Hayk’s Country

Kheridan Kocherian showed up, waving a handful of brochures he’d brought to share with his new friends, Gideon Yellow Thunder, and Secora James. Seamus McGill had also arrived at their hotel room to plan their day.

Keridan exclaimed, “My friends, what would you like to do today?

Gideon, I believe it is your turn to choose.”

Gideon wrinkled his brow, saying, “There are so many caves to choose from.”

Seamus commented, “Wait, is there a place with not just a cave but also a castle or a monastery – and no birds?”

“No need to settle, Mr. McGill, our precious Armenia is literally paved with old fortresses, also parapets and walkways reminiscent of the Great Wall, Stonehenge-like standing stones, cathedrals, monasteries, and other stunning ruins. You could spend three lifetimes admiring their staggering aspects, never fully paying tribute to their memories. However, I think I have the right one for you, and I hope it will make it to the top of Gideon’s list – since this is his day to choose.”

Gideon friction-rubbed his hands together and said eagerly, “I’m ready.”

Kheridan took a long breath. “The Geghard Monastery at the entrance of the Azat Valley contains several churches and tombs. Most structures were cut into surrounding rock during the peak of Armenian medieval architecture, dating from the 4th to the 13th century. High cliffs surrounded its northern side, and a defensive wall encircled the rest like a windowless fortress.” As he pulled out a photo, Kheridan pressed his lips tightly to hold back a grin. “Here’s a picture.”

Gehard Gavit or Navix

“Now THAT looks really interesting,” said Gideon. Seamus said, “Needless to say, I am ready to leave anytime. What about you, Secora?”

She was mesmerized by the photo. “Let’s hear more.”

“It began as a small, hillside Monastery called Ayrivank, meaning ‘Monastery in the Cave, because of its rock-cut construction. According to tradition, it was founded by St. Gregory the Illuminator and built after the adoption of Christianity as Armenia’s state religion, beginning in the 4th century AD. We call it the Monastery of Geghard.

Geghard Monastery Complex

Seamus drooled. “Oh, I’m in love already. Kheridan, I’ll say it again, I might never leave this fantastic area. Gideon, you may be on your own with the Afghani water project.”

Gideon did a double-take, then said, “Everyone should come here to see
this. I can’t wait.”

“Okay, but I was going to tell you about one more possibility. A castle from the Iron Age Armenian civilization, also known as the ‘Kingdom of Van,’ or ‘Urartu’ on the Ararat plain, which thrived from 800 to 500 B.C. Unfortunately, it’s under a lake formed by a volcanic crater after the eruption of nearby Mount Nemrut. But it seems you have made your choice.”

Gideon responded, “That does sound cool, but I still think Geghard is the one we want.”

Kheridan clapped his hands, saying, “Okay then, it looks like we have a winner. We need a plan.”

Seamus suggested, “Step one, let’s dive into the pastries we bagged up last night. The meat and vegetable-filled ones are on the left, and the sweet ones are on the right.” Secora added cheerfully, “The teapot is full of Constant Comment tea.
I’ll grab the cups.”

---

Kheridan’s tale continued as they traveled. “The Geghard Monastery is cross-shaped inside, and it is sometimes called the Monastery of the Spear, named after the spear used against Jesus while He languished on the cross. Legend has it that this spear, dating to well before ‘The Bronze Age,’ was brought to Armenia after the crucifixion, and is now at the Echmiadzin Treasury.”

Once they arrived, they found so much to explore. The immaculately constructed buildings were filled with special touches like beautiful paintings, icons, and the spectacular play of light through sunlit domes, which dazzled their eyes. Earthquakes had destroyed much over the centuries. Still, the location was nothing short of breathtaking.

While wandering through, Secora connected with a painting of Christ and the spear. She reflected, such complete humility and submission to the will of God, born of the deepest affection for the Beloved.

“Thank you, Lord Jesus Christ, for that riveting example during your last moments in this realm. Bless you and thank you forever.”

When she looked around, she was alone. She could hear voices, but she wasn’t sure from where. Was she imagining the chanting of monks, or the chants of wandering Crusaders from centuries past? She thought she could see them vaguely. Their faces raised, bathed in a light which must have been gifted to them by their savior.


Gideon shook her arm gently and whispered her name. She looked at him, her eyes adjusting to his face in the dark of the chamber. “We’d lost you. Are you okay?”

She smiled. “I am, thanks for finding me.”

After finishing the tour inside the complex and cave, she rested on a set of carved stone steps, smiling and absorbing the sun’s rays while the men continued their excursions through various structures. She closed her eyes, listening to birdsongs and the distant voices of visitors, past or present. She wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. The last thing she remembered was a light breeze laden with the fragrance of white blossoms that grew wild among the rocks. By the time Gideon woke her, it was apparent she would soon be dealing with sunburn.

