TheAmbassadorOfRomanceInVenus's blog: "Thoughts"

Red Bear was dying. He lay at the bottom of a shallow ravine, close enough to the river to hear the music of the waters flowing over stones in the shallows. A short time ago, a band of scalp hunters had attacked his small band. He was the first struck, the bullet numbing his body like a bolt of lightning. They had taken his scalp and left him to die. He lay helpless, his ears filled with the sounds of battle, screams of his people, of his wife and son. Death was approaching now on wings as silent as the owls. Its shadow flew over his bow and quiver of arrows that lay some feet away. As it descended upon him, he prayed for the Great Spirit to allow him vengeance. # Jimmy watched his fishing pole intently, just like Dad said to do. Dad said that you never knew when a big, old, catfish would come along and gobble up your worm. If you weren't paying attention, it would yank your pole in the water and that would be all she wrote. So, he sat there, gazing at the tip of the rod, waiting for the telltale quiver. He began to lose interest after an hour or so. Forgetting his father's advice, he began to wander away along the bank. Earlier, when he and his father had arrived, Jimmy had noticed a large wash out, the bottom of which was covered with shells and stones. It had the potential of being much more interesting than at a fishing pole. The first treasure he found was a large piece of fool's gold, which he held up to the sun, to get the full effect of its bright, golden gleam. While sticking the stone into one pocket, he removed a Snickers and an old Barlow knife from the other. Plopping down on the hard dirt at the base of the wash, Jimmy began munching the candy, digging idly with the knife. Suddenly, he hit something. Puzzled, he stuffed the remainder of the candy bar into his mouth, and began to dig around the buried object. He pulled it free, frowned and nearly tossed it aside. "Just a damn old rock," Then he looked closer. Dropping the knife, he began to rub away the soil. When it was clean, he stood a thrill of excitement arching along his spine. It was an arrowhead, a perfectly formed triangle of sharp stone! "Wow!" Jimmy bent, recovered his knife, thrust it into a pocket and grasping the arrowhead firmly, he ran down the bank to show the find to his father. # The young man and woman exited the theater, arm in arm. Normally, they would have hailed a taxi, but the weather was clear, they both were happy. The play had been great, but had little to do with their mutual happiness. During the play, Jimmy had leaned close and whispered, "Sarah...will you marry me?" and after, what seemed to him an eternity, she had replied, "Yes!" So intent were they on their future, they did not see the group of six, young men facing them across the street. There was something unsavory about this group. Perhaps it was the way they were talking among themselves, voices low, occasionally laughing, or perhaps it was the way they watched the couple. With a last mumbled comment, they split into two groups. The first trio picked up the pace, while the remaining three crossed the street, following Jimmy and Sarah. Less than 3 blocks from the station, Jimmy and Sarah turned the corner and came face to face with three smiling young men. "Shit" Jimmy said. Before he or Sarah could say or do anything else, they were surrounded. The ones who had been following had caught up with them. "Well, look who we have here." said the leader of the group. "Reese." said Jimmy. Jimmy knew Reese. They had gone to the same high school and for a time, had been on friendly terms. Reese had been one of the " bad boys" and by the time they graduated, he had become very bad. Jimmy had disassociated himself from Reese and his gang during their senior year. After high school, Jimmy had spent the next two years working hard to establish himself as an artist, and was beginning to reap the benefits of that hard work. Reese had worked hard as well. He had graduated from petty crimes into more serious ones such as rape and murder. Jimmy knew he and Sarah were in trouble here. This section of road was nearly devoid of traffic. The few cars that passed either did not see the situation on the sidewalk, or were ignoring it. Sarah's scream started it. She was yanked from Jimmy's side by one of the punks behind them. Jimmy moved. He was strangely calm, just as he used to be when he sparred with his father. Things seemed unusually distinct, moving in slow motion. He saw Sarah struggling with her attacker, was aware the others were moving, some toward him, some toward Sarah. All sound seemed muted, yet ringing in his head was the voice of his father, speaking in that clear, patient way, he always spoke. "Remember. If you are in a situation where you are outnumbered, and cannot run to safety, forget the niceties. This is especially true if you must protect someone as well as yourself. Keep it simple. Do the most damage you can, as fast as you can." Sarah's attacker never saw the