Back at the Grayson house that evening, she told Adam of the strange encounter and he promised to look into it. He came back after the last practice of the day to say that neither Quentin James nor the stranger could be found.
Out on the field the next day, Vivid encountered Abigail and a native woman seated on the benches watching the practices. Vivid looked for Nate and saw him way downfield; these were the only times she could see him. The teams were sequestered during the final days leading up to the game.
"Viveca, I want you to meet an old friend of mine, Anna Red Bird of the Sturgeon Clan."
"Hello," Vivid said smiling as she placed her bag on the bench and took a seat.
Anna Red Bird glanced at the bag and said, "You are the doctor I've heard so many good things about. I'm glad to finally meet you."
"Pleased to meet you also. Are you related to Isaac Red Bird, the skabewis?" Vivid asked.
"Yes, Isaac is my youngest son. He was very excited about being this year's skabewis. Remember the year those Kentucky Cherokees came up to play?" Anna Red Bird asked Abigail with a laugh.
"Oh, yes. I thought Adam would strangle that brave to death trying to get that ball. I laughed until I cried. Adam was so furious."
Vivid asked, "Strangling is allowed?"
Mrs. Red Bird laughed. "Only when necessary, and it is sometimes when our clever Cherokee friends play. They love to hide the ball."
"The brave had the ball in his mouth," Abigail explained, chuckling still from the memory. "Back then we would have games with ninety, a hundred men on a side, and in the chaos of all those bodies the players would oftimes lose sight of the ball. On this particular day, the Cherokee brave took advantage of the anarchy and hid the ball in his mouth."
A smiling Anna Red Bird took up the tale, "Adam caught him just as he broke away to dash to the goal, and the next we knew he was strangling him trying to free the ball. That brought the apisaci and the drivers out onto the field."
"What are drivers and apisaci?" Vivid asked confused.
"The score and foul keepers. They also settle ball possession disputes so the game keeps moving."
"So how did they stop Adam from strangling the Cherokee brave?"
"They use long switches to enforce their rules, and after the first couple of blows the Cherokee gave up the ball and Adam gave up his grip, then the game resumed fast and furious as before."
Vivid shook her head, "Lacrosse sounds like a very novel game."
Mrs. Red Bird nodded in apparent agreement. "Oh, it is. Back before the French and Americans, the Little Brother of War would sometimes go on for days and hundreds of men would participate. A playing field could be as large as twelve acres."
She further explained to Vivid that during the old days the games were very intense because they were sometimes used as practices for war. But it was not the only reason the People played. Intertribal ball games were also called to settle land disputes and hunting boundaries. Sometimes a chief called for ball games on his deathbed, and tribes played to honor his life and to ease his passage to the ancestors. The Menominee played ball every spring before the first thunder to cure illness. Each tribe had its own ceremonies and methods of playing.
"Now," she said a bit sadly, "there are so few of us left, we have taken customs from all who care to come. The apisaci were originally part of the Choctaw game, the drivers are Cherokee and wore turbans on their heads in the old days. We in the Lakes play with a knot from a tree; the Iroquois use a ball of stuffed deer hide."
Vivid found the information fascinating and asked, "So when did the Grove game begin?"
"Our grandfathers began the tradition back in the early forties," Abigail said.
Mrs. Red Bird added, "And in spite of all the government has done and the passage of the years, we continue to honor the families and ancestors of both races, and play."
The night before the game the Grove hosted the traditional Ball Game Dance. While Vivid and her parents stood with Magic, Satin, Abigail, and the other nonparticipating residents under the flickering light of the torches and ceremonial fires lining the field, the dances commenced on the beat of the traditional groundhog hide-covered drum. Two lines of nearly seventy women of both races, all attired in traditional dresses worked through with beads, needlework, and ribbon appliques, sang and danced slowly in rhythm in the center of the field. Vivid spotted Miss Edna, Maddie, and Adam Crowley's daughter, Jewel, among the Grove women, and the resplendently dressed Anna Red Bird swaying slowly with the women of the People. The blended voices of the women rose in the night with such beauty and power Vivid felt chills course up and down her arms.
Between the lines of women were two shamans, one young, the other old. The two men raised their voices over the singing women, offering prayers and salutations to the ancestors.
While the women continued to dance and chant, and the shamans offered their prayers, the players of both teams, bared to the waist, were dancing at the other end of the torch-lit field. Vivid stared, engrossed, as they gracefully wielded their sticks down by the area of the goal, whirling and turning and striking imaginary goals. Abigail told them that the dance Nate, Eli, and the other Grove men were doing had been added to the ceremony by her father. Some of the movements were similar to the steps of their native competitors. As Vivid watched Nate moving against the oscillating light, she remembered him speaking of his grandfather's dancing the day they'd gone berry hunting. She was certain his grandfather would be pleased to know his grandsons were keeping the traditions of their ancestors.
The air was thick with the sounds of drums and singing as Vivid and Abigail headed everyone back to the house hours later.
