MIST

Early in the morning

In the wake of rain

The drowsy trees exist

Draped in silence

And a distant thunder

Rolls… along

Beads of sunlight drip

Off water spotted ferns

The forest now breathes

And a distant thunder

Rolls along. . .

**********

About Book One ~ The Thunder Beings

When impassioned paleontologist Secora James is summoned to South America to confirm or dispel rumors of a creature long thought extinct, she lands herself in more trouble than she had ever imagined. Secora knows that the Mapinguari, a giant ground sloth that rivals King Kong for size, is probably just a local myth dreamed up by the indigenous tribes. 
Or is it?
Gideon Yellow Thunder is Montana’s top real estate broker and is perfectly content with his modern life, choosing to leave behind his Lakota heritage in order to lead a life of wealth and success. But when he starts having visions of bison on the open prairie, he feels compelled to act. . .
Now two separate lives are on a collision course as Gideon sets off for the jungles of Brazil to find a woman he’s never met and protect the sacred beings he’d long given up believing in—the Thunderbirds. Could they be real after all?
Or are they just a myth?
Gideon’s about to find out in an adventure of a lifetime, where everything he’d pushed aside is determined to leave its mark on his life.

*********

A Shard Story of Book One “The Thunder Beings”

A New Vision

Gideon Yellow Thunder shuddered back from his startling daydream. Mitch was squinting into his face, worry wrinkles etched onto his forehead. “You okay, dude? I heard you crash on the stairwell.”

********

Gideon Yellow Thunder tapped his pencil eraser on the desk as he finished a call from an eager business property buyer. He hung up thinking that was too easy. Kicking his chair back, he stretched and yawned. Then smiling confidently, he clipped together a few pages before standing up and slipping them neatly into a filing cabinet behind his desk.

Mitch, Gideon’s string bean of an assistant, and Jeannie, their resourceful secretary, were setting up a snack table for a party celebrating the continued success of Treasuremont Realty as it successfully shifted its way through Y2K.

“You’d think a hundred people were coming.” Gideon smiled. “We’ll have leftover snacks for the rest of the year.” He closed the file drawer and wandered over for a cup of punch.

“Hey, Jeannie, hope the company lasts as long as all these snacks.”

“That’s your job, sugar.”

He grinned, then sipped, “Yum, Seven-Up and…?”

“Cranberry juice.”

“I was just going to say that. Here’s to us!”

The office crew was about the only “family” Gideon acknowledged, though he had a younger sister who attended the local university. Jane was a nice girl, but their paths never seemed to cross. When she wasn’t attending classes, she took her breaks on the Pine Ridge Reservation in South Dakota, staying with their mother, grandmother, and her son, Kyah.

The old doublewide on Bigfoot Road was twelve hours away, but that was still too close for Gideon. He wanted to stay as far away as he possibly could from his childhood home and the dysfunction he remembered.

Gideon’s eyes focused solidly on Mitch, who was now moving toward him with a certificate and a gift box. “What’s this stuff?” “Another annual certificate of appreciation from the Montana International Business Brokers Association saying you’re the best, and a little acknowledgment from your partner.” Mitch tipped his head in the direction of Glen Greenbriar, then popped a Frito into his mouth and wandered off.

Glen sat slumped in his chair with his chin idly cupped in one hand, adding drops of Angostura bitters to his whisky with the other to make his favorite drink, an old-fashioned. His desk sported a figurine Gideon hadn’t noticed before—a shrunken head. The face had brown skin, and a shiny green tooth, and bore a caption: My Retirement Plan.

That’s odd, thought Gideon, for several reasons. He glanced over the certificate, then surveyed the crowded wall behind his desk. Where the heck am I going to put this one? He sighed and set the certificate on his polished monkey wood desk. Grabbing the box with smooth manicured fingers, Gideon began to rummage through the curious assortment of packing materials. “Keep digging,” offered Glen. At length, Gideon located a two-inch clear plastic case in the midst of all the newspaper shreds and styrofoam peanuts.
“Wow, Glen, a penknife?”
He flipped it over. Hmm, no engraving. He sorted the box and packing materials into his garbage and recycling bins. Stray bits drifted to the floor.
While he was gathering the shreds, his hand bumped across a small object. He brought up a white marble that looked like it had been squished, the kind that people sometimes put into vases. Closer examination showed it had green specks peeking through. That’s different. He popped it into his shirt pocket. He turned toward Glen and pressed a finger thoughtfully against his lips regarding his partner whose wavy red hair was turning mostly gray. “What’s the knife for? I already have a letter opener.”

