Date: Wed, 2 Apr 2014 10:50:22 -0400
From: Jake Preston <jemtling@gmail.com>
Subject: Psychic Detective 29

Psychic Detective 29
By: Jake Preston

This is a work of erotic gay fiction, intended for readers who enjoy a
murder mystery in which fully developed characters interact sexually and in
other ways. Their sexual encounters are sometimes romantic, sometimes
recreational, sometimes spiritual, and almost always described
explicitly. My attention is equally divided between narrative, character
development, and sex scenes. If you don't care for this combination, there
are many other excellent "nifty" stories to choose from. And remember that
while nifty stories are free, maintaining a website is not. Please think
about donating at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

Writing is usually a solitary avocation, but not necessarily so on
nifty.org, where a longer story appears in installments. If my characters
and my story grab your attention, you can always intervene with suggestions
for improvements. All sincere comments will get a response!

Jake, at jemtling@gmail.com


       *  *  *  *  *  *



Chapter 29
White Buffalo


      In the month of September, Jack Jackson and Calvin Cohn spent time
re-reading Howard Coleman's unfinished dissertation chapters. They believed
Göran Svenson's prediction that a second sacrifice site would be found
on the Lakota Reservation. They scoured Coleman's text for hints of more
serial killings. None were apparent, until Calvin had an idea: "Let's
compile a list of geographical and topographical references in Coleman's
text, and check them out. Maybe we can retrace his steps in Lakota."

      After two months in South Dakota, Calvin had a passing acquaintance
with the Lakota landscape. He split his time between sophomore classes at
Lakota College, and travel around the Res with Dark Eagle and Anna
Ravitch. He searched Coleman's text for every geographical reference and
(sometimes with Jack's help) noted its location on county maps. He found 36
locations. Most of them had no relevance to the serial killings, but they
visited 34 of them, took notes about what they saw, and compared their
observations to statements made by Coleman in his dissertation chapter.

      "I think we've stuck out again," Calvin said. "We haven't learned
anything that we didn't already know about the murders."

      "That's not true," Mrs. Ravitch said. "We've learned that Coleman's
geographical references are genuine, which means that he really visited the
places that he mentions. He didn't make them up. This has a bearing on the
two places that we couldn't find on any of the maps we consulted."

      She was right. Coleman mentioned two places that they couldn't
identify. One was a creek bed, dry in summer and autumn, about seven miles
north of Buffalo Run. Coleman called it 'Staley's Creek', apparently
unknown to cartography. The other was called Red Bluff.  Coleman described
it as an unusual rock formation above the creek bed.

      "This is rather deep into Reservation land, if it exists at all,"
Jack said.

      "You must ask for help from the Council of Elders," Dark Eagle
replied. "One of the elders is sure to know about red rock formations above
a creek bed, although the creek is almost certainly not called
'Staley's'. That's a name he made up."

      "Maybe he named the creek after his accomplice," Mrs. Ravitch
suggested.

      Dark Eagle and Jack explained the problem in Tribal Council. One of
the elders-a Vietnam Vet named Jonathan Sand Crane- remembered some rock
formations in the region and volunteered to go with them on an
expedition. "It'll take all day," he said. "We'll have to go part of the
way on horseback. My sister's son must come, too- Billy Blue Heron- he
could use a Lakota adventure or two under his belt."

      Jack agreed. It wasn't a lot to ask. "I thought I knew everyone on
the Res, but I didn't realize that you had a nephew, Jonathan Sand Crane,"
he said.

      "He was two years behind you in school. He's been to college in Sioux
Falls, where they turned him into a soft city slicker, but he speaks Lakota
pretty good," Jonathan Sand Crane said.

      That evening, Jack spoke to Göran by phone. "Let's go with the
hypothesis that 'Brad Nails' is 'Staley', Göran said. "I'll alert
Sheriff Matthews. He'll probably pass the information on to Tom Eidan. This
is an FBI problem, since Staley could have lived anywhere in the Midwest or
the West. That's assuming there ever was a 'Staley', but for now it's the
only lead we've got."

      A party of six caravanned up dirt roads and across roadless flats in
three pickup trucks- loaded with camping gear, firewood, food and water,
and CSI equipment, and pulling trailers with two horses in each. "If we
find what we're looking for, we might be here a week," Jack remarked. Five
miles north of Buffalo Run, they followed a dry creek-bed. When the path of
the creek narrowed, they traveled on horseback for two miles. Jonathan Sand
Crane led the way.  Dark Eagle kept close to Billy Blue Heron and engaged
him in conversation, seeming oblivious to his surroundings. Jonathan wore
shoulder-length hair and looked like a taller version of Red
Hawk. Smooth-faced and slender, anything but muscular, at age 25 he could
pass for sixteen. It seemed to Jack that Dark Eagle already knew him and
had taken him under his wing like a substitute father.

