Chapter 9: The Hunger

The Family

Saturday, there were chores to do and riders at the stable. Cole and Ashley took the Forest Service road up to the trailhead and hiked in to the base camp for their hired hands. The situation was tense.

The oil company had hired ‘security’ people, supposedly to guard their equipment. In reality, they had spent the night in ATVs racing in circles around the site, spooking the cattle off in all directions. All Cole’s cowboys were on their horses attempting to round up cattle that had scattered as much as a mile away. There was a small meadow half a mile north that was sufficiently far from the continued noise that they could gather the herd to get ready to drive them back to the ranch. It would take all weekend.

Cole was storming when he returned to the ranch.

“Blake, this is Gold Watch Cattle Company,” he said into the phone. Ramie looked up at her father from across the desk they shared. She’d never heard of Gold Watch Cattle Company. “Well, we hoped we were out of the business. I know it’s been a long time.— No, the wolves haven’t been a problem for five years now. You guys did good work protecting the cattle without calling attention to yourselves.— You don’t have people working on the Shale Oil team, do you?” Ramie listened as her father spoke to the unknown person about a company she didn’t know about. “Just wanted to make sure. I need your help, but I didn’t want to risk a conflict of interest.— Yeah, they’re spooking our cattle and stampeding them up on the ridge faster than we can round them up to drive down the mountain.— How long?— We’re looking for no casualties. I think Mother Earth will take care of that. Let’s roll.” Cole hung up the phone and stared up at his daughter and wives. “Gold Watch Cattle Company is back in business.”

There wasn’t time to explain with the number of people out riding on a sunny Saturday. Ramie and Kyle had warned everyone off the trails up to the ridge and had their hired hands go out to block those trails with yellow tape. As riders returned in the afternoon, the four hired hands and two owners assisted with saddles and trailer loading for those who had just come in for the day. It seemed like there were an awful lot of them, but people were finding National Forest and BLM trails closed.

“I’ll tell you what we need to do,” one weekend cowboy was holding forth at the campfire. It was part of the atmosphere of the ranch that they kept a fire circle with hot coffee on the most popular days. Sometimes people hung out after their rides or had lunch picnics at the circle. Ramie looked at the dude who was speaking and recognized Rex Wilson, a lawyer from Laramie. He prided himself in having the biggest horse on the ranch so he could look down on everyone else when he rode. The animal had the temperament of an old plow horse, though, and Rex could seldom keep up with other riders on the trail. “We need to send about fifty bulldozers in there and bury that Indian village and the Earth Sister bitch with them. This country runs on oil and industry. You’d think they’d have learned their lesson at Standing Rock.”

Ramie seethed, but it only got worse as several of her regular boarders rolled their eyes and said goodbye. Rex wasn’t finished and Ramie wondered if he’d been drinking out on the trail.

“We’ve had too much land tied up by the government for too long. Why are we spending money for people and resources to patrol millions of acres of land that no one uses? If we can make some profit off the land, we should be putting it into the economy. Quit sucking people dry,” Rex continued to the two people remaining at the campfire.

Ramie walked over with a bucket of water and dowsed the fire creating billowing smoke and steam that blew directly onto the blustering dude.

“Hey, bitch! Watch what you’re doing. We’re having a nice chat here.”

“We’re closing up for the day. Time to head out, guys.” The other two tossed the remains of their coffee and put their tin cups on the table.

“I pay good money for my rights here. If I say I’m staying for a while, I’m staying,” Rex said.

“Not anymore,” Ramie said. She reached in a shirt pocket and counted out $300 in twenties. “Your horse costs too much to feed. Can’t make a profit on him. Not to mention the extra time my hands have to spend grooming him and taking care of his oversize tack. And nobody likes having you around. So, here’s a refund on your boarding for the month. If your horse is still here on August 1, he’ll be turned out with the rescues. Be happier there anyway.”

“You can’t do that.”

“This is LK Stables. I’m the L. It’s mine and I can choose who I want as a boarder. I don’t want you.”

“Do you know who I am?” he demanded. Ramie could smell the liquor on his breath as he moved into her personal space.

“Another dude who talks out his ass about his own shit. We’re through. Get out.”

“You can prepare to see me in court, Miss L. I’ll own this place when we’re done.” It looked for a moment like he was going to take a swing at Ramie, but suddenly noticed she was picking her fingernails with a large knife. Kyle was approaching with a rifle laid across his arm.

“Problem, Laramie?” Kyle asked.

“No. Mr. Rex Wilson has violated ranch policy by drinking on the trails and creating a public nuisance. I’ve terminated his boarding lease and he was just nicely leaving. That big horse of his gets full board for the rest of the month. If he hasn’t been moved by then, he goes to pasture with the rescues. Seems an appropriate place for him.”

