Billy Buckhorn and the Rise of the Night Seers, page 10
“Osiyo, Bucky,” Wesley said. “How are things among the Eastern Cherokees?”
“Strange,” the old Indian answered. “We could use some help over here.”
He proceeded to explain the Tlanuwa sighting, the abducted dog, and the disappearance of other small creatures from the area over the past few days.
“One other thing,” Bucky said. “I’d like to meet your grandson. Cecil Lookout’s family says he might be the One.”
“Cecil just happens to be visiting me right now,” Wesley replied, convinced that the phone call’s timing was no accident. “My grandson and his granddaughter are becoming very close.”
“A match made in the Upperworld, I would think,” Bucky concluded.
Wesley was silent for a moment as he thought of a way to encourage Billy to travel with him to visit the Eastern Cherokee medicine man. Then he remembered something.
“Is that cave in Alabama with the Cherokee syllabary writing on the walls still open to the public?” he asked.
“You mean Manitou Cave?” Bucky asked.
“That’s the one,” Wesley confirmed.
“Yes, and more popular than ever since our tribe’s archaeologist made a YouTube video there. ‘Talking Stones,’ he calls it.”
“Good,” Wesley replied. “I’ve been trying to figure out a time Billy and I could come see it. I guess now’s the time. I’ll let you know when we can come over.”
After ending the call, Wesley called his grandson to tell the boy about the cave and a possible trip to visit their distant cousins in the original Cherokee Nation. And that evening, he joined Billy at the Buckhorn home to make the case for allowing the teen to miss the opening days of the school semester, and possibly skipping school altogether.
Wesley had suggested that Billy remain silent while the elder did the talking.
“This will be a valuable lesson in the history and culture of our people,” the elder argued to James and Rebecca. “And he could begin studying for his GED exam while we’re on the road.”
“You’re really serious about this GED thing, aren’t you, old man?” James said. “Rebecca and I haven’t had time to discuss it fully.”
Wesley paused to collect his thoughts. “I believe if you make him go back to the classroom, you’ll be denying him his destiny,” he said with an emphatic tone. “If half of what the Lookouts told us is true, then Billy is the key factor in all our futures.”
“Does that mean you’re going to accept Cecil’s invitation to join the Intertribal Medicine Council?” James asked his father.
“Yes, it does.”
Billy was surprised to hear this.
James pulled a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket and handed it to his father. “Take a look at this,” he said.
Wesley unfolded the paper and saw the Sky Stone image that Ethan had shown James and Augustus at lunch.
“Ethan explained that the man you’d be replacing on the Medicine Council died mysteriously and his piece of the Sky Stone has gone missing,” James reported matter-of-factly. “They suspect foul play.”
He let that fact sink into the minds of his listeners.
“That’s the level of danger you’d be stepping into,” he continued. “And Billy would be stepping into that same level of danger, or greater, if he accepts the role the Lookouts talked about.”
“I’ve finally come to believe this is what I was born to do,” Billy said abruptly and to everyone’s surprise.
The teen stood and leaned against the kitchen counter.
“All my life,” he continued, “whether you knew it or not, all of you have been preparing me for this moment. Bullseye, Grandma, Grandpa, Mom, Dad—even Uncle John in his own way—have been pointing me in this direction, pushing me to use my life to make a difference.”
“But you said—” Billy’s mother protested.
“I know what I said before. I didn’t really understand what all this was leading to or how important it was. Now I think . . . I’m accepting this as my destiny, and I’m going to commit to carrying it out, wherever it leads, whatever it means.”
All were quiet for a few moments.
“I’m going with Grandpa to see the cave,” the teen said with authority, “and when we get back, I’m going into full-time medicine training with Grandpa and Cecil.”
“Stubborn and rebellious,” Billy’s mother said, looking at her husband. “See how your son is?”
“You will eventually have to take the GED exam,” James said. “Do it for me, please.”
“And me,” Rebecca added.
Billy nodded as Grandpa stood.
“I promise I will,” Billy told his parents.
“I think we should leave day after tomorrow,” Wesley said. “That gives us time to pack and let people know we won’t be around here for a few days.”
“How long will it take to get there?” Billy asked.
“The six-hundred-mile drive should take about twelve hours. We can go in my truck and take turns driving.”
That was that.
Later that night, Billy made a video call to Lisa to give her the news about the cave trip and his decision to ditch school for full-time medicine training.
“Wow, that was sudden,” she said. “You didn’t say a word about the cave trip or your decision at lunch today.”
“You’re right. It does seem sudden. I think I already knew what I was going to do, but it took Grandpa announcing out loud tonight that he’s going to join the Medicine Council for me to voice it, to commit to it, too.”
“Did I—”
“Yes, you definitely played a part in that decision,” Billy said. “I think you knew what you were doing.”
Lisa’s sheepish smile told Billy all he needed to know.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” Lisa asked, already missing Billy.
“Of course. Just tell me where and when.”
“Tomorrow’s my first day back to class, so I’ll text you when I figure out my schedule.” She paused, then added, “I think you and I are going to have a very meaningful and unusual relationship, Billy Buckhorn.”
