Cady and the Bear Necklace E-Book

Ann Dallman

• Herausgeber: Modern History Press
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Seitenzahl: 221

Beschreibung

Join us for the first book of the CADY WHIRLWIND THUNDER MYSTERIES

Winner of the Historical Society of Michigan's book award for Children & Youth (2020) Winner of the Midwest Book Award for Young Adult Fiction (2020) Winner of the Upper Peninsula Notable Books award (2020)

Cady, a 13-year-old girl of Native American heritage, has experienced major changes in the past year-her father's marriage to a younger woman, a new baby brother, and a move from Minnesota to Michigan where she attends a reservation school for the first time. One school day, Cady finds an eagle feather on the floor outside a classroom and reports it to the principal. When thanking her for this act of honor, he tells her that a mystery might soon appear in her life. Later, Cady discovers and antique Indian beaded necklace hidden under the floor of her bedroom closet. Is this the mystery the principal predicted might appear? She consults with elders who tell her it is her "job" to find out why. Helping her are her new friends Irish, John Ray and a talking blue jay.
"I was enthralled by the story, its interesting characters, the mystery plot, the author's beautiful writing style spiced with wisdom and humor, and what I learned about tribal cultures and customs."
-- Christine DeSmet, author of The Fudge Shop Mysteries
"I LOVE IT. I could not put it down. I read the last few chapters slowly as possible the past few days because I was sad it was almost to the end of the book. I am looking forward to the next one."
-- Faye DG Auginaush, from the White Earth Ojibwe in MN & Hannahville MI Potawatomi.
"What a beautifully written story of a young Native American girl, Cady, and her search for love and answers. The author's descriptions and authentic dialogue will immerse the reader in Native American culture and history."
-- Gregory L. Renz, author of Beneath the Flames
"As the Director of the Crystal Falls District Community Library (MI), I highly recommend this book! It has mystery and adventure, with a hint of romance. I have bought this book for gifts, and it is just great. Ann Dallman can really write a tale for tween children that speaks to them on their level. Don't overthink it. Just put this in your cart now and buy it!"
-- Evelyn Gathu
"Cady is a beautifully drawn and very likeable character. Readers will feel lucky to have found Cady and accompanied her on a journey of self-discovery. Cady grows to appreciate how her people are much more in touch with the natural world, possess an ingrained sense of wonder, and a firm belief that nature in all its myriad forms communicates with them. Best of all they live in harmony with the natural world. And oh yes, this is a YA novel, but I defy anyone of any age to read a few pages and not become totally absorbed in Cady's life."
-- Tom Powers, Michigan In Books

Leseprobe

Praise for Cady and the Bear Necklace

“Cady is a beautifully drawn and very likeable character. Readers will feel lucky to have found Cady and accompanied her on a journey of self-discovery. Cady grows to appreciate how her people are much more in touch with the natural world, possess an ingrained sense of wonder, and a firm belief that nature in all its myriad forms communicates with them. Best of all they live in harmony with the natural world. And oh yes, this is a YA novel, but I defy anyone of any age to read a few pages and not become totally absorbed in Cady's life.”

—Tom Powers, Michigan In Books

“Ann Dallman’s debut middle grade novel Cady and the Bear Necklace is an enthralling tale that is equal parts mystery and first-love pangs. Cady Whirlwind Thunder is a Native American girl in the 8th grade at the Four Eagles school in the fictional town of Barnesville, Michigan, somewhere near the Escanaba area. I strongly recommend this book to both middle grade readers and parents alike, because it is a compelling, character-driven novel with a rich cultural background and a positive message for everyone.”

—Victor R. Volkman, Marquette Monthly

“Ann Dallman’s middle grade novel, Cady and the Bear Necklace, is a passionate look at Native American culture and how it affects a young girl as she grows from a child to a young woman. This coming of age novel is full of mystery and native culture. The plot develops with growing tension as the reader wants to know more about the necklace as much as Cady does. Young readers will certainly feel connected to Cady and all her feelings and growing up emotions, struggles, and conflicts. The characters are realistic and the Native American history and culture is an interesting added bonus. The author has developed a wonderful tale of adventure, mystery and native culture. Well done! I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book.”

—Emily-Jane Hills Orford, Readers’ Favorite

“As the Director of the Crystal Falls District Community Library (MI), I highly recommend this book! It has mystery and adventure, with a hint of romance. I have bought this book for gifts, and it is just great. Ann Dallman can really write a tale for tween children that speaks to them on their level. Don't overthink it. Just put this in your cart now and buy it!”

—Evelyn Gathu

“I highly recommend Cady and the Bear Necklace as a classroom read-aloud for middle school. My students and I were able to read the book together. Ann is not just an author but a teacher. Cady and the Bear Necklace introduces students to a culture that may be different from their own but yet the students feel connected to the character. Ann opens dialogue, through Cady, about issues students are facing. I was able to develop mini lessons to go along with the book. My students wrote letters to Cady giving her advice, they researched information on Native American nations, and they did character comparisons. The level of readability, the young woman as the main character, and the mystery captures all types of readers. A good book to captivate all levels within a classroom.”

