The Last Handful of Clover - Book 2: Gifts Both Light and Dark

2.45 The Two Keys

"Billy calls him the Wanderer. And he thinks he's out to destroy this city. Is he right? Who is he?"

Tuilla took a deep breath before continuing. "Make yourself comfortable, Richard. You're already asking difficult questions, and we just met." She indicated a bench that lined the corner of the belfry, under the eaves and out of the rain. Without even thinking about it, Richard eased down, while Billy and Tuilla remained standing.

"The one that Billy calls the Wanderer was originally a man, just like you. He was a half-breed Shawnee by the name was George Drouillard, and he was a trapper and hunter in the early 19th century. But he escaped the encroaching wave of white invaders in about 1810, and he found shelter with the Goshute tribe. My tribe."

"I don't think I've ever heard of the Goshute," Richard said.

"Few white men have, even in Utah. But they were one of the ancestral tribes in this region. We lived, and many of our descendants still do, on the far side of the Oquirrh Mountains. We loved this valley, long before the Mormon settlers arrived."

"How did you know this man? The one you called Drouillard?" Richard asked.

Tuilla smiled. "I knew him, because he was my husband."

Billy's expression was one of shock. "Why didn't you tell me that," Billy asked. "I never knew..."

"I didn't tell you, dear heart, because you didn't need to know. It wouldn't have mattered in the slightest, and it would have only confused you. Hadn't you already come to the conclusion on your own that the Wanderer was just another ghost? Just one of the dead, like both of us?"

"I..." Billy started. "I wasn't sure. But yes, I have long thought that must be true."

"I also didn't tell you because there wasn't anything you could do to stop him, and I didn't want you to try. By the time you and I met, by the time we both had the gifts, George was too far along on his dark path. He was already far more powerful than anything either of us could have dealt with, even a century ago."

"So why are you telling us now?" Richard asked.

She looked at him and smiled. Her expression was so warm and beatific that Richard could feel himself melting under it. It was no wonder that Billy had come to worship this woman like a God. There was an undeniable charisma and power in her that gave Richard a tiny shred of hope.

"I'm telling you now, because you are here." Tuilla said, simply. She knelt in front of Richard and took his hand. "I've been waiting for you, since almost the beginning."

"And when was the beginning?" Richard asked.

"I guess you could say the beginning was in 1851. That was the year that George was taken from me. That was the year he interrupted our river journey to the home of the Great Spirit. We were both very old at the time, and we both knew that we didn't have long for this world. We talked of our deaths often, and that was always how we described it to each other: as a journey. We'd float together on a long trip down a beautiful river that would wind through the red rock canyons, away from the mountains of men, and into the ocean of God."

"I don't understand. If you both died, then why are you both still here?" Richard asked.

"You assume I know far more than I do, Richard Pratt. George and I took that journey, but it was... interrupted. For us both. When I came back three days after we both died, I could tell immediately that everything in the valley was out of balance, and I knew it was because George's rage had changed everything. The Great Spirit abhors his world being out of balance, and I knew he would someday need to disrupt the chaos and put it all to right. It's taken more than 175 years, but finally, he has sent you."