Even though they were exhausted after taking in the astonishing views of the mountain, the monastery, and even the circling raptors above, they felt a deep joy filling their hearts and were then moved to offer a round of prayers. For Secora, this was a healing balm, just what the doctor ordered.

Seamus yawned. “Hey buddy, we would very much appreciate a good meal at your parents’ place after a glorious day like this. Will you be joining us?”

“I’m off shift in an hour. Barring any surprise fares, I could meet you for a bite, and we could chat for a while.”
Gideon groggily mumbled, “Sure, that would be nice.”

“Okay, good then.”

Secora was grateful that Kheridan, in his early twenties, was guiding and driving, as his passengers were drifting off to sleep on the way back to Yerevan. She roused with the bustle of the city traffic and sat up, blinking. Kheridan had parked in front of the restaurant.

She smiled when the young man opened her door. As she stepped down, she thanked him for his efforts in helping them take home a piece of Armenia’s heart…

Little Boy and the Dead Man

Kyah Roanhorse was still feeling rumpled inside due to the lack of closure in his second search-and-rescue case. A grandmotherly friend, Dr. L. W. Dalton, noticed and felt his dismay. She asked him to join her husband, Sage, and herself for lunch. Kyah could smell the freshly baked bread as he sauntered to the main house. It occurred to him that it had been a long time since he had sauntered anywhere. He was grateful to have a warm place to live on the Dalton’s property, where he had recovered from injuries received in South America. There were still things to be thankful for.

He greeted them with a grin and thanked them for their extreme kindness as they beckoned him to take a seat at their dining table. Spaghetti, green salad, garlic bread, and blueberry pie with ice cream shoved away a lot of the hollow ache he’d held inside.

After he took his dishes to the kitchen, Sage asked, “Any news from the deputy yet?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Kyah admitted. He and his search dog, Penny, had done their part to the best of their abilities. They found the trail of the missing boy who had wandered away from his parents at a picnic area several days before. Penny was hot on his trail when she stopped cold and barked twice. Some voice inside told Kyah to prepare for the worst. When he and Deputy Khiergan Sparks caught up to the dog, there was nothing there. Nothing but a set of tire tracks.

No sign of the boy anywhere. It looked as if he had vanished. Maybe he had. Khiergan poured a cast of the tread marks, and Kyah found and photographed a little friendship bracelet a few yards away. Kyah imagined it had fallen off when someone roughly grabbed his little hand. 

Deputy Sparks collected the evidence, and at that point, Kyah said the between-worlds prayer for the soul of the child, who may be confused or frightened. As he chanted, he reached for a rectangular silver tin inside his backpack, opened the lid, took out a braid of sweetgrass, and lit it. He waved the smoke around and raised his arms, as the sacred herbs burned into a fragrant, slightly sweet smoke.

“The spirits are listening. Hey-a-ho. First, I offer this sacred smoke to Wakan Tanka, the Great Spirit who is One. Behold us on this sacred earth. O Wakan Tanka, you are my Father and Grandfather. You are everything. You have always been. Grandfather, this is your herb, its fragrance belongs to you. Behold the good child before you. He may be lost and confused. I beg of you to cause him to move toward you, as is your will. Be merciful. Help him.”

He laid the braid of sweetgrass on a large stone. “Our Grandmother and Mother, you are sacred. Every step you take should be taken as a prayer. It is from you that our bodies come. Take pity on this boy and his parents. They wish to be one with all things. Like us, they serve the good of all Your peoples, the four-leggeds, the two-leggeds, the green things, and the wings of the air. Help him.” Turning his feet to the West, he said, “I now beseech the four directions to help him. First, to you, O winged power from where the sun goes down. Send your servants, ancient and sacred – the Thunder Beings, who come to us in the terrifying storm. Help this boy.” He turned to each of the other three directions, beseeching aid for the lost child. Finally, Kyah announced “Hetchetu alo. It is finished.”

Without knowing what else to say, Khiergan said, “Amen.”

A few days later, Kyah’s phone rang again. It was Khiergan asking him to meet up to find a missing bow hunter. Bow season started on the first Saturday in September and would continue into October. His wife had reported the man missing after he didn’t return, or call. Kyah and the Deputy found the hunter’s truck parked off an old logging road west of Stevensville. They briefly searched the truck, but saw no clue as to what had happened. Kyah did find an old baseball cap in the truck, and gave it to Penny to sniff, then gave her the order, “Search.” She ran around the truck, chose a direction and took off. She was out of sight in an instant. They followed her for almost three miles before they found a hunting stand. The young hunter was slumped in the grass about fifty yards away. He apparently had been cleaning a deer, when a bullet tore into his chest. The carcass was gone, but the gut pile remained – buzzing with flies.

Khiergan suggested, “Rifle season starts in October, so maybe he was shot by an early poacher.” He photographed the scene from every angle and the body’s position in relation to the stand. “This should help the investigation. I think he was shot from a distance – can’t find any traces of another person – except that the deer is gone. You see any tracks, Kyah?”

