The Shaman Laughs by James D. Doss Read Free Book Online Page A

was something terribly familiar about this. Yes. That bull elk up in the Never Summer range. Gorman's legs wobbled; he forced himself to move close to the carcass. He used the carbine as a staff to steady himself as he squatted to discover the final horror. Before he looked, he was virtually certain of what he would see. He looked, then closed his eyes and swore. The butcher had also removed the bull's testicles!
    There was a wailing howl from atop the mesa. Gorman wheeled, set the carbine stock firmly against his shoulder and fired in the direction of the sound. "Damn you!" He cocked the carbine and fired again. And again. The cracks of the shots echoed back and forth between the canyon walls until the sounds dissipated into the morning mists. Then, total silence. Gorman squatted by the dead animal and leaned his old carbine on a pifion snag. And wept.
    Daisy Perika was frying a thick slice of ham in the iron skillet when she heard the faint echo of distant rifle shots. Was her cousin taking a deer out of season? If so, she knew she would get a share. She imagined sliced deer-liver with diced onion in her skillet and the vision made her mouth water. No, more likely Gorman was shooting at a cougar. Not likely he'd hit anything; the cataracts in his eyes were gradually dropping a milky curtain over his world.
    Only minutes earlier, she had heard her cousin entering the canyon. There was no mistaking the old GMC pickup; it had a loose tail pipe that rattled against the frame when
    Gorman jolted over ruts in the dirt road. Even without that clue, it had to be Gorman. Who else visited
Canon del Es-piritu
at the crack of dawn? Then, in the stillness of the morning, she heard the truck engine start. This morning, he'd cut his visit short. Gorman was usually in Spirit Canyon for at least an hour, gloating over those fat cattle. But wait—the truck wasn't lurching over the bumps; someone with a more delicate touch than Gorman was driving. Daisy smiled with satisfaction; Benita was home from Fort Lewis College in Durango. The shaman had already placed an extra plate on her kitchen table for her cousin; she added another plate for Benita. Gorman always stopped to visit on his way out of the canyon. It was invariably the same routine: Daisy offered breakfast, he would refuse. Then after she urged him, he would grudgingly accept. "If you're going to keep after me," he would say, "I might as well have some." Gorman was one of life's constants.
    Daisy opened the door of her trailer home as she heard Gorman's heavy step on the wooden porch. He had those dirty rubber boots on; she frowned at his big feet. Gorman leaned on the porch railing while he pulled them off. Daisy moved forward to embrace Benita. "How are you, little girl?"
    Benita's eyes were moist. "Fine, Aunt Daisy." Gorman was obviously in a foul mood and Benita was shaken. Daisy waited impatiently to learn what they would tell her. If it was a family dispute, the Sweetwaters would keep it to themselves. It would be bad manners to pry, but if it came to that, Daisy would pry.
    Benita noticed the third setting at the table. "But how did you know I'd be here?"
    Daisy assumed a solemn expression and touched a forefinger to her temple. "I have my own ways of knowing these things." The shaman was rewarded by a wide-eyed expression of awe from the young woman. It was best to stay a step ahead of these college kids. Kept them in their place.
    Gorman sat down heavily at the table. Daisy poured a cup of pitch-black coffee into his favorite mug, the one with the
    Nestle bunny that appeared after the cup heated. Benita didn't drink coffee; said it made her nervous. Children nowadays behaved so strangely! Gorman had a tentative sip.
    "You two want some breakfast? I'm making a cheese omelet and some ham. Got a jar of maple cream from my friends in New York State. Goes good on the hot biscuits."
    Benita glanced at the lard can on the biscuit-board and realized these were old-fashioned biscuits;