sometimes, but they’re both down in Texas right now visiting my uncle.”
“Old people can have a lot of trouble with cold weather,” Whitehorse said, still looking around the kitchen.
“Where’d you come from?” Tommy said.
“You used to play professional football,” Whitehorse said. He seemed not to have heard Tommy’s question.
“I did.”
“Why did you quit?”
“The joy came at too high a cost.”
The old man slurped up the last of his marshmallows.
“Would you like more?” Tommy said. The old man nodded and handed Tommy his mug. “So you had a vision about me?”
“I will tell you about that,” Ben Whitehorse said. “But before I do, tell me why you have a gun in the pouch of your sweatshirt. Are you going to shoot me?”
“No,” Tommy said. “I just thought I’d be careful.” With an apologetic shrug he laid the gun on the counter.
“You have no reason to be afraid of me,” Ben Whitehorse said.
“I can see that now,” Tommy said, refilling the old man’s mug and adding an extra marshmallow. “There’ve been a lot of strange things happening around here lately.”
“I think I know why that might be,” Whitehorse said. “Do you know what the Europeans said to the Native Americans when they landed in North America?”
“‘Stick ’em up’?” Tommy said, handing the man his cocoa.
Whitehorse smiled. “No, they wanted to buy the land. But the people who already lived here couldn’t imagine buying or selling the land any more than they could imagine buying the ocean or selling the clouds in the sky. If somebody offered you $28 for a cloud, you’d take it, right?”
“Probably.”
Tommy sat down at the table.
“The Europeans said to the people who already lived here, 舖Who is your leader?’ It was a difficult question to answer because in many tribes, the people who already lived here didn’t have any one single leader. So the Europeans tried again; they said, 舖Take me to the person who speaks for you.’ And when the people who already lived here translated that request, they brought out their storyteller, and then the Europeans asked the storyteller to sign some papers, and he thought, Well, why not? You can’t buy a cloud anyway . And then the Europeans took the land because the storyteller signed the papers.”
“My ancestors just stopped in for a visit,” Tommy said with an apologetic shrug.
“The Vikings? Yes, that’s true.” The old man swirled the cocoa in his mug. “Do you know the biggest advantage the Europeans had over the people who already lived here?”
“Guns?” Tommy said, nodding at the Taurus automatic on the counter.
“No. Paper. They could write their stories down and make copies so that everybody could have their own collection of the important stories. The Native Americans didn’t have paper, so they depended on the storytellers to keep their history and their wisdom alive, and they could only do that by speaking to a group that had gathered to listen. I’m telling you this because I want you to know who I am. I am a follower of Jesus Christ, but I’m also one of those storytellers . . . one of those story-keepers.”
“Okay,” Tommy said, more than a little intrigued. He thought about Abbie Gardener’s reference to Hiawatha. It had seemed random at thetime. He wondered if his aunt had learned anything. “And you saw me in a dream?”
“It wasn’t a dream. I wasn’t asleep. It was a picture that I received in my mind. You probably think I saw your picture in the newspaper sports section, but that isn’t true. But I knew who you were and I knew where you lived and I knew that I had to come see you.”
“Why?”
“I need to warn you. Do you know anything about demons?”
Tommy sat up.
“A little.”
“Well, I know a lot,” Whitehorse said. “This is what I came to tell you. The people who already lived here before the Europeans arrived formed many tribes, Mohegans and Pequots and Ojibwa and Cree. About a
“Old people can have a lot of trouble with cold weather,” Whitehorse said, still looking around the kitchen.
“Where’d you come from?” Tommy said.
“You used to play professional football,” Whitehorse said. He seemed not to have heard Tommy’s question.
“I did.”
“Why did you quit?”
“The joy came at too high a cost.”
The old man slurped up the last of his marshmallows.
“Would you like more?” Tommy said. The old man nodded and handed Tommy his mug. “So you had a vision about me?”
“I will tell you about that,” Ben Whitehorse said. “But before I do, tell me why you have a gun in the pouch of your sweatshirt. Are you going to shoot me?”
“No,” Tommy said. “I just thought I’d be careful.” With an apologetic shrug he laid the gun on the counter.
“You have no reason to be afraid of me,” Ben Whitehorse said.
“I can see that now,” Tommy said, refilling the old man’s mug and adding an extra marshmallow. “There’ve been a lot of strange things happening around here lately.”
“I think I know why that might be,” Whitehorse said. “Do you know what the Europeans said to the Native Americans when they landed in North America?”
“‘Stick ’em up’?” Tommy said, handing the man his cocoa.
Whitehorse smiled. “No, they wanted to buy the land. But the people who already lived here couldn’t imagine buying or selling the land any more than they could imagine buying the ocean or selling the clouds in the sky. If somebody offered you $28 for a cloud, you’d take it, right?”
“Probably.”
Tommy sat down at the table.
“The Europeans said to the people who already lived here, 舖Who is your leader?’ It was a difficult question to answer because in many tribes, the people who already lived here didn’t have any one single leader. So the Europeans tried again; they said, 舖Take me to the person who speaks for you.’ And when the people who already lived here translated that request, they brought out their storyteller, and then the Europeans asked the storyteller to sign some papers, and he thought, Well, why not? You can’t buy a cloud anyway . And then the Europeans took the land because the storyteller signed the papers.”
“My ancestors just stopped in for a visit,” Tommy said with an apologetic shrug.
“The Vikings? Yes, that’s true.” The old man swirled the cocoa in his mug. “Do you know the biggest advantage the Europeans had over the people who already lived here?”
“Guns?” Tommy said, nodding at the Taurus automatic on the counter.
“No. Paper. They could write their stories down and make copies so that everybody could have their own collection of the important stories. The Native Americans didn’t have paper, so they depended on the storytellers to keep their history and their wisdom alive, and they could only do that by speaking to a group that had gathered to listen. I’m telling you this because I want you to know who I am. I am a follower of Jesus Christ, but I’m also one of those storytellers . . . one of those story-keepers.”
“Okay,” Tommy said, more than a little intrigued. He thought about Abbie Gardener’s reference to Hiawatha. It had seemed random at thetime. He wondered if his aunt had learned anything. “And you saw me in a dream?”
“It wasn’t a dream. I wasn’t asleep. It was a picture that I received in my mind. You probably think I saw your picture in the newspaper sports section, but that isn’t true. But I knew who you were and I knew where you lived and I knew that I had to come see you.”
“Why?”
“I need to warn you. Do you know anything about demons?”
Tommy sat up.
“A little.”
“Well, I know a lot,” Whitehorse said. “This is what I came to tell you. The people who already lived here before the Europeans arrived formed many tribes, Mohegans and Pequots and Ojibwa and Cree. About a
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