—Gina Zanon, Michigan Master Teacher/Middle School

“What a beautifully written story of a young Native American girl, Cady, and her search for love and answers. This book is both an engaging mystery and a story of family with characters who will tug at your heartstrings. The author’s descriptions and authentic dialogue will immerse the reader in Native American culture and history. The author’s masterful skill with vivid sensory details brings the story to life and will have the reader forgetting they are reading a story and instead, experiencing it. I love how the characters give us a view of the world through the eyes of Native Americans. This is but a small sample of the wisdom that jumps off the page. The crisp pacing will defy you to put the book down. Nicely done, Ms. Dallman.”

—Gregory L. Renz, author of Beneath the Flames

“Author Ann Dallman is our spirit guide through an America we don’t see often enough, a world so rich with beauty and wonder that we hate to leave.”

—Ruth Knafo Setton, author of The Road to Fez

“This is a special story that gives the reader a wonderful window into the rich traditions of Cady’s heritage along with an intriguing mystery to solve. Cady’s complicated family life is relatable and well told. The author has a keen ability to make us feel what it’s like to be young and attempt to fit in at a new school in a new town, which in large part comes from the skillful dialogue and the author's experience as a teacher! The story is perfectly paced with well-placed clues that urge the tenacious Cady to hunt for the truth. The sweet age-appropriate romance is a nice touch! This is a must have addition for your home or classroom library! You’ll want to know what comes next from Cady, so I hope we’ll get another story with this sweet girl.”

—Valerie Biel, author of the award-winning Circle of Nine series

“Cady Whirlwind Thunder knows that answers are not always given in straightforward words. While learning to adjust to a new school and a new family, Cady performs an act of honor by safekeeping an eagle feather. It is after this that Cady encounters the mystery of an antique beaded necklace. She learns to trust herself and to pay attention to the teachings of her elders as she unravels this mystery and learns to look to herself to see the woman she’ll become. Helping her are her new friends Irish, John Ray Chicaug, and an amazing talking blue jay.”

—Amy C. Laundrie, author of The Whinny of Wild Horses

“In this delightful coming of age story, Cady Whirlwind Thunder finds a sacred eagle feather. A portent of things to come, Cady soon finds herself trying to unravel the mystery behind a traditional beaded bear necklace she found. As she delves into the history behind the necklace, she learns to appreciate her family, her culture, and herself.”

—Ann McCallum Staats, author of Eat Your Math Homework

“It's so exciting to read the book you wrote! It was so deeply detailed, I almost felt like I experienced my years at Hannahville all over again. It meant a lot to see that our culture and tradition played such an important role in your writing. So proud of ya, Ms. D.”

—Cassie Gill, former student and member of Hannahville tribe

Cady and the Bear Necklace: A Cady Whirlwind Thunder Mystery, 2nd Edition

Copyright © 2019, 2022 by Ann Dallman. All Rights Reserved.

Cover art by Haley Greenfeather English

Book #1 in the Cady Whirlwind Thunder Mysteries

ISBN 978-1-61599-648-3 paperback

ISBN 978-1-61599-649-0 hardcover

ISBN 978-1-61599-650-6 eBook

This is a work of fiction. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Published by

Modern History Press

5145 Pontiac Trail

Ann Arbor, MI 48105

www.ModernHistoryPress.com

[email protected]

Distributed by Ingram (USA/CAN/AU), Bertram’s Books (UK/EU)

Original edition published by HenschelHAUS Publishing, Inc. under ISBN 978159598-685-6 (paperback), 8159598-686-3 (eBook)

Dedication

This book is a “thank you” to my students—they know who they are.

May all their dreams come true.

Contents

1 - Watch Out! (Ganawaabi!)

2 - Ishkode (Fire)

3 - Nindede (My father)

4 - Nookomis (Grandmother)

5 - Mishi imin (Apple)

6 - Makwa (Bear)

7 - Naabikaagan (Necklace)

8 - Di indi isi (Blue jay)

9 - Zaasagokwaan (Fry bread)

10 - Powwow

11 - Waabigwan (Flower)

12 - Azhigwa (Now)

13 - Biimaskoganese (She twists ankle)

14 - Naabikaagan (Necklace)

15 - Bakade (She is hungry)

16 - Beshwaji’ (To be close friends)

17 - Naabishebizon (Earring)

18 - Noongom (Today)

19 - Inashke! (Look!)

20 - Bimide (Grease)

21 - Ishkwaandem (Door)

22 - Ziibi (River)

23 - Ondaaban (East / When the Sun comes Up)

Acknowledgments

Discussion questions for Cady and the bear Necklace

Sneak Preview - Cady and the Birchbark Box!

About the Author

If you would like to practice pronouncing the Ojibwe words in this book, we recommend the “Ojibwe People’s Dictionary” online (https://ojibwe.lib.umn.edu/about-ojibwe-language)

1 - Watch Out! (Ganawaabi!)

I ran fast that night on my way to meet John Ray Chicaug in the woods. But I ran fast for another reason too. I wanted to forget about the eagle feather.

