Walker of Time (22 page)

After giving Tag a few minutes to absorb what he had just said, Walker continued, “There are two catches to your going back.”

Tag looked at him. Walker waited for Tag to ask the logical questions. Tag just waited for him to explain.

“First, if you choose to return, it must be done soon—no
later than tomorrow before dark.” Again Walker paused, waiting for questions. When none came, he went on, “Second, if you go back, Great Owl cannot guarantee that you will go back to the exact time you left.”

Silence.

“I think what you are trying to tell me is that I may not end up back on the day I left,” Tag said. Reading the expression on Walker's face, he added in a low voice, “I might not get back in the same year—or even in the same century?”

Walker nodded.

Silence.

“Walker, I could take Small Cub with me! Wherever we ended up, he would have better medical care than he can get now. I could get him to a doctor. I could save him, just like your uncle saved you.”

“Tag, think for a minute what taking Small Cub out of this time period would do to him,” Walker said.

“It was all right for you when your uncle took you.”

“Náat took me to a twentieth-century environment that is similar to life here. The Hopi culture parallels this culture so closely that it even scares me. You yourself said going to our villages was like going back in time hundreds of years. There was no huge culture shock or adjustment for me. The languages are so much alike that even that was not a big problem. If you took Small Cub back to your way of life . . .”

“It would be too much for him to handle.” Tag's voice held realization and disappointment.

Silence.

“I know! What if I go back just long enough to get some medicine, enough for everyone, and then zap back here with it.”

“I'm afraid there isn't that much time left.” Walker reached out and touched Tag's shoulder. “You must decide what is best for you and you alone.”

Silence.

Tag nodded. “I'll decide before it's too late. It is not going to be easy.” He gazed down at Small Cub. A tear slipped down his cheek. He brushed it away with the back of his hand. He turned to look at Walker. “What are you going to do if and when you actually become chief?”

Walker answered in a low but firm voice, “Take my people home.”

Tag placed the last piece of wood on the dying fire. The yellow flames licked the new log as if it were an ice cream cone. Tag moved closer to Small Cub's mat. He reached out and brushed a tangled strand of long, black hair away from the sleeping boy's eyes. Small Cub's smooth, soft cheek was warm. Tag felt the boy's forehead; it was just warm, not hot. A feeling of relief washed over Tag. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

Despite Small Cub's improvement, Tag's chest and shoulders felt as if a weight hung around his neck like a huge yoke. In the very early hours of the morning, while he could still see stars twinkling in the sky outside Great Owl's doorway, he had made his decision. Was it the right one? he wondered now, feeling burdened and depressed.

He opened his eyes. Tears blurred his vision. Tag wiped his eyes and tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Small Cub mumbled something and thrashed his legs about. Tag
reached out and took his hand, holding it tight. “It's okay. I'm here,” he said. Maybe Small Cub wasn't really getting better. The lump in Tag's throat grew larger.

Maybe he should ignore what Walker had said about taking Small Cub into the future for medical help. He couldn't just leave knowing that Small Cub could be dying. If he hurried, he could take Small Cub before Walker and the others returned from the meeting place. They had been gone only about ten minutes. It would take a lot longer to make Walker chief, especially if Gray Wolf had anything to say about it. He could strap Small Cub to his back while he climbed up the cliff to the cave.
He couldn't weigh very much
, Tag thought anxiously. Kneeling, he slipped one arm under the boy's shoulders, the other one under his legs. Gently, he lifted Small Cub up, cradling him close to his chest. “Come on, little buddy, we're going time walking,” Tag said, trying to stand up.

“Ingu. Ingu,” Small Cub called, his eyes still shut.

Tag's heart stopped. He hugged Small Cub tightly, resting his chin on Small Cub's head. “Ingu,” he whispered. “Mother.” This was one of the few words he had learned here. “Of course, you want your mother, just like I want mine,” Tag said, his voice cracking. He eased Small Cub down on his mat and covered him up with the fur blanket.

Tag sat back on his knees, tears washing down his face. “Walker was right. I can't take you with me. You belong here with your family.” He realized that he had been a fool to think that he could. With both hands, he wiped his wet cheeks, but his eyes were still blurry.

He reached for Walker's backpack, which lay nearby. Opening it, he fumbled inside, then pulled out the ancient paho and one of his sneakers. Walker had gotten their clothes
out of the storage room before anyone was awake, explaining, “You are going to need these again back in the future, but wait till you get in the cave to change.”

Now after just a few days, the clothes looked almost foreign to Tag. The shoes felt heavy and awkward. His bright T-shirt seemed foolishly garish. Drawing out his rolled-up blue jeans, he wondered how he could ever have thought that these stiff, scratching pants had been comfortable. They certainly would be confining compared to his loincloth, Tag realized, searching the pockets. He found his Boy Scout compass, and using his T-shirt, he polished the fingerprints off the metal casing.

“Small Cub,” he said leaning down close to him. “Listen, buddy, I need to talk to you before the others come back. I know that you probably can't hear me, but I have got to . . .” Tag swallowed hard, trying to go on. “I have got to go back to my mom and dad. I want you to know that I will never forget you or your people.” A sob shook Tag's body. How he wished he could stay to help, but he knew he couldn't for many reasons, some of which he didn't even fully understand. Maybe everyone did indeed belong to just one time and place. What about Walker? Where did he belong? He was caught between two homes, two peoples, two worlds. How could he give up either one for the other?