“I think there’s a boot impression by the tree under the stand. Looks quite a bit larger than this guy’s foot.”

“Good eye.” While Deputy Sparks put up crime scene tape, Kyah kneeled beside the man, ignoring the smell of decomposition. He started saying a Baha’i Prayer for the Departed.

“O my God! O Thou forgiver of sins, bestower of gifts, dispeller of afflictions!

Verily, I beseech Thee to forgive the sins of such as have abandoned the physical garment and have ascended to the spiritual world.

O my Lord! Purify them from trespasses, dispel their sorrows, and change their darkness into light. Cause them to enter the garden of happiness, cleanse them with the most pure water, and grant them to behold Thy splendors on the loftiest mount.”

When he arose, Khiergan put a hand on his shoulder and said, “It’s really nice of you to do that sort of thing. I think people need to know someone cares. I’ll call the corner and meet him where we parked. Be back as soon as I can.”

Kyah sat with Penny, calmly rubbing her head as she looked up at him. “Why can’t we get a simple case of healthy missing people in the forest, girl?” He ran two fingers between her eyes and down her nose, wondering if he had made the wrong career choice. In that moment, he remembered the joy of finding people alive after the earthquake in Peru, where he had found Penny barely alive, herself, under rocks. After Kyah freed her, she almost immediately set about finding others who were buried. Kyah helped to uncover them and find medical care. He and Penny also located the bodies of some who were less lucky, so their families could grieve. “I guess I need to realize we are still doing a good thing by bringing closure where we can.

Penny woofed, signaling Khiergan’s return with the coroner and his staff. A tech began taking photographs, while the deputy began collecting evidence, starting with some of the blood that had drained into the ground, and the coroner began his initial inspection of the body.

At that point Kyah asked, “Are we going to head back now?”

“Not quite yet.” The deputy spoke up nearby, “Say, did I tell you I got an update on the little boy on the way to work?”

Kyah turned. “No, what happened?”

“I think your prayers helped. The little guy was dropped off back at the campground, where his family was still waiting for him in case he somehow found his way back.

“What? That’s amazing. Is he okay?”

“Seems like. Apparently, he was confused and quiet, but was unharmed. A maroon SUV just dropped him off on the road and left. At this point, we have no idea why the guy in the car changed his mind. We hope to know more later.”

Kyah grinned and nodded. “Really appreciate hearing that, Deputy.”

“And I really appreciate how quickly Penny found this guy.”

When the deputy dropped Kyah and Penny off at Sage’s, he said, “We’ll talk again soon.”

Kyah smiled and nodded. Sage and L. W. were thrilled by the good news about the child. 

Sage suggested, “Tomorrow, we should look into getting you a driver’s license and a car of your own. Seems like it’s time.

You’ll need a paying job for insurance, gas, and upkeep. Maybe at the university, or Burger King if you like. But I’m writing a book, and I could use some help collating and organizing the notes, if you’re interested?”

Kyah’s face lit into a smile. “But tonight, you and Penny can sleep in peace.”


*****************

All My Books Are Available
From Amazon Books!
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The Rising Wind novel series by award-winning author Diane Olsen is a multicultural action-adventure mystery series that explores themes of anthropology, spirituality, and Native American lore. The series, which includes titles such as The Thunder Beings (Book 1) and Ice and Bone (Book 2), follows protagonists such as paleontologist Secora and Gideon on thrilling, globe-trotting adventures. 

Courtesy of Wikipedia – Glen Eyrie
(eagle’s nest) Colorado Springs

Rampart Range Sasquatch Children

After my very personal introduction to both Sasquatch children and adults at Seven Falls, I was nervous about going alone into the South Cheyenne Canyon near Colorado Springs. It would be two years before I went anywhere after dark.

Eventually, Tom and I, and occasionally other friends, played tactical hide-and-seek in the Glen Eyrie area slightly northwest of the Garden of the Gods. For some reason, I thought we’d be far enough away from the Cheyenne Mountain Canyons that Sasquatches couldn’t find me. It gave me a false sense of security.

Glen Erie is a Tudor Castle built in 1871 by General William Jackson Palmer, an early resident of Colorado Springs who took an interest in the arcane inventions of Nicola Tesla and invited him to stay for a while. The adjacent property was the celebrated Flying W Ranch, famous for chuck wagon dinners served on rolled metal plates like the cowboys used. 

My close friend, Tom, and I would run miles through the wilderness at night through a gully near these two historic properties and the Air Force Academy. We’d hunt each other at night using our cunning and stealth in glorified games of moonlight tag through conifers, scrub oak ridges, and upright sheets and pinnacles of white or red sandstone. We went to the same spot almost every night, testing different strategies and tactics.

