“Let the fragments of love be reassembled in you. Only then will you have true courage.” - Wendell Berry
While I was watching Appalachia, Manuel was using carrots to coax Ranger and Switchback closer. Once he had them saddled and bridled, he led them over to where I was sitting. “That was fast,” I said.
“I bribed them,” he said, patting the carrots in his pants pocket. "He handed me the reins of the smallest horse - a buckskin mare with a messy black mane and forelock and a small white snip at the end of her nose. “This is Switchback,” he said.
“Hello there, Switchback,” I said, extending my hand for her to sniff. “She’s not very big is she?” I got to my feet and ran my hand up and down her neck and behind her ears.
“She’s a mustang. They both are,” Manuel said. “Richard rescued them from a kill pen. Want a leg up?”
“I think I’m fine, I said. I took a moment to check the girth, slipped the reins over Switchback’s head, gathered them in my left hand, and grabbed the saddle horn. Then I slid my left foot into the stirrup and pulled myself up, swinging my right leg over the saddle as I settled into the saddle. I was pleased by how easy and natural it felt. “Hand me my pack?” I asked, pointing to the backpack I’d left on the ground.
“Sure,” Manuel said, picking it up and handing it up to me. “This thing weighs a ton.”
“Now you see why I didn’t want to bring it,” I laughed as I adjusted the straps. Let’s get going.”
The ride along the trail that led to town was alternately rocky and steep (taking us up and down foothills in a series of switchbacks) and pleasantly level as it wound its way through forested areas paralleling small creeks and past an occasional waterfall. Anything faster than a slow trot was impossible and most of the time we were forced to ride single file. There was no way a car or even a motorcycle could navigate the rocks, roots, and potholes, which was a relief. The only other living things we saw were squirrels, birds, and a massive bull elk who appeared to be deep in thought as he passed slowly in front of us. Evan, the one person we’d expected to see, never appeared, making us worry that something had happened.
When the trail finally led out of the forest and broadened into a wide dirt road, Manuel urged Ranger into a canter. “There’s the town,” he said, sounding relieved. “Let’s see if we can get some answers.”
The town was laid out in a simple grid pattern with a plaza in the center. In the middle of the plaza was a grassy park with a three-tiered fountain, wooden benches, picnic tables, and sculptures by local artists. “Want to take a look?” Manuel asked, seeing my interest.
“Maybe later,” I said. “Let’s see if we can find Evan first.”
Four dirt paths led away from the center of park to the plaza itself. Local businesses, catering to the tourist trade, lined all four sides. The entire area was devoid of anything but horse and foot traffic. We saw people jogging, walking their dogs, sitting on benches playing chess, and eating their lunches. There was also a small group of parents and kids taking a guided tour on horseback. One of the kids - a little boy wearing cowboy boots and a Stetson hat - waved to me from the back of a chubby, spotted pony. His legs were so short that they stuck straight out on either side of the saddle. I smiled and waved back.
“No cars are allowed in the center of town,” Manuel explained. “The bank is on the other side of the square, but I’d like to leave the horses with Ama. She runs a stable that offers trail rides to tourists. She’ll be happy to watch Ranger and Switchback for us.” Manuel led the way to a small two-story clapboard house painted in pale shades of purple and white. The sign over the front door read, “Ama’s Trail Rides.”
“Why do I feel like I just stepped into an episode of Bonanza?” I asked as I dismounted. My legs immediately buckled, so weak and wobbly from riding they could barely hold me up. “Okay this is not good,” I laughed, holding onto the left stirrup for support.
“Been awhile since you’ve ridden, huh?” asked the middle-aged woman with black braids who’d emerged from the house.
“Yes, I said. “I remember this from when I first started taking lessons. “You must be Ama.”
“Indeed I am,” she said descending the three steps from her porch and coming over to shake my hand. “And you must be Maddy. We’ve been eager to meet you.”
“We?” I asked.
“Everyone in town,” she said, taking Switchback’s reins. “Evan’s said a lot of nice things about you.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling myself blush. “Well I hope I live up to expectations.”
“We’re just curious is all,” Ama smiled. “I know you’ve got bank business, but would you like to use the facilities and phone before you head over?”
“That would be great,” I said.
“Thanks so much, Ama,” Manuel added, stepping forward and giving her a quick hug. “It’s been awhile. How’ve you been?”
“I can’t complain,” Ama replied. “You?”
