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As he did, the mourners began to hear a drumbeat from somewhere back in the woods. A steady, repetitivethump-thumpthat became a dirge.
And then the elder’s voice rang out among the stones as he called out to the Old Ones.
“Aba`binili`.Look now!”
“It is Cries A Lot, daughter to the Chickasaw.”
“Woman of two worlds.”
“Woman with two names.”
“First mother to Pope Mountain.”
“Look now! She is coming.”
The drumbeat grew louder as the elder’s voice rose.
“Your daughter became lost in the time before us. In the time of the highbush blackberry of 1864.”
“And she has been found in the time of the highbush blackberry of 2023. Look now,Aba`binili`”
“Send the Old Ones to meet her.”
“She is coming home.”
The people standing had begun to weep.
The birds went quiet.
Children stood motionless, sensing the momentousness of the occasion without understanding why.
The drums grew louder still as the elder’s voice rose again.
“Listen now!”
“Cries A Lot! Daughter of the Chickasaw.”
“As you take your final journey, take the words of your people with you.”
“Chiholloli!”
“You are loved.”
The drumbeat ended abruptly, followed by one sharp, resounding war cry, and then the mountain went silent.
Someone sobbed.
Someone was praying beneath their breath.
Then, one by one, the mourners began to file past the grave, taking a handful of dirt from the pile beside it and tossing it on top of the casket as they passed. When the line finally ended, the people stood back, standing witness as the gravediggers began shoveling the remaining earth back into the ground.
When the burying was over, Cameron, Aaron, Louis, and Marcus stepped out of the crowd, picked up the little wooden house, and settled it on top of the grave before stepping back into the crowd.
When they looked up, Johnson Strong as Bear was gone.
After that, it was all about the leave-taking. As each family separated from the crowd to go home, they picked up their own bound copy of Brendan’s journal, safe in the knowledge that the original was back in the Library of Congress, in its place of history where it belonged.
The piper packed and left, leaving the mourners to disperse as they chose, until finally there was no one left but Brother Farley locking up the church before driving away.
