A String of Beads (38 page)

“I think you’re right,” said Reid. “Double aught has only nine pellets. He’s got at
least a dozen holes I can see, and probably the rest were still clumped together when
they hit his chest.”

The technicians went to work on the second cooler, removing the tape and putting it
in another evidence bag, and then flipping the latches and opening the cooler.

Lloyd and Reid stepped closer. Reid said, “Who do you suppose this is, Ike?”

“If I’m not mistaken, that’s Mr. Daniel Crane himself.”

31

T
he sounds of heavy traffic woke Mattie Sanders. She had never lived in such a noisy
place. She didn’t mind getting up, because she had always been an early riser. But
here she was in a city where the sirens of fire trucks competed with the horns of
the taxi drivers to keep a person from sleeping.

Each morning when she opened her eyes it took a few seconds to place herself on the
planet. There was always a surprise that she wasn’t in her house on the reservation
where she had lived with Clinton Sanders until he’d died, and where she had raised
their boy, Jimmy. The sounds her brain had been listening for had been the chirps
and warbles of birds, maybe the distant scream of a hawk far overhead, but she heard
cars instead, and her mind jumped to Hanover. But after that she had become fully
awake and remembered they were in Philadelphia now.

The height of the buildings and the closeness of them made her feel uncomfortable.
The hotel was cut off and insulated from the ground and the water. Even though it
jutted up into the sky, the windows were all sealed and kept
out the air. The only way to even tell what the weather was would be to turn on the
television set and watch the news.

This morning, as she did every morning, she silently gave thanks that her son was
alive, that he was well, and that they were together. She thanked the forces of the
universe for sending Jane, and for the girl Chelsea. She gave thanks to the Creator
for life, and to his twin brother the Destroyer for holding off her death this long.

Mattie sat up and got out of bed. She went into the bathroom and drew a hot bath.
It seemed to loosen the stiffness that came on her overnight, and always made her
feel good.

She dried, dressed in clean clothes, and walked out into the living room just as Jane
appeared from one of the other bedrooms.

Mattie said, “Where’s Chelsea?”

“When I saw her last she was in Jimmy’s room helping him pack.”

In her heart Mattie knew that it was the truth, but also considerably less than the
truth. Chelsea must have spent the night in Jimmy’s room, even if she was helping
him pack now. It didn’t matter. “Pack? Are we moving again?”

Jane said, “We’re moving out, but not to another hiding place. It’s time to go home.”
She went to the table by the window, picked up the laptop and refreshed its display,
then handed it to Mattie. “Here. Read this. It’s the
Buffalo News
. Daniel Crane is dead and the police found his fingerprints on the rifle.”

JAMES SANDERS’S ATTORNEY, KAREN ALVAREZ
,
stood before the Honorable Mary Ann O’Riordan in the courtroom. “Your honor,” she
said, “I have a copy of the cell phone activity on the account of James Sanders’s
mother, Mrs. Mattie Sanders, for the period June sixteen through July ten of this
year. It’s certified by Mr. David Altner of Central Mobile Company. As you will see,
Mrs. Sanders attempted to call her son eighty-nine times during the period, but a
connection was never made. All of her calls went to his voice mail.”

“And Mr. Sanders never thought to call her?”

“No, your honor. When Mr. Sanders’s cell phone was lost, he was on a hiking trip through
the forests of the Southern Tier of New York and northeastern Pennsylvania. He had
no reason to think he was being sought by the police, and had often been out of touch
with his mother for a few weeks.”

“There were no pay phones?”

“No, your honor. He was in the forest.”

“And after that?”

“When he called home, he was told that two local men, very distant relatives of his,
had been in county jail and learned that there were men getting themselves sent there
so they could take revenge on Mr. Sanders for the death of Nicholas Bauermeister.
I have their depositions here. My client had only one way to survive, and that was
to delay his surrender.”

“That’s an unusual defense.”

“Yes, your honor. It’s an unusual case. He has been cleared of any crime or infraction
other than missing a court date in a case that a dozen eyewitnesses have sworn in
affidavits was frivolous. He has now voluntarily turned himself in. I request that
all charges be dismissed, and that he be allowed to go.”