kick that smashed his knee, but he felt it. He released the girl and fell to the concrete, screaming. Jimmy pushed Sarah toward the street and yelled, "Run...get help" He turned, blocked a kick, sidestepped to sweep the legs out from under a kid who seemed intent on following Sarah, then kicked him in the side of the head. A sharp pain burned along his back. Turning, he trapped the hand holding the knife that had slashed him, broke the wrist and threw an elbow into the knife man's throat. Shots rang out, followed by a scream. Jimmy turned and saw Sarah crumple to the street. He turned again and saw Reese with a gun in his hand. The gun flashed and a hot needle pierced Jimmy's left arm. It flashed two more times as Jimmy moved in on Reese. A hammer blow to his side accompanied one of the flashes. Jimmy pushed the gun down and away, chopping the wrist, feeling the snap of bone. Spinning around, he smashed Reese twice in the jaw with his elbow. Reese staggered back. Jimmy threw a hard, sweeping kick that struck the side of Reese's right knee, breaking it. Suddenly, Jimmy's head exploded and his world faded away in a red mist. His last thought was one of disappointment that he had not taken Reese with him. # Jimmy awoke with a start and that hurt. In fact, everything seemed to hurt. Looking down at himself, he realized he was in a hospital bed. His left arm was bandaged and he could see another bandage on his left side. An IV was in his right arm. Slowly raising it, he felt and found that a bandage covered his head as well. "What the hell..." He was confused. The door opened and a huge figure stepped into the room. The man was tall, a good head taller than Jimmy, had Jimmy been standing. "Hello! Glad to see you back in the land of the living. I am Inspector Darkwater,” he said, holding out his hand. Jimmy shook the hand still looking startled. The inspector's voice was deep and mellow, the hand shake warm and strong, the skin dark and smooth. While no smile touched his face, the Inspectors eyes were friendly and curious. "How do you feel?" "Like shit" "I can well imagine,” said the Inspector, laughing. "You took three rounds." Suddenly, everything came into focus. "Sarah!" "I am sorry. She didn't make it, Jimmy." The room began to spin. Jimmy closed his eyes, tears racing slow paths down his cheeks. The inspector sat down beside the bed, a mixture of sympathy and anger on his face. # It would be three more days before Jimmy discussed the incident with Darkwater. Sipping coffee, the two of them sat in the hospital lounge, the inspector taking notes. "So, let's go over a few things again." said Darkwater. "You say that Reese was the shooter?" "Yes. At least, he is the only one I saw with a gun. There was a knife also." "Oh yeah...Bo Blakely...he is our knife man. He is still in a coma, by the way. From what I understand, they suspect brain damage do to a lack of oxygen to the brain. Your strike crushed his windpipe. Are you a black belt? Ever take lessons in kungfu or karate?" "No, to the first question. As to the second, I have never taken formal lessons or lessons in any martial art. Everything I know, I learned from my Dad. He had some formal training. Mostly, though, he just read a lot and practiced. When my brothers and I were old enough, he taught us what he knew." "Well, I would say he did a good job with you. Your Dad died in Vietnam, correct?" "Yes." "Sorry to hear that. We lost a lot of good men and women over there. You know that Reese, Mitchell and Mouch are trying to sue you, don't you?" "Yes, I heard" "We don't have the gun or guns yet. We believe that one of the two who got away took it. We still do not know who they are and of course, we have no witnesses, except for you. I understand that you are due to for release in a couple of days. I suggest you be careful." "I will be" Jimmy was released from the hospital Friday and found himself the center of a media circus. With the inspector’s help, he managed to finally escape. That night, though still in pain from his wounds, Jimmy packed his car and left the city. He told the inspector where he could be found. Taking the back roads and doubling back several times, Jimmy finally arrived at the campgrounds he use to frequent with his father. Not bothering with the tent, he slipped into a sleeping bag in the car and fell into a dreamless sleep. The next day found him walking along the stretch of river where twelve years before he had found an arrowhead while fishing with his father. He had no trouble locating the wash where that relic was found. Sitting on the bank, he began to toss sticks and stones into the water. He still could not believe that Sarah was gone. He sat there for a long time, before rising, favoring his left side, and wandered up the wash. It was larger now than when he found the arrowhead, but otherwise, unchanged. He had watched it grow over the years, for this was his special place, whenever he needed to be alone. It was here that he came, when they had been informed his father had died