the old man sat cross-legged on the ground in front of his shack. Dusk gathered. As he watched, a tiny blue point of light cleared the mountains to the West and shone clear in a hazy sky. There it was as it had shone since the first days, the Eagle Star.
In the gloom, his long straight hair hung down over his shoulders like silver poured from a jar. Eli Marcus smiled at the star that had long been his namesake. Wrinkled and leathery and brown from a life spent under the Sun and out in storms, Marcus had lately spent more time wandering back in memory than looking ahead. Everyone was gone that he had known. His father and mother, both of his sisters, all who had claimed the Miskapowa as their clan, all were gone. So was the white family who had given him work, taught him his letters and given him the name he signed. His thoughts lingered most on his best friend and worst rival, the gunman who had climbed up from the caverns of Death itself to stride the wild frontier. The Spirit Walker, dead permanently these nine long years.
The tiny one-room shack behind him was the only man-made structure on this side of the mountain but he knew that solitude could not last much longer. Every day, the town of Restitution added a new family, another house was constructed and more of the wilderness was pushed away. Marcus sat up straighter at the muffled clomp coming up the path to his left. Even now, he was having visitors.
"Hallo thar!" called a man's voice. "Eli Marcus, it's only us, the Barclay brothers. Don't want to alarm you."
"Forgive me if I do not rise," Marcus replied. "Seat yourselves, Matthew and Duncan, and be welcome."
Bringing their horses to a halt twenty feet away, two men dismounted with the careless ease of youth. "I declare that trail up here is growing steeper all the time. How is that possible?"
"Soon it will be a paved road," Marcus said. "And men will ride in automobiles up here but they will not see the stars because of the clouds of smoke they bring with them."
"Wouldn't surprise me none," Matthew Barclay laughed, "But for now at least hosses are the best way to negotiate that climb."
As the two men from town settled themselves in front of him, Marcus gestured at the cold circle of stones in front of him. "I have not built a fire, you can see. So I regret I can offer you neither coffee nor tea as a host should. I do not ask for company."
"Your hospitality has always been above criticism," Duncan responded. Clean-shaven, wearing a round-topped derby and long coat, he had swung his head around to study the sky. "Thar it is, right above the tallest peak. The Eagle Star."
"We called it Pelahavi," the old man said. "I have been told that the moment I was born, Pelahavi blazed up bright as the full moon for a heartbeat. That was so long ago it seems like a fading dream."
The older and heavier of the two brothers, Matthew had taken off his broad-brimmed floppy hat and held it in front of him. "Marcus, I do admit we have not come here to enjoy your stories about the old days or for you to laugh at our rough jokes. The town has sent us. Everyone turns to you now."
Marcus bent his white-haired head and stared down at the ground in front of him. "Another death."
"You knew? How?"
"It is in the air, like the sting in the nostrils from a wood fire or the echo of a branch breaking off from the weight of ice in the winter. I can tell. Three men have gone from this world in three months. Tell me what is known."
"Marcus, I mean no disrepect, you know that," Matthew said. "But if you feel you have done enough in your life and don't wanna be burdened with our troubles, that's awright..."
A gnarled hand raised to wave in dismissal. "This is my land no longer. That struggle has been lost and soon the red man will be only a memory you sometimes recall. The day will come when even that will fade and it will be as if my race had never drawn breath at all. The world will be a colder and sadder place."
"I ain't disputing what you say, sir. It's a great wrong you been handed but it can't be undone. Are you still the Eagle Star, Marcus?"
"I am! And I should temper my words with you boys. You did not ask to be born in these hills. Before you could walk and speak, your people had already take this land for their own and I should not hold that against you. Tell me what brings you here. I am ready to listen."
"We appreciate it, sir, that's truly spoken," the elder Barclay brother said. "There was a meeting in the Town Hall this afternoon. Everyone was buzzing like a hornet's nest tha was smacked with a stick. Three times now at the dark of the moon, some poor soul's been found a'lying just outside of town. First it was Gus Steinhold, the fry cook, he'd been strangled with a piece of rawhide that had been tightened around his neck with a stick. Then it was the schoolma'am's husband, big John Libbman, he had a dozen stab wounds in the belly. And only this morning, someone had stumbled on Raul Munoz, that Mexican who did odd jobs for the farmers. He was the most gruesome sight, his head was sitting on his chest. I'm sorta glad I didn't see it myself, that's something that would visit your dreams."
