Chapter One
Thomas Lone Wolf poured himself a cup of coffee, inhaling the heavenly scent as he clattered the pot back into place on its burner. He cradled the mug in his hands and sniffed, enjoying the warmth and the aroma before taking a tentative sip. He winced and touched his cheek, then let out a whispered oath. Good thing the kids were still sleeping. He didnât usually swear, but heâd had a toothache for days and the hot liquid touched a nerve. He took another sip, bracing himself against the pain. Once the steaming brew was past the tooth and down his throat he expelled a groan. It was a tossup which was worse, the pain in his tooth or going without his morning coffee. The third sip went down much better. Once the initial shock was past, it didnât hurt so much. He took another larger gulp and stopped to gaze out the kitchen window. He lifted the faded sheer material away from the frame just a bit more so his view wouldnât be obstructed.
Heâd come to love the vastness of the view before him. Wide open prairie. Some people said it was boring. Table flat with nothing to see. Thomas saw it differently. There was subtleness to the land. It wasnât flashy or brash, yelling to get attention. Instead the grasses rippled like the waves on a calm ocean, just barely discernible, but moving nonetheless. He loved the change in color, too. Muted browns, rich ochers, vibrant greens, each taking their cue as the seasons morphed against a backdrop of sky. Perhaps this was the most impressive of all. The sky was a living thing here, awe-inspiring in its vastness; sometimes clear and blue, sometimes filled with fluffy cumulus clouds, sometimes flashing with powerful forks of lightning. Magnificent.
Thomas let the curtain drop back into place. He downed the rest of his coffee and set the empty cup in the sink. It was time to wake his children. His daughter, Whisper, was in the second grade at Marshdale Elementary School. Sheâd been in kindergarten when they moved here. His son, Ryder, was in his senior year at the high school, ready to graduate in just a couple monthsâ time. Then heâd be off to college. Time sure had a way of flying.
Thomas had decided when he first moved to Marshdale that they would stay put, at least until Ryder graduated. His children had been through enough upheaval in the last five years since their mother passed away from cancer. When they moved to Marshdale so that Thomas could oversee the opening of a First Nations cultural center, he decided then and there that it would be their home until the center was complete. As it turned out, it was perfect timing. The grand opening was taking place this summer. He felt a melancholy mix of relief and sadness. He would no longer have an excuse to stay.
Not that life in Marshdale was ideal. Initial resistance to the center and thinly veiled racism had been a hard obstacle to overcome. There werenât very many other aboriginal families in the small farming community, and he tended to stick out. At well over six feet, with his long, black braid and dark complexion, it was hard to mistake his indigenous heritage for anything else. Still, they had managed, despite some rough spots, and had since settled into the life of the community.
The fact that Thomas had a strong faith was partly what got him through the first few months. Without God on his side, he wasnât sure he could have weathered the opposition. His biggest adversary turned out to be a lunatic of sorts, who had stabbed him on the steps of the church shortly after Christmas the first year they lived here. Thankfully, heâd recovered fully. The incident might even have swayed public opinion in his favor, since the culprit was also the chair of the heritage committee.
It had been a tough first few months. Heâd even thought he was in love at one point, with his daughterâs teacher no less. Just when he thought he was ready to love again, sheâd
Thomas Lone Wolf poured himself a cup of coffee, inhaling the heavenly scent as he clattered the pot back into place on its burner. He cradled the mug in his hands and sniffed, enjoying the warmth and the aroma before taking a tentative sip. He winced and touched his cheek, then let out a whispered oath. Good thing the kids were still sleeping. He didnât usually swear, but heâd had a toothache for days and the hot liquid touched a nerve. He took another sip, bracing himself against the pain. Once the steaming brew was past the tooth and down his throat he expelled a groan. It was a tossup which was worse, the pain in his tooth or going without his morning coffee. The third sip went down much better. Once the initial shock was past, it didnât hurt so much. He took another larger gulp and stopped to gaze out the kitchen window. He lifted the faded sheer material away from the frame just a bit more so his view wouldnât be obstructed.
Heâd come to love the vastness of the view before him. Wide open prairie. Some people said it was boring. Table flat with nothing to see. Thomas saw it differently. There was subtleness to the land. It wasnât flashy or brash, yelling to get attention. Instead the grasses rippled like the waves on a calm ocean, just barely discernible, but moving nonetheless. He loved the change in color, too. Muted browns, rich ochers, vibrant greens, each taking their cue as the seasons morphed against a backdrop of sky. Perhaps this was the most impressive of all. The sky was a living thing here, awe-inspiring in its vastness; sometimes clear and blue, sometimes filled with fluffy cumulus clouds, sometimes flashing with powerful forks of lightning. Magnificent.
Thomas let the curtain drop back into place. He downed the rest of his coffee and set the empty cup in the sink. It was time to wake his children. His daughter, Whisper, was in the second grade at Marshdale Elementary School. Sheâd been in kindergarten when they moved here. His son, Ryder, was in his senior year at the high school, ready to graduate in just a couple monthsâ time. Then heâd be off to college. Time sure had a way of flying.
Thomas had decided when he first moved to Marshdale that they would stay put, at least until Ryder graduated. His children had been through enough upheaval in the last five years since their mother passed away from cancer. When they moved to Marshdale so that Thomas could oversee the opening of a First Nations cultural center, he decided then and there that it would be their home until the center was complete. As it turned out, it was perfect timing. The grand opening was taking place this summer. He felt a melancholy mix of relief and sadness. He would no longer have an excuse to stay.
Not that life in Marshdale was ideal. Initial resistance to the center and thinly veiled racism had been a hard obstacle to overcome. There werenât very many other aboriginal families in the small farming community, and he tended to stick out. At well over six feet, with his long, black braid and dark complexion, it was hard to mistake his indigenous heritage for anything else. Still, they had managed, despite some rough spots, and had since settled into the life of the community.
The fact that Thomas had a strong faith was partly what got him through the first few months. Without God on his side, he wasnât sure he could have weathered the opposition. His biggest adversary turned out to be a lunatic of sorts, who had stabbed him on the steps of the church shortly after Christmas the first year they lived here. Thankfully, heâd recovered fully. The incident might even have swayed public opinion in his favor, since the culprit was also the chair of the heritage committee.
It had been a tough first few months. Heâd even thought he was in love at one point, with his daughterâs teacher no less. Just when he thought he was ready to love again, sheâd