Wikipedia – Garden of the Gods, Colorado Springs Ho3o’uu Niitko’usi’i (Arapaho)

Suddenly, I heard a noise within thirty-five feet. He’d found my trail, then scurried up at an angle and was just out of sight around a bend. He crunched his way up the side of this gravel hill, smash, smash, smash, coming right over me to a small cluster of brush encircling a tree. I couldn’t see him, but I heard him. He’s a big guy. You could tell he was trying to be quiet, but because he was walking in gravel on a steep slope, the crunch, crunch, smash gave him away.

He stopped right above me, probably ten feet away – right there. I waited; it drove me crazy. Instead of rushing me, he wasn’t doing anything. Waiting in stealth was a weird behavior for him. Very uncharacteristic. His advantage was that he’d usually come right after me without stopping. 

After thirty seconds, I said,  “Dude, come and get me.” As soon as I finished the sentence, I heard Tom’s howl in the distance.  Shit! Oh, my gosh…. That’s not Tom!

By Jamaps – Own work CC BY-SA 4.0, 
https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=97219952

This “being” was so close to me. It had taken the high ground to observe me. I could have stared right into the face of whoever was standing over me, but I couldn’t bear looking into the features of a creature I knew nothing about. 

Because of the experience I’d had before in South Cheyenne Canyon, I started panicking. Somehow, in my head, I thought the Rampart Range would be different. Sasquatches wouldn’t be there.

I was terrified because there was a 98% chance that what had sneaked up above to observe me was a Sasquatch. It took the high ground; the key terrain – things that a regular person wouldn’t do. Tom would consider it because we’d discussed military tactics and strategies. 

Now I was freaking out, but I wanted to be sure I was right. So, I pulled out my phone and called Tom right then and there. ‘Bro, where are you?’ He said he must be a quarter mile away. I pleaded, “Oh my gosh, please, please, please come over here as fast as you can.”

I could have turned my headlamp on at this point – a signal of distress to Tom. Or, I could have used it to look right into the face of whoever was standing over me, but I wasn’t ready at that time. I didn’t want another frightening experience. I couldn’t look into the features of a creature I knew nothing about, even though I didn’t feel any threatening intent. 

He’d stopped right above me, behind the brush at the tree, probably ten feet away – right there. Shit! 

It was the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, and I didn’t have an easy escape route – not if a North American Hominid chased me. 

I thought, right now, you are kind of a monster to me. I don’t know anything about you.

In desperation, I began screaming and running, trying to look as big and intimidating as possible. I sprinted with all my might, descending the trail to an open mining scar, where I could look across the valley for Tom. I was traumatized, but I was safe – so far.  (Below Courtesy Wikipedia’s Garden of the Gods at dawn)

I saw Tom’s silhouette on the opposite slope, which inclined up towards Garden of the Gods type rocks, and couldn’t imagine why he would be so far away. Something was off. He was still a quarter-mile away! I howled, a signal we commonly used across distance, and I saw him running into the valley towards me, but when he got close to the bottom, he turned around and started running all the way back up the slope. What was going on! I turned on my light, a sign for Dude, get over here! 

Tom saw it and finally came all the way across the valley and up to where I met him. The open mining scar was a desolate hill that was shaved off – mined for gypsum to build the Air Force Academy. We could easily see anything trying to sneak up on us.

I told him what happened, that I was certain I’d been approached by a Sasquatch. He was a little skeptical, but he also had something weird to report. He explained the reason he’d turned around was that as he came closer to the valley floor, he heard something behind and above him. He looked back and saw the silhouettes of two individuals following quietly. one behind the other on the path he’d just come down.

There was adequate light from the stars, city, and moon to see their outlines. So, he thought I’d tricked him with unannounced friends to make the game more interesting. In the bushes at the gully, he briefly saw another figure creeping through the brush. He’d guessed that silhouette was me – that I had double-crossed him with the phone call as a prank to draw him in. He took off to evade the trap, and his howls became more distant. That is, until he saw my light illuminate across the valley.

I assured him there were no other humans and told him about the chill feeling that came over me when I realized it wasn’t him behind me. The only thing I could think of was Sasquatch. My intuition told me that the being didn’t want to cause me harm. It was similar to the way I felt scared, but not endangered during the first encounter – that is, until I became aggressive.

Perhaps this individual wanted to play what we were playing. Apparently, we had intermeshed with a group of youngsters. My immediate thought was they had seen us play here night after night and wanted to be included. They could associate with what we’re doing because they almost certainly played hide-and-seek, or tag and chase, when we weren’t there.

I’ve run into bears and mountain lions at night, and I did not feel scared. They were dangerous, but I knew what to do. That particular night, I’d been interacting with a creature that wasn’t even supposed to exist. I didn’t know how to operate. I was scared because it was an uncontrollable element, an unknown variable. What would happen if the situation became violent or aggressive? You can’t just go around them like you would a mountain lion or bear if you needed to.

IN RETROSPECT, maybe the Sasquatches looked at us as pets and wanted to domesticate us, lol. Or more likely, playmates.