Vivid lay in bed surrounded by darkness. Her windows were open and she could hear the faint echoes of the drum and the sweet voices riding on the night air. Abigail had told her earlier that back in her youth the dance would go on all night. Vivid listened for a moment, then as the hour grew late, she drifted into sleep and dreamed of drums, lacrosse sticks, and the Thunder God.
The next morning as they ate breakfast before going to the game, Magic told the story of "How the Bat Got Its Wings."
According to the Cherokee legend, the land animals challenged the birds to a ball game. Among the land animals were the bears, because their weight could wear down the opposition; the deer, because of their swiftness; and the turtles, because their shells made them impervious to attack. High up in the trees were their winged opponents, led by the eagle and the hawk, both known for their swift, powerful flights. Two little furry creatures asked the land animals to play but were laughed at because of their small size and turned away. The winged team took pity on the two creatures and allowed them to play on their side—but they needed wings.
Magic's voice held everyone rapt as she said, "The eagle and the hawk thought and thought on how to get the little ones some wings, then they remembered the drum they'd used at the Ball Game Dance the night before. There was some groundhog leather left over from the making of the drum head, so they cut some wings for one little creature and attached it to his legs. Since it now had wings the birds changed its name to Tlameha."
"And what does that mean?" Vivid asked.
"Bat," Magic explained. "The birds didn't have any more groundhog leather to make wings for the second little animal, so they decided to make wings out of the animal's own fur."
Francesca chuckled as she asked, "How in the world did they accomplish that?"
"They stretched him," Magic said. "One strong bird got on one side and another strong bird on the other. Then they pulled and pulled until he had wings and they changed its name to Tewa—the flying squirrel."
According to Magic, the ball was tossed up and the flying squirrel who'd gone down to the ground as the bird's representative immediately captured the ball and ran it up the tree to the birds, who kept the ball aloft for some time. The ball dropped from the sky, however, and plunged in the direction of the ground where the land animals waited eagerly.
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"But little Tlameha dove out of the sky and grabbed the ball in his teeth, and caught it just before it hit the ground. He did so much fancy flying, not even the deer could catch him. Then he threw the ball into the goal and won the game for the birds."
Vivid and the other adults clapped heartily as she ended the tale, then Anna Red Bird added, "And now, even today, it is traditional for players to interweave a piece of a bat wing into their webbings to aid in their victory."
After the traditional opening ceremonies, the ball was tossed up and the game evolved into a furious-paced contest played against a background of mayhem. Everywhere on the field men were running, shouting, and in some cases slashing at opponents with their stick in an effort to get the ball. The game moved so swiftly, Vivid had a hard time distinguishing the ball carrier from the other players. She watched Eli streak toward the opponent's goal only to be bowled over by another man. As he tumbled hard to the ground Eli flipped the ball across the field, hoping it would land in the webbed stick of one of his teammates. All the men crashed into one another, slashing and hacking. Finally out of the fray came a Native man streaking for the Grove's goal. His teammates sprinted after him, swift as the deer in Magic's story, and once they were near, they spread across the field like a wing. The ball carrier passed it to one of his men up the field, but charging toward the wing were the Crowley sons. The two groups converged like opposing waves and the center of the field became an eddy of twisting sticks and turning bodies as players fought for possession of the ball.
Vivid caught a glimpse of Nate, then lost him in the revolving fray. She saw Vernon slash at a man and get hacked across the leg in return for his trouble. As the game continued Vivid began to see the beauty and grace of this violent game. The movements of the men were graceful, powerful. She also began to see why the People were perennial winners. They were better. They were faster and much more precise and accurate with their passes. They seemed to sense without looking when a teammate was near enough to receive the next forward pass, while the Grove men were not as skillful. Many of their passes landed like gifts in the webbing of their opponents—a fact Adam Crowley kept screaming about as he yelled instructions.
Two things amazed Vivid as the People scored the first goal. One, despite the high level of excitement and drama, those viewing the game were, for the most part, silent. Not even when the People scored another quick goal did anyone but the visitors from the cities utter a cheer.
Secondly, she couldn't understand why tempers weren't flaring from all the slashing and hacking and knocking. Men were actually smiling at one another during the heated skirmishes. When Eli was bowled over earlier, he'd given his attacker a large grin as the laughing native man helped him to his feet, then they both ran back to join their mates. She leaned over and asked Anna Red Bird, "Why is everyone so silent?"
Anna did not take her eyes from the game as she said, "My people are not as publicly demonstrative as Americans. We enjoy a good contest but we don't see the need to raise our voices or jump up and down like poor Adam over there."
Anna reached over and touched her friend Gail on the arm and said, chuckling, “Gail, maybe you ought to go over there and say something to him before he kills himself."
Abigail Crowley looked over at her husband and said, "You know Adam, he's gotten too old to play and he just doesn't know what to do with himself."
Francesca Lancaster then asked the question Vivid had asked herself earlier. "I would expect more fighting in a game like this."
The Grove scored finally and a few cheers rang out.
"There are few actual fights because you accept the spirit of the Little Brother when you walk out onto the field, otherwise you stand over here and watch as we are doing," Anna Red Bird said with a small smile.
In the end, the People beat the Grove seven goals to two.
