Dance of the Bones

“You didn’t give them to me. I found them in the jar of peanut butter Tim left for me. I took out a spoonful of the peanut butter, and when I washed everything else away, these were what was left. I’ll give them back if you tell me I should, but they worked,” he added. “That night when I was in the hospital, I used them. When I held them in my hand and sang to them, they told me you would be all right. That you would be safe.”

Another long silence followed. “I don’t think you need to give them back,” Lani said at last, taking Gabe’s outstretched hand and closing his fingers around the glittering diamonds. “I think you should keep them. Put them back in your pocket and keep them safe. You know how the Ohb would take scalps when they defeated their enemies?”

Gabe nodded.

“They took them as trophies. And that’s what these diamonds are—­they represent a piece of the evil Milgahn woman. You have a trophy, and so do I.”

“You do?” Gabe asked, putting the diamonds back in his pocket.

“Yes,” Lani said. She reached into her backpack and pulled out her medicine basket, the one she had woven during her sixteen days of exile. Removing the tightly fitting cover, she extracted the tiny pot and passed it to Gabe. “Can you see the design?”

Gabe held it close to the fire and peered at it closely. “An owl and a turtle?” he asked finally.

“Yes, those are from the story of Little White Feather as well. Owl and Turtle were the first to help Shining Falls when she came under the spell of the Evil Giantess. I believe this is an ancient pot, Gabe, maybe even as old as the ones that belonged to Betraying Woman, the ones I found in the cave. It was made by someone who knew and loved the story of Little White Feather. The evil Milgahn woman had this pot with her on the night she shot Henry Rojas. It must have fallen out of her pocket, maybe when she was putting the duct tape on my face. And now I’m giving it to you.”

“For me?” Gabe asked in surprise. “To keep?”

“No,” Lani said, “I’m giving it to you to break.” She brought out one of Dan’s white hankies and laid it across a rock. “I want you to break it on this. Don’t smash it. I want you to crack it open very gently like you would if you were breaking an egg. Once you do, I want you to wrap the pieces up in the hankie, take them home, and glue them back together. By breaking the pot, you’ll be setting free the spirit of the woman who made it. And once you glue it back together, you’ll have a place to keep your divining crystals.”

Frowning in concentration, Gabe did as he was told. When he tapped the clay pot gently on the hankie-­covered rock, it split apart into four distinct pieces.

“See there?” Lani gri

Once again she reached into her backpack. This time she pulled out the second medicine basket, one she had woven with love in hopes of one day giving it to Gabe.

His jaw dropped in disbelief. “A medicine basket?” he asked. “A medicine basket of my very own?”

“Heu’u,” Lani said softly. “Yes, your grandfather, Fat Crack, and an old blind medicine man named Looks at Nothing would be very proud.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

J. A. JANCE is the New York Times bestselling author of the J. P. Beaumont series, the Joa

www.jajance.com

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