A False Dawn

TWO

I knew he had not been pulled under by a gator. His descent was too slow. I stepped over to the side of the dock next to Max. She didn't budge, eyes wide, staring at the spot in the river where the man had disappeared.

“Maybe he slipped in a hole, Max.” She whined, her whimper somewhere on the verge of a bark. Suddenly, the man rose out of the river’s surface like the Greek God Poseidon, clutching his scepter. He used one hand to secure the hat on his head, water pouring from the brim, the other hand gripping the metal pole. Then he dropped something into the leather sack around one shoulder. He said, “Couldn’t get it out with my toes, had to use my hand.”

“What are you doing?”

He closed his eyes and listened, prodding the pole into the river mud. His face was coffee brown, maybe Native American. He had smooth skin for a man I guessed was in his mid-fifties. His hair was long, salt and pepper, pulled back into a ponytail. He had a hawk nose that looked like it had been broken and set more than once. He wore a tank top, and his biceps rolled with muscle as he worked the metal prod.

I heard the pole strike something. With his feet, he seemed to be feeling the river mud. He lifted one foot out of the water and held something between his toes. He reached down to take the object, turning it over in his hand, studying it a few seconds before dropping whatever it was into the sack.

Max wagged her tail and finally barked. The man looked up and spoke in a slow, deliberate tone. “Dog’s gonna attract gators. Saw a big’en here a month ago.”

I almost laughed at the irony. “You’re standing in the middle of the river, water up to your chest, and you’re telling me that my dog might attract gators.”

He stopped his tapping for a beat. “I’m not in the middle of the river. Gator is most dangerous at night. You live around ‘em long enough and you learn their ways.” “I’m glad you’re in harmony with nature.”

“Dog and a gator won’t ever mix. Gator will stalk him. One day your dog will be barkin’ here on the side of the dock and a gator will jump outta the river and grab him.” “What are you doing?”

“Retrieving artifacts.”

“You're hunting for arrowheads?”

“Salvaging the past.”

“Why are you searching in the river?”

“Because this is where they are.” He squinted in the sun. “Lot of the ground’s been picked over. This river basin was the home to thousands of my people. There’s plenty of arrow and spearheads in this river mud.” He walked up to the dock, took his sack off and emptied it on the wooden planks.

Max wagged her tail and sniffed. I smiled. “Okay Max, let’s look at the past, the future is a little obscure right now.” The arrowheads were all near perfect. Some small. Some large. They seemed to have been chiseled from different colors of flint.

He held up the largest. “They’d use a few like this to kill a manatee or a gator.”

The man set the pole on my dock and climbed out of the river, mud clinging to his feet. He washed his feet in the water before standing.

“Name’s Joe Billie.” He stretched his long arm and offered a handshake. I shook his wet hand. I could smell sweat and river mud. His grip was strong. A knife was strapped to his belt and thigh.

“I’m Sean O’Brien. Do you often hunt for arrow — artifacts in the river?” “Whenever I can. I can tell if I’m hitting flint or something like a beer can.” He bent down and scratched Max behind her ears. “Hello dog.” Her tail wagged. “Ya’ll live here long?”

“A few months. I’m restoring the place.”

Joe Billie rubbed Max’s head for a moment. He glanced toward my house. “Ya’ll ever see or hear things you don’t understand ‘round here?”

“All my life. I was a cop.”

“No, here on the mound…you ever feel anything?”

“What do you mean by feel?”

“This is a sacred place, a burial ground. Should be treated that way.”

“How do you know it’s a burial mound?”

“Some mounds were for food waste. Others, the ones built overlooking the river like this, were for the spirits of the dead.”

“Okay.”

He looked at me curiously. “Protect what’s left of this sacred place and you’ll be protected.”

I tried not to laugh.

He stopped petting Max, looked up at me and rummaged through his knapsack. He pulled out a dark arrowhead. “Found this one near your dock. Take it. It’s yours.” “Thank you, but I wouldn’t know what to do with it. You keep it.”

“It’s rare. This is a very special arrowhead. No black flint in these parts. Somebody from a tribe outta the area might have used this arrowhead to kill someone or something. Maybe he died right here in or near the river.”

“Maybe so.”

“You ever use a bow?”

“I’ve got an old Pearson. Haven’t shot an arrow in years. Today’s arrows are a little more refined.”

“When a warrior spent time sharpening one of these, he wanted to make sure he got a good shot.”

He carefully laid the black arrowhead in the knapsack with the others and then rubbed a calloused hand across Max’s head.

“You live around here?” I asked.

“I live on the river near DeLand.” He studied my dock for a long moment. “Noticed some of your pilings could use replacing. I’ve set plenty of docks.”

“I’ll remember that. Did you walk in the river from DeLand?”

Joe Billie removed his hat and used his thumb to wipe the sweat from his brow. “I tied my canoe about a half mile upriver.”

“Can I give you a lift back to your canoe?”

“If I walk back, my clothes will dry.” As he started to leave, he paused, looked from my home to the river, squinting from sunlight through the live oaks. “Protect what’s left of this place.”

He retrieved his things and walked barefoot up the path that leads from my home to the dock. He turned left, going toward the largest part of the mound, stopped and dropped to one knee. He touched the mound with the palms of both hands and slowly raised his face to the sky. After a few seconds he stood, ducked beneath Spanish moss hanging from a low limb on a live oak, and vanished.

I decided to follow him. I wanted to see if he arrived in a canoe or by car. Was he casing my home? Maybe the ex-cop in me was too guarded. Screw it. Something was coalescing in my gut, something about Joe Billie making me suspicious.

I left Max in the kitchen, put a shirt on, slipped the Glock under my belt, locked the house and started my Jeep.