Sally got up, careful with the dogs so that she could look at him. “Sorry, I’m Sally Denison. Are you Chief George?”
She was aware that he looked at her for a long moment then set the pup down.
“Why don’t you come in where it is warmer?” He indicated the half-opened door behind him.
“Great. Wait, I have something for you.” Sally ran out, skipping around the sitting boys to grab her package from the truck seat. She came back up took only a moment to watch the mother herd her litter to the edge of the porch.
Chief George held the door open for her and she went into a comfortable room. It was warm in the room, so she looked around as she handed him the grocery bag. She began to take off her jacket to hang it on the wooden hooks inside the door. The room was great, paneled in natural pine, waxed to a soft polish. The wood floor was covered with various handmade braided rugs thrown around wherever they were needed. The furniture was old, solid clean leather that bodies had worn to make an invitation. A beautiful pot-bellied stove sat in one corner. An antique collector would probably pay a lot for on the Internet. It had a stoked fire visible through the open door. She saw stacked cordwood behind it against the wall.
Sally took in native baskets along with dream catchers on the walls as well as some hangings that she knew were native, but didn’t know the proper identification. Everything was cozy and spotless.
Chief George sat on one couch. He pulled out the chocolate and begin to eat, letting his eyes go to the ceiling. “Jim gave you good advice.”
Sally chose to sit down in one of the leather chairs. She immediately relaxed into the ambience of the room. With the sun blocked by the soft curtains made from thin Indian blankets on each window, the room was comfortable to the eye.
“Well, what do you think this chocolate buys you, dog lover?”
She would have been put off by the question, but his voice was gentle. There was a smile in his eyes.
A woman entered. “Hello, I am Gloria.” She had a tray that she sat down. “George said company was coming, so I made coffee. If I had known it was a lady I would have made tea.”
“Hi, thanks, but coffee is great. Lots of milk and sugar and the caffeine get me through the day.” She slid forward in the chair, taking the cup Gloria held out. Gloria poured real cream, then put three teaspoons of sugar, leaving the spoon in her cup. She sat back, stirred and took a sip. It was perfect.
“Chief George, you knew I was coming? How does that work?”
Gloria was starting to leave the room, but she stopped laughing. “Hon, you don’t want to believe half the crap he will tell you. It is just old Indian bull, yet it keeps him happy and out of my kitchen. Let me know if you need anything.” She was gone. The Chief looked insulted, but opened another package of the chocolates.
“So, little lady, whose name is not Sally, what do you wish to learn.”
Sally looked at him. He didn’t look like Indian medicine men you saw in movies a lot, looking like a modern day Chief. He was healthy, tanned deeper than the dark natural skin tone, and had large rough hands that probably helped split the wood by the fire stove. His hands had done other outside work.
Besides that, his dark eyes were expressive, showing his intelligence. There was a lot of information including experience behind that face with the creases of weather or age, but there was no threat.
“Why do you think my name is not Sally?” She asked because she was interested to hear his answer, not because she wanted to argue with him.
“Why did she bring you her puppies?” He sat back munching on the chocolates.
Okay, this was not going to be dull. “Chief George, I am interested in some of your history. I was wondering if you would be willing to tell me some of the old stories.” Sally decided that she wasn’t going to go in circles with him, so she sipped her coffee, avoiding the winding road he wanted to take.
He leaned forward to pour himself a cup of coffee, then reached into the bag and pulled out the whiskey. He looked at the kitchen for a long moment, then opened the bottle and poured a heavy dose into the coffee. He held the bottle towards her. She shook her head in a negative way. He smiled, capping it as he put it back in the bag. He sat back, took long drink and sighed.
“Where would you like me to start?”
“Well, have the Shoshone always been in this area, or where did you come from originally?”
The best part was his old rugged voice was made to tell tales. “That is interesting. Each of the tribes within the Northern Continent believed they were the first original ones. I suppose that would mean that we all might have originally been one and the same, still in more recent history, meaning in the last five hundred years, we stayed in the mountains until we were driven down for lack of food.”