The old man nodded. "I must first ask the obvious. Did anyone hate all three men?"
"Naw, not as far as we can tell," Duncan answered. "We been jawing about it all day. Steinhold had been fighting with the restaurant owner over not getting paid but it were nothing serious. Libbman was a decent feller, everybody liked him. and Raul'd only been in these parts a month or so, he was fixing fences and cleaning barns and such chores. No one had any quarrel with him."
"I remember long ago, before you were born, a sheepman murdered his wife and then he killed one of the dance hall girls. His idea was that people would be confused and seek some common tie between the two women. But no one was fooled. His nerve broke and he confessed. So we must consider that one or more of these deaths is mere camouflage."
The Barclay brothers thought about this for a moment, then Matthew said, "I can't see how a body could use that to any advantage, 'less you could find who did any one of these three bloodlettings."
"I find it strange that different ways of killing were used each time," Marcus told them. "In my experience, murderers tend to repeat their methods. So much is unusual. The new moon may be the key."
The older brother shifted uneasily. "Ain't it more normal for crazy folks to act up under a full moon instead? That's always been my understanding."
"So it is said." Using a handcarved coup stick four feet long and topped with a clear round crystal with a blue spark in its center, the old man levered himself up to his feet. "The wind cries out for justice and the rivers call the name of Eagle Star. In the morning, I will ride my sad broken-backed pony down into Restitution. I will ask many questions and I will stand where Death stood."
Rising himself, Matthew said, "Me and my brother will help any way we can, Marcus, you know that. I have to ask, what do you think is going on with all this?"
"My fear is that some living man has opened his heart to Otahaku.. an evil spirit. That which drinks life like water. I do not think I will have to try hard to find him. He will find me!"
( the rest of the story )
3/29-3/30/1921
I.
Wrapped in a heavy blanket woven with the emblems of forgotten gods, the old man sat cross-legged on the ground in front of his shack. Dusk gathered. As he watched, a tiny blue point of light cleared the mountains to the West and shone clear in a hazy sky. There it was as it had shone since the first days, the Eagle Star.
In the gloom, his long straight hair hung down over his shoulders like silver poured from a jar. Eli Marcus smiled at the star that had long been his namesake. Wrinkled and leathery and brown from a life spent under the Sun and out in storms, Marcus had lately spent more time wandering back in memory than looking ahead. Everyone was gone that he had known. His father and mother, both of his sisters, all who had claimed the Miskapowa as their clan, all were gone. So was the white family who had given him work, taught him his letters and given him the name he signed. His thoughts lingered most on his best friend and worst rival, the gunman who had climbed up from the caverns of Death itself to stride the wild frontier. The Spirit Walker, dead permanently these nine long years.
The tiny one-room shack behind him was the only man-made structure on this side of the mountain but he knew that solitude could not last much longer. Every day, the town of Restitution added a new family, another house was constructed and more of the wilderness was pushed away. Marcus sat up straighter at the muffled clomp coming up the path to his left. Even now, he was having visitors.
"Hallo thar!" called a man's voice. "Eli Marcus, it's only us, the Barclay brothers. Don't want to alarm you."
"Forgive me if I do not rise," Marcus replied. "Seat yourselves, Matthew and Duncan, and be welcome."
Bringing their horses to a halt twenty feet away, two men dismounted with the careless ease of youth. "I declare that trail up here is growing steeper all the time. How is that possible?"
"Soon it will be a paved road," Marcus said. "And men will ride in automobiles up here but they will not see the stars because of the clouds of smoke they bring with them."
"Wouldn't surprise me none," Matthew Barclay laughed, "But for now at least hosses are the best way to negotiate that climb."
As the two men from town settled themselves in front of him, Marcus gestured at the cold circle of stones in front of him. "I have not built a fire, you can see. So I regret I can offer you neither coffee nor tea as a host should. I do not ask for company."