“Same, aside from this latest nonsense,” Manuel said. “Maddy, I’m going to see the owner of the security company Hamilton recommended. Then I’ll be back to take you to the bank. I’ll leave you in Ama’s capable hands.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
Ama gestured towards the house behind us. “Come on inside.” She led the way up the stairs and through the front door. “So the bathroom is down the hall on your right and the phone is on the table here.” She pointed to an old black rotary phone sitting on the console table by the staircase. “Take your pick. I’ll be out back tending to the horses, then in the kitchen making lunch when you’re done.”
“Okay, thank you again,” I said.
“Pffft…it’s nothing,” she said.
The first person I called after using the facilities was Hamilton. He’d already spoken to Casey, assigned a lawyer to advise him on what he should and shouldn’t say, and spoken with Faith’s attorneys about enforcing the “No Trespassing” signs posted all around the Light House property. “Manuel is talking to the security guys in town right now,” I said.
“Yes, “Hamilton said. “I talked to them too. They’ll remove any monitoring devices Faith had installed and set up surveillance cameras for us. They’ll watch and record the camera feeds and do physical patrols.”
“I feel like the Light House is under siege,” I complained. “What about Evan? Any news about what Casey told us?”
“If you see Evan, tell him to lay low for a bit,” Hamilton said. “I’d like to see what kind of hard evidence Faith has. At this point I don’t even know who collected the body or whether or not an autopsy was performed.”
At the mention of an autopsy my stomach turned and I tasted bile at the back of my throat. I’d gotten pretty good at keeping thoughts of D’s death - of how he must have looked and felt as his body began to fail him - out of my mind. But Hamilton’s words brought back all the images D and I had looked at when deciding whose stories to include in our book. They weren’t pretty. “You still there?” Hamilton asked.
“Yes, just a touchy subject, that’s all,” I said. “Why is Faith doing this, Hamilton?”
“She’s hurting and wants someone to blame.”
“You mean blame for D’s death?”
“That and the fact that he felt so strongly about the role their family played in the Cherokee removal. You’ve seen his plans for the property.”
“Yes,” I said. “So in her mind I’m part of the problem - trying to take a piece of her family history.”
“Probably,” Hamilton agreed, “but I’m hoping to talk her down off the ledge. It may take awhile.”
“Okay, well better you than me,” I said. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I need to get over to the bank. Can I call you later? I’m assuming it’ll be okay to use the phone at the Light House.”
“Should be,” Hamilton said. “And I hope you won’t mind, but I took the liberty of arranging to have a second phone and an electrical line run to the main house.”
“Oh Hamilton, I could kiss you!” I exclaimed. “I didn’t want to say anything, but not having electricity was becoming a major pain in the ass.”
“No kissing will be necessary,” Hamilton chuckled. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ve also arranged to have solar panels installed. You should be able to get most of your electricity that way.”
“Fantastic,” I said. “Thank you again.”
My second call was to Sandra (aka Sandbag) Edwards, my long-time mentor and the managing editor of the Smoky Mountain Gazette. I’d interned at her paper in college and she’d given me a job after I graduated. “Where the hell have you been?” she demanded when she picked up the phone. Sandra was not a small woman - weighing in at over 250 lbs. - but her high-pitched, girlish voice and southern accent made her sound like a prepubescent teen. This often led others to underestimate her street smarts and dogged dedication to her job. She was an incredible journalist and had taught me most of what I knew. Now I pictured her at her cluttered desk in the tiny windowless room she called an office. Just thinking about it made me claustrophobic but she claimed confined spaces helped her think. “I hope you’ve got a story to file, because I’m sure as hell not paying you to take a vacation.”
“First of all, thanks for your concern,” I said sarcastically. “And yes, I have a story, but I’m not the one to write it.”
“Explain,” Sandra said, switching effortlessly into editor mode.
Quickly I went over the events of the past week, focusing on Faith’s decision to contest both the will and the trust and the appearance of the men from Secure Surveillance. “Spell the company’s name,” she demanded. I could hear the scratching of a pen on paper as she took notes. “And your lawyer? What did you say his name was? Will he confirm?”
I gave her Hamilton’s full name and contact information and assured her he would back up my story. Then I waited for her to process what I’d said. “Sounds like you’ve got a real shit show on your hands,” she said matter-of-factly. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great story, but I don’t envy you the legal mess.”
“There’s more,” I said with a small sigh.
“Of course there is,” Sandra said. Despite the rolling of her eyes, which I could feel all the way across the miles that separated us, I knew her reporter instincts were tingling. “So what’s this other thing?”
