Fire Wind (6 page)

*****

It was like a breath of fresh air to be free
of the stigma that the town had become to me in two short days. I
stopped the horse.

I looked about the scene of calm tranquility.
There was peace to be felt all around, but in me there was none. I
got down off the horse and tied it off to a shrub and walked on for
a ways.

Folding my hands together I bowed my head and
waited for words to come, but none came. There was so much to say,
but no fit way of expressing it. Finally in desperation I said,
“I’m sorry! I’ve made a mess of my life. I thought I was justified
to live outside of the law after what happened, but I’m not. Can
you forgive me Jesus?”

“
Always.”

I sank to my knees in relief and rested there
in the peace that followed. Looking up I asked, “Can you help me
clean up this town?”

“
Yes.”

I looked around, but saw no one. I’d asked a
question and gotten an answer. I was no closer to solving the boy’s
murder perhaps, but I’d have to take it on faith that help would
come.

Getting up I moved back to my horse and swung
into the saddle. I caught a hint of movement off to my right and my
eyes focused in on a solitary wolf standing there.

The wolf noticing my attention turned and
loped away out of view. Following a hunch I chased after the
wolf.

When I gained the ridge I saw the streaking
form of the wolf headed out across a small valley. I kicked the
Appaloosa forward until its hooves thundered in an echo of how fast
it could run.

By all accounts the old Marshal hadn’t been
too bright of an individual, but he’d had good taste when it came
down to horses. I rode through a thicket all the while looking for
the wolf.

I’d lost sight of him for a while now and I
was beginning to despair of seeing him again, when he casually
appeared on a promontory point not too far from me. I picked up
speed and incredibly the wolf didn’t move off as if sensing that I
was of no threat to him.

As I neared him he turned his intense probing
eyes to look out over the land to the other side of the promontory
point. Reaching the crest of the ridge I did too.

The first thing I saw were the buzzards
congregating in the distance. That was enough of a lead for me.

I looked about for the wolf, but he was gone.
I eased my horse forward with reluctance to a scene that no doubt
held more violence spread out upon the sand. Remembering the
details of the boy’s carved up body my pace quickened as my anger
took over once more.

Within minutes I was slowing to a fast trot
as gun in hand I rode in and among the remains of what must surely
have been an entire tribe of indians. They lay scattered about on
the ground as if running from something.

There were burn marks on the ground as if
from lightning strikes. Some of the bodies were literally blown
apart. What had wrecked such carnage as this?

The scene before me reminded me of the Civil
War back in the East. Getting down I walked toward a man who I
thought I still saw breathing.

Reaching him I saw that he was still alive.
Grasping his shoulder I watched his eyes flicker and hoping he knew
English I asked, “Did white men do this?”

He shook his head no almost imperceptibly. He
tried to speak, but his voice was beyond the ability to form words
because of dryness.

Rushing to my horse I grabbed the canteen
hung on the saddle and hurried back. Putting it to his lips I let
the man drink for a moment.

He half choked on the flow of water and I
pulled the canteen back quickly. He nodded and muttered out, “Kind
of you for a white man.”

“Who did this?” I asked pressing the man to
talk, as I didn’t think he had much longer.

His eyes opened, but what he saw was
somewhere else in time, “We thought it was the skin walkers. We are
always cautious of them, but you whites have them walk among you
all the time! So foolish, but it wasn’t them. It was the white
hairs. They have not hunted us for long time. They kill us now
because we know the secrets of the wind. They do not like us for
they know we the people are not deceived! They fear we tell you
white people secrets, but you are so blind!” The man rasped out in
exasperation.

“What is a skin walker?”

“A very old being from before the great flood
that wiped the world away. I speak to the first flood and not to
the one you call Noah.”

I stared at the man blankly. It was obvious
to me that this indian had a firmer grasp on matters of theology
than I did. I didn’t have a clue as to what he spoke of.

“They are serpent like.”

“Come again?” I breathed out not sure I’d
heard what he’d said correctly.

“They can look like you and me, but spill a
little blood and see what happens!” The man rasped out in a dry
chuckle that looked like it hurt.

“The ones that did this to you, did they move
about in an object that looks like a glowing orb of light?”

The man’s eyes opened and for the first time
he seemed to actually be seeing me, “You saw them?”

“I saw the vessel I speak of once. Actually I
saw two vessels, but they were different somehow.”

“There are three kinds I know of. One very
small and childlike, ones that are giants with white hair, and then
the ones that are fiery spirits of flame. The fiery ones are good.
They help us or else we would all surely be dead long since.”

“Who do they work for?”

“The Great Spirit.”

I nodded, as I accepted how that fit in with
what I knew.

The man was looking at me strangely. Reaching
up weakly he poked at my chest, “You are not of this place. Where
do you come from?”

Why did this indian want to know this?

“My folks are from back East, back in
Tennessee.”

The man shook his head, “No, you are one of
the Star People.”

“Star People?”

“Long ago people of every nation were taken
as slaves into the heavens. Some of them returned. You are one of
them. You will kill these white hairs that do this to my
people?”

“I’ll try.”

“It is enough. They are the enemy of all men
regardless of color or nation. In this war we are unified.” That
said the man died in my arms.

He’d left me with more questions than
answers. Just how much of what the man had said was to be believed
as fact or disregarded as the ravings of a man near death?

Looking around at the scorched burn marks and
blown apart bodies I went with the former option on almost every
issue except for the Star People thing. I came from Tennessee and
that was that.

Standing up I took stock of the situation.
Some entity called a white hair, an admittedly evil entity, had
made piecemeal of this tribe and then not satisfied they’d taken a
boy and barbarically sacrificed him in front of the church in
town.

