Finders Keepers (11 page)

As the roaring in his head died away, Danny realized Joshua was staring at him. “It's OK,” Danny explained with a grin. “I was just seeing it in my head.”

The old man smiled. “You have the inner eyes,” he commented gently. “That is a wonderful gift.”

“That's the second time this week I've been told I had a gift,” said Danny in amazement. “I didn't think I was good at anything.”

“Everyone has a gift,” said the old man, “but some take a while to find it.” He looked seriously across at Danny. “Use your gift well.”

“OK.” Danny wasn't sure how else to respond. Using his imagination was something that usually got him into trouble. He'd have to think about that one.

Stiffly the old man rose to his feet. The boys followed and together they walked along the ridge path to the upper entrance of the Interpretive Centre. Danny hung back a little. He found himself reluctant to go inside the building.

“What's the matter Danny? Don't you want to see the exhibits?” Joshua was puzzled.

“Well yes, kind of.” Danny struggled to identify his feelings. “It's just that… a building…” He made a wide sweeping gesture that encompassed the jump and the magnificent view, and the pictures his inner eyes had conjured up. “It's just that THIS… it's great. You can't put things like this in a building.” He scanned the scene thoughtfully. “After watching a real Indian ceremony and then seeing the Buffalo Jump, I'm scared that the exhibits will be a letdown,” he continued honestly.

The old man smiled gently but said nothing.

Joshua punched Danny's arm. “Aw come on, you're just being weird. The Interpretive Centre is full of neat stuff. Did you bring the lance point?”

Danny nodded and patted the back pocket of his cutoffs.

Joshua led the way through the doors of the Interpretive Centre, pressed a button for the elevator and the three of them travelled down to the exhibit levels.

Danny wandered happily on his own through the displays. Joshua was right, there were wonderful things to be discovered. Peigan stories of the creation of the earth; explanations of the native names for the seasons; the use of herbs and wild foods that Danny had never realized could be eaten; clothing, fire making, drums and rattles. Danny even found a magical 'iniskim'—the buffalo stone.

“I wonder if you're the one the holy woman sang to when she called the buffalo,” Danny whispered as he bent down and looked at it with awe.

The iniskim was small, black and buffalo-shaped. Its well-polished surface gleamed dully as though it had been rubbed and handled during many years of ceremonies. Danny could feel the power pulsing from it. His head whirled and he had to turn away.

“Holy Comoly,” he gasped.

There they were… just as if they'd been 'called' by the Holy Woman… just exactly as he'd imagined them…. A magnificent group of buffalo poised on the edge of the reconstructed jump, buckling at the knees and frozen in time as they were about to topple over to their deaths.

“WOW!” Danny went closer and looked at the brown muscular beasts whose shoulders towered above him. “You're massive.”

Even stuffed and on display the buffalo emanated power and strength. Danny leaned over the barrier to stroke the rough hairy hide.

“Don't touch the exhibits!” A brisk looking woman in a red jump suit called out sharply as she walked through the gallery. Danny blushed and moved back quickly but still stared at the animals.

“The buffalo were our strength.” Behind Danny, the old man appeared again and spoke quietly. “That is why we honour them. We wasted nothing that the buffalo gave us. Without them…?” the old man's voice died away.

Danny grappled to understand the undercurrents he could sense behind the old man's speech. “But
YOU
didn't die out, only the buffalo. You still have tipis and language and ceremonies. Even the Sundance.” He gulped as he remembering it was a forbidden subject. “I'm sorry,” he stammered, embarrassed. “I just… it always fascinated me… in the Fort Macleod museum.”

“Ah yes. The photograph on display. Joshua told me.” The old man moved over to a seat and motioned for Danny to join him.

“In all cultures there are differences, and in First Nations cultures there are some things that white people find hard to understand.” The old man spoke seriously but without anger. “We believe that some things should not be shown or explained. This includes the sacred ritual of the Sundance. We do not talk about it. The sites are sacred sites… hidden from eyes that don't understand. The ritual is secret and holy. It should have never been photographed. In your society you have anthropologists, people who try and discover our rituals and explain them. But we are people, not interesting animals to be studied and explained. We are a people. We have sacred beliefs we choose not to share.”

Danny sat quietly, trying to marshall his muddled thoughts to explain his point of view to the old man. “See… see… it's hard not to be nosey,” Danny stammered earnestly. “Like… I'm real interested. I want to know everything and see everything. And the sacred stuff's the most interesting.” Danny paused, grappling for words.

The old man waited patiently.

“I guess it's hard to understand because in our culture we don't have anything that holy,” Danny said slowly.

“Some of you do,” said the old man gently. “Do you go to church Danny, to Mass?”

Danny shuffled uncomfortably. “Mom does, but Dad and I don't go very often,” he admitted. “Actually, just once or twice a year, like Christmas,” he added honestly.