As succinctly as I could, I explained my conversation with Casey and the appearance of the police at the entrance to the Light House.
“Murder is a big deal, Maddy,” Sandra said sounding serious and concerned. “What does Faith have against Evan?”
“I’m not sure, really,” I said. “I know she blamed Richard for giving D HIV, but Evan had nothing to do with that. He’s not even gay.”
“Did he?” Sandra asked. “I mean did D tell you Richard infected him?”
“No, but I never asked.”
“So Evan and all other Cherokee are guilty in her mind by association.”
“That’s sort of how her mind works,” I conceded. “She wouldn’t let Casey come with us to the animal shelter the day Richard and D adopted Bentley. She told me she didn’t want Casey exposed to Richard.”
“Hah!” Sandra snorted. “HIV and Indian cooties.”
“Something like that,” I smiled. “It sounds ridiculous now that we’re talking about it, but she was adamant - even self-righteous. I got the impression she felt morally superior.”
“I don’t like how this is sounding,” Sandra said. “What you’re describing is engrained homophobia and racism. That’s a pretty nasty cocktail, especially when entitlement is added to the mix. It’s also a much bigger story than my little paper is equipped to handle.”
“What are you saying? You won’t publish it?” I asked.
“Not at all,” Sandra said. “When have you known me to leave a good story on the table? But we’re going to need some help or it’ll get buried. The owners of the paper are good old boys. They won’t want trouble.”
“So what do we do?”
“First, assemble a team. Then we do what reporters do - educate ourselves, talk to people, gather and document facts, get quotes, take photos, and do our due diligence. Then we write the piece and have back-up publishers and a couple of good op-eds ready to go. We’ll also get interviews lined up with the larger papers and TV stations. I hope you’re prepared to be in the limelight for a bit.”
“Are you serious?!” I exclaimed.
“Completely. What you’re describing may only be the tip of larger trouble Faith is stirring up. You can’t cry wolf with murder charges. Someone is going to get hurt.”
“Okay, well let’s get started. I’ll do anything I can to be sure Evan isn’t saddled with this. He’s a good person and what Faith is doing is just plain wrong.”
“Right then. I’ve got calls to make and you have a meeting at the bank. I’m going to do my homework and get all the legal stuff straight in my head. Do me a favor and don’t disappear again.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t,” I promised.
“And Madison, be careful. I don’t like what Faith is doing.”
When I hung up the phone I saw Ama standing in the door to the kitchen holding a plate with a sandwich and chips on it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” she said, “but that sounded like a pretty heavy conversation.”
“It was,” I admitted, taking the plate. “Thanks for this. I’m starving.”
“Anything I can do to help?” she asked.
“I don’t know, maybe,” I mumbled around a mouthful of avocado, pepper jack cheese, and tomato. “Right now we need to make sure Evan is safe, so if anyone asks, you don’t know where he is.”
“No problem. Also true,” she smiled. “Anything else?”
“Actually, yes,” I said. “But before I ask, let me apologize in advance for my ignorance. I know very little about Cherokee belief systems, so if I ask or say anything offensive, please tell me.”
“Done,” Ama said.
“Okay, what can you tell me about the Nvnehi?”
Ama blinked and looked taken aback. “Wow, you don’t mess around do you?”
“I don’t mean to offend,” I hastened to add. “It’s just that I think I met some - Nûñnë'hï that is,” I said. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to talk about it.”
“No, no it’s okay. But maybe you should start at the beginning and tell me what’s been going on.”
By the time Manuel returned to take me to the bank, I was much better informed and had made a new and trustworthy friend. I was also much more alarmed. “Why so serious looking?” Manuel asked as we headed for the bank.
“Oh, I was just talking to Ama about Cherokee spiritual beliefs,” I said.
“Interesting?”
“More like disturbing. She gave me a lot to think about. How about you? What did you find out from the security guys? Any sign of Evan?”
“No one will admit to knowing or seeing Evan, though I suspect they all know more than they’ll say. I’ll talk to Leonard when we get to the bank. The other news is mostly good. Just as we suspected the bow hunters we saw this morning were part of the company Hamilton hired here in town. They’ll be taking care of installing a surveillance and security system at the main house and patrolling the property. They’ll also check for and remove anything the Secure Surveillance people left.” Seeing the look of distaste on my face, he put a hand on my shoulder and gently squeezed. “It’s temporary Madison - just until these lawsuits get settled and Faith backs down.”
I nodded but said nothing. We’d reached the entrance to the bank and Manuel had his hand on the handle of the double doors. “Ready?” he asked.