in Vietnam. It was here that he had come when, two years before, his mother had suffered a stroke and died. Now, he was here for Sarah. Sitting again, he took a picture from his pocket. It was of he and Sarah, taken the day she had died. They had spent the day at the Art Museum before attending the play. While sitting outside, he had asked an old couple to take a picture of them. In the picture, he had his arms around her, she had her hands on his and there were stars in their eyes and love in their smiles. Now, she was gone. Picking up a stick, Jimmy dug a hole in the soft earth and buried the picture. Suddenly he became aware of something poking him. He reached into his pocket and removed the arrowhead. His father had saved it for him, had it mounted in silver with a chain, and gave it to him for that last Christmas before he had left for Vietnam. Jimmy carefully slipped it over his head and lay back against the bank. The stone was cool against his skin, but quickly warmed. Tears began to flow from his eyes, followed by deep sobs that hurt his side and head. He wished his dad was here, but he was buried at Arlington. Jimmy missed him greatly. After a while, the crying diminished. Exhausted, Jimmy fell into a deep sleep and dreamed. In the dream, Jimmy was standing by the river at sunset. On the opposite bank was his special place. He could clearly see the wash and the spot, where he knew he lay dreaming. There was a horse with a rider standing there now. The rider appeared to be an Indian, a bow and lance lashed to the saddle. The rider raised a hand, whether in greeting or farewell, Jimmy did not know, and turned to ride up the bank. Just before the horseman disappeared in the trees, Jimmy suddenly found himself yelling his fathers name and crying again, for the figure on the horse had become his father. With a start, Jimmy awakened. He sat up and looked about him. For several minutes he sat there thinking about the dream, then painfully rose and began to make his way back to camp. He did not notice the faint, but visible prints of a horse in the earth, just a few feet from where he had slept. Jimmy was surprised to find Inspector Darkwater and two other officers at his camp. "Hello, Jimmy," said Darkwater. "You been out here all night?" "Yes. I got out here just before sunset and slept in the car. This morning, I set up the tent, then took a walk along the river." "Do you mind if we look in the tent and car?" "Sure. What is going on?" The inspector did not answer immediately. He stood silently while the two officers checked Jimmy's tent and car. When they were done they turned to Darkwater. "Nothing in the tent" "Nothing in the car, either" The inspector turned and looked at Jimmy for a long moment, then spoke. "Blakely was murdered this morning. Seems someone managed to by pass security and the hospital staff, put an arrow into his chest, scalped him and get away clean." "Holy shit! "Holy shit, indeed. Do you own a bow, Jimmy?" "Yes, I do. It is back at the house, but I can hardly pull it with this." Jimmy motioned to his ribs and arm. "You wouldn't mind showing me this bow, then would you?" "Hell no" Jimmy was becoming irritated at the line of questioning. "Let me get my stuff together. You can follow me, or meet me there, providing you do not already have someone at the house." "Sounds good" The inspector turned and spoke with the officers in a low voice, then turned to Jimmy once again. " I will ride with you, if you don't mind. As you surmised, there are officers at your house." " You are searching it, no doubt?" "Yes, getting a search warrant was not difficult" "I'll bet. So, you knew I had a bow. You hoped to catch me in a lie." Jimmy glanced at the two officers standing by their car. "You told them to search the river bank, didn't you?" "Yes." Nothing else was said, as Jimmy quickly packed up and loaded the car. When this was done, he got in without a word. Darkwater followed and Jimmy carefully drove out of the campgrounds and headed home. During the drive, Darkwater watched the young man closely. His gut instinct was that Jimmy could not have committed the murder. He knew that Jimmy had sustained a grazing wound to the head, an in and out wound to his left arm and had another bullet tear through his left side, that broke a rib in the process. In addition, he had sustained a minor slash wound just under his left shoulder blade from the knife. Whoever killed Blakely had fired an arrow with enough force that it had buried itself to the fletching in his chest. Then there was the scalping. The doctors were fairly certain that Blakely was not yet dead when that occurred. No, he did not believe that Jimmy had done the deed, but there was always the possibility that someone had done it for him. Jimmy was questioned further about the murder, but no evidence could be found to link him to it. That night, Jimmy slipped into a troubled sleep and dreamed that he saw the Indian across the river again. The Indian was holding a lance in his hand, and when Jimmy