Sally nodded. “As naturalists, your people lived off the land and would have been able to continue without someone interfering. When did your history tell you that your people first had pets, dogs especially?”
He looked at her for a long time before he started talking, this time looking at the fire in the open door of the stove. “The belief is that the wolf adopted the Shoshone before we had the name of Shoshone. It was a symbiotic relationship. The smaller wolves that couldn’t keep up with the packs would stay with the tribes. They would alert the families when anything came around and the families fed them leftovers. They would have been killed or died because of their size if they stayed with their packs. They changed as they became domesticated, but the roles were important. Before the white man came into the area, some of the hunters even took the wolves out with them, and the teams had success.”
He ate candy as he continued. “There are the stories of the children raised by wolves. These stories have been around all over the world, about children raised by animals. I remember as a child of the tribe finding a boy in the wild, and he had been missing for three years. He had a couple of wild wolves near him and everyone agreed that there was no way he could have lived through the winters without the help of the wild pack. Who is to argue?”
Sally had finished her coffee. His deep voice was so relaxing that she could listen for hours. She took a deep breath, then set the cup down so she could ask her more important question.
“I have heard that many tribes believe in shape shifters. Do the Shoshone have such myths in their history?”
Now, she had his attention. He looked at her directly as he put the candies down, along with the coffee cup. He steeped his fingers, putting his chin down on the tips as he looked at her intensely with his dark eyes.
“Aah. Shape shifters. Yes, interesting stories. Because of the wolves, there have always been many stories, but they are strange. There was a story a few years ago about an FBI agent at a Wisconsin reservation who saw an Indian he was chasing turn into a wolf in order to escape. Poor agent has probably been assigned to a damp basement in Cincinnati.”
Sally sat, trying not to show her tight emotions as he continued. “Unlike the movies, the stories within the Indian lore have never had a shifter as a man or animal who killed at random. They have always changed to protect themselves or to protect the tribes. Within the myths of the Native Americans, it would seem that, to be politically correct, if there are shape shifters, they are like Spider Man or Superman, who live a normal life until their talents are needed, then change to protect the weak. Lovely tales to tell the young around the campfires at the many communal meetings where everyone likes to go and see the old dances and the costumes. Everyone needs a super hero.”
She nodded, getting her thoughts together. “You don’t believe in the myth?”
He laughed as he reached for the bag of chocolates again. “I didn’t say that. So many things out there don’t have logical explanations in life. I won’t say I don’t believe in them. I have never seen a molecule, but I believe in it. I haven’t seen the face of the Great Spirit, but I believe in him. Do you not believe in such things that you can’t touch or see?”
It was her turn to laugh. “I guess you are right. There are a lot of things I believe in that I can’t touch, nor can I see, but I don’t believe in Spider Man or Super Man.”
There was silence for a few minutes. Sally heard him crunch on the coatings of the small candies. Finally, he spoke again. “Did he bite you?”
The question shocked her. This wasn’t going where she wanted. She decided it might not be a good idea to continue talking to a man who guessed that she had changed her name. He seemed to
guess
too much. “Chief George, I want to thank you for your hospitality.” She got up to go over to her coat. “Please thank your wife for me. I have a long drive back to town. I would like to get there before dark.”
He came over and helped Sally get into her coat, then moved as he held the door for her. She was surprised that he went with her to her truck. Even Gloria hurried out to give her a cloth-wrapped bundle through the window.
“Just some corn bread sticks and some honey from our own bees. You come back any time.” Gloria waved as she hurried back inside the warm house.
Chief George stood by the side of the road as she started the truck. He looked over at her. He finally added a few words. “If he bit you, he can find you anywhere. He marked you.”
Sally looked at him. “He wasn’t a wolf.”
