General Discussion

There is a sacred place somewhere on the outskirts of The Town where in years past Pohawe’s people went for solitude and reflection. She showed the place to Miguel, and they go there a few times to clear their heads. The bond between them grows tighter as they spend time there. They are there now.)

They lay on the hard ground beneath the old mesquite tree. Through its lacey fronds the newly risen moon cast a myriad of tiny shadows over their faces. He spoke.

“What if we were all connected—all the people in the world? What if the thoughts of everyone on the earth were intermingled and we could take advantage of everyone’s memories, dreams, longings, musings, ideas and accomplishments? If so, then I could find the solution to my brother’s condition. I could find a cure.”

She spoke.

“Yubaa?s. [Find Comanche for it is so] It is so. We are all connected—in our thoughts, our dreams, our longings. We cannot be separate from one another, even if we believe so. In the beginning we were all together--puetuyal.[Say something from Comanche mythology, in Comanche language.] Then the Demon of many shapes entered to separate us, make us enemies, but in our deepest hearts, we are all one people, one village on this Earth.”

He spoke. “There was a great man who believed as you say. He wrote books and gave lectures on this theme. He interviewed many people. He looked into their minds and souls and what he saw was that they were all connected. He called this connectedness the collective unconscious. I guess I didn’t really believe his books when I read them some time ago. I doubted then, but now I’m wondering, hoping for help for my brother from anywhere, just anywhere.”

“You can believe it or not believe it and the writer of those books can call it whatever he wants, but my people have always known it is so. For example, when you dream, where do you go, my friend Miguel?” [HER QUESTION IS NOT ANSWERED BY MIGUEL AT THIS STAGE IN THE NOVEL, BUT DON’T WE WANT TO ANSWER IT SOMETIME..LATER? WHAT IS THE ANSWER?]

“I don’t know, but sometimes I dream of you.” He turned toward her.

She smiled. “And I of you. My father says this is meant to be. But he wishes to change this destiny. He wants me to dream of a man stronger, tougher than you Miguel. But I—I like your mind. And I can be tough for both of us.”

“You’re beautiful. And kind. I don’t deserve you.” His voice was soft as he kissed her. “But I am going to learn to be tough. There’s something I haven’t shared with you yet. I enlisted in the Frontiersmen, Fusiliers Battalion 25. They took me without questions.”

“You are leaving? Going to—to…? “

“To Africa. Yes, but I’ll be back and hopefully, I’ll have the cure for my brother when I return.”

“How could that be? How will you find a cure in Africa?”

“I’ve been reading. Over there are many strange and wonderful medicines, herbs, shaman-medicine men…”

She cut him off: “Soni tslyaa [this is not it, but find a curse word in Comanche] Reading, reading! You are always reading, but Miguel, you cannot break destiny. I will go with you. You cannot leave me behind. I will go, too. I know about these African medicines. I will get the black rhino horn to cure my own brother’s impotence. And you will get the same to cure your little brother’s cancer.” [Find a common disease in 1920s]

“Damnit.” He stands up and looks down at her. “How the hell will you do that? How the hell will you come with me when neither of us have any money and I’m going to be fighting a war? We can’t take women with us. I’m going alone and you’re not coming with me.” [out of character? Too soon?]

A huge smile [crossed her face]. [Comanche expletive like wow] You’ve already changed, my brave man Miguel.” She stretched out her arms to him, laughing.

Now he laughs too, leans down, picks her up. Their embrace is an exchange of energy: Her love, his strength. Loath to break their embrace, they remain silent for some minutes as the moon drops lower in the west.

Then:

“What’s that noise, Miguel?”

“What noise?”

“A rustling--over there in the chaparral.”

A black steer appears out of the darkness behind a cactus. It looks side to side as if lost.

“I don’t recognize it--it’s not ours.”

“Look at the brand.”

She approaches it, then gasps: “The brand—it spells m-u-r-d-e-r—an omen.”

Miguel hears another snap in the brush.

“Pohawe, quick, come here.” He grabs her hand, “It’s Minimic, he’s hiding over there. Run!”

NEXT CHAPTER

The stalker tries to kill Mike. They run, try to escape….

“You won’t get away so easily, [cursed ones in Comanche] cursed ones. Great Father has asked me to curse [put a spell on?] your boy-man. He is no man for you. He will only bring you grief. He must die.

Minimic runs after them. In the dim light of the setting moon, they go up a mesa and down the other side.

“Just over the next mesa there’s dry arroyo full of mesquite debris left by last season’s flash floods. Hurry.” They run up the next mesa and down to the gully, jump and scramble underneath dried branches tangled with chaparral and cacti.

Minimic is old, his eyesight is failing, his legs cannot run fast.

He clambers up the first mesa and pulls a [what kind of gun], fires into the air and screams, “ You will not escape. Minimic will not give up until the boy-man is dead.”

Still, breathing silently, listening to the dusk sounds of the high plains as they merge into the sounds of the night [what are they? describe them—bugs, birds, bats from the canyons] they wait. And wait.

And wait. The sky fills with stars. In the firmament above the mesas the stars give almost as much light as if the moon were still out/ starlight is almost as luminous as …

They crouch down deeper into the arroyo. Ants crawl nearby, trekking in lines to their lair/nest/____ a deep hole in the middle of a wide circle of crumbly red earth. A night bird calls from the mesa. Its companion answers from a neighboring mesa. In the distance a coyote who made a kill, yelps to his brothers to come and partake. The brothers answer and soon a reunion takes place with the accompanying chorus of whoo—oo--oo

Coyotes begin their evening hunt, yelping to one another

Still, listening for any sign of their stalker, Pohawe and Miguel begin to get tired. Miguel dares to whisper, “I know why that steer is branded with ‘murder.’”

“Miguel, don’t talk.”

“I think we’re safe now.”

“He could still be out there, and we know he has a gun.”

A snake crawls out of its hole, slithers into the brush behind Pohawe.

“Don’t move, my love.”

Miguel slips his knife out of a pocket, throws it, perfectly spearing the snake through its head. Pohawe sucks in her breath. The snake’s body wiggles frantically for several minutes. ...then is still...dead.