Shaxoa's Gift (6 page)

Turning away from the desk, I moved to
Uriah’s bookshelf. He and his father had made the shelf together.
Unlike anything Cole had ever attempted to make with my father, it
was very well made. None of the four shelves sagged in the least
and every corner was perfectly square. Scanning the titles of the
books, I remembered many of them.
Great Expectations
and
The Iliad
were stuffed behind another row of books.

Neither book had been Uriah’s cup of tea, or
mine for that matter. Uriah had loved reading
The Odyssey
,
but had found the endless political intrigue of
The Iliad
a
bit harder to get through. As for
Great Expectations
, I
don’t think anyone in either of our classes understood the point of
that book. I wondered, if I read it again, whether I would
understand it any better now. Pushing the book back into its place,
I decided I didn’t care enough to test the theory.

Many of the classics were present on Uriah’s
shelves, but so were his favorite type of books. Uriah loved
mysteries. His collection ranged from
Hardy Boys
, his
favorite books as a young boy, to the much thicker novels of John
Grisham and Tom Clancy. I was more partial to Jane Austen and Emily
Bronte, but after much coaxing, Uriah and I had begun trading a few
of our favorites with each other. We found ourselves actually
enjoying them quite a bit.

On the very bottom shelf was a photo album
the size of a large hardback book. Touching the faux leather
exterior, I gently pulled the book onto my lap. It was our book.
Our memories. My fingers trembled as I started to open the front
cover. The desire for Daniel swept over me as if it knew I was
trying to defeat it. Forcing my hand to open the book, I blinked in
relief when Uriah’s smiling face stared up at me.

An irrational fear that the photos would have
been stolen away, just as my memories were being pushed deeper into
my mind, had me expecting to see only blank pages. But there they
were. The first few pages were of a school trip we had gone on to
tour Las Alamos National Labs. I think everyone had been expecting
something a little more exciting or dangerous than what was really
there, but the trip had still been a lot of fun.

The next few pages held pictures of Uriah and
me riding through the desert hills on our horses. Closing my eyes,
I remembered the many afternoons we had spent together riding and
exploring. Every once in a while Cole would join us, or our friends
from school like Tyler and Lana, but most of the time it was just
the two of us, building memories in the bluffs and valleys of the
New Mexican desert.

Coming out of my reverie, I turned each page
of the photo album slowly, remembering every picture, every kiss,
embrace, or special moment that went along with each one. I wrapped
myself in the comforting blanket of my memories, promising myself
that I would be strong enough to keep my love for Uriah. He was out
fighting, in whatever way he could, and I would do no less. I would
fight however hard I had to in order to hold onto my memories.
Uriah was worth more than anything I might be forced to give
up.

Finally coming to the end of the book, I was
reluctant to put it down, but my eyes were starting to close on
their own by then. Setting the album on Uriah’s bed, I trudged back
to the desk for the toothbrush I had left there. The tiny bathroom
was really much too small for everything that had been squeezed
into it, but it was better than wandering through the house to the
larger main bathroom.

Standing in front of the mirror, I caught a
glimpse of myself for the first time since waking up. I was shocked
at my appearance. My hair needed to be brushed very badly, and my
face was red and swollen. Picking a small brush up off the counter,
I slowly ran the brush through my hair.

The methodical motion was calming. It
reminded me of the way Uriah liked to run his fingers through my
hair. He always told me how much he loved the color of my eyes and
hair, and I knew he meant it, but I sometimes teased him that he
only liked the color because it was different from the other pueblo
girls’ hair, velvet brown instead of pure black.

After splashing some water on my face, I
started to brush my teeth. Even the toothpaste made me think of
Uriah. The spicy mint flavor made me miss his kisses desperately.
My eyes started to burn with tears, but I did not want to cry
again. I had to be strong. I rinsed my mouth and splashed cold
water on my face again. I turned the light off and stepped back
into his room and considered my clothes. I was grateful, though a
little embarrassed, that someone had taken off the ceremonial Tewa
dress I had been wearing when I collapsed, but I really did not
want to sleep in my jeans.