waved, the lance was raised into the air and waved back and forth. Even at this distance, Jimmy could easily see that three clumps of bloody hair were attached to the lance. Suddenly, a soldier dressed in camouflage, carrying a rifle rose from the bushes in front of Jimmy. "Get down!" the figure yelled. "Get down...NOW!" With that, the soldier pushed Jimmy violently, causing him to fall and roll along the ground, as gunfire exploded around him. Jimmy watched in fear, then horror as the soldier was struck numerous times in the chest and stomach. "Dad? Dad! Oh shit, no....Dad!" Jimmy crawled to where the man lay, but when he reached to touch him, the body faded away and Jimmy found himself clutching at a pillow. A pillow? Confused, Jimmy realized he was lying on the floor. The room was filled with wisps of smoke; the smell of gunpowder was heavy in the air. Carefully rising, he saw that the window across the room was shattered. Slowly, he turned and looked about the room, seeing but not fully believing the damage. The bed and the wall behind the bed were pockmarked with bullet holes. He took a step and nearly stumbled. Looking down, he saw the pillow and noticed it also was riddled with holes. Lying down, he held it tight against him and began to cry. When the police and emergency personnel arrived, they could get no response to repeated knocks at the door. Breaking down the door, they found Jimmy still curled on the floor, desparately clutching a pillow, weeping. When they tried to get him to release the pillow he became violent to the point that he had to be subdued. Within minutes Jimmy was on his way to the hospital. Inspector Darkwater was at the scene of a double murder, when the attempt was made on Jimmy's life. The murder victims were John Mitchell and Bill Wilson, members of the gang that had attacked Jimmy and Sarah. Wilson, Darkwater believed was one of the two members of the gang that had taken it on the lam after the attack. Both had been killed in the manner of Blakely. Darkwater stood looking at the two bodies, which had been found in the country beside their car. It appeared they had been driving at a high rate of speed and lost control. Funny, though, the stretch of road here was fairly straight. "Inspector" Darkwater turned. "Yes, officer?" "I took a statement from an old couple up the road, Wayne and Myrna Shepard. They say, they saw the car roar past about half an hour ago." "And?" "Well, sir, this sounds like a bit of a stretch, but they claim it was being chased by someone dressed as an Indian brave, in full war paint, riding a horse." Darkwater nodded and walked to his car. Leaning against it, he lit a cigarette and stood gazing at the wreck and the bodies lying beside it. This case was becoming more and more odd. Earlier, after questioning Jimmy at the campgrounds and at his home, Darkwater had received two strange pieces of information. A small piece of metal, believed to be from the scalping knife, had been found in Blakley's wounds. An analysis of the metal said that it was hammer forged and did not have the appearance of modern steel. In fact, at least one of the experts felt that the blade from which the sliver had come was at least one hundred years old. The arrow from the Blakely case, was without a doubt an antique, right down to the fine stone point. Darkwater was willing to bet his pension that the arrows in the bodies over there were mates to the one that was buried in Blakely. When the call came in concerning the shooting at Jimmy’s, Darkwater, jumped into his car and headed to the hospital. As the inspector was racing to the hospital, a meeting was taking place across town. Charles Reese, right arm still in a cast, and his right leg in a metal brace, was chewing the asses of his underlings, Tyrel Mouch and Vinny Marsello. "How in the hell did you guys miss? You had that punk, laid out, fast asleep and you missed him? You two shitheads aren't worth a fuck!" Reese was not a happy camper. "Charley" said Vinny, " I told you, he had someone in the room with him. Some crazy fuck in a jungle suit, carrying an M-16. Dumb ass stepped right in the line of fire." "Bull...shit!" yelled Reese. "So how come they only took that faggot Jimmy outta there?" "Look I know what I saw. I’m telling you, Charley, there is someone else, maybe more than one, in this game. I think we should lie low until we can find out what the fuck is going on." "Fuck that. I’ll tell you what we are gonna do. You two are gonna wait here, while I make a few calls. I’ll call you and tell you when and where you can fuck that little bastard up. Just make sure you finish the job this time. And if anyone else gets in the way, you can ice them too, but no more talk about guys taking half a dozen slugs in the chest and then no body being found. Do you have that?" Picking up his crutches, Reese made his way out of the house, painfully got into his car and drove away. Tyrel and Vinny watched him leave, then returned to the house. As they were about to enter, Vinny stopped, causing