“Will they start me slow?”
Murray nodded. “As slow as you need. The teacher’s really good; she only advances students when they’re ready. C’mon. I’m going tomorrow night. We can go together. It’ll be like college.”
I squinted, trying to figure out when we had ever worked out together. Then the memory flooded back. Every day, come rain or shine, we’d taken long walks together through the Washington Park Arboretum in Seattle. It kept us in shape, gave us time to gossip, and worked off the endless pizzas we’d ordered.
“Yoga is great stress release and it makes you look and feel younger.” Murray frowned. “Em, I haven’t wanted to say anything but lately, you’re looking a little . . .” Her voice drifted off.
I shot a glance at her, warning her not to continue. After a moment, I snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Too cushy for my own good. You know, the thought of being able to relax on cue is pretty appealing.”
I wasn’t very good at getting rid of stress. In fact, I was the only person I knew who’d had trouble pulling a “C” out of my relaxation class in college. While everybody else was busy learning how to loosen their toes, I was still trying to find my pulse, a skill I never had mastered. I spent the entire quarter convinced I was one of the walking dead.
Maybe if I stopped drinking my daily ration of caffeine, it might help, but if I quit, I’d have to do something else for energy andthat meant increasing my sugar intake, which wouldn’t be good for my teeth or my waistline. I sucked on my lip for a moment. Nope, it had to be exercise.
“Okay, I’ll go. I can always quit if I don’t like it. Now, tell me about the monster? Do you know anything about it?”
“The Klakatat Monster? Yes, I’ve heard of it.” She pulled a long blade of grass and began tying it into knots. “Why?”
I told her about Jimbo’s request. “I can’t figure out why the cops won’t help him. Do you know anything about it?”
She shook her head. “Coughlan’s not going to lift a finger to help the bikers. And Chief Bonner won’t counter him. Bonner’s a good man, but I can guarantee you he’s not going to go out of his way to help anybody living out in Klickavail Valley. They’ve had a running feud with the cops since they first started gathering out there, what with the way they raise hell at the bars. And let me tell you, those boys collect speeding tickets like honey attracts flies.”
“Do you really think they’re running drugs and guns, like the rumors say?” I had first thought Jimbo might be into trafficking illegal wares, but once I saw his house and the setup out on his land, I knew that he was just a seasoned biker who liked his solitude and preferred a mountain man existence.
Murray considered my question. Finally she said, “Maybe. I don’t have any doubt that a few of the guys out there are bad apples. To be honest, I doubt that any guns are making their way through the compound. But there are some pricey homes out that way owned by people who have clout. Those folks won’t take kindly to any help the police give to the boys.”
“I know you think Jimbo’s a troublemaker, but he helped me save Kip, and I really feel like I owe him this. He’s not so bad when you get to know him.”
Murray gazed at me, her expression unreadable as usual. “You haven’t taken a shine to our biker-boy, have you?”
“Oh sure.” I snorted. “And I’ve also decided to beg Roy to take me back. We’d make a delightful threesome, don’t you think?” Giving her one of my “you-know-better-than-that” looks, I pushed myself up to rest on my knees. “Now, why on earth would I drop someone like Joe for someone like Jimbo?”
Murray relaxed. “I just wanted to make sure. You and Joe make a great couple, Em. I’d hate to see anything or anybody come between you. Anyway, you wanted to know about the Klakatat Monster?”
“Uh huh.” A dandelion waved in the breeze and I pulled it, pressing the butter-yellow pom-pom to my nose as I said, “What is it?”
“A large creature of some sort, supposedly cousin to the Sasquatch, though the Klakatat Monster isn’t nearly as well known. You do know about Sasquatch, right?”
I shrugged. “Yeah, it’s an manlike ape-creature that hangs around the forests here in the Pacific Northwest, though somebody on television said those footprints that guy found were a hoax. But I thought the local tribes have stories about Sasquatch that go back before white men arrived on the continent?”
She nodded. “We do. In some of the tribal dialects, his name translates as ‘The Big Man.’ He’s also known by some as ‘Brother.’ Sasquatch is out there, all right, but I hope we never find him. Some local yokel or rabid scientist would shoot him or try to dissect him.”
She was right. People always attacked the unknown, afraid of what it might bring into their lives. I’d experienced that particular prejudice first hand, but somehow, I’d managed to carve a niche for myself here in Chiqetaw—eccentricities, folk magic, ghosts, and all. But not everybody was as lucky as me.
“So, are the Klakatat Monster and Sasquatch the same?”
She stood and dusted her hands on the legs of her jeans. “There are similarities, but according to the stories I’ve heard, the Klakatat Monster is more unpredictable than Bigfoot. Sightings place him over seven feet tall, with long claws like a bear, and razor-sharp teeth. I think his fur is supposed to be gray, but I’m not sure about that. The reservation elders don’t talk about him much; we believe that talking about something can bring it into our lives.”
“Agreed,” I said. Sometimes focusing on an energy or force did seem to beckon it in, so I was careful where I turned my thoughts.
“So, will you go out to Miner’s Lake with me on Sunday?” I asked, arching my back until it popped. “Jimbo’s going to show me where his garden got trampled and then I’m going to hunt around and see if I can find any sign that Scar might have been there.” As an added enticement, I said, “Jimbo’s frying up a chicken for us.”
With a snicker, she said, “Frying a chicken? I hope he plucks it first. Hell, why not? Should be interesting.”
Good, it was settled. “Come on. Let’s get some apple juice and you can tell me more about yoga class.”
As we strolled toward the kitchen door, the ground suddenly rolled under my feet and I reached out to steady myself. When it stopped, I realized that it hadn’t been an earthquake—nothing had really moved. An astral jolt, maybe? I glanced at the yard but it was empty and still. Overhead, clouds were pushing in from the west, dark and heavy thunderheads, signaling the brewing of a storm. As a rush of excess energy raced down my spine, tingling pin-pricks, I quickened my pace.
“What’s the matter?” Murray asked, running to keep up with me.