Coming Down
His great-granddaughter and the women descended from the Indian ladies who had left their peoples to follow Sarah and establish a multilingual holy society called the Circle of Hope, were a quiet bunch, which suited him just fine. He disliked noisy trail-mates. The Mahican boys were skilled and eager to please and he liked them a great deal. Eggshell had told him almost immediately that he needed to leave in the interest of peace. He wanted to stay, and particularly liked early winter and late fall, so he talked her into sending him back from the place they called Planting Valley, near the site of one of his battles. That would set him just outside of Frederick Maryland, which was the only place he thought he had friends in the 21st Century. Since he would be going back naked he wanted to be close to a set of slacks at least, and Mister Jack and he both had the same leg length…
I love the Cheat River in November.
Push it dummy; push these boys hard. You need to get the ladies over the divide before the snows come.
I love these boys. They are a good bunch and not bad hunters either.
Eggshell called to him from the back of the canoe, “Grandfather, White Ash has asked to speak with you when we camp tonight.”
“Sure girl.”
I think that’s the one that got gang-raped—the pretty one.
Hey, cool, maybe she will ask you to hunt them that did it and you can stay for a while.
No sounds like she’s looking for a husband. She might be worried about getting pregnant and not having a husband?
It must suck to be the prettiest nun when the conquerors come.
They camped for the night on the Laurel Ridge above the headwaters of the Cheat and Youghiogheny. Just after dark the pretty holy woman came to him and stood. He looked up and she bowed. “I am White Ash, once of the Seneca. You slew my father’s grandfather, so I call you DeathSong, not Grandfather.”
Fair enough.
“DeathSong I have been raped; defiled!”
Okay, Jay Bracken the rape counselor? I did not bargain on this!
Help the girl out, you been there.
“Sorry ta hear dat girl. I hope you holdin’ up. Iz tough, I know—happenz ta da bes’ of us.”
“DeathSong, you are the Fury of God, chief of battlefields, eater of men. You do not mean for me to believe that you have been raped?”
“Well, don’ led it ged ‘round…But I been molested three times—no foolin’ girl.”
“I do not believe it. You are having fun with me. You are meaner even than I supposed.”
“Naw girl. Firs’ one was Fierce Woman, took me on a battlefield while I was bad hurt—didn’ mind really but it was embarrassin’. My commandin’ officer was pissed. Nex was dis dude Kreel—big tights-wearin’ queer—used ‘is hand on me ‘fore my wolf ate ‘im. Las’ was dis ornery lille black dog called Ojay—a freak he was. Well, dare you go girl, you ain’ alone.”
The tension fled from her young crisp voice and now she sounded empty, “I appreciate your effort to comfort me. But you, you are just a rude barbarian—some say a demon—I thought so myself when you ate Wolf Paw—alive. What does it matter to a fiend like you if he is defiled? Your life was mean and wicked before these things happened to you, and you are base enough to satisfy your self-esteem with lust or vengeance. I am—was—a holy woman. This requires celibacy, which has been taken from me.”
Her voice now filled with life again, taut with anticipation, as she leaned close to him, “I must now find another way to serve Hope’s Dream. I ask you then, DeathSong, Demon of Nearest Sunset, let me return with you?”
Ding-ding-ding! You won’t have to go back in the raw dummy!
“Sure girl, deal. Gotz ta warn ya dough; we headin’ ta Ojay’s house.”
She smiled. “Well DeathSong, then I suggest you cinch up your breechcloth.”
Dude, this little raped Indian chick just busted your balls.
Wow—good girl; way to hold-up.
Miss Ann
When they had translocated back at what he hoped would be the correct location, he had held her hand when she asked, with the result that he got to relive her memories, including watching the death of the White Faces and being raped by the whole Mahican war party. As it turned out, they ended up in the middle of the street in front of Miss Ann’s house, all decorated for Christmas. He looked to his right and saw that Jack’s van and RV were both in the driveway next door and the lights were on. It was about sundown. White Ash was in a state of awe—puppy-dog shock he would call it. Dressed in the best beaded buckskins that the Hope chicks had, they actually looked like a handsome couple he thought. She was actually an adult, twenty years old, so he didn’t feel like a daddy or a pervert holding her hand.
Not such a bad trip really, and no-one seemed to notice.
“‘Ey girl dis is my friend Miss Ann’s house, with the rapist lapdog and other ornery critters.”
She nodded and they walked up the stairs to the door. Just as he began to knock he noticed, among the collage of Jesus, Elvis, Santa Claus and Grinch pictures taped to the door, a photo of him sleeping naked—except for an elf hat—on the couch while three little dogs were eating a Christmas ham off a platter on the floor in front of him, and a little old white-haired lady leaned over the back of the couch and waved at the camera while she held a sign that read: My Christmas Man!
Eggshell laughed and poked him in the back. “They do not call you DeathSong here, do they?”
He just shrugged and knocked on the door. Excited voices could be heard from within, along with recorded Christmas carols and yipping dogs. The door swung open to reveal Jack Sample with Ojay, Johnny Cash and Charlie the Outlaw bouncing up and down and barking behind him.
“Hey Jay—nice to see you back. Come in.”
He walked in with White Ash nestled in the crook of his arm, apparently terrified of Ojay.
“I told ya he was a freak girl.”
Diane and Miss Ann were getting up off the couch. He could hear Miss Ann’s sweet little voice while he shook Jack’s hand, “I knew it! I told you Diane that my Baby Boy would be back. It’s Christmas you know, and Miss Ann needs her Christmas Man. I have to have someone to cook for. These rascallions have no table manners and you and Jack eat like birds—regular health nuts I tell you! Baby Boy! Filming a western I see—oh and look at your little beauty. Of course ‘Action Bracken’ should have a fine leading lady!”
Jack and Diane stepped back while the dogs sat at attention with tails wagging, and Miss Ann hugged them. “Oh my honey, it is so nice to see you. Oh she’s mine now Baby Boy.”
The tiny elderly lady put her arms around White Ash and guided her over to the couch while Jack mixed them some eggnog and Diane slapped him on the butt. “Welcome back Christmas Man.”
Miss Ann, sitting in her pink robe and slippers next to White Ash, pointed at his left hand. “Baby Boy, you lost some fingers! Let’s see.”
He raised his hand in embarrassment. “Jus’ one-en-a-half Miss Ann.”
“Oh, Jack, Diane, everybody sit down while Baby Boy tells us all about it…”
This is embarrassing.
“…Everyone sit—Ojay back—go on Baby Boy…”
He had to tell war stories for hours. They also got White Ash drunk, and she told her story, and then Diane started talking about castrating rapists…
The highlight of the night was when White Ash presented Miss Ann and Diane with wampum belts. For his part he gave Jack the knife he had brought forward with him. White Ash was smiling at him like she didn’t think he was a demon any longer. Then he got that ‘time to go’ feeling…
You know dummy, you can’t stay with these fine people and that beautiful hurt girl. You are being hunted by friends and enemies, and none of those people would make life better for any of these good folks.
Yeah, it’s go-time hillbilly.
Jack stepped up next to him. “I’m sure you’re in deep. She can stay here while you do what needs done. I’ll set you up with clothes and cash. Just make sure you come back again for Christmas, for Ann.”
Then Miss Ann put on the Elvis Christmas music and had White Ash singing along…