      Grayish rock formations appeared in the distance. When they got
closer, the rock looked red. They climbed to the highest bluff, but saw no
signs of human visitation.

      "It's the hour of the shaman," Jack said, glancing at Dark Eagle, who
had grown solemn.

      "We're on sacred ground," Dark Eagle said. "This was an ancient
Lakota burial ground, not the red rock we're standing on, but down below,
by the creek bed. Once upon a time there was water, and a village."

      "How could Coleman have known that?" Anna Ravitch wondered.

      "Maybe he didn't," Dark Eagle said. "Maybe the Great Spirit led him
here, so the remains of his victims would be found."

      Calvin wrote in his notebook at breakneck speed. He sensed that his
travels had carried him into the middle of Lakota history. He thought to
himself, 'If Manitou has such power, why didn't He stop the murders?'- but
he didn't say it.

      "Manitou had a higher purpose that has yet to be disclosed," Dark
Eagle said, answering Calvin's unarticulated question, as if he had read
the young man's mind. "We'll have to spend the night," Dark Eagle
continued. "It would be best to set up camp by the trucks while we still
have daylight. But we'll observe the ceremony here on the bluff."

      They returned to the trucks and set up three two-person tents, a long
folding table for the Coleman stove, and lawn chairs- all the conveniences
of modern camping. Dark Eagle changed into buckskin and wore an elaborate
Ojibwe headdress. Jack, Jonathan Sand Crane, and Billy Blue Heron changed
into buckskin too- each man wore a headband with a single brown feather.
Jonathan produced similar costumes for Calvin and Anna Ravitch. "Oh, good!
We get to play at being Indians," Calvin remarked to Mrs. Ravitch while
they changed in the close confines of a tent. Dressed in tribal costumes,
the six visitors mounted horses and carried firewood up the bluff, where
they gathered brush to start a fire while Dark Eagle laid out a ceremonial
blanket.

      "Shouldn't we rub two rocks together to start a fire?" Calvin asked
when Dark Eagle produced a box of kitchen matches.

      "If the ancient Indians had matches, they would have used them," Dark
Eagle grinned.  "The Lakota didn't have peyote, either, but we're going to
used it as an aid to communicate with Manitou."

      Jack drew Dark Eagle away from the others and said, "I hope we can
find a way to do this without offending the elder's sensibilities." He was
reluctant to go native, if going native meant getting naked.

      "Dance as you did at Apollo's and follow your heart," Dark Eagle
said.

      "You heard about that?"- Jack was amazed; Dark Eagle, amused: "The
first time or the second?" he grinned. "Manitou will speak through another,
but you'll be the one who prepares his body for Niizho-manitou." Dark Eagle
didn't need to translate; Jack knew that he meant 'the Second Spirit'.

      As a tribal elder, Jonathan Sand Crane distributed six peyote chips
to each person seated in a circle around the ceremonial blanket. As the
shaman, Dark Eagle sat in at the north side of the blanket, in the
center. On his right, Jonathan sat with his water-drum. Anna Ravitch sat on
his left, armed with two ceremonial rattles. Jack, Billy, and Calvin sat
east, south, and west. Bourbon was passed in a bottle to soften the
bitterness and moisten lophophoric mouthfuls.

      While they masticated chips and felt the first traces of mescaline,
Jonathan told a story about how the pastor of the Lakota Baptist Church, a
certain Reverend Hughes, led an unlawful campaign to abolish peyotism on
the Res. "Does it line up with God's Word?" he asked from his pulpit. "If
peyote alters the mind and leads to hallucinations, then the Bible would
have prohibited it!" He used equivocation to cover up the fact that he
could find no relevant verse. "If God had known about it, he would have
forbidden it in the Bible," Reverend Hughes said. He tried to pressure the
Sheriff to bust up pagan rituals and arrest the peyote-users in their
ceremonial wigwams. (This happened before Jack Jackson became Sheriff.)
"Whites have been persecuting peyote-users since the 1880s," Jonathan
continued. "The Baptist campaign was more of the same, but it led to
increased use of peyote on the Res."

      "Peyote is for spiritual illumination, not hallucination. Lakota
doesn't even have a word for 'hallucination'," Jack remarked.

