Jody and the Chautauqua

Jody Miller stood atop the wide flat-topped hill that seemed to go on forever along the river. Tears slid slowly down his cheeks, as he thought about his daddy bringing him here to Aunt Sarah’s farm last summer. Their stay had been but one day, a Sunday, then they had to get back to Springfield. His daddy worked on the railroad as a brakeman. But, that Monday, when he left for work, it was the last time Jody would see him. Jody couldn’t bear to look at him lying in the ornate coffin. With his daddy killed in a train accident, even though he loved his mother and knew she loved him, a large hole seemed to fill the place from which warm feelings come.

This visit to his Aunt Sarah’s would be much longer. He would spend the entire summer with her, his mother driving over on the weekends. Jody wished he had a brother or sister to share his grief. Perhaps then, it wouldn’t be so hard. How could he possibly grow up without his dad? It was absolutely, unjustly unfair for a boy of ten to lose his father. On top of that, three months after he was forced to watch his daddy’s body being lowered into the ground and being forced to listen to some man who never even knew his daddy say, "George Miller is in a much better place today," after all that, Shorty died. Now, Jody felt as though most of what he loved was gone forever.

Shorty was a scraggly little mutt of "undetermined" breed, as it said on the veterinarian’s records. The little brown dog had just shown up in the back yard one evening, as Jody sat slowly swinging in silence in the tire swing his daddy hung from a high limb in the huge cottonwood. One minute, he was all alone, the next, Shorty stood there, right in front of him, wagging his little stump of a tail. It was almost as if he had appeared out of thin air. Funny thing, Jody had immediately thought "Shorty" when he saw that little stump going around and around, almost in a perfect circle. Of course, his daddy, being the kind of father he was, immediately agreed that Jody could keep Shorty until someone came looking for him. No one ever did. That was three years before his father had the horrible accident.

The vet told them Shorty was probably pretty old, but Jody didn’t consider that any sort of handicap. In fact, Shorty romped around and played like a puppy, driving the neighbor’s cat crazy every time old Timmy dared to invade Shorty’s territory. They never once actually came to blows, but many a growling, barking, hissing match was held at the fence line between yards. Then, daddy died. Then, Shorty died. It was all so unfair, and now, Jody felt all alone. He knew his mother expected him to be excited about spending the summer in the country with Aunt Sarah, because, after all, Aunt Sarah had three dogs, a huge herd of cattle, a flock of chickens, and half a dozen pigs. Jody tried to act enthused, but nothing changed the fact that his dad and Shorty were both gone forever.

***

Along the Illinois River, starting a short distance above Beardstown, Illinois and running all the way up to Peoria lies an ancient natural barrier to floods. A long, river-skirting moraine, some three to four hundred feet high, on the average, was built by the receding, melting ice of a long ago ice age glacier. It ranges from a hundred yards wide to a half mile wide in places. A moraine is made up of dirt, gravel, and rocks scraped up by the glacier, then deposited where they lay when the glacier stops moving and begins to melt.

Perhaps as long as several hundred thousand years ago, the moraine along the Illinois was covered with brush, grass, a half dozen varieties of trees, and most importantly, an abundance of wildlife. Even today, that same wildlife survives, though it is skirted on one side by the river and on the other by fenced farmland. But thousands of years ago, the Chautauqua Indians found it a perfect Eden. A place where everything for a good life was at their fingertips, or perhaps more accurately, at their arrow and spear tips.

About the only animal that has disappeared from the ancient Chautauqua hunting grounds is the buffalo. Yes, even in Central Illinois, buffalo roamed by the thousands. Wild turkey provided an easy feast for the cunning hunters. White tail deer were in such abundance as to boggle the modern hunter’s mind. Cottontail rabbits vied with the deer for grass and nuts from the naturally occurring black walnut trees. And, of course, there was the river, filled not only with fish, but mink, ermine, muskrat, beaver and all manner of animals that would make an Indian’s life one of pleasure and ease. Huge stands of white birch fronted the river. Never, could there have been found a friendlier place to settle.

And, settle they did. Over thousands of years, Indian villages sprang up one after the other along the entire shoreline of the river, most built atop the moraine the glacier had provided. Not only did the moraine offer a perfect vantage point for the villagers to view their domain, it provided high ground on which to escape the furious floods that covered much of Central Illinois on a recurring schedule. Today, the deposits from those floods have been a gift to area farmers, in the form of the richest, deepest topsoil for crops in the world.

