Zera and the Green Man (16 page)

“The Navajo have a maternal lineage tradition,” Hattie said. “Guinevere, I’m stunned. I had no idea. Sally never said a thing!”

Nonny shook her snow-white head. “Sally didn’t know. Over the years I began to fear that our history would die out with me, as I am the last of the Greens of our lineage, the last I know of anyway. All my cousins are gone, Sally’s gone, and Ted, well, Ted has chosen a path that seems to diverge from our values. I thought that this may be the natural order, to let old beliefs die. But as we see, now, that is perhaps not the way it is meant to be.” Nonny’s mouth tightened. “Still, all this scares the life out of me, Zera. Signs? Snakes? Hearing and seeing these things? I don’t feel brave about this at all, not one bit. In my very bones, I tremble.”

They sat silent, mulling it all over.

Grandma Wren stood. Her aged face was twisted with anguish. 

She addressed Hattie, dark eyes flashing. “You and Zera seem surprised at all of this. Why? Haven’t you felt the truths all along, that there is much more to this world than what you see?”

Hattie and Zera exchanged glances.
What do I really feel to be true, now, in my mind and heart?
Zera asked herself.
 

“Nellie,” Nonny said to Grandma Wren, “these two, and Ben, have been raised in a world where any kind of magic comes mostly from TV screens, electrical outlets, and batteries.
Give them time
.”

“Grandma,” Hattie said, standing up and looking out toward Pikes Peak, “it’s getting late. We should get to Tava.”

“Yes.” Grandma Wren rose from the loveseat.

“I’m going too,” said Nonny.

Hattie and Grandma Wren exchanged glances. “You should stay here. Zera will be fine with us,” said Grandma Wren.

Hattie’s face clouded. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, either.
Your leg, Guinevere, and the oxygen up there. We’ll be going to a place where there’s some rugged terrain, once we get to the top of the mountain.”

“I’ll be fine. And I want to be with my granddaughter.”

“The altitude . . . it can put a lot of stress . . .” Hattie began.

Nonny interrupted. “I
will
go.” She shot them a look that said the issue was settled.

Zera and her grandmother went inside to change into winter clothing as it would be near-freezing at the 14,000 foot summit. Back in the living room, they found Grandma Wren and Hattie had put on sweaters from the truck. Hattie had taken down her ponytail and brushed out her waist-length hair.

I wish Ben were going, but he thinks I’m a nut job. Maybe I am. Maybe we all are. 

Nonny approached Grandma Wren. “I don’t think we can drive up there. If I recall, they close the highway at dusk. I was thinking,” she paused, “Cosmic Dan’s the conductor at the Cog Railway this summer. He’d take us up there. And he’d wait for us, I’m sure.”

“I didn’t know he was working there,” said Hattie, suddenly cheerful.

“Yep,” said Nonny. “I told him that it surely was the very last job in this town he hadn’t held.”

A sly smile spread across Hattie’s face. “That man is something else.”

* * *

Though the Pikes Peak Cog Railway Depot was only five blocks away, because of their hurry, the grandmothers, and the fact that they’d be returning after dark, they took Ladybug. Hattie and Grandma Wren piled into the cab, but Nonny waited, watching as Zera climbed into the truck’s bed.

“Here, darling,” Nonny said, handing a wool jacket to Zera. “You know I’ve been waiting for your return to take your mother and father’s ashes up to the Peak?”

“Yes, you told me at Christmas. We’re not taking them now, are we?”

“No. I’d planned on the two of us going up there soon, though, that’s how I found out Dan was working there.” She looked worried. “I never imagined any of this.”

Zera nodded. “I know.”

Nonny’s eyes crinkled and Zera saw they were glistening.

Zera’s gut clenched. She knew Nonny was worried, more than she was letting on. She was too.                                        
.

Zera walked ahead of the others to the white stone building housing the Pikes Peak Cog Railway Depot. A sign in front listed the departure times. Zera took a deep breath and studied it while the others caught up. “The last one leaves at 5 P.M.,” she told them.