      "The Great Spirit manifests itself in Nature," Dark Eagle
said. "Through peyote visions look past human artifice to see the spiritual
colors of Nature, which is Manitou. The primary attribute of Nature is
Sexuality. All creatures in Nature are sexual. All plants and animals, from
the lowliest cactus to the most intelligent human, are created for sex. The
secret of peyote is that it closes the gap between the lowliest plant and
the highest animal. That's why the dance before Manitou must be erotic."

      Jack supposed that Dark Eagle gave his discourse on peyote-theology
for the benefit of Jonathan Sand Crane. The Lakota elders were familiar
with peyote rituals, but (unlike the Ojibwe) they had never combined peyote
with sex. In fact, Dark Eagle's words were meant for Jack. He couldn't lead
the dance effectively if his mind was clouded with misgivings about
exposing his sexuality to an elder.

      Dark Eagle started the ceremony with a prayer thanking the Great
Spirit for the presence of Jonathan Sand Crane, Anna Ravitch, and Three
Graces who would dance for Him-Jack Red Crest Jackson, Billy Blue Heron,
and Calvin Cohn. He liked to mix Ojibwe rituals with symbolism from other
cultures, like the time he asked Dmitri and his friends to perform Greek
folk-dances to CD-music for Manitou. In the absence of a computer or a
boom-box, Dark Eagle said that he would recite an epic about the westward
migration of the Ojibwe from their Atlantic homeland to the shores of
Gitchee Gumee. It wasn't a Lakota story, but it was the longest epic chant
that he knew.

      No one but Dark Eagle understood the words of his Ojibwe chant, but
its cadence was familiar to Jonathan Sand Crane, who kept time on the
water-drum while Jack danced solo in the center of the ceremonial
carpet. Jonathan caught the rhythm and set the pace, with occasional
half-beat deviations that inspired erotic gyrations from Jack. Anna Ravitch
rolled the rattles in concert with the water-drum. Jonathan's drumbeat
competed with Dark Eagle's cadence at times, like the conflict of ictus and
accent in Virgil's Aeneid. In a smooth sequence of deft moves, Jack removed
his clothes and danced naked. Dark Eagle's epic chant was the framework;
Jonathan's drumbeat was the style; Anna's rattles added rhetorical
flourish; and Jack's naked dance was the content in the dance before
Manitou.

      Jack took Calvin's hand and led him into the dance on the ceremonial
carpet. Without missing a drumbeat, he helped Calvin out of his
clothes. They danced on the carpet as a naked pair. They approached Billy
Blue Heron. Jack took his right hand, and Calvin took his left. They lifted
him up and he joined the dance. They helped him out of his clothes.

      When all three dancers were naked, Jack led them to the other side of
the ceremonial fire.  Separated from their musician-spectators by
firelight, the Three Graces slowed their dance while their erections swayed
erotically. Calvin penetrated Billy Blue Heron from behind and fucked,
sometimes to the rhythm of Dark Eagle's cadence, sometimes to the drumbeat
of Jonathan Sand Crane. Their rhythm devolved into violent strokes when
Calvin poured himself into Billy, but Jack recovered it, and the dance of
Three Graces continued. Jack danced behind Billy, who whirled away and
danced behind Jack. Jack pulled away and danced behind Billy. Calvin
intervened- he faced Jack and held him in place while Billy danced behind
him and penetrated his butt. He supported Jack's trembling body when
Billy's sperm oozed into him.

      "White buffalo at noon," was all Billy whispered in Jack's ear.

      Jack led his two companions back to the ceremonial blanket. They sat
in their places, still naked. Dark Eagle, Jonathan Sand Crane, and Anna
Ravitch waited in silence. Was there a message from Manitou? Billy motioned
for Jack to speak. "White buffalo at noon," Jack said.  "The message came
to Billy while we were... ah... the message came to Billy while we were
dancing."

      "Is there a place called White Buffalo?" Anna Ravitch wondered.

      "No," Jonathan said, "but I've heard tell that an albino buffalo
sometimes wanders on the Res. We've kept quiet about it. There's always a
chance that poachers might encroach on the Res and hunt it down, so the
white buffalo has been a Lakota secret."

      Next morning, the party of six rode out on horseback in search of an
albino buffalo. They traveled north and east. At noon they found a herd of
thirty-some bison, but no albino. "We're going the wrong direction," Billy
Blue Heron said, but he couldn't propose an alternative, so no one took him
seriously except Dark Eagle. They returned to camp at dusk, without
sighting a white bison.

