The Curse of Dead Horse Canyon: Cheyenne Spirits

CHARLIE'S CABIN

RURAL FALCON RIDGE

June 10, Sunday

7:32 a.m.

Charlie stood on the south side of his cabin, coffee mug in hand, gazing upon what remained of the sweat lodge he and Eaglefeathers built. Its skeleton was in shambles. Weeds and small bushes, even a young Douglas fir, had overtaken it to the point of being unrecognizable.

Like his grandfather, it had returned to the Earth. Now a sacred place. Disturbing it didn't feel right.

He should build a new one.

He went inside his cabin to get what he needed for an offering. As the tobacco touched the ground he asked the Earth Mother for permission to use some of her resources and prayed that his efforts would be accepted by Maheo. He sat back on his haunches, sobered by the memory of his first ceremonial sweat.

Stumbling through a vast field of grass that towered above his head. Legs moving full speed with the predator's breath hot on his tail. He was a mouse who'd wandered too far from its den fleeing the fangs of a hungry fox. Other nightmarish visions assaulted him as well. Fiery eyes. Fangs dripping with venom.

He exhaled hard, trying to dismiss it and any potential for a rerun, when its symbolism abruptly made sense—running aimlessly away from the safety of his roots while the white man's world tried to consume him.

A clear message he wasn't ready to recognize, much less accept, back when he was a stubborn, rebellious youth lost between cultures.

What a blind fool he'd been.

Times changed. He changed. No longer renounced his heritage, which offended the grandfather spirits. This time would be different. He was different, not the same person he was back then.

Building a sweat lodge needed to be done according to specific traditional procedures. The first time was when he was fourteen. Uncle Joe Whitewolf's ritual fast on Novavose. Accomplished according to his grandfather's directions, then he served as its door keeper. It was a lot of hard work, something he was instructed to do. This time his efforts would confirm the commitment he'd previously lacked.

Peace swelled in his heart with the firmest of convictions there was nothing more important he could do that day.