Later on, near the reservoir by the high school, they’d play with me like I’d play with a kitten. They even sneaked alongside our cars and watched my girlfriend streaming shows on her phone. The Colorado Springs area was the perfect setting for a group of curious young Sasquatches to conduct controlled interactive experiments with humans. They had the advantage and knew the trails. There was cover for concealment and a myriad of safe approach routes to observe and interact with us.

They identified with our games and hoped we might be open to joining them. I stand by that assessment. 

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Mateo Arguello Modern Explorer

If you would like to learn more about the areas in this story, or for more about Colorado Springs,
You can purchase a copy of my newest book titled
“The Unique Settled History of Sweetwater Canyon Above Colorado Springs”
from Amazon!
https://www.amazon.com/Settled-History-Sweetwater-Colorado-Springs-ebook/dp/B0FCSLTJJX/

SPIRIT BEASTS

Secora James ran from cave to cave on Chad’s Ennedi Plateau, thinking, what am I doing here? How do I even know the water witcher is out here?  I thought I heard Mosa scream, but maybe I just imagined it. 

The formations that were a part of the mesa she was racing across seemed surreal, like cloaked statues, anthills, mushrooms, or dung heaps. Panting hard, she approached the first of three caves she’d been told about. There was nobody inside, only the tracks of small rodents and the snakes that followed them. 

Just two more to check. She recalled that Anthony, the tracker, had mentioned three distinct caves near their job site. Her mouth and throat were parched, and she prayed she wouldn’t sprain an ankle as she ran on through the rugged terrain, looking for another cave. Suddenly, she noticed she wasn’t alone. Where did these dogs come from? Why are they running with me? The canines resembled thin pointers or small greyhounds, with pale dun spots on a white background. Their eyes focused ahead as they ran between and around her legs. I’m gonna trip for sure!

She cautiously approached the entrance to the second one, taking a moment to arm herself with a Maglite and a can of pepper spray from her belt. The dogs stopped in their tracks, listening. Then they moved forward, wagging their tails playfully. She sighed, That’s a good sign.

“Hello, is anyone there? Mosa? Hello?”

She hoped she was in the right place, that this was the “Shadow Cave”, the lair of the strange cat that had been picking off calves and young camels from the flocks of the wandering Toubou nomads.

There was only silence and shimmering heat. Secora rallied and stepped inside the cave entrance, playing the flashlight around and illuminating the small room. Large bones mixed with the cave dust, but they were not human; perhaps camels, and they were not recent remains. She called again, “Mosa? Anyone in here?” She listened intently for a response. Could she hear the water witcher’s faint voice? She shook her head and turned to leave for the third and final cave.

In the distance, a dust cloud drew her eyes. Squinting through a narrow sandstone arch, she thought she saw her husband, Gideon Yellow Thunder, and her grad student, Tarkio Cyr, along with their tracker, Anthony, in a jeep heading toward the base of the formations of twisted rock and sand. She imagined it would take them several minutes to race up to her position. 

What she did not expect was the humongous tiger materializing from behind spindly bushes, not ten feet directly in front of her. The cat was longer than the distance between them. She slowly replaced the Maglite on her belt. Its eyes were calculating her every move, waiting for Secora to flinch. That wasn’t going to happen. With no chance for escape, Secora stepped forward as she lifted the camera from around her neck. She was fascinated by this beast, a relative of the great saber-toothed cats of the past, but its shape was more like that of a cave hyena, taller in the shoulders, with a sloping back, shorter rear legs, and a stubby tail. Most notably, its canine teeth were flattened like knife blades, and only protruded a few inches beneath the lower jaw. They weren’t quite as long or round as the ones on Smilodon or a bull walrus skull. 

This animal was extremely large, and had short reddish-brown fur with vertical white stripes. She couldn’t see any black stripes like on a Bengal or Siberian tiger. Long fur surrounded its toes and padded the feet. She guessed it helped the animal to walk more easily across shifting sand, or to protect its toes from sharp rocks.

The phrase “scimitar-toothed cat” popped into her mind as she snapped several photos. The mechanical noise made by the automatic film advance caused the beast to blink, and the dogs, emboldened by that reaction and her advance, backed up Secora’s legs with low growls and exposed teeth. They snarled toward the beast in a stalking manner.

Such unanticipated results were more than the cat could take. It wheeled and sprang down from a pinnacle, disappearing about thirty feet below their position.

 “Secora, wait.” The guys had parked and were catching up fast. The dogs whirled to face them and yelped a sharp warning to Secora.

Gideon pleaded, “Weah Witco,” Crazy Woman, in Lakota. “What are you doing near that cave?”

“I think Mosa, our water witcher, is up here somewhere. I heard a voice that sounded like he was calling for help. I’m sure it was Mosa.” 

Anthony, the team tracker and translator, said, “Not likely, madam. Unless he is in the kingdom of the unseen. Only the voices of the dead are carried through these rocks by the caressing winds. You can hear them all around this area.” 

