p&c.thunderhead-第73章

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f　mosses；　hanging　flowers；　and　dense　greenery。　Moving　to　one　side；　Beiyoodzin　parted　a　veil　of　lush　ferns；　and　in　the　gloom　beyond　Nora　could　just　make　out　Smithback；　sitting；　arms　clasped　around　himself；　waiting。　
　〃Bill！〃　she　cried；　as　he　rose　in　astonishment；　joy　sweeping　over　his　face。　
　〃Oh　my　God；〃　he　said。　〃Nora。　I　thought　you　were　dead。〃　Embracing　her　weakly；　he　kissed　her；　then　kissed　her　again。　
　〃How　are　you？〃　she　asked；　touching　the　ugly　welt　on　the　side　of　his　forehead。　
　〃I　ought　to　thank　Sloane。　That　sleep　did　me　wonders。〃　But　his　weak　voice；　and　the　ragged　cough　that　followed；　belied　his　words。　〃Where　is　she？　Where　are　the　others？〃　
　〃We　must　keep　moving；〃　Beiyoodzin　said　urgently。　
　He　pointed　ahead；　and　Nora　followed　his　gesture。　She　could　make　out　the　dim　narrow　trail　leading　upward　along　the　canyon　face；　zigzagging　through　the　clefts　and　pinnacles　of　rock；　squirreling　up　crevasses。　In　the　pale　light　of　the　moon；　it　looked　terrifying：　an　insubstantial；　spectral　path；　intended　for　ghosts；　not　humans。　
　〃I'll　go　first；〃　whispered　Beiyoodzin　to　Nora。　〃Then　Bill。　And　then　you。〃　
　He　looked　at　her　for　a　moment；　searchingly。　Then　he　turned　and　began　to　climb；　keeping　his　weight　toward　the　wall　of　the　canyon；　moving　up　the　slope　with　surprising　nimbleness　for　one　so　old。　Smithback　grasped　a　handhold；　and；　trembling；　pulled　himself　up　behind。　Nora　followed。　
　They　made　their　way　slowly　and　painfully　up　the　precipitous　trail；　careful　to　avoid　the　slippery　moss　and　algae　that　clung　to　the　ledges　underfoot。　The　roar　of　the　waterfall　echoed　up　from　below；　a　heavy　vibration　that　churned　the　air。　Nora　could　see　that　Smithback　was　barely　able　to　pull　himself　up；　each　step　required　all　his　strength。　
　Terrifying　minutes　later；　they　were　out　of　the　microclimate。　The　slot　canyon　was　narrowing；　and　the　resulting　loss　of　moonlight　made　progress　even　more　difficult。　Some　distance　ahead；　at　the　limit　of　vision；　Nora　could　see　the　trail　make　a　sharp　switchback　and　disappear　around　a　corner。　At　the　bend；　a　small　parapet　of　rock　led　out　over　the　roaring　cataract　below。　
　〃How　are　you　doing？〃　she　asked　Smithback。　
　He　didn't　answer　at　first。　Then　he　gasped；　coughed；　and　gave　a　thumbs　up。　
　Suddenly；　Beiyoodzin　stopped　short；　raising　a　warning　hand　over　his　shoulder。　
　〃What　is　it？〃　Nora　asked　as　she　stopped；　renewed　fear　sending　her　heart　hammering。　
　Then　she；　too；　caught　the　sweet　scent　of　morning　glories　on　the　freshening　breeze。　Wordlessly；　she　looked　at　Beiyoodzin。　
　〃What　is　it？〃　Smithback　said。　
　〃He's　following　us　up　the　trail；〃　Beiyoodzin　said。　The　years　suddenly　seemed　to　show　on　his　drawn　face。　Without　another　word；　he　resumed　his　climb。　
　They　followed　him　as　quickly　as　they　could　up　the　precipitous　cliff　face。　Nora　bit　her　lip　against　the　pain　of　her　wounded　leg。　〃Faster；〃　Beiyoodzin　urged。　
　〃He　can't　go　any…〃　Nora　began。　Then　she　stopped　short。　
　Ahead　of　them；　at　the　sharp　bend　in　the　trail；　a　shape　had　appeared：　a　clot　of　black　against　the　dimly　shining　rockface。　The　heavy　pelt　steamed；　and　the　fringe　of　fur　along　its　bottom　edge　was　caked　in　blood。　It　took　a　shambling　step　toward　them；　then　stopped。　Sick　with　fear　and　horror；　Nora　could　hear　the　rasping　breath　being　sucked　in　through　the　blood…soaked　mask。　Through　the　dimness；　she　thought　she　could　make　out　red　pinpricks　of　eyes；　glowing　with　anger；　pain；　and　malice。　
　Unexpectedly；　Beiyoodzin　moved　forward。　Reaching　the　outcropping　of　rock　before　the　switchback；　he　stepped　out　onto　it　carefully。　The　skinwalker　watched　him；　motionless。　Digging　into　his　clothing；　Beiyoodzin　drew　out　his　medicine　bag；　tugged　it　open；　and　reached　inside。　Never　taking　his　eyes　from　the　skinwalker；　he　sprinkled　a　small；　almost　invisible；　line　of　pollen　and　cornmeal　onto　the　narrow　ledge　between　them；　chanting　softly。　
