Evidence of Life - By Barbara Taylor Sissel Page 0,46
buffalo, the jackrabbits, even the lizards—had died off or escaped, and now, without adequate food and water, the chief’s people were dying. He fell to his knees then and there, and in a last act of desperation, he petitioned the Great Spirit for relief. The answer came swiftly. In exchange for rain, the chief was told, the Great Spirit would accept his most precious possession, his beloved daughter. The chief was devastated. Never was a child so dear to a father. He begged to give his own life instead, but the Great Spirit refused, and the chief went away with a heavy heart.
It was while he was in consultation with his tribal council that his small daughter approached. In her hands she carried her most prized possession, a small doll made for her by her grandmother from cornhusks before the old woman died. In the ancient voice of the wise grandmother, the chief’s daughter announced that she had come at the request of the Great Spirit. The girl told how Spirit was so moved by the chief’s love of his child, and his sorrow over her impending loss, that He had changed His mind. He would not take her. Rather, the chief must dress the doll in a bonnet made from blue jay feathers and lay it atop the bluff in offering, and rain would come. This was done, and the promised rain fell like a gentle blessing throughout the night.
But the true miracle wasn’t found until the next morning when the chief and his people emerged from their tepees to find the hills surrounding their village awash in a sea of flowers. Tipped in white, the tall spires were the same clear, beautiful shade of blue as the jay’s feathers. They were called bluebonnets from that day, and the people honored them as they honored their chief, whose unwavering love for his daughter had inspired the selfless gift that had saved them and their land.
Abby had first heard the legend from her mother, and she had repeated it to her children many times when they’d asked. One very hot, dry summer day when they’d been camped near the Guadalupe River at a site not far from Camp Many Waters—sadly, no longer in existence—Lindsey had offered to sacrifice her Barbie doll to bring the rain. Abby had turned away to hide her smile, somehow not able to picture it, Lindsey’s full-busted, pencil-waisted Barbie dressed in blue jay feathers. Standing at the window now overlooking Kate’s deck, Abby thought if only it did work that way. If only she could leave a doll in offering, and the Great Spirit would return Lindsey to her.
George came up beside her and handed her a glass of wine. “Big difference since you were here last. In the weather, I mean.”
Abby looked at the sky, unblemished now at evening except for the moon, a frosted sickle, that hung in one far corner. “You think I’m nuts, don’t you? For coming, for thinking I can find out what happened.”
George slipped his arm around her shoulders. “I just hope you won’t be hurt any more, Abby, that’s all.”
She thought of saying it wasn’t possible to hurt any more than she already did; she thought of asking him point-blank what he knew. Because she sensed there was something. But didn’t she sense that with everyone? Was she wrong? Could she even stand knowing?
She sipped her wine. “I’ll be fine,” she said.
George tightened his grip. “I hope so, honey. I truly do.”
Chapter 13
A few mornings after Abby’s arrival, Dennis stopped by. He was in uniform and looked official; he looked like the police and not at all like the man Abby had come to know through weeks of phone conversations. This man was a stranger. It was difficult to meet his eye; she couldn’t say his name. When he smiled, her face warmed. When he asked how she’d been, she said, “How did you know I was here?”
“Kate called me after she heard from your mother. They were worried, ready to put out an APB on you.”
Kate brought Dennis a mug and filled it with coffee.
Abby offered the pitcher of cream.
He said, “Thanks, but I take it black,” and kept her gaze. “I thought maybe you’d like to go horseback riding this afternoon.”
“Oh, no. I don’t think so.” Abby looked at Kate.
“Well, I meant George and Kate, too. We could meet at my place, maybe pack some wine and cheese, ride downriver, make a party of it.”