Between crunched chips, Glen made a suggestion. “Go skin a buffalo.”

“What… Excuse me?” Gideon stammered in shock.

“You’re an Indian, aren’t you?”

“You know I am. Why is that important?”

No answer. Gideon narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t minded that he had been hired to do the heavy lifting, while Glen phased out and retired. He’d even shrugged off the fact that his colleague had no love for anyone whose skin tones were different from his own. He learned early on from Mitch that Glen’s great-great-grandfather had been part of the 7th US Cavalry and an eager participant in two massacres during the late 1800s. These actions, no doubt, affected Gideon’s family, personally. Mitch said that Glen believed his ancestor was justified in the killings, regardless of the truth that time had since revealed.

Gideon tapped the table with anxious fingers. Maybe Glen had a tumor, or a demon on his tail. Maybe his great-great-grandfather was looking for a comeback. Whatever the cause, this was not business as usual.

“I was going to get you a bronze plaque partner, but…” Glen fidgeted with his glass, then belched. “Well, never mind, the plaque will have to wait. You got the damn award, and we got you that fine piece of cutlery.” His blue eyes turned to ice. “Clearly, Gideon, you’re worth every cent.”

Gideon Yellow Thunder was taken by surprise and rubbed his brow. Glen got up from his chair and stormed toward the buffet. Something was definitely fractured in their partnership, and he wondered how much longer the arrangement would last.

Eight and a half years ago, he’d given a talk at a business conference in Seattle on Seizing the Day. Glen had approached him afterward using words like “impressive” and “charismatic” that poured from his lips. Glen’s eyes smiled as he used phrases like “changemaker” and “closer” and “just the man.” Gideon would fit right in at Glen’s classy realty shop.

Despite Gideon’s hesitation to move to Missoula, Montana, he’d been excited about working for a legend in the profession. At first, the praise was almost constant. Glen assured Gideon he was doing the work of any three decent agents. Things had been good. But honest interaction between them was quickly fading. With a sigh, he put on his headphones and pulled up the quarterly accounting spreadsheets on his computer.

He flicked through several screens before he slowed down to focus on the figures for travel expenses. 
Something’s off. 
His finger traced the lines of expenditures that seemed not only out of place but way out of line with their budget. His calculator couldn’t make the problem go away and suddenly, there was more than racism bothering him.
Perhaps he had just uncovered one source of the problems with their partnership. Before he said anything to Glen, he’d check the figures against the budget history with an external accountant. He copied the questionable expenses onto a DVD, which he slid into his back pocket while exiting the computer.

He cleared the desk except for the new certificate and snatched his silk and cashmere suit coat from a hall tree. As he slid into the jacket, Gideon lifted his hair, which was neatly longer in the back, over his collar. He noticed Glen’s eyes were fixed on him. For show, he flipped the little silver steel knife into the air, smiled, then dropped it into his pocket.
“Never know when a knife will come in handy.” Glen growled, “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

“Not feeling well. I think I need to stay away from the punch.”

“You think Jeannie spiked it?”

Gideon shrugged.
“Well, go ahead, partner, enjoy a long easy weekend.
But if you’re not back Monday, Stevenson here will have your job.”

Gideon returned and placed his hands on Glen’s desk, looking directly into his eyes, he said slowly, “What are you getting at?”
“Don’t think you’re irreplaceable.” Glen emptied the whisky bottle into his glass.
Gideon’s mood plunged. “We’re partners.”

Greenbriar stared back and smacked the whisky bottle down on the desk, causing the new bauble to jiggle.

“Take it easy, Glen.” I’m not just talking about the drinking. Yellow Thunder wrinkled his brow and pushed his hands away from the desk. He pointed to the shrunken head. “That’s new. A souvenir?”

The stand for the head was surrounded by a tiny terrarium. Little palm trees sprouted from a white beach made of squished marbles like the one he’d found on the floor.
Glen grinned like a hyena. “Something like that.”

“Aren’t their mouths usually sewn shut like their eyes?”

“Yeah, but I had custom dentures made for this guy.” Glen brushed a finger against his nose. “He’s smiling because he’s a retiree. Kinda like I’ll be, very soon.”

Gideon became momentarily distracted when he thought he heard the boom of distant thunder. But the sunny sky out the window gave no sign of a storm. He shrugged it off and started to leave the office. “Bye, everybody. Have a fantastic weekend.” Jeannie and Mitch looked surprised.

Gideon offered as an explanation, “Not feeling too great.” Suddenly that statement felt very real. Two steps into the stairwell Gideon’s tall frame collapsed. He nearly fell to the first stair as he grabbed for the rail. Lightning flashed, and immediately the thunderclap boomed and echoed. 

