Owl Dreams by John T. Biggs

Author:John T. Biggs
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: shaman, witch, magical realism, indian american, american indian, indian shaman

CHAPTER 26

A lot of important places were lined up along the remains of old Route 66. That was the only reason the Federal Department of Transportation hadn’t put the mother road in a home. El Reno Federal Correctional Institution was on the road a little over thirty miles west of the Crazy Snake Gambling Casino. Not a long drive, unless your passenger was getting accustomed to his sanity and wanted to talk about it. Sarah tried her best to ignore Robert’s discourse on the cosmic unity.

“People gambling in the Crazy Snake right now will eventually do hard federal time just down the road.” He had more to say about the Alpha and Omega of criminal activity and the mystical connection between all things.

“Enough of that crap.” Rolling down the windows of her Subaru changed things immediately. His monologue deteriorated into nonsense syllables as the wind blew across his face. That was annoying too, but it at least it wasn’t New Age annoying.

“You’ve got the ID Professor Lindsay sent you?” Was the head nodding a response or part of some schizophrenic recovery ritual? She should have asked her questions before surrendering Robert to the influence of the wind.

“Can you hear me?”

He removed a laminated card from his shirt pocket and shoved it in front of her eyes, severely compromising her view of oncoming traffic.

“Good.” She pushed his hand aside and used her peripheral vision to watch him return the card to his pocket. Passing Robert Collins off as Archie’s spiritual adviser was a real Hail Mary, but Archie had insisted she bring her “male companion” when she came to visit him, and no one could visit a federal inmate without a photo ID.

“Do you know anything about the Native American Church?”

“Sure.” Robert held his right hand out the window and made it

perform a series of aerobatic maneuvers.

“Can you answer questions about the religion, if the authorities quiz you?”

“I’ve heard ceremonies carried on the wind. I remember quite a lot.”

“Why do you suppose Archie wants to see you?”

“Probably lonely.” Robert told her. “And I don’t think Archie wants you to travel alone.”

Probably right on both counts. She doubted if Archie’s friends and relatives would pass muster with the National Criminal Information Center, and his cultural background gave him no reason to be confident in the abilities of women.

Too late for second thoughts. But Sarah still had a few as she pulled into the prison parking lot. An armed guard stopped them at the gate. A plastic badge on his uniform shirt identified him as Sgt. Buford Troxel. He wore a matching name belt confirming his identity. As if anyone would pretend to be Sgt. Buford Troxel.

The guard was a suspicious man. He checked Sarah’s name and Robert’s against a visitors list. He took their photo IDs into a guard station and made a call. Sarah wondered if the guard’s paranoia was a sign of thoroughness or a symptom of mental instability. Not that it mattered.

Sergeant Troxel returned their IDs. He produced a paper and read a list of rights visitors agreed to waive while they were on FCI property.

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