Sadly, today, the Chautauqua Indians have disappeared entirely. Only those scratching in the gravel and grass atop the beautiful hill, looking for relics the Chautauqua left behind inhabit the moraine. Mostly, it is state parks, animal reserves and nature preservation areas. The Chautauqua was slowly eradicated and driven from their land along and atop the moraine by the white man’s devouring quest for free land. The Chautauqua, being a peaceful people, simply moved farther and farther west, until there was no more west. Then, they disappeared.

One of those farms backing up to the moraine was that of Jody Miller’s widowed Aunt Sarah. Now, Jody found himself trying hard to get over his daddy’s death. And, of course, the loss of his favorite playmate, Shorty. He knew nothing of the history of the Chautauqua Indians, except for the extensive collection of arrowheads, spearheads and ax heads displayed in large frames on Aunt Sarah’s walls. It was she who suggested he climb to the top of the moraine to look for arrowheads. Of course, Jody knew it was just her way of getting a sulking ten-year-old out from under foot.

Oh, not that she didn’t love him. In fact, she treated him like he was her favorite thing in the world. She, too, had suffered great loss. Her husband died after getting caught in a combine that slowly pulled him in and ground him up like so much cornstalk. The same year, her seventeen year old son was killed in an auto accident, leaving her with only her own wiles to continue operating the farm. It was a large farm for Central Illinois. Nearly fifteen hundred acres. And, she was considered one of the wealthier farmers in the area. Four men from the surrounding area showed up six days a week to work the farm for wages.

The first day Jody arrived for the summer, Aunt Sarah took him to the barn to show him Dolly’s new puppies. They were born only the day before. "Jody, I know you miss Shorty a lot. How about you pick out one of these puppies to take home with you at summer’s end. I need to find them all a home, anyway."

He wouldn’t really look closely at the puppies, not even wanting to consider taking one home, only to break his heart again when it died. His voice was low and restrained as he said, "I don’t want a puppy or no kind of dog again. It’ll just die."

Aunt Sarah looked at him with a slight smile, understanding his feelings, but nearly choked up as she told him, "Jody, I know how hard it is, losing your daddy and Shorty and all. I really do understand. Sometimes, there’s just no explanation for things that happen. Shorty was an old dog. We all have to go sometime, when we get old. You should be glad you had Shorty for the time you did. Just think of all the fun you two had. You can have just as much fun with a new dog. Fact is, that little fellow over in the corner looks as though he might grow up to look a lot like Shorty. And, he’s just a puppy. If you take good care of him, why heck, he’ll outlive me."

Jody didn’t want to look, but he couldn’t help himself. Trying not to let Aunt Sarah see him do it, he glanced for just a second at the tiny bundle of fur in the corner of the horse stall, where Dolly had her pups. He wished he could see if it was a boy or girl, but really didn’t want to show that much interest. Again, in a low voice he said, "I’ll think about it, Aunt Sarah."

"Good. You know what you should do in the morning? You ought to go up on the hill and scout out some arrowheads. I have a small rake I use to clear away the leaves and twigs. I’ve had real good luck down, uh, come on over here where we can see the hill. I’ll show you."

They walked around the barn, and Jody stared at the grove of trees atop the hill. It was as if some giant scooped a mound of dirt half way across the state from north to south and planted a forest on it. The land at the foot of the hill ran out and away, fairly flat, but the hill disappeared into the distance in both directions.

"Jody, you see where that break is… in the trees yonder?" She pointed to the south a ways. "Well, I found at least two dozen arrowheads just inside the tree line to the south of that break. Bet there was an Indian camp there in times past. After breakfast, take the rake hanging on the front of the barn and walk on over there. Just rake the gravel and leaves back and forth like I showed you, and keep your eye out for any rock that glints or seems to be an odd shape. It’s lots of fun. That’s partly how I’ve kept my mind off Harold and Gerry these years since I lost them. Something about that hill seems almost magic. I swear to you, one day when I was up there, it got a lot later than I thought, and the sun was about down. The sunset was so pretty, and I was in an unusually lonesome mood, thinking about Harold and all. Well… I know you’ll think your Aunt Sarah has lost her marbles, but something happened up there I couldn’t explain."

When she stared off into space in the direction of the break in the trees, Jody asked, "What happened?"

She spoke softly, almost reverently. "That’s the peculiar part, Jody. I don’t know, just something. More of a feeling. Like I wasn’t alone up on that hill. Felt as though I was surrounded by people, all of them telling me not to be sad."