      Dark Eagle spoke to Calvin in private: "Billy Blue Heron is still in
tune with the Great Spirit. He just needs a little help."

      "What can I do?" Calvin asked.

      "You can let Billy sleep with Jack. He'll know what to do," Dark
Eagle said. "Just while we're on this expedition- then you can have him
back."

      Dark Eagle spoke to Billy and Calvin spoke to Jack.

      Billy crawled into Jack's tent, crept under the top cover of the
doubled-up sleeping bag, and snuggled next to Jack. The thrill of
anticipation inspired him to place a hand over Jack's abdomen, but he also
felt timid in Jack's presence. True, he had fucked Jack on the previous
evening, but then they were both under the influence of peyote in a
ritual. It was his first time fucking a man. Getting fucked by Calvin was a
first for him, too. Jack was a Lakota legend. Billy had desired him from a
distance since boyhood. Now that he had the man of his dreams in his arms,
he wasn't sure what to do, or what role he should play. This wasn't
romance, but it wasn't romance, either, since Jack belonged to Calvin. It
was somewhere in between.

      Jack sensed his reticence. He squeezed Billy's hand. By his
body-language, he encouraged Billy to explore his torso. Billy stoked him
and fondled. "I remember you from our schooldays," Jack said. "You were one
of the younger boys, when we played soccer. I wish I had known you better,
but we never had any classes together."

      "Sometimes you were a team captain," Billy recalled. "Whenever that
happened- it wasn't often- you chose me for your team. Those were the only
times I wasn't the last kid chosen."

      "I could have done more. I should have been a friend when you needed
one."

      "We were kids, Jack," Billy said. "Besides, you did do more. There
was a time when two older boys were beating on me and calling me a
faggot. You stopped them. One of them ran away with a black eye. After that
they left me alone."

      "I don't remember," Jack said, and changed the subject: "You should
talk to CC about going to college. You'll do well there. You're a bright
boy, but you need an education."

      "Why do you say that?"

      "Because the Lakota people deserve to have a shaman who's educated,"
Jack said.

      "If I went to college, what would I major in?" Billy asked.

      "Whatever interests you," Jack said. "Take a variety of courses in
your first two years, and then decide. Art, literature, history,
comparative religion, psychology, linguistics, biology- CC is majoring in
Native American Studies."

      "If my destiny is to be a shaman, as Dark Eagle says, what would be
the best major?"  Billy asked.

      "If you're asking me, I'd say the Lakota people could use a local
expert on biology, especially botany," Jack said. Billy's fingers graduated
from stoking his abdomen to fondling his nipples. "So, Billy Blue Heron,
are you gonna fuck me?"

      "Really?"

      "You don't think I'm man enough to take it from you?" Jack laughed.

      "Taking it is one thing; wanting, another," Billy replied.

      "Maybe for once it's about what you want," Jack said. "Tell me what
you are, Billy Blue Heron, top or bottom? Say it."

      "Maybe it depends on who I'm...."

      "Tell me what you are, top or bottom. Say it," Jack repeated.

      "Top," Billy said. "There, I said it. I know most guys probably think
I should be a bottom, but...."

      "What most guys think is unimportant," Jack said. "What's important
is for us to actualize you as a top." He nuzzled Billy's pits with his nose
and his tongue.

      Billy drew Jack into a kiss. He guided Jack's face to his nips, and
further down to his navel and pubes. Sucking cock was just the start. Jack
performed oral endearments that Billy had never imagined, on his scrotum,
his perineum, his cleft, and his butthole. This game was different from the
peyote-ritual, where erotic dancing was their only foreplay. After Jack's
demonstration of oral intimacy, he embraced Billy and kissed him. "Time for
you to take over, I think," he whispered in Billy's ear.

      Billy opened all the crannies of Jack, everything he had dreamed of
having, especially his genitals and his ass. Jack responded with
compliance, encouragement, and appreciation. "I'm keeping my butthole tight
for you, Billy, since I'm about to get stung by the Queen Bee," Jack said
when Billy made his first exploration with a finger. "Ooooo," Jack
exclaimed when Billy's index finger- the left one, as he was left-handed-
wriggled inside Jack's butt.

      "My fingers are quarreling among themselves," Billy said. "The others
are jealous about this one." He held up his left index finger.

      "Then you must give them each a turn at some action in my ass," Jack
said. "One at a time, please."

      Eight fingers and two thumbs took turns fucking Jack's butt. "I think
we'll call this game 'Ten Little Indians', Billy said.