The man looked at the dead weeds beside the path leading to his door. “There are many types of grasses, yet they all have a purpose.” He turned, walking slowly to go back into his comfortable home.
Sally didn’t move the truck until she saw the door close behind him, then slowly turned it around to start back towards town. She was off the reservation before she realized that all the kids had disappeared. She was alone in her borrowed truck.
Spring in Wyoming was a shock for Sally. It was beautiful. That was what surprised her—everything turned green and flowers appeared everywhere. The trees had buds that were a light yellow green. They reflected against the dark green of the pine trees that had shed their dry needles with the winter storms. They now had a fresh, polished look.
The snow melting in the mountains overflowed every brook to form streams in areas that needed water, so that more grass and flowers appeared. Driving along the roads, one could see animals of all types—deer, elk, rabbits, small rodents, not to mention the numerous squirrels. The skies were full of birds, all sizes, displaying an array of colors. Most of all, she loved the smell. The fresh odor from the fields was something no one could put in a spray, no matter how much money
Fabreze
spent on advertising.
Whistle Stop Tours was busy in two areas. There were the tours to schedule for the next seasons and even the next year, in addition to the tours to handle that were coming in. These early ones were mostly fishing groups, small, some only one or two. Jim loved these fishing tours.
The local rivers of every size were swift, overflowing their banks in some places. The fish were fat and feisty. The clients that came in liked to fish. They seemed to be a lot more polite. They also stayed in town, spending money with the locals. This made them welcome because the town liked the extra income from nice tourists. It was easy to take.
Sally had extra duties that appealed to her. She picked up lunch baskets from Madge at the Diner on some days and took them out to the fishing sites. Jim always fried or baked fish for supper. Since everyone wanted to get in as much fishing as possible, he had her bring out lunch in the truck so that they could eat, take a short break, then get back to the rivers.
Sally drove out with the windows down, finding an excuse so that she usually ate with them. She cleaned up after they went back to their fishing. She took her time getting back to the office, then dropped the basket off at the Diner for the next time it was needed. It was beginning to be her idea of heaven.
This day, there was a father and son team fishing. They were getting along. Sometimes families weren’t good on vacation. It was a time to fight or finish a fight, yet these two were getting along helping each other, making bets over who would catch what. She sat back and smiled over their teasing of each other, watching them admire what the morning catch had brought. They were sitting, talking about what a great trip this had turned out to be and she heard the bombshell.
“Well Jim, I think you topped it all with what we saw this morning. I mean in the last couple of years coming out here, we have seen, elk and bear, and about any animal you could name, real close up, but to see a black panther or jaguar was the most amazing experience we have ever had.” This was from the father.
Sally stopped packing and rotated on her crouched down heels to look at the three men.
The son added, “Not only that, he was huge. I almost pissed my pants. Oh, sorry, Sally.” The younger man smiled at the small cuss word. She had heard so much worse from some of the guys who were trying to shock her on purpose, to get her attention—this small cuss from the smiling young man was nothing.
“Yes, that is rare. I’ve never heard of one in this area. When I get a chance, I’ll check with one of State Game Rangers and see if they have spotted this one. Maybe it moved north looking for food.”
The boy smiled. “He looked like he could eat whatever he wanted. Maybe he escaped from somewhere. He looked like he took good care of himself. I don’t believe he’s lived out in the wilds for too long.”
Finally, the dad had to get to the teasing part. “Yep, and I spent all that money on that camera equipment. Tell me, how many photos did you get of him?”
His son threw a wadded up paper towel and they walked away, towards their equipment.
Jim brought over the last of the scraps and looked at Sally. “Hey, are you okay? You look a little pale. Did the food not agree with you? I don’t need the guests getting food poisoning.”
Sally jerked when she realized Jim was talking to her, then looked up at him. “No, I, oh, no, I just got some bad news. Yea, right before I came out. I will have to see what’s going on and I’ll let you know.” She went back to packing up, and even stumbled over to the truck.