"But there was nobody there?"

"No, no, of course not. Folks around here never go up on the hill no more."

"Why not? If there’re so many arrowheads so easy to find, why don’t they go find them?"

Aunt Sarah smiled, knowing she had piqued his interest in something besides mourning his father and dog. "I don’t know. Seems a few years back, some kid started spreading the story the hill was haunted or something, and most the kids quit going up there. Course, I don’t believe in that sort of thing. There are no ghosts on the hill. I suppose what I felt was just a result of it being such a beautiful sunset, and it being so peaceful up there. You know, no television, no radio, no tractors or combines or cows or pigs or chickens. Nothing but you and the hill and the trees and raccoons and such. I sometimes think the old ways… you know, like the Indians lived; maybe that’s the way we were meant to live. All the ruckus of machinery and electronics and such has changed our lives so much." She stared at the hill and said so softly, Jody could barely understand, "Yep, it’s real peaceful up there on the hill."

The following morning after breakfast, he set out across the pasture that ran some quarter mile back to the base of the hill, then climbed its steep tree-covered side. When he got to the top, he turned around and looked out across the flat land below and thought, "Looks like a valley with just one side." He sat down against a tree, laid the rake alongside then absentmindedly stirred the leaves covering the ground. There was grass on the hill, but nothing like the plain below. Almost the entire hill was covered with trees, and that allowed little sunlight through to nurture the grass. Also, the hill was more rocks and gravel than soil. He had scraped an area about two feet round free of leaves when he found his very first arrowhead ever. At first, it seemed like an odd shaped rock, but on closer examination he found it had the tell-tale chipped edge, as so many of the arrowheads on Aunt Sarah’s walls had. The point and one of the flukes was broken off, but it was an arrowhead, for sure.

Despite his determination not to enjoy this summer and not get hooked on arrowhead hunting, he couldn’t keep the excitement of his find bottled up. As he turned the arrowhead over and over in his hand, he finally said softly, "Wow, a real Chautauqua Indian arrowhead, and I found it." Holding the arrowhead tightly in his left hand, he slowly moved the rocks and gravel around, hoping to make his second discovery. Then, he moved to the side and moved more leaves. When he’d cleared and searched an area about ten by ten feet and found nothing more, he began walking south, toward the break in the trees Aunt Sarah had pointed out. Disappointed that he hadn’t found his second arrowhead, the original excitement quickly died down.

When he came to the break, he continued south, into the trees. It was cool under the trees and, ever so often, he’d see a squirrel bounding about overhead to escape this human invader. He sure wished Shorty was here. Then, he thought about his daddy and wanted to cry. The only other time he had been to the hill was that one time with his dad. His eyes filled with tears, and for the first time since his dad died, Jody cried aloud.

He wasn’t sure how long he cried, but finally, there just plain were no more tears to cry, and he sat silently against the tree, his eyes closed, thinking about the tiny fur ball in the barn. Then, his thoughts turned to what Aunt Sarah told him about the feeling she had on the hill. She said it was a good feeling, a feeling of peace. He felt nothing but sadness. There was no magic here, no friendly ghosts or anything of the sort. Maybe Aunt Sarah’s mind had been affected by losing his uncle and cousin. I know what she’ll tell me. She’ll say I wasn’t here at sundown. Well, if she does, I’ll just tell her next time I come, I’ll stay ‘til sundown and see what happens. Unlike most boys or girls his age, Jody wasn’t even a little bit afraid of the dark. As a matter of fact, maybe he’d bring along a sleeping bag and camp out on this haunted hill all night. He chuckled as he thought about it.

Aunt Sarah was right about one thing. The area south of the break in the trees was a much better place to look for arrowheads. By the time he was hungry enough to absolutely have to head back down the hill, he had found four partial arrowheads and one that was in as good a condition as the day it was made. Aunt Sarah would be proud of him for his day’s work.

He wasn’t wrong. When Aunt Sarah praised his diligence in finding so many arrowheads, Jody smiled and couldn’t keep himself from saying, "But I didn’t find no ghosts."

Aunt Sarah chuckled, "Well, I don’t expect they come around ‘til the sun goes down. Probably too hot for them during the day." Then, she got a look of dead seriousness on her face. "Jody, there’s so many things about this old world that we don’t understand. There’re lots of documented cases of unexplainable things that happen. Like, maybe there’s a power in each of us greater than we realize. Maybe when we leave this life we are still around in another form. Call it ghosts or whatever you want, but perhaps there’s more than we know." She quickly changed the subject and asked, "How about some lunch? I know it’s getting closer and closer to supper, but you must be hungry."