“What about the wafers and wine?” questioned the Old
Man. “Could they be taken and displayed in a museum?”

“Oh no,” said Danny definitely, “They're holy… they're consecrated.” He stopped suddenly, realizing the impact of his statement. “You mean that's kinda like the Sundance?”

The old man eased himself out of the seat, nodded at Danny and left. Danny stared after him.

Joshua appeared around the corner.

“I think I've offended your grandfather,” said Danny unhappily, and he explained what had happened.

“It's OK,” Joshua reassured him. “The elders like to leave you to work things out for yourself.”

“Sheesh…” Danny's breath expelled slowly. “If the Sundance ceremony is really sacred…” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Joshua, that photo shouldn't be in the museum. I wonder if we can do anything about it?”

Before Joshua could answer, he caught a glimpse of a woman striding though the exhibits. His face lit up. “Hey Mom,” he shouted, “we're over here.” The woman turned, smiled, and headed their way.

“This is my Mom,” said Joshua proudly. “She's one of the archaeologists here.”

Danny's mouth gaped like a goldfish. It was the woman in the red jump suit, the one who had yelled at him.

“Hi, you must be Danny. I'm Mrs. Brokenhorn.” Joshua's mother smiled. She didn't say anything about yelling, she just shook his hand. “Joshua's told me about you and I gather you have something you'd like to show me.”

Danny nodded and fumbled in the pocket of his shorts. He handed her the somewhat grubby pile of tissues. Carefully, Mrs. Brokenhorn peeled them away until the lance point lay exposed on the palm of her hand.

“How lovely,” she breathed. “Amazing it's still in one piece after all these years.”

Danny and Joshua exchanged guilty grins. “More amazing than you know,” thought Danny as he remembered rolling around on the ground after trying to lean on the wind.

“Danny, I think you have something really special
here,” said Mrs. Brokenhorn. “Why don't you come to my office and we'll try to identify it.”

Thrilled, Danny followed Mrs. Brokenhorn across the display area and through a door marked
PRIVATE—STAFF ONLY
.

“This is great. I've never met a real archaeologist before.” Danny bubbled happily to Joshua. “Why didn't you tell me what your mother did?”

“You never asked,” said Joshua with a grin.

“Idiot!” Danny stuck out a foot to trip Joshua up.

Joshua smartly jumped over it but stumbled against the corridor wall.

“You can't wrestle in here,” warned his mother, opening a door and waving them inside. “There are too many things that could be broken.”

Joshua saluted her saucily, but obediently went to sit quietly on the only empty chair. Danny hesitated in the doorway. The only other chair had a pile of books on it. He looked around in amazement. There were books everywhere. The walls were lined with them. Danny had never seen so many books except in the public library. Where there weren't books there were interesting objects, teeth and animal jawbones, lumps of rock, bones, pieces of pottery and several arrowheads. There was even a human skull among the papers on Mrs. Brokenhorn's desk.

Danny's eyes opened wide and he pointed wordlessly.

“That's a cast, you can handle it if you want to,” said Mrs. Brokenhorn as she stepped past Danny, removed the books from the other chair and placed them on the floor.

Danny poked his finger in the skull's eye socket then pulled a face and perched on the edge of the cleared chair.

“Now, let's have a good look at this lance point.” Mrs. Brokenhorn made a space on her desk and spread out a piece of blue paper. She angled a desk light so it shone on the paper and placed the lance point in the middle of the patch of light. The point gleamed and shone mystically.

Taking what looked like a long fine pair of steel tweezers, Mrs. Brokenhorn stretched them out so one steel tip
gently touched each end of the point.

“What are you doing?” asked Danny curiously.

“I'm measuring. Using steel calipers is much more accurate than if I had tried to place the uneven surfaces of your lance point on a tape measure.”

Danny and Joshua watched with fascination as Mrs. Brokenhorn used the calipers to measure not only the length, but the width and the depth on several places of the point. Then she took several photos of it. The last one she took with an instant print camera. “Here Danny,” she said passing it over. “This one's for you.”

The two boys hung over the photo and watched the picture magically develop before their eyes.

“Well,” said Danny eagerly. “Is it something special? What kind of lance point is it?'

“I'm pretty sure it's a Scottsbluff point, and it's around 8000 years old,” said Mrs. Brokenhorn, stroking the point gently.

Both boys whistled in admiration.

“If that's correct then it's pretty special,” she continued, as she held it up to the light and they all admired it. “See how delicate it is. It's rare to find an undamaged lance point. It could have been made to use with an atlatl.”

“An atal-whatl?” laughed Danny.

“An at-l-at-1.” Mrs. Brokenhorn sounded out the syllables carefully so Danny could grasp the name. “It's a throwing stick to make a lance go further. Here!” she moved around the desk and picked up a pencil and paper. “I'll draw it to show you how it works.”