This war wasn’t reserved on indians only. It
was a war on humans in general.

Why not just blow the town up like they had
this tribe?

I thought about it and then I realized
something. These beings were evil and their offensive action
against the town had been a satanic rooted one and one targeted
against the church primarily and those who attended it.

Truly this was a battle between God’s people
and these beings of evil. How had I lived without any knowledge of
wars such as this one for so long? The dead man had said as much in
concern to the ignorance of whites.

Looking at the burn marks that must
constitute the power of the enemy’s guns also confirmed how they
had dropped the boy’s body off without leaving any tracks. Their
ships floated over the ground and it would’ve been a thing of ease
to set up the sacrifice spot in such a way as to stroke the
suspicious fears of those prone to being superstitious.

Truly this was a battle that would require
more than just the physical could offer. I turned and headed back
to my horse. I mounted up and rode off a ways.

I was bothered by something. Were the people
behind me, so seemingly more aware of what was going on, in a
better place right now or were they in hell?

“There is only one way to God, Taran.”

I turned to the side and saw the old indian.
It was a hard thing that he insinuated.

“You’re one of the good guys aren’t you? Why
didn’t you stop this? You must have the ability? Not only that, but
you also have the ability to make them believe!”

He shook his head no, “Not so Taran. Humans
have a free will to choose. Simply knowing a lot and not acting on
it gets no one anywhere of consequence. As to stopping the
bloodshed all I have to say is that this is not our world. This
world belongs to the fallen one and we but do the will of our
Master in heaven as we are assigned.”

“That’s your response to this wholesale
slaughter!” I exclaimed.

“Yes, Taran, but for you it is different. You
are human. Behind you lay members of your fellow kind, unjustly
slain, now what are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to hunt these white hairs down is
what!”

“No, they will come to you. Pray that we are
able to come to your aid.”

“What? You’re saying these people died
because someone wasn’t praying for them?”

“Many battles are lost in the spirit realm
before you see the results played out into the physical realm. It
is good to pray Taran. And not just for yourself, but for others
and there are many others, both here and elsewhere.”

He started to fade, but catching on to the
last part I exclaimed in question, “He was right about me! Tell me
what you know!” But he was already gone and I stared futilely into
the empty space where he had just been.

*****

Riding into town I stopped as I was hailed by
Thaddeus, “Find the killers Marshal?”

“Not yet.” I said noncommittally.

“Well that’s all right. He was just an indian
boy anyway.”

I rode on trying to hide how much his words
had irked me. What had changed in me?

I, who a week ago wouldn’t have cared one way
or the other, but now I found myself wanting to smash his teeth out
and then give him a kick to the ribs for good measure.

I dismounted at the livery and Nathan was
back out almost immediately, “How did he do for you Marshal?”

“Really well. Thanks again for the use of
him.”

Nathan had started to lead the Appaloosa away
when I asked, “Do you go to the church in this town?”

“Sure do Marshal.”

Nodding I asked, “Is the next get-together
going to be, Sunday?”

“Actually Pastor is holding a prayer meeting
right now. I’d already be there, but I knew you would be back so I
waited. You’re welcome to come if you want.”

Nodding I helped him unsaddle the Appaloosa
and then together we headed for the church.

The door opened noisily and I cringed at the
noise along with the sound of my echoing boot heels on the wood
floor. Only a few of the thirty odd people gathered looked up from
the silence of their prayers to see who had come in the door
though.

Nathan quickly made his way down the aisle
and stepped in to sit down by a sweet looking girl, who greeted
Nathan with a smile. They made a cute couple.

Looking from the innocent infatuation of the
young couple with each other I made a prayer on the spot that
whatever happened in the coming struggle that these two would be
together in the end and survive whatever happened.

I caught the Pastor, whose name was Lonigan,
motioning to me from the front of the church. Inwardly I cringed.
Longingly I looked at the last row of pews in the church before
making my way to the front hat in hand.

Pastor Lonigan stepped in close to whisper,
“I’m not trying to embarrass you, but as a man of leadership in the
community you need to be up here.”

I looked at him in wonderment. A position of
leadership in the community? Yeah right, only he wasn’t joking.

Awkwardly I sat down on the first pew of the
church and the Pastor sat down beside me and in a whisper asked,
“What did you find?”

I stared at the hardwood floor for a moment.
How to answer the man?

“Do you know what the indians refer to as a
white hair?”

The Pastor’s face tightened and he
nodded.

“Well then could you explain it to me,
because I don’t know what I’m dealing with?”

The Pastor nodded in understanding and I went
on, “I keep getting visited by the personage of an old indian,
which I think…… I know, is an angel. I don’t know why all this is
happening or how I got dragged into it, but I am!”

The Pastor looked from his folded hands to me
and asked softly, “Do you regret being involved by God in this
war?”

What kind of a question was that?

The more I thought about it though the less I
could come up to argue against my new spiritual awakening. Finally
I just shook my head no and went back to staring at the floor.

“Let’s pray Taran.”

“You still haven’t answered my
questions.”

Sighing he said, “I know as much as you do,
which is next to nothing in terms of these white hairs, but in
prayer perhaps God will reveal more to us. They are evil that much
I know. I also know that our best hope for victory lies in our
faith. Pray Taran.”

“I’m not much good at this praying
stuff.”

“That’s fine. The Lord loves a humble
attitude.”

The Pastor seemed to close off from me then
and I was left alone on the bench for the most part. I stared at my
hands as the whispered prayers of those gathered in the room helped
create a complex atmosphere of mood that was hard to explain.

I began going over in my mind everything that
had happened of late, only I made note to thank God for my
deliverances, my second chance, and the courage to take it. I
started to find myself praying for almost everything, even things
unconnected with the situation at hand.