After another scowl at Ramie and Kyle, Rex headed for his Escalade and drove out of the ranch. Kyle pulled out his cell phone.

“I’d like to report an apparent drunk driver,” he said. “White Escalade with Wyoming plates headed toward Laramie on 238 from Centennial. Just observed erratic driving. Seemed to be going pretty fast, too. You’re welcome. Have a nice day.” He grinned at Ramie.

“God, can the shit get any deeper?” Ramie said as the family gathered together. “I probably handled that dude all wrong, but when he started talking about burying Mandy and the village, I sort of lost it. He’s another one of those assholes that figures that if something doesn’t benefit him directly he shouldn’t have to pay for it.”

“Well, you’re probably right about that,” Cole said. “Could have been handled better, but so could a lot of things. We’re standing at the brink of a war. We might not be able to protect all land everywhere, but we’ll protect this land.”

“Speaking of which, who the hell is Gold Watch Cattle Company?” Ramie demanded. Cole, Ashley, and Mary Beth laughed.

“We told you about it years ago,” Ashley said. “But you were too bent on how your parents had turned crazy to listen to what we were saying.”

“Wasn’t that about the range war and how much it cost to have 5,000 head of cattle?” Kyle asked.

“Yes, but it was also about how we got the money to support all the ranchers in the county—well, except one—and provide food and security to outwait the market pressure,” Cole said.

“You mean when you were time traveling,” Kyle continued. “You built up a few million in gold and stuff.”

“Yes, but it also had to do with meeting Philemon Morgan the Third when he was time-traveling as the prospector Bill Campbell. We created a partnership back in 1888 and it was symbolized by two gold watches.” Cole pointed to the mantel on which a bell jar encompassed a gold watch on display. We told you that belonged to the original Kyle Redtail Wardlaw and was passed down through the Alexander line. The assets are all held in a trust with the stated purpose of protecting the land.”

“Pa, did you ever talk to Cait and Phile about time traveling?” Ramie asked.

“No. After the way you and Kyle reacted to it, we decided we’d put it off. Then you and Kyle started time traveling and it never occurred to me that there would be more than the pair of you in this generation.”

“If we hadn’t been so pig-headed, our siblings might have been warned. They might at least have known that we could share with them. We made so many mistakes!” Ramie moaned.

“Before we read, we should take a look at the recording of what happened today at Yellowstone,” Aubrey said. “It was interesting.”

Fourth Live Report

“This is Evan Waitley at the Yellowstone Grizzly Village, filling in for Sarah d’Angelo who is recovering from a vicious wolf attack at this site yesterday. We keep her in our prayers as she recovers from this trauma.”

“I bet it was traumatizing to have that big wolf piss on her,” Miranda laughed. “I’d hardly call it a vicious attack, though.”

“At the end of the broadcast yesterday, Earth Sister promised that today she would darken the skies. As you can see, it is bright and sunny here at Yellowstone. A messenger from the Park Service, who have been the only ones allowed in or out of the camp other than Earth Sister, indicated that she would emerge at noon today. And you can see her as she steps over the earth embankment that surrounds the village. She should be here shortly. The Park Service has been firm about not allowing our crews to get closer.”

“Do you get the impression that the government is playing both sides?” Ashley asked. “They’re enforcing the leases, but they are also protecting the protestors.”

“When Earth Sister promised a darkening of the skies, this reporter did some research. Historically, solar eclipses have been used by the savvy to cow primitive civilizations into believing their mystical powers. However, in our scientific age, we know and can predict solar and lunar eclipses. I was encouraged to note that there are no such predictions for today in any part of the world. As you can see, the sun is bright and the only thing above us is a lone bird circling high overhead. And here is Earth Sister.”

The camera shifted as a microphone was quickly clipped to Mandy’s dress and the wireless transmitter attached to her belt.

“Earth Sister, we might as well come straight to the point,” Evan said. His style was far more brusque than the previous reporter. “You promised darkened skies today. What kind of trick do you have in store?”

“You have witnessed animals of every species native to the Yellowstone over the past three days,” Mandy said. “And still you believe in trickery. We have no magic illusions for you. We have only Mother Earth’s natural protectors. But you have seen only those who dwell on the surface. I call you to witness the presence of those who dwell in the sky.” Mandy raised her hand and the camera panned up to the lone bird continuing its lazy circles. At the same time, the drums in the village began a new rhythm.