Tyrel to bump into him. "What the hell you doing man?" "Quiet shit for brains...listen up for a minute" At first, Tyrel heard nothing out of the ordinary, and then he became away of a rhythmic clopping sound. It seemed to be coming from down the now dark road that Reese had just left on. "It's no big deal, you pussy. Just someone out riding their horse." "Yeah, I suppose you're right, dickface. Come on. I am hungry and I wanna to get laid." "Sounds good to me," said Tyrel, "but I ain't fucking you" Laughing the two went inside. Neither noticed that the sounds of the approaching rider were getting louder. Half an hour later, Tyrel and Vinny were pretty well ripped on some fine coke that Tyrel had been saving. Vinny had made a few calls and announced that they could expect a visit within the hour, from a couple of women he knew. Suddenly, Tyrel yelled pointing toward the window. "What the fuck is that?" The house went dark. "Oh, fuck. What is going on?" said Tyrel Vinny crawled across the room to a shotgun that stood in the corner. Tyrel pulled a 9mm automatic from his pocket. "What did you see out there?" "Not sure. Some kind of animal. Big ugly fucker" The window shattered and something bounced into the room. An instant later, it exploded in a cloud of pale vapor that stung the eyes and made breathing difficult. Gagging and nearly blind, the two bumbled and staggered about the house, finally finding a door and falling outside. Rising to his feet, Tyrel tried to put more distance between him and the house, when the ground disappeared beneath his feet. Twisting in an effort to regain his footing, he fell backwards, hit hard, and began to scream. Vinny turned at the sound. His vision was still blurred, but getting better. He could hear Tyrel's screams, but could not see him. The soft neigh of a horse caused him to spin about. Less than fifty feet away, a man sat on a pale horse. Vinny brought the shotgun up, heard a dull twang and felt something piece his chest like a spear of ice. The shotgun fell from his hands, struck the ground and discharged. Vinny, weaving now, looked down at an arrow sticking from body. He reached for it, tried to pull it free, but the pain sapped his last resources, and he fell to his knees. His hair was suddenly grabbed from behind, his head yanked back. He found himself staring into the hard, bright eyes of an Indian. A hand came into view, holding a knife. Vinny tried to will his body to move, but it would not respond. With slow, deliberation, the knife was brought down and began to cut along Vinny's forehead. All he could do was scream and he did, for a surprisingly long time. Tyrel heard the gunshot, then the screaming that went on and on. His own screams had run down into whimpers. He lay in a pit; his body pierced by sharp stakes that someone had planted in the bottom. The tips of those stakes that he could see were stained with something dark that smelled of shit. Vaguely, he remembered hearing about this...something to do with Vietnam…some sort of trap…a fungi…pudgi…a pungi-pit! He had fallen into a pungi-pit! That shit on the stakes was shit! A figure appeared at the edge of the pit, a silhouette. It crouched down, and appeared to be studying him. "You are a dead man,” said the figure. "You know that don't you? Who ordered the hit on my son? Was it you?" "Fuck you" Tyrel said through gritted teeth. The man casually reached down and grasped the bloody tip of a stake that protruded from Tyrel's stomach. He jerked it back and forth. Tyrel screamed, a high piercing sound. "I am the one doing the fucking here, so you watch your tone. I am going to ask you one more time. If I do not get an answer that satisfies me, we can play this game for a long, long time. Now, who ordered the hit?" "It was Reese, Charley Reese. You just missed him. That's the truth man, I swear. Help me, man, I hurt." The figure stood and was joined by another figure. "Boy, you haven't even begun to hurt" Reese was two blocks from his house, when he was pulled over and arrested for questioning in the attempted murder of Jimmy. He was still at the police station, when the reports started coming in concerning another double murder, this one on the East Side. Operating on orders from Inspector Darkwater, Reese was surrounded by policemen and taken downstairs to a special cell, separate from the common cells above. Reese's cell was at the end of a long hall, which was the only way in or out. A reinforced door was between the cell and the guard station by the elevator. Reese looked around at the cell and shrugged. Well, it was not home, but he had food, a TV and a bed. Privately, he was impressed by the security and he was, for the first time in his life, frightened. From the questions the cops were asking, and now the news report he was watching, he knew he was the only surviving member of his gang. Looking around again, he noted the heavy metal door to the cell, the intervening door by the guard’s station and the solid, concrete walls. "It could be worse," he