She sighed. “I can understand that, but Anthony, I’m sure it was Mosa. Do you know where these dogs came from? Surely they can’t live out here alone in this dry desert.”

Everyone became quiet. Eventually, Gideon gently asked, “Dogs? What dogs…?” 

Secora looked around with increasing concern, but when she saw no dogs, she immediately fainted. 

She roused back at camp, thinking she’d had an awful dream. “What happened?” she asked. Gideon, Tarkio, and Anthony anxiously surrounded her. Her husband responded gently, “You fainted, dear.”

“Where is the water witcher? Is Mosa okay?”

Anthony responded, “He must be around somewhere.”

Secora said plaintively, “No, I heard his voice calling for help. It was very faint at first, but clearer as I closed in on the second of the three caves you told us about. There was nothing inside the first one except for the tracks of small rodents and snakes. I heard a faint voice at the second cave entrance, but saw only a few dried cow and antelope bones. 

“When I turned around to get to the last cave, a mountain tiger stepped from behind some shrubs and would have attacked me if it wasn’t for those snarling dogs that were protecting my legs.”

“The animals must have been your imagination,” Anthony suggested.

Secora thought his smile looked a bit patronizing. “I’m not sure exactly how large this cat was, but I took pictures – even though I won’t be able to develop them until I am back in my lab. If it wasn’t just a spirit beast, there should be a clear image of an ancient tiger that looked about eleven feet long and stood as tall as my chest.”

“I believe there are tales of a legendary Ennedi Tiger. But it is a spirit beast. So don’t be too surprised if nothing shows in the photo but rocks.”

“Fine, but we still have to go back and check out that third cave.”

Anthony cautioned, “Not interested. Those caves belong to the spirit cat.”

Tarkio asked, “You mean, the cat you just told us was imaginary? Secora, what are these dogs you’re talking about?”

She didn’t feel like answering that question, as concern for Mosa was her priority. “Has anybody heard from Mosa since I left for the caves?” 

Tarkio said, “Not that I know, but maybe he left to go home since he had staked out all of the areas that were above subterranean aquifers.”

Gideon agreed, “That makes sense. I doubt anyone would stay here after their part was done. Even Raffique left for Afghanistan yesterday after he finished setting up the collectors at the wadi.”

“But,” Secora insisted, “Can anyone confirm that Mosa went home?”

Her persistent concern prompted a trek with the others to the third cave.

There, they found Mosa’s torn robes and bones mostly cleaned of flesh, among the vestiges of camels and calf heads. Remembering the large cat, Secora felt forlorn, realizing she couldn’t have saved his life even if she had made it to the third cave. 

Suddenly, she flashed on a memory of the crew eating breakfast at a restaurant. It was one of Mosa’s favorite occasions, rare, and to be savored. The image made her smile, a comforting contrast to the way she felt inside while looking at what was left of her friend’s mortal remains. Mosa? Are you trying to keep me from feeling morbid? 

She smiled. It would be just like you. Safe passage, my friend. Go with God.

On the way down the rocks, Anthony carried poor Mosa’s remains while explaining that although he’d always believed the Ennedi Tiger was a spirit beast, there were persistent legends of cave-dwelling cats, mountain tigers in the Tibesti and Ennedi mountains of Chad. “It was supposedly larger than a lion, perhaps twelve feet long, with short reddish-brown fur marked with vertical white stripes.” 

Secora responded, “Well, they are more than spirits if they’re stealing animals from the Toubou at the drinking wells, and attack people during the light of day.”

Because of Mosa’s death, work naturally came to a halt. It was too late in the day to take his remains to his family in Fada, so the crew sat to plan an impromptu funeral for this solemn man, an Islamic servant of God. 

Gideon called his friend and holy man, Jimmy Lizardeye, a Lakota Wichasha Wakan on the Satfon for his sacred contribution, while Anthony prepared to recite the Moslem funeral prayer, Salat al-Janazah. 

Secora carefully collected a few wildflowers. When they were ready, they arranged themselves around the deceased to begin the eulogy and prayers. Secora praised Mosa, their coworker and friend. Then Anthony stepped forward and began to chant the Moslem funeral prayer, Salat al-Janazah. 

“Bismillah, O God, forgive our living and our dead, those who are present among us and those who are absent, our young and our old, our males and our females. O God, whoever You keep alive, keep him alive in Islam, and whoever You cause to die, cause him to die with faith. O God, do not deprive us of the reward, and do not cause us to go astray after this. 

O God, forgive him and have mercy on him, keep him safe and sound and forgive him, honor his rest and ease his entrance; wash him with water, and snow, and hail, and cleanse him of sin as a white garment is cleansed of dirt. O God, give him a home better than his home and a family better than his family. O God, admit him to Paradise and protect him from the torment of the grave and the torment of Hell-fire; make his grave spacious and fill it with light.’ Asalamu ‘Alaykum Warahmatullah, may the peace and mercy of God be unto you.”