　As　Nora　watched　in　silent　dread；　the　skinwalker　took　a　step　forward；　toward　the　line　of　pollen。　Beiyoodzin　spoke　a　word：　〃Kishlinchi。〃　
　The　skinwalker　stopped；　listening。　Beiyoodzin　shook　his　head　in　sorrow。　〃Please；　no　more；〃　he　said。　〃Let　it　end　here。〃　
　Still　the　skinwalker　waited。　Now；　Beiyoodzin　held　an　eagle　feather　outstretched　before　him。　〃You　think　evil　has　made　you　strong。　But　instead　it　has　made　you　weak。　Weak　and　ugly。　Evil　is　the　very　absence　of　strength。　I　am　asking　you　to　be　strong　now；　and　end　all　this。　This　is　the　only　way　to　save　your　life；　because　evil　always　burns　itself　up　in　the　end。〃　
　With　a　growl　of　anger；　the　skinwalker　unsheathed　an　obsidian　knife。　It　took　a　step　forward；　breaking　the　line　of　pollen；　and　raised　the　knife；　standing　within　striking　distance　of　Beiyoodzin's　heart。　
　〃If　you　will　not　e　back　with　me；　then　I　beg　you　to　stay　here；　in　this　place；〃　Beiyoodzin　said　quickly；　his　voice　cracking。　〃If　evil　is　your　choice；　then　stay　with　evil。　Take　the　city；　if　you　must。〃　He　nodded　in　Nora's　direction。　〃Take　these　outsiders；　if　nothing　else　will　satisfy　your　blood　lust。　But　leave　the　people；　leave　the　village；　alone。〃　
　〃What　are　you　saying？〃　Smithback　cried　in　outraged　surprise。　But　neither　the　skinwalker　nor　Beiyoodzin　seemed　to　hear。　Now；　the　old　man　reached　deeper　into　his　clothes　and　pulled　out　another　buckskin　bag：　much　older；　worn　almost　to　a　paper　thinness；　its　edges　trimmed　in　silver　and　turquoise。　Nora　stared　from　Beiyoodzin　to　the　medicine　bag　and　back　again；　feelings　of　anger；　fear；　and　betrayal　mixing　within　her。　Stealthily；　she　placed　a　hand　on　Smithback's　elbow；　urging　him　to　move　slowly　back　down　the　trail；　away　from　the　confrontation。　
　〃You　know　what　this　is；〃　Beiyoodzin　said。　〃This　bag　holds　the　Mirage　Stone　of　the　Fathers。　The　most　treasured　artifact　of　the　Nankoweap　People。　Once；　you　treasured　it；　too。　I　offer　it　to　you　as　earnest　of　my　promise。　Stay　here；　trouble　our　village　no　more。〃　
　Slowly；　reverently；　he　opened　the　bag；　then　held　it　forward；　his　outstretched　hands　trembling；　whether　from　fear　or　age　Nora　could　not　tell。　
　The　skinwalker　hesitated。　
　〃Take　it；〃　Beiyoodzin　whispered。　The　matted　figure　moved　forward　and　reached　for　it；　leaning　outward。　
　Suddenly；　with　lightning　speed；　Beiyoodzin　thrust　the　open　bag　toward　the　skinwalker。　
　A　heavy　cloud　of　dust　erupted　from　within；　flying　up　into　the　figure's　mask；　spraying　in　long　gray　lines　across　the　bloody　pelt。　The　skinwalker　roared　in　surprise　and　outrage；　twisting　around；　tugging　violently　at　the　mask；　growing　more　and　more　off　balance。　With　the　agility　of　a　cat；　Beiyoodzin　leaped　from　the　outcropping　of　rock　back　onto　the　trail。　The　skinwalker　kicked　frantically；　teetering　a　moment　at　the　edge　of　the　precipice。　Then　it　went　over　with　a　howl　of　fury。　Nora　watched　the　plunge　into　the　violet；　moon…drenched　shadows：　matted　pelt　flapping　crazily；　limbs　scrabbling　at　the　air；　mask　pulling　free　as　the　blood…curdling　cry　meshed　with　the　roar　of　the　flood　beneath。　And　then；　suddenly；　it　was　gone。　
　There　was　a　moment　of　stasis。　Beiyoodzin　looked　at　Nora　and　Smithback；　and　nodded　grimly。　
　Painfully；　Nora　helped　Smithback　up　the　trail　toward　Beiyoodzin。　He　stood　at　the　switchback；　looking　down　into　the　abyss。　
　〃I'm　sorry　to　have　scared　you　like　that；〃　he　said　quietly；　〃but　sometimes；　the　only　defense　left　us　is　to　play　the　coyote；　the　trickster。〃　
　Still　looking　downward；　he　reached　out　and　took　Nora's　hand　in　his。　The　old　man's　grasp　was　as　cool；　light；　and　dry　as　a　leaf。　
　〃And　so　much　death；〃　he　murmured。　〃So　much　death。　But　at　least　the　evil　has　burned　itself　out。〃　
