Blogtober 2020 Day 13 Entry
Meadow’s father entered the smoke lodge. He wasn’t tall, but he wore a long leather coat embroidered with multicolored patterns of beads and a headdress of eagle feathers that hung down to his ankles. He didn’t speak as he opened a wooden box and removed a cluster of dried grasses and flowers.
He and Meadow sat on the opposite side of the fire from Phin and Murphy. He set the plants upon the glowing coals, and the lodge began to fill with thick smoke.
“Breathe it in deeply,” Meadow instructed. “We will meet you in the vision.”
The boys took several gasping breaths and coughed like they had consumption. Phin fell forward and felt like he was choking.
“I’ve got you,” Murphy said, helping him stand. “Breathe slowly and open your eyes.”
Phin listened, and as he did, he saw himself, along with Murphy and the Swede, back in the Wells Fargo office, watching the snake do a number on Gunnarson. After the gunshots, the vision faded to a five-man posse poking around Gunnarson’s grave and the wagon with the dead horse.
As the smoke intensified again, they saw a rush of images—the two of them in jail, racing through the desert on horses with men they didn’t know, and falling off a bridge. When they hit the bottom, they found themselves back on the floor of the lodge.
“He killed a man,” Meadow translated as her father spoke. “Now men seek to punish you. Why should we help?”
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