“I totally agree, Lisa Lookout,” he replied. “I like the way our names sound together, Billy Buckhorn and Lisa Lookout. The world had better look out, because here we come!”
They laughed freely as they thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company, even if it was only on the phone during a goodnight conversation.
After leaving the Taco Bueno earlier in the day, Chigger headed straight to a nearby QuickPrint location in downtown Tahlequah, where he, as instructed, was able to print out four copies of the photo he’d taken of Billy and Lisa. Then he took the printouts to his mentor’s cabin at Buzzard Bend.
“Excellent work, my young apprentice,” Carmelita said with a smile as she absent-mindedly stroked Chigger’s back as if he were a pet cat.
Then the conjurer looked at her rolltop desk across the room and hurried—appearing to her apprentice to smoothly glide without taking a step—to it. As though in some altered state, she seemed to command physical objects to do her bidding, thrusting open the desk’s curved top with the touch of a finger, effortlessly removing her aged medicine book from a drawer, rifling through the pages without actually touching them in search of the right spell . . . until the correct page suddenly revealed itself, causing the book to fall open on that page.
Using her ancient forefinger as a guide, Carmelita quickly scanned the lines of handwritten text on the yellowed pages.
“Here it is,” she uttered under her breath.
“To Cause Conflict and Confusion” were the Cherokee words written on the page.
She picked up the book and carried it to the table near Chigger.
“The Buckhorns and the Lookouts cannot be allowed to join forces,” the old woman said in a raspy whisper, not to Chigger so much but seemingly to other unseen listeners. “We all know they must not be allowed to build an alliance. The boy’s escape from the skeleton house proved that.”
Finishing that discourse, she looked at her apprentice. “We have an important job to do at midnight tonight. Can I count on you?”
“I guess so,” Chigger said with hesitation in his voice. “I’ll have to sneak out of the house.” Building up courage, he added, “But I don’t seem to be learning anything about Cherokee medicine making. When does that begin?”
Annoyed, Carmelita realized her apprentice was coming out from under the spell again. Fortunately, she’d already prepared a stronger concoction to extend the desired effect. Reaching her hand into a bowl filled with a dark purple powder, she grasped a bit of the stuff in her palm.
“I first had to test you to make sure you were totally trustworthy,” the old woman said, moving closer to her protégé.
Leaning toward the boy’s left ear, she acted as though she was about to whisper something there. Instead, she blew a puff of the powder into that ear.
“What was that?” Chigger asked, surprised by the move. He brushed some of the powder away.
“Medicine for your mind,” the conjurer replied. “This will help to unclutter your thinking so you can more easily tune in to my thoughts.”
“Okay,” Chigger said. “Now what?”
Carmelita projected a thought into the boy’s mind: “Now I’m sure of your commitment to the medicinal arts, so tonight is the night your true instruction commences.”
“Tonight’s the night,” Chigger said with a smile. “I heard that in my mind!”
“Tonight’s the night,” she repeated aloud with a gleam in her eye.
Chigger had no trouble sneaking out of his family’s mobile home before midnight, and because he’d parked his pickup away from the trailer, he had no trouble driving away without waking his mom and dad.
One part of his mind realized it wasn’t normal for him to slip out of his house in the middle of the night, but an overriding subconscious command demanded that he do so. During the last few days, he’d performed several tasks while in the same condition. This night was no different.
Sequoyah High School was located south of Tahlequah, less than a mile from the Cherokee Nation tribal headquarters. This Native American school with under five hundred students consisted of several buildings, including the dormitory.
Chigger turned into the entrance of the high school campus and drove to the back of the property near the football field so his truck wouldn’t be seen from the main road. As planned, Carmelita was waiting for him, though Chigger didn’t see any car nearby she might have used to get there. She carried four small leather pouches, two clutched tightly in each hand.
“Did you bring a compass?” she asked, forgoing any friendly greeting.
“Yeah,” Chigger replied, “and the small spade you wanted from my dad’s tool shed.”
“Good, good, good,” the old woman said. “Now let’s get to work before anyone comes along to interrupt.”
Standing near the dorm building, the conjurer instructed her apprentice to locate due east on the compass. The pair walked a few yards in that direction and stopped.
“Dig a small hole here,” the conjurer commanded.
“What for?”
The boy heard her response in his mind: “Just do it.”
The teen dutifully dug the hole and, at about a foot deep, Carmelita told him to stop. Then she dropped one of the pouches into the hole.
“Now shovel the dirt back in.”
Chigger, though having no idea what this was all about, did as he was told.
The duo repeated this procedure at the other three compass points several yards away from the dormitory building.
“What’s in the pouches?” Chigger asked after filling in the last hole.
“Never you mind, sonny,” the witch said.
“You told me I’d really start learning some Cherokee medicine tonight,” the boy said forcefully.
Exasperated, Carmelita blew out a breath of air. “When you’re right, you’re right,” she admitted. “Okay, here goes. You know those photos you printed of the Buckhorn boy and the Lookout girl?”
“Yeah.”
