to a maze of tunnels. Kier paused at each turn, constantly scanning. By developing a habit of always looking, always being conscious of where he was going, he had an extraordinary memory for even the most subtle landmarks. In addition, Grandfather had left piles of pebbles on the main route that could be found about twenty feet before every right turn and at the junction of every left turn. Of course when there were several passages off a large cavern, that method didn't work. In that situation there was either no marker, in which case memory was imperative, or there was a small pile of pebbles at the beginning of the correct passageway.
The primary drawback to this method of navigation was its ambiguity. There were several routes and they crossed one another.
'How do you know where we are going?' she finally asked.
He explained the rules.
''It was better not knowing,'' she said.
At last, they reached another flat where the walking was easier. After two sharp bends and a hundred yards on the level, they came to a rock wall that separated two passages. On the wall was a thirty-foot-long ancient pictograph. Kier shone a light onto the scene that was painted onto the smooth limestone. She stood close to him, in awe of what she was seeing. Multicolored figures, in earth-red, turquoise, and yellow, depicted people or spirit beings. The arms and legs of the figures were represented by three lines, and torsos by four lines.
'They are the sky people or spirit people who affect things here on earth.' Kier pointed at certain of the figures that appeared to hover over the landscape.
Below the sky people were the hunters-tiny red men holding spears and rocks, chasing deer or elk. Between the hunters and the sky people was the sun and, to the right, a smaller sphere-the moon. They hunted in the twilight.
'This fellow here, near the hunters, has the ceremonial headdress-that is good medicine.' Kier outlined the barely discernible hat. Two imposing figures stood side by side with a radiant halo depicted over their heads. Between the haloed pair stood a smaller figure. 'Maybe the small fellow is on a vision quest, and these two spirit figures are standing over him.'
'Or maybe they are man and woman. The halo is their love, and the smaller person their child.'
'We always thought it was about sacred dreams. Maybe love is your dream.'
'I know part of it is about love,' she said.
She took two shaky steps to the wall and plunked down in the dirt. Kier took off his pack and set his light on a ledge, directing its rays at the painting. Then he sat close beside her. When he touched her shoulder, guiding her back to recline against him, she did not resist. He knew his large body was much more inviting than the rock. After a moment, his arm went around her, allowing her head to rest against his chest.
'What does it make you think about?' she asked.
'You first.'
'My mind feels like it's floating with fatigue, a little like being drunk.'
''Where is your mind wandering?''
'You think I'm imagining things when I say those two people with haloes are about love. You think it's because I'm hung up on the subject.'
'I never said that. I'm just listening.'
She nodded. 'I guess I'm just hoping I'm not one dimensional. When I was young I seemed to have so many sides. You know? I felt more than just desire, anger, and satisfaction.
There were really good people back then. Why don't I know any great people anymore? Did they change, or did I?
'You were like a fairy tale come true if my sister was to be believed. Grounded. Got a whole philosophy about life and nature. According to Claudie, you were gentle with everything. She said you had no guile, Kier. I thought maybe all that bigness I knew as a kid could come back when I watched you with the mare. Then you ignored my wishes, dragged me away from civilization, and tricked me, locking me in a wine cellar against my will. So much for the resurrection of my youthful idealism.''
Kier stayed quiet for a while, wanting to deal squarely with his need to reconcile things with her.
'Let's cut through the baloney,' he said finally. 'The wine cellar isn't the issue. What we're really talking about is this rock-hard inner self of mine that-yes, is stubborn-but more than that, can't consider a white woman as a mate. And we're talking about one more thing. A bigger thing I think.'
'What's that?'
'Whatever happened to you, that has you so angry.'
'You dragged me around in a blizzard instead of driving to a phone booth.'
'But that's not it,' he said.
'Are you a mind reader?'
'Is it the divorce?'
'No.'
'So what is it?'
''You first. Why do you think I care what you think of white women? You're going to say that I'm somehow attracted to you and that this is some kind of issue with me.'
'You're trying to say you're not?'
'Kier, all the problems in life don't revolve around you, for God's sake.'
'My unwillingness to be with another white woman, in your mind, is just a rejection of the white man's civilization and ultimately of you. Same with the government. But the reason it bugs you so much-'
'Kier, please spare me. Why are you talking about my feelings? Talk about your feelings. Don't tell me about mine. That's my job.'
Kier's anger exploded inside him. He quit talking and sat staring at the dreamers on the wall.
'Okay. Okay. I'll just listen. You talk,' she said. 'Let's not degenerate. You just talk.'
'You're sure?'
'Definitely sure.'
'Now I don't know what to talk about,' he said.
'Stop stalling before I scream.'
'It started with my mother. All my life I have felt my mother's love. Always I have wanted to please her. But more than that, bigger than that, I wanted to be like my grandfather and never betray my heritage. Indian people are being swallowed up. We haven't preserved what is Indian. Often we're not good at what is white. I have gotten along pretty well in both cultures. That's what I was raised to do. But I can't let myself disappear into the white man's world, get fat off peddling Indian mysticism. I almost did that once.'
'So you're going to marry an expectation instead of loving a person. It makes poor Willow sound like a political statement. God. I thought I was cynical.'
'Ah. So you know all about Willow.'
'Well, Claudie told me. I'm a snoop at heart. That's why I'm a cop.'
'So now you've decided I'm not in love with her when you don't know either of us.'
'We got naked in the same hut. I know you.'
'Well, let me explain my side of this.'
'Go ahead.'
'I guess,' he said, sighing, 'I don't quite look at my relationship with Willow the way you and Claudie do.'
'Let's leave Claudie out of this.'
'Okay, the way you do. You know the saying about 'stir-the-oatmeal kind of love'? It's not Hollywood, but it's caring.' He watched her with eyes that pleaded for her understanding, even as he supposed it was something that she did not intend to give.
'You see there, you've just admitted it. This is some dogeared old affection that's like friendship. It's not really love.'
''It's what I want. I'm not looking for anything else. Anything glamorous.'
He heard her take in a deep, ragged breath. 'So that's it. Okay. I can respect that. I suppose there're a lot of happy families out there stirring the oatmeal. Personally, I'd rather be passionately in love, howling at the moon, screwing my brains out till we knock the bed over.'
Kier thought about that and realized that nothing good could come from continuing the debate.