“Yes, let’s do this,” I said.
Inside, we were met by a thin older man dressed in a pale gray business suit, string tie, and tired looking cowboy boots. “Leonard,” Manuel said, with genuine warmth. “Osiyo! How have you been?”
“Good. The town is growing as you can see,” Leonard said in a soft breathy voice. Although he was speaking to Manuel, he hadn’t taken his dark brown, watery eyes off of me. There was nothing unkind or alarming in those eyes, but he was clearly taking stock.
“Madison,” Manuel said, “this is Leonard Long Bow, the local financial wiz and manger of the bank.”
“What can I say? I like numbers,” Leonard said with a small, self-deprecating smile.
“Leonard this is Madison Clark, the young woman we told you about.”
“Yes,” Leonard said, stepping forward and taking both of my hands in his. His fingers were long, bony, and dry but they wrapped around mine with gentle warmth. “Welcome,” he said, then turned to Manuel. “Did you bring everything?”
“Got it all right here,” Manuel said with the now familiar pat of the messenger bag hanging across his chest.
“Good, let’s get started,” Leonard said releasing my hands and gesturing towards a desk at the back of the room. “Please accompany me.”
What followed were the many and tedious steps necessary to open a bank account. The whole process was made even more onerous by the need for a notary’s signature on several of the documents. “You understand that the funds from this account are not for personal use?” Leonard asked at one point. “They are for matters related to the administration of the Trust.”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Please be sure to keep detailed records and receipts of how the money is spent.”
“I will,” I promised.
“And forgive me for asking but where do you currently bank?” When I named the bank I used back home he shook his head politely and suggested that I open a personal account at his bank as well. “You can keep both accounts, but having an account here will facilitate and speed up transfers and deposits.”
“Okay,” I sighed. “Show me what to do.”
By the time the last document was signed and I’d received temporary checks for both the Trust and my personal account my patience was exhausted. I got to my feet, stretched, and turned to Manuel who’d sat quietly beside me the whole time. “Let’s get out of here,” I urged. Then I offered my hand to Leonard. “Thank you for all your help,” I said.
“You are most welcome,” Leonard said, getting to his feet as well but ignoring my hand. “I’m afraid there is one more matter that requires your attention.”
“Seriously?” I protested giving Manuel a pleading look.
“It won’t take long,” Leonard said. “Follow me.” It was not a request. Stepping out from behind his desk he began walking towards a metal door in the back of the bank labeled, “Conference rooms.”
“You’d better go with him,” Manuel said.
“I thought we were done,” I complained. “Aren’t you coming?”
“No, I have my own account here and I need to check some things,” he said. “But I’ll be right here when you get back.”
“Okay,” I sighed resignedly. “I hope this is something simple and quick.” I hurried after Leonard and caught up with him as he was fitting a key from a his key ring into the door. When the door opened, he held it open for me to pass through then indicated I should turn left. “It’s Meeting Room C, the third on the left.”
The door to Meeting Room C was made of solid dark wood and had an opaque frosted glass pane at the top. Leonard knocked once, turned the handle, and opened the door just wide enough for me to pass through. Cool air infused with the smells of wet earth and pine streamed out over me. Then I caught sight of Evan dressed only in loose fitting suede pants standing across the room. “Evan!” I exclaimed, pushing the door open and rushing in. I was about to throw myself into his arms when I saw the bear.
Since seeing his tattoos come alive on the night of the storm I’d managed to convince myself that it was all a trick of my imagination brought on by the late hour, bad lighting, and exhaustion. And I’d almost forgotten about the exquisitely rendered tattoo of the bear that stretched across his entire chest. Far from being imaginary now, however, the bear was unmistakably alive - every detail of its broad forehead and thick fur rendered in exquisite detail. I could see its nostrils flare as it inhaled my scent and its small, dark eyes blinked from beneath Evan’s diaphragm. Stunned, I stopped dead in my tracks and stood as still as I could, barely breathing. Though my shock and alarm must have been obvious, Evan made no attempt to touch or comfort me. Instead he took two steps to the side and gestured towards a small figure who’d been standing just behind him. “Maddy, allow me to introduce Atsina.”
I recognized her instantly of course. She was the eighth woman from the lake who’d emerged from the water wearing the mask of a bear. Out of that mask the face of this elderly woman with the gentle smile and piercing eyes had emerged. “Osiyo, Ghigau (beloved woman),” she said in Cherokee with a slight nod of her head.
“She doesn’t know what that means,” Evan said.