After the game, the men dragged themselves back to the field after the traditional wash-off in the small pond on the edge of Mr. Farley's property.
Some of them went to join families while others went over to the crowd circling the pile of goods that had been bet. Most, however, made their way to the makeshift clinic Vivid had set up beside the field.
She treated swollen and bruised ankles, sewed up lacerations on faces and arms, bound up broken ribs and sprained wrists. She splinted a few broken fingers and extracted a few loose teeth. All in all, the players came out of the Little Brother of War relatively unscathed.
Later that evening they celebrated with a big feast. Pigs had been roasting all day in pits tended by Joseph Lancaster and a crew of women from the church. There was a mountain of salmon and a flock of grilled turkeys, along with squash, corn, green beans, and all the cider one could drink. For dessert, there were cakes, pies, and churns and churns of ice cream.
Chapter 21
Vivid awakened to fire. She struggled out of bed coughing from the smoke clogging her lungs and staggered across the room. The thick smoke burned her eyes and throat, blinding and gagging her even as she sought a way out, stumbling through the open bedroom door. The heat and flames in the short hall made her put her arm across her eyes. She hesitated a moment and looked around. The whole house was ablaze; her kitchen, her front room. The flames looked to be fed by winds as it buffeted against the wood logs of the walls. The heat and roar were as intense as the fires of hell. She knew she had to get out or she would die.
She forced herself to brave the flames, moving as quickly as her weakened body would allow, to get to the entrance to the tunnel below the cabin. She took off her gown and used it to wrap her hands as she felt for the small ringer hole in the blazing floor. She screamed as hot tongues licked at her hands and arms, but she forced herself to open the small panel and crawl inside. The cool darkness and the sensation of falling were the last things she remembered.
When Vivid opened her eyes again she was in a shadow-filled room. She thought she heard Nate's voice but closed her eyes again and went back to sleep.
The next time Vivid opened her eyes, she drew in a deep breath, only to feel her lungs burn, and she coughed.
"Here, drink this. Slowly, Trabrasera," she heard her mama say in Castilian.
Vivid sipped the cool water, then sank back into the pillows mounded beneath her. As the haze of sleep faded, she turned her head and gazed into the happy, teary eyes of her mother. "Hello, Mama," she croaked, then began to cough again.
She took another sip of water and when the spasm passed heard her mother say, "You need to rest your throat. Don't talk."
"My house?" Vivid rasped.
"Gone, sweetheart, everything gone."
Vivid cried then, silent tears that ran down her face unstaunched.
Francesca said softly, "That is terrible news, I know, but you are alive. Be thankful, my youngest, not sad. What money can buy, money can replace. But your life, that is priceless."
Her mother kissed her softly on the forehead, then laid her cheek there a moment. "Go to sleep now. Everything will be fine, I promise you."
Vivid awakened again after dark. She could see her mother seated near a lamp reading a newspaper. Vivid stared at the lamp's dancing flame and for a moment she felt terror. She closed her eyes and forced away the terrible memory.
Instead she looked around at her surroundings. She had no idea where she was but she assumed she had the Graysons to thank for the bed. The big four-poster seemed even larger than the one Adam Crowley had given her. The canopy over her head was made of quilted emerald silk, trailing sumptuously down to the posts and tied back.
"Where is this, Mama?"
"Nate's room, darling."
Nate's bedroom was large enough for one fireplace in the wall near where her mother sat reading, and another in the wall on her side of the room.
She ran her eyes over the cases filled with books and the armoire and writing desk whose polished dark wood matched the wood of the bed. Vivid spied a pitcher on the stand beside the bed and leaned over to pour herself a cup but stopp
ed in mid-reach upon seeing her bandaged hands and arms. They were as heavily wrapped as a mummy's. She stared at them a moment, then heard her mother say, "You burned them fairly badly, my dear. They'll have to stay that way for a while."
Her mother poured her some water and Vivid drank slowly. She started coughing immediately afterward. Her mother, sensing Vivid's confusion about her hands and arms, asked, "Do you remember going into the tunnel?"
Vivid nodded yes. She remembered the terror and the pain of the flames cavorting over her hands, then whispered, "But nothing after that."
"Well, the Underground Railroad continues to save us. Had it not been for that tunnel, we're all certain you'd not be here. The arsonist must not have known about it."
Vivid stared.
"Yes, darling, arsonist. Your father said the air was thick with the smell of kerosene. Someone set that fire at your front door and at the back. You weren't supposed to get out."
Vivid was still reeling as she listened to her mother relate the events that followed Vivid's escape from the inferno. All the men from the ball game had raced to help, but the small cabin was already engulfed. In the end there was nothing anyone could do but stand and watch it burn. It took five men to restrain Nate so he wouldn't go run into the flames to find her.
"Viveca, I will go to my grave hearing him scream your name again and again," she whispered with tears in her voice. "It was as if his heart were being ripped right from his chest."
Once the flames died the men had gone into the smoldering remains to begin the grim search for her body. The cabin's wood floor had been completely consumed. Beneath the smoking debris littering the ground they found the hole to the tunnel. Nate found her lying on the tunnel floor.