Walking over to Uriah’s closet, I ran my
hands along his hanging clothes. I picked out a long t-shirt and
held it to my face. Breathing in the scent of it, I could picture
him wearing the shirt. Quickly, I threw off my own clothes and
pulled the shirt over my head. It wasn’t what I really wanted, but
it would have to do.

Climbing into Uriah’s bed, I folded my arms
around the photo album. My heavy eyelids closed, but my mind was
not ready for sleep. Lying in my own house at night, I had imagined
many times what it would feel like to lay in Uriah’s bed. I had
never pictured myself there without Uriah lying right next to me,
his strong arms encircling me. The emptiness of the bed filled me,
and the tears I had been holding back came rushing out.

I cried, terrified of what the future would
bring. Thoughts of Daniel kept creeping into my mind, but I forced
them away, screaming into the pillow when memories of Uriah seemed
too hard to find. I battled against the pain and fear I felt. All I
wanted was to have Uriah back with me, to have him wrap his arms
around me and tell me that everything would be alright. My body
shook from desperation and the fight to think of only Uriah.

Slowly exhaustion overrode the fear and pain,
and even the ever present pull toward Daniel. My mind fell,
thankfully, into oblivion.

5: Too Far Away

The summer sun was hot, even just after dawn.
Talon’s furry body complimented the heat on my face. His head was
resting on my shoulder with his eyes still closed peacefully. I
knew there were other animals keeping watch, and I was sure Talon
was grateful for the chance to rest. Even with me driving at a
slower pace than usual, Talon was still exhausted from running for
so long.

Not wanting to disturbed my friend, I laid
under the pink and orange desert sky, watching two falcons dart
back and forth. My thoughts were not on the birds, however, but on
Claire and the Hano Shaxoa. I had no name for the woman, but I
doubted that she would be hard to find. Even in San Juan, if
residents knew no one else, they knew who the Shaxoa was, and they
stayed away from her. I doubted it would be any different in
Hano.

My fingers slid beneath my shirt and brought
out the leather necklace Quaile had given me. The symbol hanging
from the thin strip of leather represented the shaman’s authority.
The outer rim of the weaving held colors and designs specific to
San Juan Pueblo. I knew Quaile had been speaking honestly when she
said the Hano shaman would help me if I showed her the token.

The trouble was, I didn’t know whether I
wanted to use the symbol or not. Trusting Quaile had proven a
dangerous thing. Would trusting the Hano shaman prove the same?
Quaile spoke of her own knowledge and wisdom often, but was very
reluctant to share it with me, even when it could mean the
difference between life and death. I would do what was necessary to
save Claire from the Twin Soul bond, but I did not want to find
myself walking into another mess I had no idea how to get out
of.

Seeking out the Shaxoa on my own could prove
just as dangerous, though. Or most likely, even more dangerous.
Zarafen was the Shaxoa in San Juan Pueblo who had given Claire’s
father, Thomas Brant, the potion that made me race across the
desert to find Daniel. She was spiteful and evil, but according to
Quaile, very limited in her powers. The Hano Shaxoa was known by
Quaile to be very powerful, and most likely, viler than any other
Shaxoa. Either choice seemed likely to end in catastrophe, but I
was determined not to fail Claire again.

“Your thoughts are dark for such an early
hour,” Talon said. His wide yawn stretched his jaw to the
limit.

“Sorry,” I said, “did I wake you?” In truth,
I was glad he was awake. He needed to rest in case I needed him
later, but I was also very eager to get into Hano.

“I was waking up anyway.” Talon stretched his
great paws and settled back against me. A second yawn forced his
mouth wide enough that I thought he might be able to fit his jaws
around my head with very little effort. “How do you want to begin
today?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Quaile wanted me
to speak with the Hano shaman first, but I’m worried I won’t be
able to trust her. I’m worried about going to the Shaxoa on my own,
too. Neither choice seems all that great, but I’m leery of
approaching the Shaxoa by myself. What do you think?”