“Mr. Ferraro?” The judge stared at the assistant district attorney.

“The people concur, your honor.”

The judge turned to Jimmy Sanders. “Then Mr. Sanders, the court dismisses the charge.
We also advise you to answer your phone, and to call your mother more frequently.
Case dismissed.”

“Thank you, your honor,” said Karen Alvarez.

Jimmy Sanders glanced over his shoulder to look at his mother and his girlfriend,
Chelsea, standing beside her. He repeated, “Thank you, your honor,” before his attorney
ushered him away from the table and out of the courtroom.

THE NEXT MORNING AN EDGE
of the Woods ceremony was performed on the reservation. Jimmy Sanders and his mother,
Mattie, stood at the edge of the lawn near the council house beside a small fire,
and they both tossed pinches of tobacco into it, so white smoke rose into the air.
After a short time, a crowd of friends, relatives, and neighbors came from the council
house and walked to the spot to meet them.

Although the people present were taking part in an ancient ritual, they dressed in
their usual Saturday clothes, and looked like fifty members of an extended family
coming together for a reunion picnic. The Edge of the Woods had once been used to
honor and heal warriors returning from distant battles, or to admit important visitors
into a Seneca village. It was still used to welcome people at a condolence ritual
for the death of a chief and the elevation of his successor. Today the ceremony was
meant to celebrate the return of a young man and his mother who had survived terrible
danger and come home.

Jimmy and Mattie were symbolically returning from the woods—the dark, wild place where
enemies stalked, wars were fought, and murders committed. They were being brought
into the sunlit clearing, the peaceful, cleared land that had circled all Haudenosaunee
villages from the beginning of civilization.

Today’s was a small event, more personal than the big tribal ceremonies, but it followed
the same steps. First a speaker stepped forward from the crowd. He was Jimmy’s mother’s
cousin, Wallace Golden, one of the Haudenosaunee league sachems. He began as the speaker
always did.

“This morning we have gathered for a celebration, and we see that the cycles of life
are the same. It is our job to live in harmony with each other and in balance with
all living things.” Then he gave thanks as the Senecas always had, to the whole universe
beginning with the ground at their feet and moving upward and outward. He thanked
the earth, the waters, the fish, the plants, the edible plants, the medicinal herbs,
the animals, the trees, the birds, the four winds, the thunders that bring rains,
the sun, the moon, the stars, all spirit messengers, and the Creator.

Wallace Golden went on to speak about this particular occasion. “We are thankful that
our young man Jimmy Sanders waits here at the edge of the forest, where the cleared
land begins, to be taken back in among us. We are happy that he is cleared of all
false suspicion and has come home to us.”

Wallace Golden said a few sentences recognizing that Jimmy and Mattie’s journey had
been hard and dangerous. He extended condolences for the losses and suffering that
Jimmy and his mother had needed to endure. He expressed the hope that a return home
would restore their “good minds”—their health and well-being.

The well-wishers all greeted Jimmy and Mattie and welcomed them home. In old times
the people would have mended their damaged clothing, given them shelter, and tended
their wounds. They still offered food. There was a buffet of home-cooked food for
everyone laid out on a row of picnic tables, and everyone now ate and talked happily.

At the fringe of the gathering stood Mrs. Jane McKin­non, born Jane Whitefield, whose
Wolf clan name was Owandah. She chatted with a few friends and tasted several of the
dishes. At a quiet moment, Jimmy Sanders approached her. “Thank you, Jane. I—”

She gave her head a little shake that an onlooker might have misinterpreted as getting
her long, black hair out of her eyes. If anyone was listening, they heard her say,
“It’s nice to see you, Jimmy. Welcome home.” Then she turned away to gather some plates
and took them to the council house kitchen. She set them by the sink, where two women
were already washing the first ones, when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

She turned to see Ellen Dickerson, who looked at her and walked toward the door. Jane
followed her out of the kitchen and down a path that Jane wasn’t sure she had ever
noticed before. It was bushy where the lawn ended, but then opened up into a clear
trail into the woods. She followed Ellen for a few hundred feet into a deep stand
of old trees surrounding a small clearing.

