Page 3 of The Watcher

Kateri had no doubt he would make himself very visible to the Virtue Falls citizens, and if he got the chance mention that she was out on the reservation. That made him look so much more responsible. But she needed him tonight, so she said, “Good plan. I’ll head out to the reservation. Thanks for the tip, Rainbow.”

“You’ll let me know how it goes?” It wasn’t really a question. Rainbow loved a good story.

"Sure."

Dax slapped his hand on the bell. "Order up!"

"Gotta go do my job." Rainbow chucked Bergen under the chin and headed back for pick up. "Good night, sweetheart."

Bergen blushed again.

Kateri stood. She checked her service pistol, adjusted her bullet-proof vest, made sure she was ready for a fire fight in case the "spirit" turned out to be all too human. In a conversational tone, she said, "You know, Bergen, Rainbow only shows off because it makes you uncomfortable. If you turned the tables, she'd run scared."

"Really?" Bergen's eyes narrowed on the waitress as she served hamburgers to a group of hungry hikers.

"Really."

Rainbow headed back toward the kitchen, eying Bergen and smiling flirtatiously.

Bergen intercepted her, clasped her in his arms, bent her backwards and pressed kisses all over her horrified face.

The noise in the Oceanview Café dropped to zero.

He planted a sloppy kiss right on her astonished mouth, stood her up, leaned close and in a deep, sexy voice said, "Later, darling." Hitching up his belt, he strode out of the café.

Whistles and shouts followed him out the door.

Rainbow stood, eyes wide, staring after him. "Wow," she whispered.

"Wait until Sandra hears about this," Kateri told her.

Rainbow looked at Kateri in alarm. "She'll kill me."

"Pretty much." Kateri chortled all the way to her cruiser. She might just have helped Bergen win the election, but damn — that was funny.

Kateri gathered her supplies and waited until early evening to drive out to the camp. As she passed through the gates, she saw that the basketball court was showing its age. Weeds were creeping through the concrete, especially through the enormous crack left by the earthquake. The basketball net was hanging by only a few of the hooks on the rim, and the pole was leaning slightly.

She doubted the basketball court would be fixed any time soon. The reservation wasn’t rolling in the wealth. To a certain extent, the rez had been lucky. The land faced an inlet away from Virtue Falls Harbor, while the earthquake had caused damage — most of their homes had suffered — the tsunami didn’t directly hit tribal lands.

Well, of course. Native Americans legend had warned of disaster if land-hungry Americans built Virtue Falls where they did, but did those folks listen? Nooo. It was all, "Those silly, superstitious Indians…" right up until that tsunami came ripping through the harbor. No one had believed in the Frog God, either, until Kateri…

No one believed in the Frog God even now,exceptKateri. He'd made the earth move and he'd made the ocean rise. He had taken her. She had seen him, and he was a fearsome god, and she feared him and the powers he had given her. But those powers were the real reason she'd chosen to come rather than send Bergen. Once you've been killed and resurrected by an ancient deity, not much surprised you.

To her right, Kateri could see the red cedar longhouse, its planks tilted to ventilate the interior after a warm afternoon. Nathan was proud of the longhouse; building it had been his idea and the tribe used it as a meeting hall, community center and as the campers’ lodging.

All seemed quiet. Normal. Until she crossed the line drawn deeply in the dirt road, the line meant to protect the camp. Here she could smell a change in the air, hear the distant voices of the ancestors, feel her connection to the People. The age of the earth inside the circle was different. Its memories held the knowledge of the old ones, the long ago bear hunts, the campfire rituals.

The elders had drawn it around the longhouse, the campfires and the canoes made of hollowed out cedars. But who, or what, would want to bother a bunch of kids and a few Native American camp counselors?

She pulled up to the longhouse and parked, and waved at Nathan.

Nathan was one of the reservation leaders and an enthusiastic camp counselor. Marie always said the summer was his favorite time of year because the kids came from the cities without their phones and their TVs. They went on hikes, they learned how to tie knots and paddle a canoe, to tell poison oak from the ferns and, for the first time in their lives, they got to see the stars. Best of all, they had no choice but to listen to his stories. For him, a high school history project had blossomed into a love of his tribe and their memories. Now he was the resident historian and expert on traditions for the tribe, and every night, he regaled the campers with tales of the ancient ones, the Native Americans that settled the land centuries ago. By the end of the first week, most were high-fiving Nathan on their way to their sleeping bags in the longhouse.

When Nathan wasn’t around Marie would also tell the tribal women that it broke her heart a little to see him with the kids. They weren’t able to have children of their own, and she knew he wanted to pass on the verbal history of the tribe.

As Kateri approached the longhouse, the smell of cedar made her feel nostalgic, and she smiled at Nathan as he came out to meet her.

“Kateri! Welcome! What brings you to our humble dwelling?” Nathan was a kind man, quick to smile and joke around. Even if the camp kids rarely admitted it, they loved his jovial nature. And Marie loved his sun-darkened skin and the way his bark brown eyes danced whenever he told stories by the campfire.

---