Kiss of the Bees

staggering around drunkenly outside. She had no idea what was wrong with the animal but Father John, who had come to the house to give Davy his first-ever catechism class, did.

“That dog’s been poisoned,” Father John had told them. “We’ve got to get him to a vet.”

Before they could even lead Bone to the car, the hundred-pound dog collapsed in helpless convulsions. It took both Davy’s mother and the priest to lift him, carry him to the priest’s car, and load him inside. Davy had wanted to go along, but Diana had turned him back, ordering him to stay with Rita.

Worried about the poor dog, Davy was in tears as Father John started the car. Before driving out of the yard, however, the priest stopped the car beside the devastated child.

“Remember how we were talking about prayer a while ago?” the priest asked, rolling down the window. “Would you like me to pray for Bone?”

“Yes,” Davy had whispered. “Please.”

“Heavenly Father,” the priest had said, bowing his head. “We pray that you will grant the blessing of healing to your servant, Bone, that he may return safely to his home. We ask this in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

David Ladd had learned a good deal more about prayer since that fateful day long ago, when God had spared not only his dog but the rest of the family as well. He had learned, too, what Father John meant when he said that the answer to prayer could be either yes or no.

Davy had never forgotten the priest’s powerful lesson, and it came rushing back to him now, out of the distant past. Closing his fist around the smooth crucifix, David Ladd closed his eyes, envisioning as he did so both his parents and his little sister, Lani.

“Heavenly Father,” he whispered. “We pray now for the blessing of healing for your servants Brandon, Diana, and Lani Walker and for Davy Ladd and Candace Waverly. See us all safely through this time of trouble in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

Then, putting the rosary in his shirt pocket so he could feel the beads through the thin material of his shirt, David Ladd locked the Jeep Cherokee, picked up his suitcase, and headed home.

15

The people went to the mountain, where they had fought before, but this time Tho’ag—the Mountain—was covered with snakes and scorpions and Bad People.

U’uwhig—the Birds—had all gone away to a distant water hole, so they were not there to help their friends, the Desert People. Many of the Tohono O’othham were killed, among them many women and children.

Tho’ag—the Mountain—felt so bad when so many of his friends were being killed that he opened holes in the rocks so the Desert People could see through. That is why he is called Wuhi Tho’ag—which means Eye Mountain. And you can see the eyes in this mountain today, just as you can see the walls of rock.

At last Wuhi Tho’ag called to his brother mountain, Baboquivari, for help. Baboquivari, who watches over everything, answered. Wind Man, whose home is on Baboquivari, called his brother Cloud Man to help. Cloud Man came down low over the fighting and made cradles for the Indian children, and Wind Man carried the children in the cloud cradles to Baboquivari, where they were safe.

The fighting grew worse, and I’itoi was ashamed of his people.

So Great Spirit spoke. Heavy dark clouds came down over the mountain where they were fighting, so that no one could see.

In these big black clouds Hewel—the Wind—carried many of the Desert People safely to the valley of Baboquivari.

The Tohono O’othham were so bloody from fighting that they stained the clouds and the mountains all red.

That is why, even to this day, about the top of the great mountain peak, Baboquivari, nearly always there are a few clouds. And these clouds are not white, but are colored a little with blood. This, nawoj, you may see for yourself.

Scrabbling across the steep flank of the mountain with only the moon to light the path, Mitch Johnson had twisted his bad knee and almost tumbled down the mountainside himself. Now, crawling through the entryway with his flashlight in hand, a stabbing pain in Mitch’s leg caused beads of sweat to pop out on his forehead. Hurting himself wasn’t something he had counted on, but he wasn’t about to let it stop him, either, not after all the years of planning and waiting.

Mitch had expected a hole in the mountainside, but once he made it into the cavern itself and sent the thin beam of his flashlight probing the distant ceiling and walls, he was awestruck. The cave was huge.

“It’s something, isn’t it?” Quentin said as he joined them. “Whatever you do, watch where you step. It’s slicker ‘an snot in here, and there’s a hole over here just to the right that’s a killer. It’ll break your neck if you fall into it. And there’s snakes, too.”

There wasn’t much in life that scared Mitch Johnson, but snakes did. “Rattlers?” he asked.

“That’s right. I killed a diamondback just outside the entrance earlier this afternoon,” Quentin was saying. “It was a big mother, and I threw the body down the side of the mountain. The problem is, where there’s one snake, there’s usually another.”

While Mitch carefully scoured the surrounding area for snakes, Quentin once again took his position at the head of the line, picking his way through the forest of stalagmites that thrust themselves up out of the limestone floor.

“This way,” Quentin said. “There’s sort of a path here.”

If there was a path, Lani couldn’t see it. The rocks were so slippery that she was having some difficulty walking.

“I thought you said somebody lived in here,” Mitch complained as he gingerly negotiated the rough and treacherously slick floor of the cavern. “How could they?”