"Your hospitality has always been above criticism," Duncan responded. Clean-shaven, wearing a round-topped derby and long coat, he had swung his head around to study the sky. "Thar it is, right above the tallest peak. The Eagle Star."
"We called it Pelahavi," the old man said. "I have been told that the moment I was born, Pelahavi blazed up bright as the full moon for a heartbeat. That was so long ago it seems like a fading dream."
The older and heavier of the two brothers, Matthew had taken off his broad-brimmed floppy hat and held it in front of him. "Marcus, I do admit we have not come here to enjoy your stories about the old days or for you to laugh at our rough jokes. The town has sent us. Everyone turns to you now."
Marcus bent his white-haired head and stared down at the ground in front of him. "Another death."
"You knew? How?"
"It is in the air, like the sting in the nostrils from a wood fire or the echo of a branch breaking off from the weight of ice in the winter. I can tell. Three men have gone from this world in three months. Tell me what is known."
"Marcus, I mean no disrepect, you know that," Matthew said. "But if you feel you have done enough in your life and don't wanna be burdened with our troubles, that's awright..."
A gnarled hand raised to wave in dismissal. "This is my land no longer. That struggle has been lost and soon the red man will be only a memory you sometimes recall. The day will come when even that will fade and it will be as if my race had never drawn breath at all. The world will be a colder and sadder place."
"I ain't disputing what you say, sir. It's a great wrong you been handed but it can't be undone. Are you still the Eagle Star, Marcus?"
"I am! And I should temper my words with you boys. You did not ask to be born in these hills. Before you could walk and speak, your people had already take this land for their own and I should not hold that against you. Tell me what brings you here. I am ready to listen."
"We appreciate it, sir, that's truly spoken," the elder Barclay brother said. "There was a meeting in the Town Hall this afternoon. Everyone was buzzing like a hornet's nest tha was smacked with a stick. Three times now at the dark of the moon, some poor soul's been found a'lying just outside of town. First it was Gus Steinhold, the fry cook, he'd been strangled with a piece of rawhide that had been tightened around his neck with a stick. Then it was the schoolma'am's husband, big John Libbman, he had a dozen stab wounds in the belly. And only this morning, someone had stumbled on Raul Munoz, that Mexican who did odd jobs for the farmers. He was the most gruesome sight, his head was sitting on his chest. I'm sorta glad I didn't see it myself, that's something that would visit your dreams."
The old man nodded. "I must first ask the obvious. Did anyone hate all three men?"
"Naw, not as far as we can tell," Duncan answered. "We been jawing about it all day. Steinhold had been fighting with the restaurant owner over not getting paid but it were nothing serious. Libbman was a decent feller, everybody liked him. and Raul'd only been in these parts a month or so, he was fixing fences and cleaning barns and such chores. No one had any quarrel with him."
"I remember long ago, before you were born, a sheepman murdered his wife and then he killed one of the dance hall girls. His idea was that people would be confused and seek some common tie between the two women. But no one was fooled. His nerve broke and he confessed. So we must consider that one or more of these deaths is mere camouflage."
The Barclay brothers thought about this for a moment, then Matthew said, "I can't see how a body could use that to any advantage, 'less you could find who did any one of these three bloodlettings."
"I find it strange that different ways of killing were used each time," Marcus told them. "In my experience, murderers tend to repeat their methods. So much is unusual. The new moon may be the key."
The older brother shifted uneasily. "Ain't it more normal for crazy folks to act up under a full moon instead? That's always been my understanding."
"So it is said." Using a handcarved coup stick four feet long and topped with a clear round crystal with a blue spark in its center, the old man levered himself up to his feet. "The wind cries out for justice and the rivers call the name of Eagle Star. In the morning, I will ride my sad broken-backed pony down into Restitution. I will ask many questions and I will stand where Death stood."
Rising himself, Matthew said, "Me and my brother will help any way we can, Marcus, you know that. I have to ask, what do you think is going on with all this?"
"My fear is that some living man has opened his heart to Otahaku.. an evil spirit. That which drinks life like water. I do not think I will have to try hard to find him. He will find me!"
( the rest of the story )