Waiting for them were the clan mothers, standing in the clearing, talking quietly.
When they saw Ellen and Jane arrive they all fell into silence at once, and focused
on Jane. She felt it again—the strange sensation, an intimation that she was in the
presence of something ancient and powerful. This was a gathering of the representatives
of all the clans of her people, a direct link through a chain of women to the beginning
of everything.

Jane reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out the strand of shell beads,
the purple and white wampum they had given her to mark her appointment as the agent
of their will. She held it up in front of Ellen Dickerson, mother of her own Wolf
clan. “I guess it’s time to give this back.”

“It is,” said Ellen. She took the beads and put them into her pocket. “Thank you.”

The others began to hug Jane, one or two at a time, surrounding her for a moment and
then stepping back.

Ellen said, “You’ve done everything we hoped you would. We believed there was no other
way, or we would never have asked you to take such risks.”

“I’m just glad everybody’s safe,” Jane said.

“This Edge of the Woods should have been for you, to welcome you back among us and
make you whole again. We’re all sorry we couldn’t name you out loud without risking
your secrets.”

“Thank you all for understanding that,” said Jane.

“The ceremony was for you too, even if we couldn’t say it,” said Daisy.

“We’d better get back to the party,” said Alma. “People will start to wonder.”

The women, one by one, kissed Jane’s cheek or patted her shoulder or gave her another
quick hug. Each of them turned and took a different path into the trees, so they would
not all reappear at the party at once. In a moment Jane was alone.

Jane walked to Council House Road, got into the Volks­wagen Passat, and drove it the
last miles to Ray Snow’s garage. She pulled the car into a space between a couple
of the other cars he had refurbished. As she got out of the Passat, Ray Snow came
out of the bay where he had a Toyota up on the lift. He was wiping his hands on a
red shop rag.

“Hey, Jane. Welcome home. I finished your Volvo a week or so ago. How was the loaner?”

“It was great, Ray. But I’m afraid I drove it really hard. I’d like to pay you extra
for the miles and depreciation.” She handed him the keys.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I already added enough to your Volvo’s repair bill
to cover anything you did to the VW.”

“Please,” she said.

“Not a chance. I’m already charging too much. Come on in, and I’ll get your bill and
the keys to your car.”

He went behind his workbench where there was a counter with a computer and printer,
and in seconds the printer was rolling her bill out onto the tray. “I heard Jimmy
Sanders came home too.”

“That’s right,” she said. “They had an Edge of the Woods for him today.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I heard that was happening, but I couldn’t go on a workday, with
people waiting for their cars. I’ll go see him in a day or two.”

“He’ll be glad to see you.” She took the bill, looked at it, and said, “Two hundred
dollars?
Two hundred
?”

He shrugged. “I’m in a good mood.”

“You’re always in a good mood,” she said. “I don’t know what’s the matter with you.”
She pulled a wallet out of her purse, gave him two hundreds, and took her Volvo’s
keys. “I’ll see you, Ray.”

Ray watched her get into her white Volvo and drive off. He walked to the Volkswagen
Passat to see what sort of wear she had actually put on it. He opened the door, sat
in the driver’s seat, inserted the key, and listened to the engine while he surveyed
the interior, and then looked down toward the odometer. He couldn’t see the dial because
there was a stack of bills propped in front of it. He took it off the dashboard and
counted twenty-five hundred-dollar bills. Jane had known he wouldn’t take the money
before she’d even gotten out of the car, so she had left it there.

A FEW HOURS LATER, DR
.
Carey McKinnon walked in the kitchen door of his house carrying a bottle of champagne
and a bouquet of summer flowers. He set the bottle on the counter, handed his wife
the bouquet, and took her in his arms. They kissed, and they stayed that way for a
long time before she pulled away.

She set the flowers on the counter. “How did you know?”

“I read the newspapers. I saw that this Crane guy was pretty much posthumously convicted
of the killing.”

“So you knew I’d come home.”

“Not necessarily today,” he said. “You may have noticed the roses I bought yesterday,
or the orchids from the day before. They’re in vases in the living room and dining
room. It’s like a funeral parlor in there.”

“I saw them,” she said. “It was a nice way to come home. I could tell you had been
thinking about me too.”

“Too?”

“Of course,” she said. “And maybe that you weren’t so mad at me for going away.”