“What time is it now?” asked Hattie. Hattie laughed when she found out not one of them had taken a v-phone with them. She glanced westward at the sun. “It’s going to be close.”

Zera opened the door to a bustling scene. Groups of teenagers moved around, chatting and joking, clutching their backpacks, sipping on drinks. Tourists milled about, taking turns peering out the giant picture windows at the foothills scenery and the shiny cog railway cars.

Zera overheard snatches of conversation she could identify by nationality but couldn’t understand: French from a tall blonde woman, addressing her two young children; German from a middle-aged man speaking with his wife; and a group of young enthusiastic tourists conversing in Japanese while toying with their holographic cameras. A clock on the wall read 4:48 P.M.

Hattie said, “Real close. And it loo
ks like they might be sold out.”

T
he group paused when they caught the southern drawl conversation of a family of seven near the window — a middle-aged couple, three boys, a grandmother, and a woman Zera guessed to be an aunt. The man was trying to persuade “Mama” to join them on the trip. “Mama, we’ve already bought the tickets. For cryin’ out loud, it’s safe!” He jerked at the collar on his shirt.

Mama, heavy-set and wearing a colorful windbreaker, didn’t budge. “Y’all go along without me. The airplane ride was bad enough. I ain’t doin
’ it again, goin’ up in the sky up the side of that mountain.”

The aunt, a skinny, young version of “Mama,” heaved a
sigh. “I can’t leave you here by yourself. If you stay, I guess I’ll have no choice but to stay too.”

“We’ll be right back,” Hattie said to Nonny and Grandma Wren. She grabbed Zera’s arm and they headed for the ticket booth.

“Hey, Denise,” Hattie said. “Do you have any more seats on the five o’clock?”

“Hattie — what are you doing here?”

Zera recognized the woman with the mop of curly red hair as an old friend of her mom’s. Denise’s gaze met Zera’s and she blinked hard. “Oh my goodness! I heard you were back!” Denise tilted her mop of curls to see outside of her booth. “You brought Guinevere with you, and Grandma Wren, too?” She leaned out of the window, waved a thin, freckle-covered hand, “Hi, ladies!”

The grandmothers waved back.

Denise said, “We’re booked solid, Hattie. Tourist season’s back with a vengeance. I don’t know if we could get you in, unless, of course,” she nodded over in the direction of the Texans, “they don’t persuade Mama to go. That’s been going on for fifteen minutes.”

Hattie and Zera looked over at the group. Mama stood in the same spot, arms folded over her chest.

“She’s not going anywhere,” Hattie said. “She was traumatized on the flight here and now she’s making her stand. I know how it is.”

“You?
A fear of heights?” Denise’s grin was huge.

“Hey, don’t laugh! It’s kind of unbelievable, I know. You always hear how Native Americans don’t have that fear, how they love to work on skyscrapers and walk around on the edge of cliffs and all that jazz.” Hattie’s lips pulled down into a mock grimace. “Well, apparently I didn’t inherit that particular gene. Heights scare the pee out of me.”

Zera couldn’t help but snicker. Hattie always found a way to make things comical.

A whistle blew, followed by a deep, melodic voice that Zera instantly recognized.
“All aboard!”

All eyes went to a dark, attractive man standing by the door that led outside to the railway cars.

Denise nodded toward Cosmic Dan. “Hattie, Zera, you guys just go on up, you know your money’s no good here anyway. I’m sure Dan will find a spot for you.” She turned to Zera. “It’s so good to see you, honey.”

“You too.
Thanks, Denise.”

As they walked over to Grandma Wren and Nonny, Dan greeted the now-excited-to-be-boarding passengers. He was dressed casually, in jeans and a tan polo shirt with the insignia of the railway emblazoned over one breast. A tan cap was pulled over his hair.
He trimmed his hair. A lot.
His afro was very short compared to the first time she saw him.

“Yes, ma’am, we’ll be spending about forty minutes at the top of the Peak . . . No ma’am, there’s no mountain lions up that high . . . Trip takes about three hours total . . . Yes, sir, it is a glorious day to go up . . . Oh, you’re from Texas, that’s great, we get a lot of visitors from Texas, and we’re thankful for every one.” 