That was way too close, he thought. I smell ozone. Clouds swarmed in his mind’s eye. He tried to shake them off, but now he could feel and hear the shrieking wind around him as he watched the storm descend on a Pine Ridge meadow.

At first, the bison calves danced and charged the gusty air, but before long, a strangely rising wind caused them to bawl and bolt for the herd’s protected inner circle. The growling of distant thunder disturbed a few of the anxious cows, who raised their muzzles from the summer grass.

The mothers began to call and sniff their babies. The cottonwoods by Porcupine Creek lifted the white undersides of their leaves as they beckoned and ached for the rain. Thunderheads swallowed the last eerie yellow light, and the storm was on. Thunder crashed over the land and the animals. The small bison herd froze with foreboding.

Swift darkness swept over the herd-like sinister magic once, then twice. Two of the calves were gone with the crack of thunder. The trees bent even further, and the squall splattered fat raindrops on nearby rocks. Next came the hail, smashing and bouncing through a bunch of grass and bushes, obliterating everything from view.

Gideon Yellow Thunder shuddered back from his startling daydream. Mitch was squinting into his face, worry wrinkles etched onto his forehead. “You okay, dude? I heard you crash on the stairwell.”

Gideon rallied, shaking the strong prairie images that had assailed him without warning. Mitch sighed with relief and helped Gideon to his feet. “Thanks, Mitch, I’m not feeling well. Better get home.
See you Monday.”

Mitch didn’t seem convinced, so Gideon made himself smile, however weakly, and wobbled down the steps, his hands gripping the railings. He still couldn’t believe it. His thoughts had just been violently overtaken by a vision of bison and the shadows of gigantic birds. Why in the world? How? He’d tried so hard to push that Indian nonsense away from him and now this…this daydream that made no sense, literally came crashing down around him.
“Unbelievable, he murmured to no one”
Outside, he was surprised to see slate-colored clouds crawling across the sky, rapidly consuming what had been a bright afternoon. He choked in the muggy air. Loosening his tie and opening the shirt collar, he stepped over the curb to cross the street to his car. A bank clock read two-thirty, and traffic was slow. Almost no one was visible on streets that would be swamped within half an hour. He fumbled with the knife in his pocket. “Just about useless.“

Sparkles of distant lightning danced among the blue-black clouds that billowed in. He shivered. It reminded him of the strange daydream that seemed so real. Gideon reached the other side of the street just as lightning flashed with a nearly simultaneous thunderclap. Damn, that couldn’t have been even a thousand yards away. Am I in that blinking dream again? 
He looked up to the stormy sky. A metallic light flashed from the roof of his office building across the street. He squinted to get a better view, shading the last of the sunlight from his eyes with his hand. His attention was snatched from the roof by the shadow of a low-flying plane that came ripping through the clouds. Stunned, Gideon dropped his arms and stood by his car in total disbelief.

A whining sound increased as the approaching craft quickly descended. Its shadow swept over him just as his driver’s side window shattered only inches from his hand. His jaw dropped as he noticed a visible pit appear in the passenger door. Upholstery stuffing, that was hanging precariously, fell to the floor. Finally, able to react, he panicked and crept around to the more protected side of the BMW.

Is someone shooting at me? 
From the back tire, he lifted his head a few inches to take another peek. Amazingly, the plane he’d thought was perhaps a Cessna 182 flapped its wings. The whooshing sound across the feathers of a bird, whose body size exceeded three times that of an ostrich, sounded like a cross between the shriek of wind through a well-ventilated abandoned shack and the reverberating impact of thunder—comparable to a jet engine. The avian zeroed in on a man with a rifle standing on the rooftop while Gideon gaped in astonishment. Just then, a sharp sizzle of lightning turned the world a silent white. . .

**********

Momentarily, Gideon was one with a warm golden-white universe. Atom for atom, he was willed into motion with millions of superheated particles. For that awesome interval, he was part of the oneness of all matter and energy, a unified component of all that existed. He was One.After an unfathomable increment of time, he separated and returned to semi-consciousness, his senses hyper-aware. There was an overwhelming aroma of pine needles, and the staccato beat of raindrops bounced from the car’s roof. He tried to move, but everything went dark“…

Readers can now read the full story about Gideon and Secora within the first book that begins their journey in the ‘Rising Wind series!’ Packed with romance and exciting mysteries they solve around the globe!

The full series is now available on Amazon in Kindle and Paperback. https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B01LWDB4K7/allbooks

Let’s Connect>> https://dianeolsenauthor.allauthor.com/