“One bird?” Evan asked. Then, as the camera held, another bird appeared and another. From the angle of the camera, the birds appeared to be flying out of the sun as more and more appeared in the sky. In minutes, there were hundreds of birds in the sky, their shadows passing over the village and the reporter. And still more kept pouring through the light.

There was a growing hum on the broadcast and the camera swung from the birds down a level to see swarms of insects launching from the grass into the air, emerging from the woodlands, and coming down from the mountains. Flies, mosquitoes, bees, locusts. Then, from the north came a cloud of bats. The birds, thousands of them now, blocked out the sun as they dove and fed on the insects rising to meet them.

Evan slapped at a mosquito. Earth Sister laughed.

“Don’t worry. They have nothing against you personally,” she said to the reporter. “Just a demonstration so you know it is not an illusion.”

“A mosquito? Not much...” Bird shit hit the microphone in the reporter’s hand and dripped onto him. “Nice. Just great,” he mumbled.

“It is not only the animals of the earth, but also those of the air that come to protect our Mother. But unseen to you, her creatures of the water and even those who dwell beneath the earth are rising to defend her.”

“What next?” Evan asked. “The biblical plagues included boils and frogs, if I remember rightly.”

“And even then, it took death before Pharaoh let the people go,” Mandy said. So, she was versed in other mythologies than her own. “Sadly, the corporations will not set Mother Earth free until death is rained down on them. You have seen the companies of her warriors. But you have not seen them together. When the battle begins, utter destruction will reign.”

“Tomorrow?” Evan asked.

“Tomorrow is a day of prayer and fasting. Just a thousand people in the village have joined their voices in support of Mother Earth and you have seen the response. Tomorrow we ask that people of all faiths—and those of no faith—join their voices with ours as we consider the land. And as we pray, we will also mourn for those warriors whose lives will be lost. Monday will be a good day to die.”

Mandy took off her microphone and handed it to the technician standing by. She turned to the village and the drums changed their rhythm. In the time it took her to return to the village, the sky cleared and just one lone bird continued to circle.

The Family

“I think I should read this next part,” Jason said when the family had found their places. “I have a deep sense of foreboding and I need to be the one to give it voice.”

“We love you, Jason,” Ramie and Miranda said together. There was an odd timbre to her voice when they both used it at the same time.

“I hope you always will,” he answered lifting a batch of papers from the box.

Phile: Building Drums

It took a while and several dreams to convince Merv that we whites, including two women, could learn to make drums and even then, he withheld certain tasks from us. Ramie and Kyle were still putting in a couple afternoons a week at the gun shop in town, so Caitlin and I acted like responsible adults and took a job with Merv’s trading post. The truth was that we sat in his back room, mostly watching him as he prepared the wood and a frame in which to bend it.

“Why are you using plywood for the frame?” I asked. It was certainly different than what we were learning in before-time with Two Sticks.

“It is the way most drums are made today,” he said. “It bends and stabilizes. If we used solid wood, it would take much longer and be prone to breaking. It takes a long time to build a drum of dogwood. And you are asking for large drums,” Merv explained as if we were babies.

“Grandfather,” Mandy spoke softly. “The Wolf Twins are learning from Two Sticks in the sacred mountain. The knowledge is here...” she pointed at our heads, “but our bodies must be trained in the way. Can you do less than Two Sticks?” Merv sighed and scowled at us.

“It is not simply the knowledge, children.” I was a little irritated. We were sixteen and functioning with two complete lives beneath our belts. I hardly thought we were children. “The wood curves against its grain to meet itself in the shape of a circle, the symbol sacred to Indian tribes sensitive to the harmony of the universe. The hide stretches across it. The laces pull and bind until it captures within itself the rich roll, the deep thunder, the soft murmur. It becomes a drum. This you can do. The skill can be taught. The drum will look and sound the same. It will even work to move you to your other selves. But it will not be a Cheyenne drum. The Twin Wolves can make Cheyenne drums because they are of the People and White Mouth has brought them to the teacher himself. Even after applying themselves for months with Two Sticks, they will not be skilled. But even if your mind is the same, your body is not Cheyenne. It is not in your blood. You are vé’ho’e.”

“Ma’heónėhetane, how will we make the thunder drum that White Mouth says we need?” Caitlin asked. “We need to ... create. Two Sticks has said no Cheyenne drum that large has ever been made.” Merv sat quietly for a few minutes. We didn’t disturb him. We needed to make a Cheyenne drum unlike any that had been made before. I understood in an odd way. There was so much cultural appropriation going on that the People were ever more conscientious when it came to keeping their ritual pure. But if we wouldn’t have adequate skills even after studying with Two Sticks, how would we ever succeed? At last Merv looked up and searched our eyes. He suddenly looked much older than the 70 years I knew him to be.