People of the Masks(150)

Rumbler licked his lips, and rushed to say, “Yes, Grandfather. Wren and I were going, but then her uncle came.”

Sparrow smiled. “But Rumbler, who can know where a Forest Spirit lives? They’re very fickle. They ride whirlwinds, and fly on falling stars. I don’t think we could ever—”

“Grandmother”—he sucked in a halting breath, and looked at Dust—“she knows.”

Sparrow lifted his brows, and swung around to face Dust. “Do you? How?”

Dust ran her finger around the warm lip of her cup, frowning at the pale green liquid inside. Images flashed, faces half-remembered, others too clear to bear. The sound of Briar’s cries floated through Dust. Her heart thudded dully. She lowered her cup to the sand.

“I know because—because I’m the one … I …” The words failed. She took a deep breath. “I’m the one who asked him to go away.”

Sparrow sat immobile, but she could see the thoughts coalescing beyond his dark eyes. “Is this something we should talk about now?” He glanced at Rumbler.

Rumbler’s eyes had gone huge. The cup on his knee trembled.

Dust reached over and brushed his cheek with the back of her hand. “I promised I would never tell you,” she said, and the ache came through her smile. “But I think it’s time for you to hear the story.”

Rumbler whispered, “Did he go to the Picture Rocks?”

Dust let her hand fall. “Yes, at first. But I’ve heard through Traders since then that your father has moved several times. The last I heard he’d gone to a place called the Cove Meadows.”

“Can we go, too?”

Dust laced her fingers in her lap, and held them tightly.

Sparrow didn’t say a word. But he didn’t have to. Kindness and patience shone in his face.

Sparrow asked, “What was his name?”

“Bull Killer.”

Sparrow bowed his head, and closed his eyes for a long moment. “Lamedeer’s father?”

Rumbler looked between them, then blurted, “Lamedeer’s father? You mean Lamedeer is my brother? My father is human?”

Dust nodded. “Yes, Rumbler, he is.”

“But—but I thought Lamedeer had killed his father? Red Pipe told me—”

“I know he did,” Dust said gently. “But Red Pipe did not know the truth. No one did. Except Briar, Lamedeer, Bull Killer, and me.”

Fear slackened Rumbler’s young face. “Did my father do something bad? Is that why you made him go away?”

Dust picked up her cup again and took a long sip.

A molten crescent of Grandfather Day Maker’s face crested the eastern horizon, and a sparkling flood of light poured over the water. She admired the beauty for a time.

Rumbler frowned at his hands. “Red Pipe told me that Bull Killer was a witch. He said that’s why Lamedeer had to kill him. He—”

“He wasn’t a witch, Rumbler,” Dust said. “He was a very good man. Just a man of poor judgment.”

Sparrow, his head still down, said, “What you did was for the best, Dust. The scandal would have torn Paint Rock apart.”

Dust turned the four sticks holding the grouse quarters. Fat dripped into the fire and sizzled on the coals. She looked at Rumbler. He watched her like a dog waiting to be thrown a scrap.

“Rumbler,” she said. “This is a hard story to tell. It might take me a while to get it out.”

He said, “You don’t have to, Grandmother. I’ll still love you.”

Dust bent forward and kissed his forehead. “Thank you. You need to know the truth, Rumbler.”

She refilled the teacup, and held it in her lap. “Your mother had seen eleven winters when her father died. Your grandmother, Evening Star, was very lonely. She took a second husband almost immediately. That’s where the mistakes began, but it’s not where they ended. Bull Killer’s first wife had died in a raid only two moons before. He was lonely, too. When he married your grandmother, he wanted to move to Paint Rock Village. Your grandmother agreed, and he came to live with her.”

“And Lamedeer came, too?” Rumbler asked.

Dust nodded. “Bull Killer had seen thirty winters, ten less than Evening Star. He … he didn’t love her. He tried, but they were very different people.” She looked at Rumbler, and found him breathlessly waiting for her next words. “Bull Killer made a mistake in marrying her. But he made a bigger mistake … when he started to love Evening Star’s daughter.”

Rumbler said, “My mother?”

“Yes. Your mother loved Bull Killer, too, Rumbler. It was wrong, and they both knew it. But it didn’t make any difference to the way they felt about each other.”