　Then　he　looked　up　at　her；　and　Nora　saw　kindness　and　passion；　as　well　as　an　infinite　sadness；　in　his　eyes。　
　For　a　moment；　there　was　silence　between　them。　Then　Beiyoodzin　spoke。　
　〃When　you　are　ready；〃　he　said；　in　a　small；　clear　voice；　〃let　me　take　you　to　your　father。〃　
　
　Epilogue　
　Moving　at　a　steady；　easy　pace；　the　four　riders　made　their　way　up　the　canyon　known　as　Raingod　Gulch。　John　Beiyoodzin；　atop　a　magnificent　buckskin；　led　the　way。　Nora　Kelly　followed；　riding　abreast　of　her　brother；　Skip。　The　massive　form　of　Teddy　Bear　padded　alongside；　his　back　almost　grazing　the　bellies　of　the　horses　as　he　weaved　in　and　out　beneath　them。　Bill　Smithback　brought　up　the　rear；　his　unruly　hair　imprisoned　beneath　a　suede　cowboy　hat。　The　exhausting　course　of　antibiotic　treatment　he　and　Nora　had　undergone　ended　two　weeks　before；　but　beneath　the　hat　brim　the　writer's　skin　was　still　struggling　to　regain　a　healthy　color。　
　The　late　August　sky　was　sprinkled　with　light　cumulus　clouds；　drifting　over　a　field　of　brilliant　turquoise。　Wrens　flitted　about；　filling　the　sweet　little　canyon　with　their　bell…like　cries。　A　merry　stream；　shaded　by　fragrant　cottonwoods；　ran　sparkling　across　a　bed　of　soft　sand。　At　almost　every　bend　in　the　canyon　were　small　alcoves；　Anasazi　dwellings　tucked　inside　them：　none　more　than　two　or　three　rooms；　but　lovely　in　their　humble　perfection。　
　Nora　let　her　horse　keep　its　own　pace；　concentrating　on　nothing　but　the　sun　beating　down　on　her　denimed　legs；　on　the　murmur　of　water　nearby；　on　the　swaying　of　her　mount。　Every　now　and　then；　she　smiled　to　herself　as　she　heard　Smithback　behind　her；　leveling　curses　at　his　balky　mount；　who　stopped　frequently　to　nibble　a　patch　of　clover　or　bite　off　the　top　of　a　thistle；　pletely　ignoring　the　dire　threats　and　imprecations　of　his　rider。　The　man　just　had　no　talent　with　horses。　
　She　realized　how　lucky　she　was　to　have　him　here；　how　lucky　she　was　to　be　here　herself。　Briefly；　her　thoughts　returned　to　their　struggle　out　of　the　wilderness　a　month　earlier：　Smithback　weak；　Nora　herself　growing　steadily　weaker　as　the　fungal　infection　took　hold。　If　Skip　and　Ernest　Goddard　had　not　met　them　halfway　down　the　trail　with　fresh　horses…and　if　there　had　not　been　a　powerboat　waiting　at　the　trailhead；　or　helicopters　idling　at　Page…they　would　probably　have　died。　And　yet；　for　a　time；　Nora　almost　thought　it　would　have　been　easier　to　die　than　to　tell　Goddard　the　news：　how　their　incredible　discovery　had　turned　into　such　a　terrible　personal　tragedy　for　him。　
　Here；　thirty…odd　miles　northwest　of　the　ruin　of　Quivira；　the　countryside　seemed　built　on　a　smaller　scale：　friendly；　verdant；　well…watered。　John　Beiyoodzin　had　paused　in　his　long　story…he　had　paused　frequently　during　the　ride；　giving　his　narrative　time　to　sink　in。　
　As　they　rode　on　through　the　sunlit　silence；　Nora　allowed　her　thoughts　to　move　gradually　from　Goddard　to　her　own　father；　and　of　what　she　had　so　far　been　able　to　piece　together　of　his　own　last　trip　up　this　canyon。　He　had　taken　very　little　from　Quivira。　In　fact；　far　from　being　a　pothunter；　he　had　carefully　refilled　what　excavations　he　had　made　in　a　way　that　would　have　pleased　even　Aragon。　But　in　doing　so；　he　had　exposed　himself　to　a　concentration　of　the　fungal　dust；　and　grown　sick。　Riding　north　in　hopes　of　finding　help；　his　sickness　had　worsened　to　the　point　where　he　could　hardly　sit　his　horse。　Nora　wondered　how　he　would　have　felt。　Would　he　have　been　terrified？　Resigned？　As　a　child；　she　remembered　hearing　him　say　that　he　wanted　to　die　in　the　saddle。　And　he　had　done　just　that。　Or　almost：　eventually　being　too　sick　to　ride；　he　had　dismounted。　Then　he　turned　his　horses　free　and　waited　to　die。　
　〃It　was　my　cousin　who　found　the　body；〃　Beiyoodzin　said；　resuming　his　story。　〃It　was　lying　in　a　cave　at　the　top　of　a　smal