“She does and she will,” Atsina said, still speaking in Cherokee. “She is Anitsaguhi (bear clan).”
“Please tell me what’s going on,” I said, finally finding my voice. “Why are all these strange things happening and why am I seeing bears everywhere?” I glanced at Evan’s chest and shuddered.
My questions seemed to amuse Atsina whose wrinkled face broke into a wide, white smile. She threw her head back and laughed with what sounded like the roar of water rushing over an enormous waterfall. This was followed by a series of chuckles that rumbled through the room like distant thunder. I gave Evan a desperate, “what the hell is going on” look.
“Atsina, you’re scaring her,” Evan admonished.
“She’s not scared,” Atsina said still looking amused. “Merely startled.”
“Atsina, please,” Evan said taking a step in my direction.
“Do NOT!”’ Atsina warned, speaking from somewhere deep in her chest. Her countenance changed in an instant from amusement to a ferocious scowl. “This is not for men. If you cannot show respect, leave.”
At this Evan closed his mouth, folded his arms over his chest, and stepped back.
“Ghigau (beloved woman),” Atsina said looking directly into my eyes. “I honor and respect your need to understand. Your intelligence is great and your place in Elohi (Earth) solid and strong. But you must open your heart to spirit - to who you are and what you came to do.”
“Which is?” I demanded, still confounded by the fact that I could understand everything she was saying though I spoke no Cherokee.
“You are Anitsaguhi (bear clan),” she said.
“There’s that word again,” I thought. “But what does that mean?” I asked.
“You will know. The clan is forming around you.”
“This makes no sense,” I complained, feeling frustrated and angry. “You can’t just show up like this - popping out of lakes, showing up unannounced in banks, and talking about bear clans - and expect me to take you seriously.”
“Good, good!” Atsina chortled, clapping her hands and smiling broadly. “That was a proper growl.”
“Sounded more like a whine to me,” Evan chuckled.
“She is learning,” Atsina said.
“What is wrong with you two?” I demanded angrily, looking back and forth between them. “Have you lost your damn minds?”
A moment later there was a soft knock on the door. For an instant Atsina looked irritated then seemed to collapse in on herself becoming small and almost lifeless. “The window is closing,” she whispered, sinking wearily into the chair Evan hastily placed behind her. “You must go now, Ghigau (beloved woman),” she said, waving her hand dismissively.
The door opened and Leonard poked his head in. “The sheriff is headed this way,” he said.
“Oh no!” I exclaimed. “Evan you have to get our here. Faith is…”
“I know, Maddy,” Evan said, stepping forward and taking me by the shoulders. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.” Then he bent and kissed me hard - letting all the pent up emotions of the past few days arc between us like an electrical current closing a gap. I forgot all about Atsina and the bear on his chest and kissed him back. The intensity and longing it produced were both shocking and delightful and left my lips feeling bruised and swollen. When he pulled away we looked into one another’s eyes, and grinned.
“Okay, enough of that you two,” Manuel, who had followed Leonard into the room, said with a smile. “Evan has to get out of here and you and I have a little charade to play for the sheriff. I gave Evan’s hand one last squeeze, and would have said good-bye to Atsina if she hadn’t been hunched over fast asleep and snoring in her chair.
Go,” Evan said. “I’ll tell her.”
Back in the main lobby of the bank, Leonard locked the door to the conference rooms and took us back to our seats in front of his desk. There he spread an array of empty forms in front of us. “Start filling these out, please,” he said, handing me a pen. “If anyone asks, Madison, you’re following your lawyer’s instructions and opening an account for the purpose of administering the Light House Trust. Manuel you are here to advise and support Ms. Clark.
“Got it,” Manuel said.
“And just so you know, Ms. Clark, I took the liberty of placing your knapsack in the vault for safekeeping. You’re free to collect it at any time of course,” he added, seeing me glance with alarm at the empty space beside my chair where I’d left the pack.
“Thank you for doing that,” I said as I remembered what the backpack contained.
“My pleasure,” he said with a small smile. “Now if you wouldn’t mind,” he said gesturing toward the forms on his desk.
“Right,” I nodded and picked up a pen. When Sheriff Cole and his team arrived a short while later, waving a search warrant in Leonard’s face and demanding to know where Evan was, all he found was a slightly disheveled young woman with swollen lips filling out forms with the help of her respectable friend and college professor.
Copyright 2024 by Jena Ball. All Rights Reserved.
Links to the 18 previous chapters
I love this… every single part of it. Thank you.
Jena! Beautiful!