in the knapsack where I carried my spiral notebook and my collection of sunglasses. After our late night, I didn’t know when she had time to pack the goodies.
“Thanks, Mom.” I kissed her goodbye and she walked me out.
When I got in Joe’s truck, he waved at Mom, who stood on the front porch.
“I packed us water and other stuff.” He pointed his thumb to the bed of his truck where he had three knapsacks. And I laughed.
“Mom did, too. Guess we’ll have plenty H2O, but I bet you don’t have these.” I unwrapped his breakfast and handed it to him so he could eat and drive. He looked happy after his first bite.
“Mmm. Good. Be sure to thank your mother.” He nodded. “Since my wife died, I don’t cook much.”
“You were married?”
I should have said, “Sorry about your wife,” but I was more shocked that he’d gotten someone to marry him. He was such a…guy.
“Is that so unbelievable?” He smiled and took another bite of his breakfast. “We were married for twenty-one years. She was a good woman.”
“How did she die?” I asked.
Joe got real quiet. And I wasn’t sure he’d answer me. Eventually, he said, “It was sudden. A brain aneurysm.”
“How awful.”
I flashed on the memory of the dead woman I had seen at Joe’s place, the first time I’d met him. I had only caught a glimpse of her at his front window, but the image of her sad eyes had stayed with me. I suddenly knew who she was. And I also got a strong flash that she had died at home, alone. I don’t know where these thoughts come from, but I’d learned to trust them.
A part of me wanted to ask Joe if he knew his wife was still with him, but that felt like a major intrusion—a line I shouldn’t cross. The way I saw it, the dead had rights, too. No matter how curious I was about her, it wasn’t any of my business. And besides, when he didn’t say anything more, I knew it was time to change the subject.
We talked about my nightmares and what they might mean. And although I saw that Joe was concerned for me, he held back his real thoughts on how White Bird had reached out to me. I had to accept that his tribal and spiritual beliefs were deeply personal and not easy to share with an outsider. Eventually we got around to talking about Dr. Ridgeway and the Red Cliffs Hospital.
“I know this is your decision, but if you visit White Bird at that hospital, you should tell your mother. She’s got a right to know. What you’d be doing is risky. And she’s still your momma.”
“But what if she stops me?”
“I don’t think she will,” he argued, without taking his eyes off the road.
“You got a better crystal ball than I do?”
Joe didn’t answer, but I saw the corner of his lip twitch.
“Will you go with me?” I asked. “I don’t trust that doctor.”
“Oh, but you trust me?” He smiled for real. “Yes, I’ll go with you.”
“With you as the Grand Pooh-Bah of the Euchee tribe, maybe we can mess with the doc’s head,” I said. “I’m sure the guy usually gets his way, but I’d like to see how he handles being off balance. It might be our best shot at doing what’s right for White Bird…our way.”
I stared straight ahead with a grin on my face, but from the corner of my eye, I saw that I had Joe’s attention.
“Sounds interesting. What do you have in mind?”
I turned to catch a glint in Joe’s eye and I knew he’d go along. Dr. Ridgeway would get a taste of Shaman magic, whether he wanted it or not.
Outskirts of Shawano—8:35 a.m.
Like he’d promised, Deputy Will Tate was parked near the mouth of the trail that led to the haunted bridge over Cry Baby Creek. He’d ditched his uniform and was dressed in a blue T-shirt, an OSU ball cap and faded jeans with hiking boots. And his patrol car was nowhere in sight. With arms crossed, he was leaning against a red SUV. I was glad he’d downplayed the cop thing. Police cruisers drew attention and I didn’t want anyone else to know what was going on until we got good news.
Word traveled too fast in this town as it was.
“Deputy Tate, glad you could make it.” Joe held out his hand and they shook. “We appreciate you coming before your shift.”
“Call