She reached for the little girl's hand, but Penny moved instantly to block their way, wheeling back on the Indian. "Why don't you just push off, Tonto? Run your own errand. We were talking."
For the first time, he looked at her. And Penny, well, Penny with her drugs and smart-ass talk, looked as if she might turn into a pillar of salt. She shrank from him as if struck, retreating into a protective crouch. Then something ugly and dark surfaced in her eyes, and she took on the appearance of a feral creature. She lunged at the Indian, snake-quick. There was a glint of metal, but the metal went spinning out into the gray, and Penny shrieked and dropped to one knee, holding her wrist and baring her teeth at Two Bears. A knife lay on the ground a dozen feet away, knocked free from her hand. Bennett had never even seen the Indian move.
"You should be more careful," the big man told Penny, then dismissed her as if she were already gone. He bent to Harper. "Come, little one," he said, taking her tiny hand in his. "I will walk part of the way with you."
Harper went obediently, saying nothing. Bennett followed, leaving Penny kneeling on the ground where the Indian had put her. She did not look back.
CHAPTER 11
Nest Freemark pulled on her parka, not bothering with snaps or zippers, and banged her way out through the storm door onto the back porch, down the steps, and into the yard. She exhaled her frustration in a frothy cloud, her mind racing. First Larry Spence comes by with his bizarre story about drug dealing in the park and now O'olish Amaneh reappears. Today was turning into a replay of yesterday, and she wasn't sure she was up to it.
She was already scanning the park, searching for the Indian's familiar silhouette when Pick dropped onto her shoulder.
"Getting to be old home week around here, isn't it?" he offered brightly, fastening on her collar with both twiggy hands. "Hey, watch what you're doing!"
She was hunching down into the coat, jostling Pick as she did so, working the Gore-Tex into a more protective position. It was colder out than she had believed. The temperature was dropping again, the afternoon chill deepened by the sun's disappearance behind a thick bank of clouds, the morning's brightness faded to memory.
"Try thinking about someone besides yourself!" Pick snapped, regaining his balance.
"Quit griping." She was in no mood for sylvan nonsense. Pick meant well, but sometimes he was an out-and-out annoyance. She had enough to deal with. "You saw him, I gather?"
"Which one do you mean? That deputy sheriff, John Ross, or the Indian? I saw them all. What's going on?"
She shook her head. "I'm not sure."
She pushed through the bushes and onto the service road separating the Freemark property from the park. Ahead, the dead grass of the ball diamonds and central play area stretched away in a gray and windburned carpet. Beyond, along the ridge of the bluffs ahead, right toward Riverside Cemetery, and left past the toboggan slide, the bare trunks and limbs of the broad-leaves were framed like dark webbing against the steely sky.
Two Bears was nowhere in sight.
"I don't see him," she said, casting about as she proceeded.
"He's there," Pick insisted. "He was there early this morning, sitting all by himself at one of the picnic tables."
"Well, I don't see him now."
"And you want me to stop griping? Criminy!" He rode her shoulder in silence for a moment. "What does he want this time? Did the Scott girl say?"
"Nope. I don't think she knows."
Nest's boots crunched and skidded against the frosty dampness that had melted earlier and was now refreezing. She'd left both children with Bennett, who seemed confused and out of sorts from her encounter with Two Bears. There's an Indian waiting outside in the park, she'd reported. Bear Claw, she'd called him. Ross was in the shower. Maybe he didn't need to know about this. Maybe he didn't even have to find out O'olish Amaneh was there. Maybe cows could fly.
She wasn't kidding herself about what the Indian's appearance meant. When Two Bears showed up, it meant trouble of the worst kind. She could have predicted his coming, she realized, if she had let herself. With Findo Cask sniffing around in search of the gypsy morph, John Ross bringing the morph to her in an effort to save it, and a deadly confrontation between the paladins of the Word and the Void virtually assured, it was inevitable that O'olish Amaneh would be somewhere close at hand.
A dog came bounding across the park, a black Lab, but its owner's whistle brought it around and back toward where it had come from. She glanced behind her at the house, shadowed in the graying light and heavy trees, remote and empty-seeming. She found herself wondering anew about the unexpected appearance of Larry Spence. One thing was certain. He had come to her for something more than a warning about drug sales in the park, and it clearly had to do with John Ross. Larry didn't like Ross, but she couldn't figure out why. She didn't think they had even met when Ross had come to Hopewell fifteen years ago. Even if they had, Larry wouldn't be carrying a grudge that long, not without more reason than she could envision. It was something else, something more recent.
"There he is," Pick said.
Two Bears stood next to the toboggan slide, a dark shadow within the heavy timbers. He was O'olish Amaneh in the language of his people, the Sinnissippi. He had told Nest once that he was the last of them, that his people were all gone. She shivered at the memory. But Two Bears was much more than a Native American. Two Bears was another of the Word's messengers, a kind of prophet, a chronicler of things lost in the past and a seer of things yet to come.
He moved out to meet her as she approached, as imperturbable as ever, big and weather-burnt, black hair braided and shining, looking for all the world as if he hadn't aged a day. Indeed, even after fifteen years, he didn't seem to have aged at all.
"Little bird's Nest," he said with that slow, warm rumble, hands lifting to clasp her own.
"O'olish Amaneh," she said, and placed her hands in his, watching them disappear in the great palms.
He did not move to embrace her, but simply stood looking at her, dark eyes taking her measure. She was nearly as tall as he was now, but she felt small and vulnerable in his presence.
"You have done much with your life since we spoke last," he said finally, releasing her hands. "Olympics, world championships, honors of all sorts. You have grown wings and flown far. You should be proud."
She smiled and shook her head. "I have a failed marriage, no family, no future, a ghost wolf living inside me, and a house full of trouble." She held his steady gaze with her own. "I don't have time for pride."
He nodded. "Maybe you never did." His eyes shifted to Pick. "Still have your shy little friend, I see. Mr. Pick, the park looks tended and sound, the magic in balance. You are a skilled caretaker."
Pick frowned and gave a small humph, then nodded grudgingly. "I could use a little help."
Two Bears smiled faintly. "Some things never change." His eyes shifted back to Nest. "Walk with me. We can talk better down by the river."
He started away without waiting for her response, and she found herself following. They moved beyond the slide and down into the trees, edging slowly toward the icy skin of the bayou. The temperature was dropping quickly as the afternoon lengthened and the skies darkened further, and their breath formed white clouds in the air before them. Nest was tempted to speak first, to ask the obvious, but Two Bears had asked to speak with her, so she thought it best to wait on him.
"It feels good to hear you speak my name, to know that you have not forgotten it," he said, looking off into the distance.