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.”
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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.
Diane Olsen Author, Books, & Stories 