Witch Clan: Matriarchs, John Stormm [great reads txt] 📗

in front of her.

“I’ll write that letter today and let Lorry know I’ll be on my way soon,” she said, toasting him with her coffee cup.

She wanted to give the letter a few days of a head start on her before she left for the bus terminal. This would give them time to prepare for her and maybe a little confidence that Johnny won’t be their problem for much longer and take a little pressure off everyone concerned. She had packed her bags for the trip and remembered she wanted to check up on something before she left. There were promises she didn’t want to forget to keep.

That afternoon, she strolled down East Avenue for the Rochester Museum and Science Center. There had been a newspaper blurb about their natural history exhibit and she wanted to see if there was anything she could use in it. Arriving at the imposing white stone structure, she walked up to the central information desk. There were few visitors besides a school tour looking at stuffed panoramas behind glass on the main floor. The woman at the desk had a friendly smile and was glad to answer questions.

“Do you have any exhibits or information here on the local landscape two or three hundred years ago?” Emma asked.

“We’d be a poor museum if we didn’t,” the woman said cheerfully. “On the second floor, a large section is devoted to the Iroquois and Seneca people of this region, complete with artifacts, dioramas, and a full sized longhouse. Would you like a map and a brochure?”

“Why, yes, thank you,” she said, accepting the brochure.

“Just take that elevator over there to the second floor.” The woman directed her.

The second floor proved to be a treasure trove of Indian life before the white man settled these parts. She was sure it would be a pleasant field trip for Johnny and Leona one day this summer. The longhouse was an actual log cabin with wax manikins of an Indian man, woman and baby in native dress going about daily life. Behind one glass display, was a gruesome recreation of a local burial site, complete with the bones of someone’s long lost ancestor and the artifacts found with the skeleton. While she could understand the academic interest, she wasn’t sure that this would be the kind of respect Coyote would approve of. Taking a cue of the Trickster’s methods, maybe she could use them as a good example of what is not appropriate. Nonetheless, this gave her what she would need to educate her little cowboy about the other side of his roots. She would keep her promise as best as she could. The Trickster, himself, would help with the rest.

She was beginning to note a growing list of the boy’s helpers. First, were the nuns of St. Brigit’s. Then Brother George, the dragon slayer imaginary brother, who was not imagined. There was Geraldine, who had more mouths to feed and care for than either of them cared to count. The woman would take Johnny in with her own brood and watch over him when she had appointments or such. Old Ian, the neighborhood skinflint, could not maintain a dour look on his face when Johnny was present. There was Elvyra, whom even the children never suspected was a friend. Brave Gregory, the piskie hero of the woods of Annwn, who was most instrumental in rescuing him. The boy was Irish, which was a strike against him in certain white circles, and Sidhe, which could work either way depending upon the company kept. The Indian side was never discussed, even among the family. By rights, Johnny was at least one eighth Native. Here were Coyote, Raven --who could be of any culture-- and Iktome the Spider going to bat for him, and the boy making friends and dancing with them as if it were only natural that he should do so.

Emma so missed her father at this moment. He could have told the boy the stories he needed to hear to find himself. Her father had been a chief. He could have taught the boy to dance like an Indian and make him as proud as she was to be his daughter. She just never thought of him much as “Indian.” He was simply “Daddy.” Somehow, in all of this, it was not just Johnny. She would find a piece of herself. Was it her imagination? Or did that raven mask on the totem pole just wink at her? It was time to leave.


Rites Of Passage

Dave didn't know whether to rant or rejoice. Lorry had received a letter that his mother-in-law would be on her way to bring the boy to stay with her for the summer, and possibly forever. He would be free of the brat at last and his luck would change. But deep in his darkest depths, he still had a score to settle with the little bastard for humiliating him in front of so many. Before that old crone would get here, he would empty the rest of Miguel's powder into the boy's food. Then maybe the brat would try to boil his own head, and Emma could take back what was left of him. Yes. Now he was feeling decidedly better about himself.

Opportunity knocked when Ginna came and took Lorry and the baby for a Saturday doctor's appointment. That would leave him in charge of making Johnny's breakfast and getting him out and away from the house so that he could not be affected by the boy's weird magic. Also, if the kid was as far across the fields as he liked to play, he could not be expected to know if anything was wrong or have to rescue him. Miguel's hoodoo gods were smiling upon him.

“Up and at ‘em, kid,” he said cheerfully. “Get dressed and ready for breakfast. You’ve got a full day’s work ahead of you and I’ll have you a lunch packed and everything.”

“Work?” Johnny asked, excitedly. “I’ve got a job too?”

“Yep.” he said. “It seems those fields across the street stretch on for miles and miles and no one has ever explored them as far as they go. Seeing as it is such a beautiful day, I think we should pack you a lunch and set you to exploring the outermost reaches of them for science. You‘ll need an early start if you expect to get them explored before suppertime.”

“Yes sir,” Johnny said, dashing about his room looking for his socks and sneakers.

It was almost too easy. The remainder of the bottle went into the boy’s oatmeal. The biggest single dose yet. The kid finished all of his breakfast and grabbed his sack lunch, which was free of any potentially incriminating evidence, and out the door in minutes. Now, it was time to put on his favorite Tex Ritter album and do a little house cleaning to please the missus.

* * *

Johnny made excellent time getting out into the field. The sunshine was warm and friendly on his shoulders and the tall grass smelled sweet. This would be a great day for exploring and adventure. He didn’t even have to go back home for lunch, so he could explore much farther. Perhaps today he would make it all the way up to the base of those mountains. It had always appeared that the field ended there, but he could never be sure. Today, he would find out.

He found an old wooden mop handle in a pile of junk that someone had left in a gully. Twisting off the mop head between two large stones, it made a serviceable staff for his journey. As he turned back to face the eastern mountains, the world shifted gears on him again. He was almost beginning to get used to this happening, but somehow, this was different. In the distance, a fire burned on the slopes of the mountains and a single plume of black smoke rose above, looking down on him as if it were alive. The adventure was about to begin. Just in case, he sharpened the end of his staff and prepared to deal with anything that tried to stop him from exploring his field.

He was scraping out a fine point on a granite boulder when he noticed the blood on his hands. As he examined his palms, another couple drops of crimson landed on his fingers. His nose was bleeding. This was a fine predicament. Wiping his bloody nose on his sleeve, he continued his hike towards the far side of the field with his spear in hand. He was going to be a mighty hero some day and it would take more than this to stop him. The world went topsy turvy for a moment when he plunged through the tall grass and fell into a gulley. He got back onto his feet and nothing seemed to be hurt, with the exception of the bloody nose, but that wasn’t hurt, that was just a nuisance. He picked up his spear and his lunch and set off to explore the gully. The walls were twisting and undulating and making him a little queasy when a loud buzzing hummed near his feet. A large rattlesnake was coiled to strike and angrily buzzing its rattle at him.

“Back away, man thing,” it said. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

“Why do people always want to hurt me?” he insisted angrily.

“I never said I wanted to hurt you, man-child,” the reptile replied testily. “You almost stepped on me and I wanted you to leave me alone. If you leave me be, I will not hurt you at all.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m just a little bit