said to himself He lay back on the bed and began to channel surf. Inspector Darkwater arrived at the jail just before dawn tired, irritable and filled with a sense of unease. He went to the coffee machine, poured a cup, loaded it with cream and several teaspoons of sugar and was about to take a sip, when the lights when out in the jail. Taking a small penlight from his pocket, he made his way back to the front desk. "What the hell is going on? "Well, sir, it appears we have a power failure. Not to worry though. We have a back-up generator that should be kicking on shortly." Darkwater grunted a reply, picked up the phone and found it was working, much to his surprise. He quickly dialed the number to the guard station downstairs. "Hello?" "This is Inspector Darkwater. How are things down there?" "Well, sir, it is blacker than a well diggers ass down here. Our boy in there is quite upset. Should I go down there and bring him up?" Darkwater paused, then shook his head. "No. He's probably in the safest place in the whole building." "Okay, sir" When the room went dark, Reese lay still for a moment or two, completely disoriented, and then he began to yell at the guard for some light or to be let out. The room began to brighten. At first, Reese thought the power was coming back on. For a moment, relief flooded his being, then, with a thrill of fear, he realized that the light was coming from behind him. The light was getting brighter. Reese turned, slowly, and found that the light emanating from the wall behind his bunk...except there was no longer a wall there. It looked more like a huge window. Reese knew that was impossible, for this cell was at least 20 feet underground. As he gazed at the wall, a light breeze blew in carrying the scent of the outdoors and the smell of a campfire. He found himself looking out across a river, where the water rushed over stones in the shallows with faint musical sounds. On the opposite bank, an Indian of indeterminate age sat on a horse. In the Indian's hand was a bow and arrow and beside the horse, sticking straight up from the ground like a grotesque sapling was a lance with 5 hunks of bloody hair attached to it. Suddenly, the Indian raised the bow above his head and gave a fierce war cry, and at that instant, there was a tremendous explosion in the hallway, then another just outside the door to the cell. Reese was flung forward by the blast and landed heavily and painfully within several feet of where the wall use to be. Upstairs, Darkwater was yelling into the phone. "What the hell was that? Guard? Guard are you all right?" "Yeah," replied the guard, sounding a bit shaken. "Something just blew up down by the cell. I can't see much. I got a flashlight, but there is a lot of smoke down here. I am making my way down the hallway, now. When you guys gonna get that back up generator up and running. Could use some more light down here." "The lights have been back on a while." Well, they ain't down here. Hang on a minute...Jesus H. Christ! "What's going on?" Over the line came the sound of screaming and gunshots. "I need help down here. Someone is shooting Reese I think. I can't get to the cell, there's a huge hole in the floor." "We're on the way. Stay where you are." Reese was stunned by the blast. Slowly he sat up, then tried to rise to his feet. "No need to bother yourself, scum" The voice caught Reese by surprise. He looked up to find a man dressed like a soldier standing at the entrance to the cell. He was holding an M-16 rifle in a ready, but relaxed manner. "Who are you? What the fuck do you want?" "Who I am is of no consequence. As for what I want, well, Reese, it's payback time, and paybacks are hell" The first three shots from the M-16 blew Reese's braced leg in half. As Reese fell screaming, the soldier unhurriedly shot him in the other leg, in each arm, and once in the groin. The soldier slowly approached Reese and looked down at him without expression. "You killed me, you fucker" said Reese "No, dickless one. Much as I would like to, killing you is not my plan. Accounts between you and I are even. You fucked with my boy, and I fucked you. Unfortunately for you, you still owe someone and compared to him, I'm a lightweight." With this, the soldier turned and strolled back through the doorway. A shadow fell over Reese, and painfully, he turned his head. Less than twenty feet away, where the concrete wall was, an Indian sat on a horse. With deliberate movements, the Indian loaded, pulled back an arrow and sent it into Reese. The last clear moment of Reese's life was the Indian kneeling over him with a knife in one hand. # Jimmy recovered from his wounds and shock. He had little to say about the strange and horrific occurrences and was greatly relieved when the attention of the police and media turned from him to newer crimes. Jimmy still dreams and in his dreams, he often is riding along the river with his father, who sometimes looks like an Indian. There no longer is the sense of loss; if his father can come back, so can Sarah.