Robbie embracing, of Taylor and Diane touching. He wavered but held. “No,” he gasped.
“He has fooled many people,” Kane chided. “You do not know who he is”—innuendo filled his smile—“but your wife does.”
Implications lay heavily upon Steve. “What do you mean by that?”
“Please,” Kane begged. “Let me in.”
“No,” Steve shook his head. But he was hesitating.
“Now!” Kane commanded. “Before it’s too late!” As if it were already too late, he began pushing open the door.
Steve didn’t know what to think or feel or do, but he pushed the door shut somehow and even held it. It seemed to take all his strength to do so. “No,” he whispered hoarsely, with his last energy.
“What kind of man are you?!” Kane snarled. “Your wife and that Indian . . . making a fool of you. Your children dote on him—they can’t wait until you leave the house, they laugh about you, and then your wife and that big, bad Indian . . .”
Steve half slumped against the door, sweating, nearly fainting, his sheer weight holding it closed.
Kane yanked the door back and forth violently, but it wouldn’t budge. He began screaming: “You’re going to die in there! All of you! You’re going to die!”
This jerked Steve out of his stupor, giving him new wind. He stood straight and shouted back, “Get the hell out of here! Get the hell away from my door!”
Kane looked startled a moment, then smiled slowly, calm once again. “Sorry to see you’re still unconvinced,” he said softly and with genuine regret.
Then he turned and stepped off the porch, back into the rain. “A pleasure visiting with you,” he allowed.
He walked down the driveway, singing sweetly, “He is in His Holy Temple,” and by the time he reached the street he seemed to have disappeared altogether.
And then, as suddenly as it had started, the rain vanished as well.
Steve leaned at the door a few seconds longer, still a bit stunned. When he turned, finally, to retreat further into the house, he found Taylor standing behind him.
Taylor was grinning. “You did good,” he said.
“Why?” said Steve. “You know that guy? He seemed to know you.”
“That’s no guy,” said Taylor. “That’s him.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Steve. But he knew.
“It was a test of power,” Taylor confirmed. “He can come in other forms, but that was him.” He handed Steve an eagle feather. “Now you are hooked.” He smiled, walking toward his truck.
“Hooked?” Couldn’t this Indian ever talk plain American?
“You are on the path of a warrior.”
Steve stared in some perplexity at the eagle feather. “So what’s the story on this bird feather, anyway? And can’t you ever finish a conversation?”
Taylor stopped and turned. “Your confrontation with him was a drain on your power. He was testing you. You did good, but you must become stronger. The feather of the eagle is a good lightning rod for power—it will help you become stronger. But the Warrior’s Path is a long one, and we don’t have much time. Come. We must prepare.”
“Prepare what?” said Steve. But he followed Taylor out to the curb. Then, midway across the lawn, he stopped and shouted up at the house, “Diane!”
She stuck her head out the bedroom window. She still looked a little shaky. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going out with Taylor for a little while. Keep the doors locked, okay?”
“Do you have to go?” she said. She didn’t want to be alone.
Taylor answered her. “Yes,” he assured. “It is important.”
She nodded. “Don’t be long,” she added.
Steve and Taylor reached the blue pickup. Taylor got in, and Steve called up to Diane once more: “You okay?”
She smiled weakly and nodded once.
“Love you,” he called, and got in the car.
Taylor started the truck and revved the engine. “The most important thing you did”—he began the lesson—“was not to ask him in. Evil cannot claim you unless you
“He has fooled many people,” Kane chided. “You do not know who he is”—innuendo filled his smile—“but your wife does.”
Implications lay heavily upon Steve. “What do you mean by that?”
“Please,” Kane begged. “Let me in.”
“No,” Steve shook his head. But he was hesitating.
“Now!” Kane commanded. “Before it’s too late!” As if it were already too late, he began pushing open the door.
Steve didn’t know what to think or feel or do, but he pushed the door shut somehow and even held it. It seemed to take all his strength to do so. “No,” he whispered hoarsely, with his last energy.
“What kind of man are you?!” Kane snarled. “Your wife and that Indian . . . making a fool of you. Your children dote on him—they can’t wait until you leave the house, they laugh about you, and then your wife and that big, bad Indian . . .”
Steve half slumped against the door, sweating, nearly fainting, his sheer weight holding it closed.
Kane yanked the door back and forth violently, but it wouldn’t budge. He began screaming: “You’re going to die in there! All of you! You’re going to die!”
This jerked Steve out of his stupor, giving him new wind. He stood straight and shouted back, “Get the hell out of here! Get the hell away from my door!”
Kane looked startled a moment, then smiled slowly, calm once again. “Sorry to see you’re still unconvinced,” he said softly and with genuine regret.
Then he turned and stepped off the porch, back into the rain. “A pleasure visiting with you,” he allowed.
He walked down the driveway, singing sweetly, “He is in His Holy Temple,” and by the time he reached the street he seemed to have disappeared altogether.
And then, as suddenly as it had started, the rain vanished as well.
Steve leaned at the door a few seconds longer, still a bit stunned. When he turned, finally, to retreat further into the house, he found Taylor standing behind him.
Taylor was grinning. “You did good,” he said.
“Why?” said Steve. “You know that guy? He seemed to know you.”
“That’s no guy,” said Taylor. “That’s him.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Steve. But he knew.
“It was a test of power,” Taylor confirmed. “He can come in other forms, but that was him.” He handed Steve an eagle feather. “Now you are hooked.” He smiled, walking toward his truck.
“Hooked?” Couldn’t this Indian ever talk plain American?
“You are on the path of a warrior.”
Steve stared in some perplexity at the eagle feather. “So what’s the story on this bird feather, anyway? And can’t you ever finish a conversation?”
Taylor stopped and turned. “Your confrontation with him was a drain on your power. He was testing you. You did good, but you must become stronger. The feather of the eagle is a good lightning rod for power—it will help you become stronger. But the Warrior’s Path is a long one, and we don’t have much time. Come. We must prepare.”
“Prepare what?” said Steve. But he followed Taylor out to the curb. Then, midway across the lawn, he stopped and shouted up at the house, “Diane!”
She stuck her head out the bedroom window. She still looked a little shaky. “Where are you going?”
“I’m going out with Taylor for a little while. Keep the doors locked, okay?”
“Do you have to go?” she said. She didn’t want to be alone.
Taylor answered her. “Yes,” he assured. “It is important.”
She nodded. “Don’t be long,” she added.
Steve and Taylor reached the blue pickup. Taylor got in, and Steve called up to Diane once more: “You okay?”
She smiled weakly and nodded once.
“Love you,” he called, and got in the car.
Taylor started the truck and revved the engine. “The most important thing you did”—he began the lesson—“was not to ask him in. Evil cannot claim you unless you
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