She was definitely a nice aunt to have. As Jody thought about how nice she was, while eating the lunch on Aunt Sarah’s screened rear porch, he smiled broadly and thought, "Well, of course she’d be nice, you dummy. She’s your mom’s sister, and your mom is nice."

Aunt Sarah returned his smile and asked, "Something funny?"

"Naw, just thinking about how nice it is here and up on the hill. Even if there aren’t any nice ghosts making you feel better, it is quiet and peaceful like you said. In fact, I was thinking about camping out overnight up there to see if those ghosts came out after dark."

He grinned widely as Aunt Sarah shook her head and laughed. "You know, Jody, you’re quite the boy. You really want to camp out up there overnight?"

"Sure. I’m not afraid of ghosts."

"How about I camp out with you?"

His smile disappeared and he said, "Aunt Sarah, I’m old enough to do it alone. You want to protect me from the goolies up there?"

"I just thought you might like company. Guess a boy your age wants to do it on his own, without an old lady keeping tabs on him."

Now, he thought about her son being dead and felt bad. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be selfish. You can go with me, if you want. After all, it’s your hill."

She stared off at the hill to the south and said softly, "No, I suspect that hill don’t belong to me or no one living today. Truth is, your great, great grandfather took it away from its owners a lot of years ago." Her voice lowered and she said almost in a whisper, "That’s another strange thing." She seemed deep in thought for what seemed a long while, then said, "I never felt like this land was really ours, even when your Uncle Harold was alive. I knew the history of the place. But that night up on the hill, that feeling changed. It was as if someone was telling me it was all right to be here. Like they were telling me they didn’t mind." When she saw Jody smiling at her, she laughed and said, "Yeah, yeah, I know, you think it’s all hogwash. You want to help me feed the dogs?"

Jody really didn’t want to be around the puppies. They were too cute, and he knew he’d end up wanting to take one of them home. But, what could he do? Aunt Sarah was so nice to him, he couldn’t say no. When they walked into the barn with the food for the three big dogs, he heard the tiny squeal of the three-day-old puppies and couldn’t resist looking to see if the little round ball of fur his aunt had picked out for him was still in the corner.

When he looked over the stall door, he broke into laughter. Dolly’s eight puppies lay in one big heap, all piled atop one another, as if someone had stacked them up. And, right atop the heap was the little ball of fur. As he laughed and stared at the puppy, Jody didn’t see the huge smile on Aunt Sarah’s face. He had such an urge to open the door and pet the pup, but he mustn’t. Only heartbreak could come from loving another dog. He quickly turned away from the stall and petted the big old male, who seemed ancient in his appearance and movements, and thought, ""Won’t be long ‘til you go to doggy heaven, will it Brute? Don’t seem fair, does it?"

Jody, being a boy anxious for adventure, and being afraid of little except having his heart broken again, decided the camp-out was a good idea. He’d definitely spend the night up on the hill, and told his aunt as much, as they walked to the chicken coop to gather eggs. Thinking he might do some camping out while he was at Sarah’s farm his mother sent along his camping gear. It consisted of a sleeping bag, a small emergency survival kit containing matches, first aid ointment and such, a canteen, a small knife in a scabbard, and a web belt to which he could attach the canteen. When he thought about it, Jody wondered why she had decided to send the camping gear. Perhaps there was something to this precog … uh, precognition. Sort of knowing what’s going to happen to you later on.

At the supper table he asked, "Aunt Sarah, do you mind if I camp out on the hill tonight?"

"You sure you won’t be… that is, you sure you want to camp out alone?"

Jody knew she had started to ask if he would be scared, but thought better of it. "Sure. Don’t worry. I’ll be real careful. And, I won’t be afraid of anything. You did say the ghosts up there are friendly, didn’t you?"

They both laughed and began planning the easiest way he could carry everything and what provisions he would take along. Aunt Sarah was sure being a good sport about it.

So, after supper, they got everything together and fashioned a carrying device to carry his bedroll, with all his "provisions" tucked inside. Those provisions consisted of a small package of homemade chocolate chip cookies and two bags of corn chips. After all, he had eaten supper, and he wasn’t going to stay but overnight, then come home for breakfast.

