I hope you enjoy reading the prologue and first two chapters of "Skookum." Thanks for your comments.

“skookum” a Chinook word that was picked up by many tribes in the Pacific Northwest. The Rogue Indians used it in Southern Oregon, and locals still use it today, to describe something large and powerful or awesome and majestic. When describing a person, it usually means someone who is powerful, heroic, and full of courage.


~Prologue~

Praying voices covered the quiet tread of Ghostdancer’s feet as he moved through the hospital as invisible as a spirit. It was easy for him to bypass the nurse’s station, because the entire community of Indian Creek filled every inch of the halls. Ranchers and their families had traveled over sixty miles, leaving the comfort of their homes to offer Lucas Hain their support. It was the least they could do for the legendary wrangler who had touched every one of their lives.

Long ago, Luke had given Ghostdancer a chance at life after everyone else had given up on him. Now, it was time for Ghostdancer to begin repaying his debt.

Reaching his destination, he slipped into a darkened room and melted into the shadows. Light from a single window outlined Luke’s hard-muscled body and bearded face as he stood over his wife. His enormous hands were folded in a death grip. Ghostdancer caught his breath when Luke’s startling pale eyes turned in his direction. Those eyes shimmered with an unspeakable pain as they stared, not at Ghostdancer, but at the small figure of a woman shrouded in white sheets. The sheets rose and fell with the even breathing of one in sleep. Ghostdancer had heard about Beth Anne and her courageous battle with cancer, how she had lost a leg and how she might yet lose her life. The news had reached him across several hundred miles to the Eagle Cap Wilderness. Such news was one of the few things that would bring him down to civilization. He seldom left the high country where the Nez Perce once roamed.

Ghostdancer cleared his throat.

Luke lifted his gaze from the bed and blinked. There were forces at work in those pale eyes—resignation, anger, unanswered questions—but there was also courage and determination. It was the face of an old warrior, battle weary yet struggling to lift the sword one last time. The man understood. He had walked a similar road many moons ago.

The clock continued to click as the murmur of voices drifted from the hallway. With a deep sigh, Luke finally spoke, “Ghostdancer …I knew you would come.”

Ghostdancer said nothing.

The knuckles of Luke’s clenched fingers turned white. His right shoulder leaned hard against the wall.

Ghostdancer raised his head and hands upward, quietly beginning a song in the tongue of his forefathers. But unlike his forefathers, he knew the name of The Great Spirit—Yahweh—The Living God. He called upon Yahweh through the music that was as much a part of him as the land, pulling the words from the hidden depths of his soul—words from David, the Hebrew Psalmist, music that reached beyond earthly dimensions, a tone more fitting for a forest than a hospital room. It was always like this when he sang. It was as if he had been transposed to another realm. Passion filled his music while his heart grasped for his Creator. He pled for the life of the woman in the bed before him. He continued until every ounce of his strength abandoned him, then he lowered his hands and looked at Luke.

Luke’s upper body was sprawled across the bed covering his wife with a smothering embrace. Beth Anne was fully awake now. The couple clung to one another as if letting go would be the end of them.

Ghostdancer knew his gift of prayer would be long lasting, but he had another gift that wouldn’t be as well received. In time, Luke would discover it for himself, and only time would tell the full worth of it. Ghostdancer pronounced a blessing and slipped back through the door as silently as he had come.