When all had boarded, they approached Dan.

“Hey, Dan,” said Hattie.

“Hi, Hattie, ladies.” Dan grinned. “Here to join us?”

“Well, we’re going to try, if you have room. I noticed there were a couple of folks who decided not to go,” she tilted her head in the direction of Mama and the now put-upon-looking aunt, sitting on a bench.

“Looks like we’ll have just enough seats, then. I keep two empty, just in case. And you don’t need tickets.”

Hattie lowered her voice, “Dan?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t have a lot of time to explain right now. I’m sure the passengers would like to get on with their tour. Um, we’ll need to spend a little more time on the mountain than the allotted forty minutes . . . ,” her voice lowered and Dan leaned closer to her, his expression becoming as serious as Hattie’s. “Dan, Grandma Wren needs to talk to the spirits.”

Cosmic Dan’s face registered only slight surprise. He glanced at Grandma Wren, Zera and her grandmother. Hattie’s comment was weird, but Zera imagined he heard a lot stranger things than that in Ute Springs. His reply validated that. “Not a problem, Hat.”

They climbed aboard and found two empty seats at the front
marked “reserved,” and the other two surrendered by the Texans.

“See, I told you it was fine,” Dan said, adjusting his cap. “We always have seats reserved for ‘VIPs.’” He winked at Zera.

As they took their seats, “Mama” and her daughter climbed the outside steps to the car.

“Oh, no, they’re going after all,” said Hattie.

Grandma Wren nudged her daughter with her buckskin bag, a bag that had drawn quite a few interested looks from the passengers. “Zera and I will go alone.”

Mama and her daughter stood at the front, looking for seats.

“I think we should go
together
. All of us.” Nonny’s grip on her cane tightened.

“It will be fine, Guinevere,” insisted Grandma Wren.

“But Nellie,” Nonny raised her voice.

“Please,” Zera said to her grandmother. “If Grandma Wren says it’s okay. It’s okay. I can handle it.”

Dan bent over Nonny. “Tell you what. I’ll make another trip up here, after this one, and I’ll bring you and Hattie up.”

“But wouldn’t that be against company policy, or something?” Hattie said.

“It’s no problem. Owner owes me a favor anyway.” Dan clapped his hands together. “But now I’ve got to get the show on the road.”

Nonny wasn’t happy about it, but she left with Hattie. Anxiety washed over Zera as she watched her grandmother carefully take the steps down off the train. Now she was going to be by herself, alone on a mountain, with Grandma Wren, a ninety-year-old woman. She’d computed the schedule; Dan would leave them alone up there for almost two hours.

After everyone was settled in, the train began to move. Dan stood in the aisle and began his talk on the history of the century-old depot and railway. 

“In the next hour and fifteen minutes we’ll be going up. Way up. We’re already over a mile high in elevation, at Ute Springs, and by the time we get to the top of Pikes Peak we’ll be another mile up.” Dan held the cordless microphone loosely as he spoke. “This train, made in Switzerland, is a cog railway, meaning that the railway’s heavy serrated rail in the center of the track furnishes traction for the cog wheel. This type of engineering
was necessary because the grade we’re going up is seldom less than 12½ percent.”

On the words
“engineering” and “grade” there were rumbles of interest from a few passengers. Zera, still preoccupied with the fact that Nonny and Hattie wouldn’t be coming, tried to listen but was having a hard time concentrating.

“But don’t you worry. This train is safe, safe as can be,” Dan continued. “And if something were to happen we do have an additional safety measure. If this train should somehow detach from the track and plunge down the side of Pikes Peak,” he made a dramatic plummeting motion with his hand, his appearance now serious, “we have some large springs at the bottom that will cushion the fall.” He paused for effect, “Ute Springs.”

Laughter, some nervous like Zera’s, echoed through the car.