“I ripped those down the middle, separating the two, and then I performed the ‘conflict and confusion’ formula over the girl’s half. After that I prepared the dried herbal blend that accompanies that spell and placed the torn pictures and herbs into the pouches. Burying the pouches in the four directions around the place where the girl sleeps will achieve the desired effect—eventually, not right away.”
“Conflict and confusion? But why?”
“For one thing—and you should appreciate this—these steps will cause this couple to break up. The other thing is part of a bigger plan that I’ll soon be able to share with you.”
Chigger’s disappointment was apparent on his face.
“But I can tell you that you, young man, will be part of a history that people will be talking about for generations to come.”
“That sounds important,” he replied, changing his disappointment to pride.
He again heard a message from Carmelita in his mind: “Now let’s get out of here before we’re discovered.”
Chigger had a thought of his own. I guess I can really read people’s minds! Way cool!
Carmelita chose not to share her next thought with the boy. Your simple little mind is so easily fooled. This is going to work out great.
ack at her cabin later, Carmelita Tuckaleechee used a stepstool to reach a top shelf and take down the scrapbook she’d kept for more than a hundred years. Reminiscing about her younger life was one of the few pleasures she’d allowed herself in recent times. But it had been a while since she had perused the tattered, brittle pages that reminded her of the glory days.
The conjurer hadn’t lived 147 years without some help. As a Cherokee witch of the Night Seer variety, she’d hastened the demise of more than one seriously ill victim in all that time.
That was how it worked, that was how you got to cheat death, or at least outrun him for a while.
Born in 1874, the woman had seen a lot of history in her time. Of course, she’d gone by a different name in the early days: Kituwah Redbird. Later, and for much of her life, she’d been called Svnoyi Waya, Night Wolf. Carmelita Tuckaleechee was a very recent name change, and one she quite liked. The name had such a staccato rhythm to it.
She had been only eighteen when Cherokee outlaw Ned Christie was murdered by US Marshals in 1892 for a crime he didn’t commit. It was big news at the time. Christie had been a proud member of the Keetoowah Society, made up of traditional Cherokees who fought for traditional culture and tribal sovereignty against the encroachment of white citizens on Indian lands. He became a folk hero among the Cherokee, both because of what he lived for and what he died for.
That was when the young woman realized the white man’s laws were prejudiced against Indians, and she took the name Kituwah Redbird, after the famous leader of the traditionalists, Redbird Smith. She also decided white people couldn’t be trusted, and neither could the white man’s medicine. She began learning medicine ways from a famous Keetoowah Society medicine maker named Waholi (Eagle) Catawnee.
It wasn’t until years later that her feud with the Buckhorns began, during the lifetime of Moytoy Buckhorn, the Rainmaker. Known for his ability to control the weather, Moytoy was adept in other areas of Cherokee medicine, including the power to block the conjurations of dark medicinal practitioners. He’d successfully reversed a few of Night Wolf’s best spells.
Then there was Bullseye Buckhorn, not a particularly gifted medicine man but bothersome to Night Wolf just the same. He was best known as the “Stickball Doctor” because stickball teams he ritually blessed often won their games. Losing to Bullseye damaged the reputation of any medicine person who dared oppose him.
And now, to add insult to injury, Bullseye’s son Wesley Buckhorn possessed Benjamin Blacksnake’s medicine manual! This rarest of volumes contained the only known written remnants of the ancient and highly secret Owl Clan incantations. The problem was that these spells, when recited backward, could not only reverse the effects of their magic but put an end to the Night Seers altogether. No living medicine person had that knowledge, but Billy Buckhorn’s expanding powers might one day allow him to discover the powers of the old language.
That was why Wesley and his grandson needed to be dealt with as soon as possible. And that was one of the reasons Carmelita was so interested in Chigger. This teen, she thought, was actually a twofer. First, he provided direct access to the Buckhorns, and second, he had the potential of bringing new, young blood to the Owls—that is if he proved smart enough to learn the medicine.
Most of the current crop of Night Seers were probably as old as Carmelita, but as old as they were, they wouldn’t live forever. So they needed to attract some younger members. True, the boy really wasn’t too bright, but if Carmelita was patient, the teenager might be able to deliver her long-sought-after target, Wesley Buckhorn.
For ten years, Night Wolf had been carrying a very big secret. The witch had been successful in poisoning Wesley Buckhorn’s meddlesome wife, Awinita, with a deadly plant that left no trace of its presence. That do-gooder had blocked Night Wolf’s medicine magic too many times, so she had to be dispensed with.
Carmelita turned a few of the aging pages in the scrapbook until she came to one of her favorites. It showed her in her Night Wolf days, with the love of her life, Benjamin Blacksnake. They had lived happily together in the Eastern Cherokee Nation for several years. He had been her mentor, teacher, friend, and partner in the Owl Clan. That was until the locals rose up against him, dragged him out of his home, set him on fire, and burned him alive.
Carmelita’s thoughts were interrupted by the gong of the alarm on her lunar calendar wall clock, a timepiece that tracked the phases of the moon. The chime reminded her that the moon had just entered its new-moon phase, the darkest stage of the satellite’s monthly cycle.
Time to contact Benji, she thought. I hope I can get through to him this time.