      What Billy liked best about Jack was his backside. Like any gay guy
he appreciated cock, but it was butt that got his attention. Jack pronated
so Billy could play in the backyard. He arched so Billy could play 'Ten
Little Indians' again. Billy's fingers lingered in the valley between two
moons, for Billy a newfound trail that led to a magic well, and beyond it,
two cannonballs and a rocket. What's the best term for the trail, he asked
Jack- cleavage, crevice, chasm, canyon, creek-bed, cranny, crack, cleft?
Jack looked back at him, and handed him a lube-tube.

	"Fissure, furrow, fault, fosse"- Billy delivered verbal and digital
frottage to the cleft while Jack slowly parted his legs.

	"Recess, rift, McCrackus, path to the portal, glute gutter, glute
gap, gape, Gape of Good Hope...."

	"Fuck already!" Jack said impatiently.

	Billy hot-dogged the Gape of Good Hope and then rammed his rod into
the portal. Jack groaned, but he muffled a yelp, as he wanted to keep
Billy's penetration a secret.  He could have howled like a wolf if he
wanted to, because everyone in camp knew he was getting shafted. To prolong
his pleasure and possession of Jack, Billy slid his dick in and out
slowly. He branded Jack with hickies at the back of his shoulders and
neck. When the 'call of the loins' caught up with Billy, he humped. He shot
spooge into Jack. He soaked his rod in seminal fluids that once was his but
now belonged to Jack. His rod half-way receded, but hardened again when
Billy grew conscious of pheromone fragrance that wafted from Jack's
sweat-glistening shoulders and pits. Billy humped Jack more fiercely than
before.

	Jack flipped over, panting, and praised Billy's double
penetration. Naturally he didn't mention that Calvin was capable of this,
too, but he recognized that the feat was exceptional and worthy of
praise. Billy frotted Jack's erection, and took advantage of his heightened
eroticism by extracting a promise that they would continue to be occasional
lovers on their return to Lakota.  He knew that Jack was a promise-keeper,
and said no more about it, but Jack told Calvin, who agreed to threesomes
as a compromise.



	Next morning, Billy led the way up the creek-bed on horseback. He
seemed to know where to go. When they reached a second group of red
rock-formations, Billy turned up a narrow trail between two red
boulders. The trail led over a hill to a small grassy valley, hidden by
surrounding cliffs. In the late morning sun, Jack removed his shirt. The
riders behind him couldn't help but notice fresh red marks on his shoulders
and neck. "Branded by the new shaman," they must have thought, but their
speculation about Jack's anatomy was soon diverted by the sight of a
mammoth white buffalo and her equally albino calf, grazing in the hidden
valley. Billy walked in close. The mother buffalo looked at him briefly and
returned to her grazing.

	At noon, the two white buffalos sauntered across the tiny valley to
a solitary tree, shaded by the cliffs. The buffalo stood in the shade of
the willow for a few minutes. They lapped water from a spring that nurtured
the tree, and returned to their original grazing spot. Jack led the way
across the valley. Twenty yards south of the tree, they found the remnants
of five human skulls.  One of them was still attached to its neck and
shoulder-bones. It was evident that this one (and probably the others) had
been planted vertical in holes in the ground and left to die of thirst or
exposure, or maybe they were devoured by army-ants.

	"This crime scene needs to be handled as an archeological dig,"
Jack said. "Four of the skulls were scattered by scavengers. If it's done
scientifically, we can recover the skeletons."

	"Are you sure you want outsiders coming here to solve our
problems?" Jonathan Sand Crane asked.

	"I was thinking of an archeology professor at USD, perhaps with
some student assistants and some locals," Jack said. "But I'm willing to
try another shamanist ritual, but we must also bring in Göran
Svenson. He can be something of a 'skeleton whisperer', and when it comes
to shamanism, he's a believer." So it was agreed.

	Although it isn't found on any map, Red Bluff became famous among
the Lakota people.  It was a triumph for Dark Eagle, who succeeded in his
double task of finding a shaman and demonstrating the power of
shamanism. No one had actively opposed his mission, but at first he met
with apathy. The crime scene investigation changed all that. A new
triangulation of decision- makers emerged in the tribe. As senior elder,
Jonathan Sand Crane was chief. His two-spirited nephew, Billy Blue Heron,
was the shaman. Jack Red Crest Jackson, as sheriff, was the consummate
warrior. The tribe looked to these three, and to shamanism, as a way of
asserting Lakota independence.