Shadowed(5)
“On Earth?” Saber frowned. “What do you want there?”
“It’s not what—it’s who.”
“Reddix, if I could—” Saber began.
“Don’t say another word—your mind is made up, I can feel it. The certainty that you’re not coming back is like a weight around my neck. A heavy fucking weight.”
“But—”
“And don’t worry.” Reddix pointed to the half unrolled vid screen, which lay on the floor. “I’ll swear to your mother you watched that and still wouldn’t come home. It’s doubtless only the first of many lies I’ll be forced to…”
His words trailed off, and he swayed again, much more alarmingly this time.
“Are you all right?” Saber took another step toward him in concern. “Brother?”
“Saber, I…I…”
But Reddix never finished. His silver eyes rolled up, showing the whites, and he dropped heavily to his knees. Then, before Saber could take even one more step forward to catch him, he toppled forward like a fallen tree, face down onto the floor.
Chapter Two
Nina Kerrick sighed as she dusted the glass case containing the brightly colored Seminole dolls and the display of sweet-grass coiled baskets. Moving methodically but quickly, she cleaned the rest of the exhibits and straightened the stacks of brochures located near the front of the small tribal museum attached to the Hard Rock Casino. The museum didn’t pay much, but she only worked there two or three times a week. She loved being surrounded by the fascinating history of the Seminole Tribe even though she was only half Native American on her mother’s side.
Her father was Welsh, and the resulting combination gave Nina an exotic look with high cheekbones and warm copper-tan skin. She also had long, straight black hair with reddish highlights, but it was her deep blue eyes, so unexpected in one with her coloring, that drew the most attention. Nina liked her looks, but she wished she had inherited a smaller behind—her big hips and bottom were a constant source of consternation, but no matter how hard she worked and dieted, they never really got any smaller.
She moved to the small gift shop area, swiftly straightening the array of handmade items—the patchwork vests and jackets, the pillows, potholders, and ornaments, as well as the miniature dolls attached to key chains. Crafted of palmetto husk fiber and adorned in brightly-colored traditional skirt and capes, the doll key chains were by far the best seller. Every woman who nagged her husband or boyfriend away from the gaming tables for a second had to have one.
The small space was straightened and ready for the next day’s patrons—mostly bored gamblers who trickled in from time to time from the casino next door. It was time for Nina to go. She barely had time to run through the drive-thru and get Mehoo-Jimmy her favorite fast food burger before she had to be at her night job as a therapist at Massage Envy in South Tampa.
She paused in front of a framed black and white photograph depicting a Seminole woman from 1910. The picture was part of the Camera-man exhibit, taken by renowned photographer Julian Dimock. The photographs he’d taken revealed fascinating details of Seminole Indian life deep in the interior of the Florida Everglades back at a time when few whites dared to venture so far.
The woman in the picture caught and held Nina’s eye not because of her historical significance but because of what she wore—strands and strands of glass beads woven around her neck. Not just a few either—the woman was wearing literally hundreds of strands, so many that they started just under her chin, covered her entire neck, and dripped down the front of her breasts. Their weight must have been enormous but the woman stood straight and strong, staring into the camera with an unyielding look in her dark eyes.
Nina didn’t need a degree in Native American studies to tell her why the woman wore so many beads. In the past, it had been a matter of pride—of status—for Seminole women. The beads were an outward exhibition of their wealth and worth, not just received as gifts but bought with the money they made themselves, selling handcrafted baskets, blankets, dolls, and anything else they could make. Seminole women would wear the beads, only taking them off at night, even though the immense weight of them eventually led to severe back and shoulder problems. It was a matter of pride to keep them on, and more than once a female who slipped accidentally into the river was drowned because of the great weight around her neck.
“So heavy,” Nina murmured, staring at the woman from over a hundred years ago. “How did you carry that weight day in and day out? How did you keep standing so straight?”