“I would suggest beginning with the shaman,
not because it was Quaile’s suggestion, but because I will be able
to tell you whether or not she is lying. I do not know whether I
will be able to do the same with the Shaxoa. My kind have never
dealt with the Shaxoa before.”

Lucky cougars, I thought to myself, before
remembering that Talon was speaking to me through my thoughts and
not with actual words. Talon only nodded in agreement.

“I think you’re right about speaking to the
shaman first, as long as you’re sure you’ll be able to tell me what
she’s thinking. You won’t be able to come so close to her like you
did with Quaile.”

“I believe I will be able to find her
thoughts once you are speaking with her. I will only come as close
as I need to. I won’t be seen by anyone,” he assured me.

“How do I even find their shaman?” I didn’t
know her name, either. What had Quaile expected me to do, walk
around town aimlessly until I found her? Did she really not know
her name? I knew our two communities weren’t very close anymore,
but I would have thought that the two shamans would have at least
stayed in contact with each other.

“With such a small community, the first
person you ask should be able to direct you to the shaman,” Talon
said.

I was not keen on the idea of walking up to a
stranger and asking to see their shaman, but I had little time to
pussyfoot around the town. I would ask the first person I met. It
felt strange to me to even think about doing so. Growing up, I had
been taught about the Hano Tewa. They had broken away from the main
tribe after the second Pueblo Revolt against the Spaniards in the
sixteen hundreds. Growing up in such a close knit community, I had
often felt like the Hano Tewa weren’t really part of our tribe
anymore.

Our Elders would never be approached by an
outsider without first being questioned and introduced by someone
well respected in the community. I felt like a nosy child,
intruding where I didn’t belong. Fingering the necklace again, I
hoped it would be enough. I was so helpless, having to ask for help
so often when I wanted to be the only one Claire truly needed.
Swallowing my pride, I tucked the necklace back under my shirt and
turned to Talon.

“It’s not too early to head into town, is
it?” I asked. Glancing at the slowly rising sun, I was usually up
just after dawn to begin work on the ranch, but I also knew that
not many others followed the same schedule. I hated to delay any
longer, though. There was no telling how long it would take to
convince the shaman and Shaxoa to help me.

“The scouts have already spotted a few people
out of their houses. You may at least be able to ask about the
shaman and find out what time would be best to approach her,” Talon
said.

Wishing I had been able to clean myself up a
little before leaving San Juan again, I ran my fingers through my
hair and hoped I didn’t look too grubby. “Alright then,” I said,
“stay close by. I’ll let you know if I need you.”

“Be strong, Uriah,” Talon said. Rubbing his
head gently against my leg, he leapt away soon after to rejoin the
scouts.

I felt so vulnerable as I walked away from
the cougar. I was beginning to believe Talon’s assumption that the
Matwau was unable to hunt me, but I felt like I was about to walk
into something that might prove just as dangerous. And this time, I
had no one to back me up.

Talon and I had camped only a short distance
from the town, so walking across the sandy stretch of land took
only a few minutes. At first glance, the town reminded me very much
of the San Juan I had grown up in. Most of the houses were old, but
well cared for, and the absence of any street signs or traffic
lights made me smile.

At this early hour, the streets were still
bare. I wandered toward the center of the small town hoping to find
a store or gas station already open for business. Passing through
the main part of Hano, I found no one. Even the solitary gas
station was not yet open. Making my way further down the street, I
wondered where these people were that the scouting coyotes had
seen.

The familiar bleating of sheep caught my ear
and drew me to the west. The houses thinned quickly and I
recognized the split rail fences of a corral. The sounds and smells
of the animals made me miss my home even more, though I had not
thought it was possible. Knowing that the animals’ caretaker would
have been up for a while, I approached the fence. A middle aged man
emerged from a small shed with the sheep’s morning meal of
grain.

Spotting me at the fence, the man’s eyes
narrowed as he took in the sight of me. He suddenly reminded me of
my father, causing my throat to seize. Tall and gruff, covered in
hay and dust, he simply watched me. I tried not to fidget, knowing
that I wasn’t looking my best. “Hello, sir,” I said politely.