* * *

The first few miles of track followed a stream through a steep canyon filled with fir, pine trees and gigantic boulders. Grandma Wren was so small, Zera had no problem seeing out of the window next to her. As they passed a deep ravine, Grandma Wren commented on the wild vegetation growing amid high rock walls. She rattled off a lot of names, some in the Ute tongue, and Zera was again startled to discover she somehow knew them all.  

Dan pointed out historical and geological places of interest as the train moved up over 8,000 feet. Now groves of quaking aspen carpeted the valleys between the mountains. The passengers were surprised to see deep wagon wheel ruts from a trail almost parallel to the tracks, a trail made over a century ago by the area’s first tourists. Zera’s anxiety ebbed as she settled back in her wood seat, lulled by the beauty outside the windows, while the train click-click-clicked up the incline.

The cog went around the mountain, then slowly began the ascent up the Peak. Cosmic Dan told the passengers that the line had to be cut open every spring through snow drifts that were sometimes twenty-five feet deep. Between 9,000 and 11,000 feet, he pointed out different species of trees: Engelmann spruce, subalpine fir, aspen, and lodgepole and limber pine.

At 11,500 feet, the trees, which had steadily grown more squat and shrub-like, disappeared. Chunks of rocks and fields of monster-size gravel were strewn as far as Zera could see. Dan cracked a joke about how Texans boasted that everything was bigger in their state, but this is what was called “gravel” in Colorado. They were above timberline.

Climbing further, along the spine of the summit ridge, an irregular staircase of granite shards outlined a grassy saddle of Alpine tundra. Dwarf herbs and grasses, a carpet of green, hugging ground that wasn’t covered with snow. Tiny, flowering alpine plants grew abundantly in the rocks and in crevices between boulders.

Grandma Wren whispered, “A wondrous creation.” 

Zera pointed out three lapis lazuli-hued reservoirs in the distance. “They’re so bright blue; like something you’d see in a pop-up storybook.”

Dan started describing one of the few mammalian inhabitants, the
yellow-bellied marmot.

“I see ‘em!” squealed a boy of about six, his finger jabbing t
oward the window at a group of housecat-sized creatures with russet-colored fur, ambling across an alpine meadow.

“Marmots are related to groundhogs and their nickname is whistle-pigs,” explained Dan. “As you can see, they’re social creatures. They travel in groups of six or more. One of them will always be on top of a rock, looking out for danger. If any is sensed, the marmot makes a high-pitched squeal of alarm. They’re about twenty pounds in weight and they hibernate for eight or nine months of the year. When they’re hibernating their body temperatures go down between 43 and 57 degrees. They’ve just come out of their rocky burrows for the short summer and are feeding now.”

Dan also described the Rocky Mountain big-horned sheep, and Zera spotted a small herd, in their tawny-white coats, gamboling nimbly among the snow and boulders. Several paused to look at the train, their great curved horns glowing in the lowering sun.

* * *

Reaching the summit, the train righted itself at a small plateau of granite that stretched out for the size of a city block. It stopped outside a modern station house built next to the stone 1890s version, a building now used as a gift shop and café. 

Zera and Grandma Wren disembarked with the other passengers and stretched their legs. The air was frigid and thin. Tourists chattered as they made their way toward the sturdy iron railings of the overlook areas, pulling out holographic cameras and v-phones; and zipping up their jackets.

Then, total silence. Everyone stood in awe of the astonishing view. Looking down, a giddy delight somersaulted through Zera’s stomach. The world stretched out before them in a dizzying 360-degree panorama.
The sky is clear
and we really can see forever
. On two sides were many mountains, dark blue-green and purple. Ute Springs lay directly below them, as did Garden of the Gods, a natural wonder of dramatic red sandstone formations, hundreds of feet high, nestled in the valley right outside Ute Springs. She could even see the edge of Piker, over sixty miles to the north. The Great Plains stretched eastward all the way to Kansas. The Sangre de Cristo mountain range, to the south, headed into New Mexico, over a hundred miles away. To the west she could see thirty to forty miles where she knew Cripple Creek and Victor, the historic silver- and gold-mining towns, were tucked into the slope of Pikes Peak, then, mile after mile of mountains forming the Collegiate Peaks and the Continental Divide.