As Anthony finished, Tarkio offered, “La ilaha ila Allāh”. “There is no God but Allah”. 

Jimmy Lizardeye chanted a Lakota Prayer over speakerphone. 

“I offer the ‘Between Worlds’ prayer on behalf of my dearest friends. Hey-a-ho. First, I offer this pipe to Wakan Tanka, the Great Spirit who is One. Behold this sacred pipe. Behold us on this sacred earth. O Wakan Tanka, you are our Father and Grandfather. You are everything. You have always been. Grandfather, this sweetgrass is your herb; its fragrance belongs to you. Behold the good young man before you. He suffers between worlds now. I beg of you to cause him to move toward you, as is your will. Be merciful. Help him.”

“Our Grandmother and Mother, you are sacred. Every step upon you should be taken as a prayer. It is from you that our bodies come. Help this brave man. He wishes to be one with all things. He served the good of all your peoples, the four-leggeds, the two-leggeds, the green things, and the wings of the air. Help him.”

“I now beseech the four directions to help this man. First to you, O winged Power from where the sun goes down. Send your servants, ancient and sacred. The Thunder Beings who come to us in the terrifying storm. Send us your two sacred red-and-blue days. Help him.” He then sought help from the east and the north, beseeching aid for Mosa. Finally, Jimmy announced “Hetchetu aloh. It is finished.”

Secora began the Baha’i Prayer for the Departed…

“O, my God! O Thou forgiver of sins, bestower of gifts, dispeller of afflictions! Verily, I beseech Thee to forgive the sins of such as have abandoned the physical garment and have ascended to the spiritual world.

“O my Lord! Purify them from trespasses, dispel their sorrows, and change their darkness into light. Cause them to enter the garden of happiness, cleanse them with the most pure water, and grant them to behold Thy splendors on the loftiest mount.”

Gideon placed the delicate flowers on the makeshift coffin. The entire funeral was videotaped by Tarkio to be sent along with the remains, which would be escorted by Anthony to Mosa’s elderly relatives.

                                                  ********

After returning from the “water seeking” project during summer break, Secora groaned as she sat back at her office desk. With a coffee in hand rather than her usual tea, she called one of her grads, Bill Hoffmann, and asked him to stop by the office to develop a roll of film with images from the desert.

“Okay… see you in five.”

A few hours later, Bill popped back into the office bearing a handful of prints as if they were golden treasure. He handed them over as Secora set her files aside. She was shocked when the shots showed two snarling dogs stepping toward a scimitar cat – plain as day! 

Bill asked, “What’s all this about? Did you pick up a few pets while in Africa? Looks like a fang flashing orgy!”

Scora smiled and then calmly sipped her tea. . .

All My Books Are Available
From Amazon Books!
https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B01LWDB4K7/allbooks

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The Rising Wind novel series by award-winning author Diane Olsen is a multicultural action-adventure mystery series that explores themes of anthropology, spirituality, and Native American lore. The series, which includes titles such as The Thunder Beings (Book 1) and Ice and Bone (Book 2), follows protagonists such as paleontologist Secora and Gideon on thrilling, globe-trotting adventures. 

In the summer of 2012 the elders of the Dalton family, Dr. L. W., and her husband, Dr. Sage, and Alai Santiago from Isla del Sol, last of her tribe decided to invite all of their grandchildren, and the children of close friends to come for playtime, picture coloring, storytelling, and snacks in the heavenly safety of the trees and the meadow of their Missoula, Montana back yard...

After the young ones were tired of running and playing, Sage and L. W. called everyone to picnic tables under the trees for a snack of celery and peanut butter topped with raisins, which they called “ants on a log.”

One child exclaimed, “Nothing like the ‘bullet ants’ we have in Peru!” After snacks and cleanup, one of the older children, Monta, begged Sage to tell a story. “Please, grandfather, make it a good one.”

Sage eased back into his chair, remembering. “Here’s an old story from forty-five years ago in southwestern Arizona. My daughter, Secora, was twelve when we hit the road, hoping to give my wife, L.W., a personal break and a chance to be alone with our new baby girl, Iris, who is now Kantun’s wife.

“The resulting trip turned out to be more of an adventure than we’d counted on, even though it started innocently enough. I took Secora for a drive through the Mogollon Plateau east of Phoenix. Then we decided to follow the Gila River through Southwest Arizona and on into Baja California to explore pictographs, and some of the cliff dwellings and storehouse ruins.

“This was going to take several days, so of course we took PBJs and water in canteens. We did, however, stop at greasy spoons for breakfasts and dinners along the way. At night, we turned in early, resting in rustic roadside cabins. Secora had such a good time in those old motels. She especially loved the little bars of soap.

“Late on the fourth afternoon, we were slowly driving along a bumpy road in a narrow valley, when Secora spotted some interesting features that resembled mud-covered stone walls across the creek.