Jody was anxious to get started, as Aunt Sarah helped him put his arms through the makeshift rope harness and heft the bedroll high on his back. Then, she wrapped the web belt around him and hung all his paraphernalia on it. When he asked her what paraphernalia meant, she told him in kid language it meant "stuff." Jody chuckled and thought that Aunt Sarah sure had a way about her. With all her own emotional problems and the problems of running such a large farm, it seemed since his arrival, she had devoted full time to him.

As he stepped off the back porch, Jody stopped, turned around and said, "Aunt Sarah, thanks."

He didn’t have to tell her what he meant by the thanks. She knew without words that Jody understood she was trying to help him get over losing his dad. "No thanks necessary, Jody. You’re family. In fact, I’m going to give your mother a call after while. Anything you want to tell her?"

He chuckled and told her to tell his mother, "Dear mom, Having a wonderful time. Wish you were here." Aunt Sarah laughed heartily, as he walked away, a big grin on his face. She stood rooted to the porch, watching him until he disappeared at the foot of the hill. Every now and then he’d raise his hand over his head without looking back and wave. It made Aunt Sarah laugh each time - Jody’s way of telling her he knew she was watching.

He felt better than he had in a long time until he reached the top of the hill. When he recognized the big rock where he and his dad had rested on their one trip up the hill, he was instantly sad again. Try as he might, and in spite of thinking of his friends at school, the teachers, Aunt Sarah, his mom and everything else in his memory, his thoughts kept coming back to the day he and his dad climbed the hill. Mingled among his sorrow for having lost his dad, was Shorty and all his fun ways of making Jody laugh. Perhaps coming back up here was a bad idea. He’d get away from this spot as fast as he could.

When he reached the area beyond the break in the trees, where he’d found several arrowheads, Jody sat down and took a small drink from the canteen. He could see no more than thirty or forty feet into the woods and brush and wondered what he’d find if he just kept going south, all the way to the end of the hill. Of course, that would probably take a long time. The hill continued south for another fifty miles or so. He smiled and thought, "Not enough water or provisions to go that far." But, he would go a ways to the south, maybe farther than Aunt Sarah had gone.

He struck out southward and figured he had probably an hour travel time before the sun would begin to dip below the hill on the other side of the river. Every now and then, he caught a glimpse of the river through the thick woods, but it didn’t interest him much. He wasn’t going fishing. He was going ghost hunting. When that thought popped into his head, he laughed aloud. This prompted a squirrel to run across his path from somewhere, and it startled him. He shook his head and said aloud, "Gonna have to keep a closer eye on what’s around me. Don’t want no ghosty or gooly sneaking up on me."

Most of the hilltop was thick with trees - so thick, one could walk in a straight line no more than twenty paces, but after moving unhurriedly southward for a half hour, Jody came upon a small, fairly clear area. He bet it had been cleared out for some farmer or another to camp out, or for firewood, maybe. It was about a hundred feet across and approximately round in shape. Plenty of dead twigs and wood lay about the perimeter, so this might be a good place to spend the night. If he slept right out in the middle, no ghost or goblin could sneak out of the trees without him seeing them.

He made a sport of thinking funny things about the ghosts who might live on the hill, but he hoped he hadn’t hurt Aunt Sarah’s feelings by laughing about her ghost theories. He just plain didn’t believe in such nonsense, and that was all there was to it.

After dropping the bedroll from his shoulders and placing it atop a short piece of dead tree trunk he figured the farmer probably left behind, Jody sat on the two feet thick trunk and studied his camp sight. The sun got closer and closer to the hilltop across the way. Suddenly, he jumped up from the short log and decided he’d better scout around for Indian artifacts before it got too dark.

His short search was rewarded with exactly nothing, and he supposed whoever cut the trees down had picked the place clean. Besides, all he could do was shove the leaves and weeds aside with his foot. He’d forgotten the little short-handled rake. Well, it was going to be fun sleeping out, anyway. Maybe in the morning he’d go a little farther south and look around.

Jody returned to his campsite, slipped his web belt off and set the canteen atop the log. Then, he untied the thin rope from around the sleeping bag and pulled the pack of "provisions" out. Yes, it was definitely nice being up here all alone, eating chocolate chip cookies and not a care in the world. But he had to find something really cool to take home with him. Something he could take to school to show off, then give to his mother as a gift.

As he watched the sun change the sky from a bright orange to a deep purple, he thought about his mother and, actually, for the first time, thought about how sad she must be at the loss of his dad. Jody realized he had been completely absorbed in feeling sorry for himself, without any thought of his mother’s sorrow. He would definitely have to take something important home for her. It didn’t matter if he had to scour this hilltop all summer, he’d do it.