Small Cub mumbled something, opening his eyes for a second.

“Small Cub,” Tag said, squeezing his hand, “can you hear me?”

The sick boy's eyes opened again. He squinted, trying to focus. He smiled weakly.

Tag's heart pounded against his chest. “I want you to have my Boy Scout compass to remember me by. I know it's
not much, but it's all I have.” He held up the shiny compass, so Small Cub could see it. “Look, it even has a mirror on the back, which comes in handy for combing your hair and stuff. I'll have Walker show you how to use the compass, so you'll never get lost.” Small Cub blinked, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. He closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep. “That's okay,” Tag said, placing the compass next to Small Cub. He reached up to smooth Small Cub's hair. “I'll just leave it here for when you feel better. You'll be the envy of every kid in the village, not to mention all the women who will want to use your mirror.” Tag tried to chuckle, but his throat was tight with a huge knot of emotions.

Walker looked up at the gray morning sky. Thick, dark clouds filled the canyon, making it impossible to see even the rim. The low lying, pewter-colored veil held no desperately needed rain. Its sole purpose seemed to be to isolate the canyon from the rest of the world while suspending it in time.

Following Son of Great Bear up the trail to the meeting place, Walker realized that the ominous cloud cover was the same as on that first day here when he had started his journey in time. He remembered wondering then if Náat's spirit had been one of those dark, flat clouds. A cold chill shook his body.
Náat, are you among these clouds, waiting for me to join you in death this day?
Fearful anticipation surged through Walker's body. He was glad that Tag was safe back at Great Owl's home and that he knew what must be done if he did not return alive.

The path grew steeper and narrower. Walker knew that within minutes he would stand before his people.
Great Taawa
, Walker prayed silently,
guide my thoughts, my words,
that I might accomplish what I was sent back to do. Touch my brothers and sisters that their hearts may be in harmony with mine
.

Walker saw the stone wall that surrounded the meeting place. The sound of thunder filled his ears. Or was it just his own heart pounding? Straightening his back and squaring his shoulders, he followed Son of Great Bear through the unguarded entrance.

Son of Great Bear stopped a few feet inside the walled area. Walker stood next to him. The villagers sat on the ground, huddled together in small groups facing the rock platform. Walker spotted Singing Woman, Morning Flower, and Flute Maiden, sitting side by side in the first row. Great Owl, dressed in his long, red ceremonial kilt and beaded skullcap, sat cross-legged next to Flute Maiden. Scar Cheek and his wife sat directly behind them with Arrow Maker and his family.

Walker recognized all but a few faces. These unknown men sat with families that he recognized. He guessed that they must have been the men who had accompanied Long Eagle to the sacred mountain. Would their loyalty to his father be transferred to him?

Walker's eyes continued to search the crowd till he saw Gray Wolf near the center of the fourth row. He sat ramrod straight with his head slightly thrown back and his arms folded firmly across his chest. He spoke to no one. A spear lay across his lap.

A hush fell over the people. In a wavelike motion, heads turned around. Walker felt hundreds of eyes fall on him then sweep past him toward the entrance.

Lone Eagle stood in the narrow entryway. He wore a knee-length white kilt. A brilliant blue, beaded figure of an
eagle with its wings outspread covered the front of it. Lone Eagle's gray, shoulder-length hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck. His thin shoulders and chest were bare. Pain and fatigue had dug deep furrows in his pale, sunken face.

White Badger stood at Lone Eagle's side. Walker realized that without White Badger's help, Lone Eagle would not have been able to walk up the steep path to the meeting place. He also saw that the strenuous climb had taken a heavy toll on his sick father.

Thunder rolled overhead, filling the canyon with echoes.

The cold fingers of worry tightened around Walker's heart. “Father,” he whispered, moving to Lone Eagle's side. He slipped his hand under his father's arm and felt Lone Eagle lean against him. White Badger moved back a step, letting Lone Eagle and Walker stand side by side.

“My son,” Lone Eagle said in a low voice, “we will take only a few steps together. Then you must walk alone.”

Walker felt all eyes on him as he helped his father to the platform in the center of the meeting place. His heart hammered against his chest. The scant twenty feet to the platform became an emotionally brutal journey that seemed endless.

Walker felt his father's full weight on his arm even before they reached the steps of the platform. At the platform, White Badger moved up from where he had been following to take Lone Eagle's other arm. Walker was grateful for his friend's help in getting his father up the three flat, stone steps.

Reaching the top of the platform, Lone Eagle stopped to catch his breath. His body trembled, and sweat beaded his pale forehead. He smiled and nodded at White Badger.
White Badger's eyes filled with tears. His face was pulled tight as he stepped back, returning the nod as if he had just received an intense, unspoken message.

Turning to look at Walker, Lone Eagle gripped his arm. “My son, time is short,” he whispered. His love-filled eyes searched Walker's face as if to memorize its every line and angle. “If only there were more time for us . . .” Tears veiled his dark eyes just as the clouds had curtained the canyon. Lone Eagle squeezed Walker's arm tightly, then pulled his body up as tall as he could. Letting go of Walker, he took slow, unsteady steps to the center edge of the platform. Walker followed, stopping a few feet behind him.