“We bounced across the rocky gully with its trickle of life-giving water, and then parked the pickup on some flagstones beneath the fifty-foot-tall cliff.  “After I put on my backpack and slung my binoculars around my neck, she and I wandered about a half mile over to the outcrop, which consisted of piles of stacked rocks and mud bricks. I peeked over a wall and found the foundation of what looked like a large ruin.

It might once have been a lookout tower, and was maybe reworked into a shelter at some later time. Toward the back, which was more protected by the mesa cliff. Some adobe still covered the rocks, and soot stains blackened the ceiling from now-silent fires. As I peered closer, I could make out a finger and some streaks left by the person who plastered the mud on the structure.  

“I lifted Secora over the rockpile and found that the pit was full of Coors cans as if some hooligans had partied there. We picked up some of the rubbish, figuring we could squash the empties and carry them out in my satchel. As I bent down for the last one, I roused a snappy rattlesnake that was almost invisible in the lengthening shadows curled in front of a small pool of water. Of course, we decided to skirt around it and hopped back out to begin the hike back to the truck. We stopped to honor the setting sun. She and I offered short prayers of gratitude before we moved on. “As we got closer to the pickup, a full moon became visible on the horizon, but we were distracted by a screechy growl. Glancing up, I noticed a shadowy mountain lion glowering at us from its rocky perch above us.”
 
“I unfroze, and with Secora being too small to run very far, I had to pick her up along with a large dead aspen branch, and returned the cat’s stare as we backed out toward the truck. Its tail twitched, but its eyes never blinked. Finally, it lowered its head and, crouching, it began its approach. Waiting for the upcoming attack was nerve-racking. My mind tried to sort possible options. A moment later, the scenario changed.

“We were saved by a dirt biker tearing up the sand and the quiet of the canyon, as he broke over a rise and wove closer and closer to us. When the growling bike popped over the last ridge, the cat had enough and turned to slink into the closest brush.”

“That must have been scawy Grandpa,” quivered Steve, who was almost three years old.

“Oh yeah, it’s still scary, little Stevie. But it was about to get much worse.”

“Ooh…”

“Yup. I got the feeling that we shouldn’t stay around to visit the mysterious motorcycle man, so Secora and I ducked down in the shadow of a large organ pipe cactus until he passed. With my binoculars, I could barely make out that he had stopped and parked the bike at an old mining tunnel with a partially collapsed entrance. The man kicked out the bike stand and moved some logs away from the entrance. Just as I was wondering what business he had there, Secora let me know she had to go to the bathroom, and I turned away to give her privacy, thinking about what was so interesting inside the tunnel in the dark. 

“I was startled by a lightning flash. As I pivoted and looked up, I noticed a huge thunder shower was headed our way, already shading part of the rising moon. There was no protective cover in sight, and we didn’t have jackets with us. The wind picked up, and lightning struck several places at once. Little Secora was shivering as she finished the task at hand, and I was beginning to think this hadn’t been such a hot idea. 

“Even though I had a bad feeling about what that motorcycle guy had been hiding out there in the dark, my worries vanished as I noticed the dirt around us had turned to sticky mud. My blood began to chill. We parked on the wrong side of the river in case of a flood. “A number of unpleasant surprises awaited us before we made it safely out of the flash-flooded canyon. Needless to say, we were very happy to get home to L.W. and our warm, dry, and peaceful home.”

“What about the other part of the story?” asked Sandy, who was Kantun and Iris’ child. L. W. cautioned her. “Let’s leave that one for another day, maybe much later, sweetheart.”

“Everyone had been drawn in by the tale, and there were a few sighs of disappointment, but the youngest ones, Apawi and Steve, were set on escaping to run around through the trees. When the children were all playing, smile wrinkles creased Alai’s aged face as she commented, “The children are so precious.” After a respectful moment, Kantun asked, “So what was the mystery?”

“Turned out that jerk was holding some Hopi Indians hostage to exchange for a mythical treasure.” Sage shook his head and looked at his boots. “Secora and I wound up allowing them to go free, all of them except for the gentle hostage the criminal had already shot. They didn’t want any further help, so we left them to do as they wanted. First time my little girl ever drove the pickup.”

“Was the guy caught? Kantun looked nervous. Sage nodded. 

“We called the sheriff once we got the truck out of the muck and drove to a phone booth. The man on the motorcycle couldn’t get through the mud. He wasn’t going anywhere until he was arrested. The guy went to prison for his crimes. But, that’s a whole other story!”

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All My Books Are Available
From Amazon Books!
https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B01LWDB4K7/allbooks

*****************

The Rising Wind novel series by award-winning author Diane Olsen is a multicultural, action-adventure, and mystery series that explores themes of anthropology, spirituality, and Native American lore. The series, which includes titles such as The Thunder Beings (Book 1) and Ice and Bone (Book 2), follows protagonists like paleontologist Secora and Gideon in thrilling, globe-trotting adventures.