When Jody suddenly realized it was dark enough to see the stars, he moved what few cookies were left from his lap to the log and unrolled his sleeping bag. After mashing down a small area of weeds, he pulled more weeds from the surrounding area and placed them in a pile, upon which he spread the bag. The picture of Shorty scratching and scratching on the rug he slept on and turning around and around in circles before lying down and tucking his nose into the middle of his belly to sleep came to mind. At the time, his dad explained to him it was instinct for a dog to do this. He said back when dogs were wild, they turned around and around to pack the weeds or grass down to sleep on. They tucked their noses into the fur on their belly to protect it from the cold.

As he unzipped the sleeping bag and laid it open, he thought it strange that he could smile when he thought about Shorty and his dad. But he didn’t give a thought to it being because he was atop the hill. He sat for some time, just enjoying the beauty of the perfectly clear night sky, before lying down on the sleeping bag and pulling the other half over his body. Yes, lying here looking at all those stars was nice. Maybe Aunt Sarah was right about this being the way people should live. Sure was quiet and peaceful. In fact, it was so peaceful, Jody didn’t even realize he was falling asleep.

Peaceful? The voice nearly sent him running down the hill! "Hello."

Jody was sure he jumped ten feet off the ground at the sudden intrusion. "Who’s there?" His first thought was, Aunt Sarah sent someone to keep an eye on me. No, that couldn’t be it. It sounded like a young girl’s voice. "Who is it? Where are you?"

Holy cow, the voice scared him almost witless. It came from directly behind him. "I’m right here, and my name is Mishalla."

He whirled around and was stunned by the slight girl of perhaps ten or eleven years old. "What are you doing here?" A nearly full moon lightened the night, and he closed his eyes and shook his head to be sure he was really awake. She was there, all right. Although the details were partially hidden by the night, Jody could tell her face was pretty. Her hair shined, glossy in the moonlight, and was wound around into two long braids, hanging down her shoulders nearly to her waist. She wore strange clothes, and a small, snow-white arrowhead was strung on a small, round leather necklace about her neck. Her dress looked to be made from a soft white material, with small leather decorations around the neck and a leather fringe around the bottom.

"What are you doing here?"

She answered him with a question. "What are you doing here?"

Man, oh, man. Just like a girl! Ask her a simple question and what does she do? "I’m camping out for the night. What are you doing up here?"

You know how someone can irritate you with a beautiful smile, when you’re trying to be angry? This girl smiled so beautifully at him, he nearly forgot what he was saying.

She moved closer, still smiling that beautiful smile, and said, "I live here. This is my home."

Jody moved his head back and forth and said, "I don’t get it. No one lives up here."

By now, Jody stood looking across the log at her, and she moved around it and asked, "May I sit on your log?"

Boy, oh boy, girls could be exasperating. "It isn’t my log, so I suppose anyone can sit on it who wants to." Even though he had been completely sarcastic with her, the beautiful smile never left her beautiful face. Yes, now that she was real close, Jody could see that her face wasn’t just pretty. She was downright beautiful. And now, he could see her pretty chocolate brown eyes in the moonlight. He would have bet anyone anywhere in the world anything they wanted he would never say it, but out it popped. "You’re eyes are beautiful."

"Thank you, Jody. You’re nice."

It took him a moment to realize she had called him by name. So Aunt Sarah had put someone up to watching out for him. But a girl no older than himself? That didn’t make sense. "How did you know my name? I never told you."

"Well, why wouldn’t I know your name? Didn’t your Aunt Sarah tell you about me? Well, actually, I should say "about us."

"What do you mean, us? No, I didn’t know anyone lived atop the hill. And no, Aunt Sarah didn’t tell me."

Now, the pretty, make that "beautiful" girl got up, stood directly in front of him and reached out for his hand. He gave it to her willingly, and a warmth flowed through his whole body as they touched. Jody wanted to pull his hand away, but couldn’t. It was as if someone had hypnotized him, as he stared into those beautiful chocolate chip eyes. With his free hand, he felt for the package of cookies and raised them up to her. "Would you like a cookie?"

She released his hand and said, "No, thank you. But thanks for offering. Your Aunt Sarah did tell you about us. Remember, she told you she felt as though the spirits of my people still lived atop the hill?"

Oh, brother, now he had it figured out. This was some kind of charade Aunt Sarah had cooked up to amuse him. The whole story she told him about how she was transformed from sad to happy atop the hill was a plot to make him happy and stop being so sad about his life. He was going to tell the girl, but didn’t get the chance.

"You’re wrong, Jody. I know your Aunt Sarah quite well and, in a way, she knows me, but we have never spoken nor been face to face like this. I rarely visit with anyone who comes to our hill. Oh, I like seeing them, and I like to figure out what kind of people they are, but they never see me, and we don’t talk."

Jody stood and moved away some. Maybe he could think straight if she wasn’t so close. He turned back and said, "I suppose the next thing you’ll tell me is you’re a ghost."

She chuckled softly and said, "That’s a word that belongs to your people. No, I’m not a ghost. But I am something other than what you understand. I know it’s so hard for people to grasp and believe in it, but there is something besides the world in which you live. My people call it the spirit world. A place where game is plentiful, the sun always shines and every single blade of grass or flower or tree is sacred. It is people in the living world who make up their own terms for what I am. By that definition, I guess you could call me a ghost, although, I really don’t like the word."

Jody felt a little ill at ease, but he knew this was some kind of trick or story. She sounded so intelligent for a young girl. And, she sure was a fantastic actress. "If you’re not real, how is it I can see you, just like a real person?"

She disappeared! Right in front of him! She disappeared! He shouted, "WHERE’D YOU GO?"

The voice came from the edge of the clearing. "I’m over here, Jody. I want you to know, I’m not used to being forced to prove who or what I am." Although a soft calming glow surrounded her, it seemed the slightest twinge of anger tainted her voice, but the smile never left. "You came here looking for something, didn’t you, Jody?"

"Yes. I came to look for arrowheads and stuff like that." He stood with his hands on his hips, trying his best to be defiant, but there was no escaping it. She had disappeared, right before his eyes. Just, POOF, and she was gone. Boy, he must be dreaming, for sure. It wasn’t a plot by Aunt Sarah at all. It was a dream.

"I know you came looking for those, yet you’re searching for something much more important. You’re looking for a way to understand about your father and to put away the hurt you feel and think only happy thoughts of him. That’s why you’re up here on our hill. I think you know that. But, if you first want to find arrowheads, follow me."

Jody had been sort of mesmerized by the girl to this point, but when she turned and walked slowly into the trees and he started to follow, he felt fear for the first time since she had startled him with "Hello." But he was drawn to follow her by something he didn’t understand and walked into the trees.

They had moved but perhaps a hundred yards, when she stopped and waited for him. There, at her feet, was a leather bag of some sort, woven around the edges with a small strip of leather such as the one holding the arrowhead around her neck. She bent over, picked it up and handed to him.

He slowly raised the flap and held the bag to the moonlight. It was filled with at least two dozen exquisitely shaped arrowheads and two hatchet heads. All seemed to be made from the same bright, shiny white stone as her necklace.

"Do you like them?"

"Wow! Of course, I like them. They’re beautiful. But… these are yours. I can’t take them."

"No, they are not mine. They are yours. My father was a true artist. He made these, but they are mine to give to whomever I feel deserves and needs them. Each of us has a destiny not only in your world, but in the spirit world, as well. I’ve learned something from speaking with you tonight, Jody. Watching the people who come here all this time, I now know it was you I watched for."

Her mentioning her father brought a response that seemed to come without his meaning to say it. "My father worked on the railroad, but he’s dead, now."

She again took his hand, and he again felt the warmth. "Yes, I know. He died in a terrible accident, and you couldn’t bear to see him in the casket in which he was buried. And, you lost your dog, Shorty. I know all that. That’s why you can see me. Why I can talk to you and give you the arrowheads my father made. Like I told you, I have to have a very special reason to meet people face to face. I also know your mother is terribly sad, and a large part of her sadness is seeing you so unhappy. Jody, you must understand, not just Chautauqua live in this spirit world. Yes, your father died, but he still watches over you from another place. If you believe that, it will make your sadness go away."

He forgot he was talking to someone he really didn’t believe in. His voice wasn’t filled with the earlier antagonism, and he spoke softly. "Wouldn’t you be unhappy if your father died, then your dog died, and everything you did and thought reminded you of them?"

"My father died, also, Jody. If you want to call it dying. I died, if you want to call it that. But the spirit world never dies. I know you can’t understand that, and that’s okay. But what you must understand is, you will live a long and happy life. And, you take that little puppy home with you. It will make your mother and your aunt very happy, if you’ll do that. Will you?"

How could he say no, when she was smiling that absolutely beautiful smile and had given him the absolutely most exquisite arrowheads in the world? "Yes, I’ll take the puppy. I suppose you even want to tell me what to name him."

"Her. And no, I wouldn’t tell you what to name her, but if she were mine, I’d name her Shorty."

He smiled and knew his old Shorty would like that. His dad would probably like it, too. "Yeah, that’s not a bad idea."

"Jody, please remember, there is something beyond what we call life before we enter the spirit world. Take care of your mom. I know you wanted something special for her to make her feel better. You being happy is the best gift you could possibly give her. It has been truly nice visiting with you, Jody, but I must leave you now."

The big old red leghorn rooster on Aunt Sarah’s farm could be heard a mile away in the early morning quiet, and he always crowed at the first crack of light to the east. Jody popped straight up in the sleeping bag and threw it off. Where did she go? He was standing talking to her, then he was in his sleeping bag. Quickly standing, he turned in a complete circle, but saw no sight of the beautiful girl. He sighed and rubbed his face vigorously with both hands. Man, oh, man, what a dream. Whoooeee. Jody picked up the canteen, poured a small amount in his hands and rubbed it on his face. His belly grumbled the message that he’d be better off back at the house eating breakfast, and he quickly rolled the sleeping bag, strapped on his web belt, hung the canteen on it and walked hurriedly to the north. He couldn’t get the picture of… what was her name? Oh, yeah, something like Mishalla. Anyway, he couldn’t get that beautiful smile out of his mind, and almost wished it had really happened.

Days started early on Aunt Sarah’s farm, and when Jody arrived to the smell of frying bacon, he anxiously dropped his camping equipment on the rear porch. When he walked into the kitchen, Aunt Sarah was busily mixing pancake batter, with one eye on the bacon in the big cast iron skillet.

"Well, well, if it isn’t the great adventurer returned for real food. How’d it go, Jody?"

"Uh, I guess okay. Didn’t really have time to look for anything."

As Aunt Sarah removed the skillet from the burner and put the bacon on a paper towel she asked, "No ghosts or anything?" When he didn’t answer, she turned to look at him. He stood with a serious look on his face, moving his head slowly from side to side.

"No, I didn’t see no ghosts, but I sure had a weird dream. I hate to be pushy, Aunt Sarah, but how much of that bacon is for me? I’m really hungry."

"All you want. I can cook more."

As they ate, he told her, "I guess I’ll take that old puppy, if you still want me to."

"Of course, I want you to. You should have another dog. What are you going to name him?"

"Her. She’s a her."

"Oh, really? I thought it was a boy. You want to pick out another one?"

He laughed softly and said, "No, I want that one. I promised."

"Promised? Who did you promise?"

Jody got up and started putting dishes in the sink as he said, "Oh, the girl in my dream. An Indian girl named Mishalla or something like that."

"Boy, that must have been some dream. Tell you what, if you’ll go feed the dogs, I’ll get your sleeping bag and throw it in the washing machine. Deal?"

"Sure. Aunt Sarah?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for being so nice and putting up with me."

She came around the table and hugged him. "It’s easy to be nice to you, Jody. Go feed the dogs and pet your new puppy."

He did just that. In fact, he was in the barn for nearly an hour before he walked back into the house and found Aunt Sarah at the dining room table. Laid out in front of her was a beautiful assortment of snow-white arrowheads and two snow white ax heads, all exquisitely crafted. In her hand was a snow-white arrowhead, the finest she had ever seen, threaded on a necklace of finely twisted leather. "Where did you find those, Aunt Sarah?"

"Rolled up in your sleeping bag. The question is, where did you find them?"

When he took the thonged arrowhead in his hand, Jody felt the same warmth as when the girl had held his hand. He stared at it a moment before sliding it over his head to hang about his neck. Then, he stared at Aunt Sarah for the longest time before saying, "The girl gave them to me in my dream. I have to call mom."

He ran to the phone and dialed the number. "Mom?… No, nothing’s wrong… I love you, Mom… Can you come over to Aunt Sarah’s?… No, no, I don’t want to come home. There’s someone over here I want you to meet… His voice became softer, even seemed to have some new understanding tone to it. "Mom, you remember how Shorty just sort of appeared out of nowhere that day? Now, I know where he came from and why. Hey, guess what, Mom? I have a new puppy."

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