I’d snuck out of the house after my dad fell asleep in front of the television. I waited until his rumbling snores were louder than the news program he’d been watching. I’d crept from my bedroom into the upstairs hallway and down the back staircase into the kitchen. I turned off the security system Dad had installed the day after we’d moved into this old house on the south side of town. He’s a real security freak so it’s a good thing he’s handy with electronics. I carefully opened the outside door and then started running.

It wasn’t late, only about 7:30 or so, but because it’s early spring the nights can get cold. Not winter cold but cold enough to chill your bones if you don’t keep moving.

My name is Cady Whirlwind Thunder and nothing was going to keep me from meeting John Ray. John Ray is the best-looking guy at my new school. Until he asked me to meet him in the woods, I thought I was invisible to him because I’m the new girl. I’m almost 14 years old and John Ray is 16. I’m in love with him.

Last week I told Irish Morrissey, my best friend, that I love John Ray and she told me to knock it off. I’ve only been at Four Eagles School for three months and I’m happy to even have a friend. The school is on a Woodland Indian reservation about 20 miles from Barnesville in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. Sault Sainte Marie, Canada, is less than two hundred miles from here, which tells you how far north we are.

I’m an enrolled member of the Woodland Nation but my school is open to everyone, natives and non-natives, and has 184 students from kindergarten through high school. I know this because I asked Irish and she knows everything, at least that’s what she tells me.

“Don’t you think you’re getting carried away about someone who doesn’t even know you exist?” Irish asked me when I told her how I felt about John Ray.

“Yeah, probably, but so what?” When I thought about John Ray I didn’t even know who I was anymore. I daydreamed about his hand brushing against my arm and then I’d hold my breath and wonder if he’d bend down to kiss me because he’s taller than I am.

I smiled as if I could hear Irish say, “Ney,” and then she’d laugh and shake her head. In our words, in Indian talk, “Ney” means “Silly girl, probably won’t happen.”

That magical night, the night I went running, I wore my black jeans, a navy hoodie, and my almost worn-out running shoes. They used to be bright blue and silver and even though they’re faded, they were still my favorites and I’d hoped they’d bring me good luck. I’d pulled my hood up to cover my hair because running was easier when it wasn’t blowing in my face. My hair was brown until two weeks ago, when I dyed it black— and now it looked dense and heavy. I stuck my skull-and-crossbones earrings, carved out of something that looks like white chalk, into my earlobes. I felt older when I wore them even though each one is only about the size of a dime. I tried not to wear them around my dad because he doesn’t like anything that he thinks is “sinister” (his word, not mine), but I figured they were so small that he probably wouldn’t notice them. I’d been in enough trouble with him during the past two years and we are just starting to get along again. I have a wicked temper and a short fuse. I know that’s not good, but it’s hard to change once your reputation is set.

That night I went running to the woods, my heart thumped and thumped. It was so loud that I’d crossed my fingers and pleaded with the universe not to let it explode through my chest. What if John Ray heard it? I swear I would have died of embarrassment.

The gym teacher at my last school taught us that when we’re excited, we should take deep breaths through our noses and then breathe out slowly through our mouths. I tried it a few times and it helped to calm my thoughts.

Maybe something good will finally happen for me. Maybe things will change now that we’ve moved.

My heart quieted down but I could still hear the soft thwack, thwack my shoes made as they hit the ground. It was spring so the leaves on the trees along my route rustled as the wind blew them in swirls around me. A blue jay squawked a harsh jaay-jaay until a dog barked, making me pick up my pace.

I slowed down so that I could pull my beat-up silver cell phone from the pocket of my jeans to check the time. Fifteen minutes had passed since I left my house. I looked up from my phone and spotted the rusted yellow trash can that marked the start of the trail to our meeting place.

I didn’t know why John Ray wanted to meet me. I crossed my fingers and hoped he would try to hug me because I wanted to let him hold me extra long before I pulled away. Just thinking about that sent shivers through me. Or would he want to tell me a story? That’s not as lame as it sounds. We both go to school on the reservation even though I live in town and John Ray lives on the rez with his family. His family is known for their storytelling.

“That family’s got good medicine. They tell good stories,” I’d heard one old lady tell another at a potluck dinner last month at the rez’s community center.

“Yeah,” another old lady said, laughing. “You’ve got to watch out for those smooth talkers, those storytellers. They can sweet-talk a person into doing almost anything.”

Those four old ladies laughed so hard they were crying. Actually, it sounded more like cackling, but it was a happy sound. Because I’m new here I didn’t know what to think. For a moment I even wondered if that was a warning because I’d been taught that stories are used to teach lessons and to pass on our culture. They’re not just for entertainment but these ladies were laughing as if stories were just for fun. Actually, they made it even sound kind of nasty and I didn’t like that. For Pete’s sake, they’re old. I mean really old, like my grandma’s age.

I hoped John Ray wouldn’t want to party. When kids meet up at night, they like to drink beer or anything else they can get from the older kids and smoke cigarettes or other stuff. I tasted beer once but spit it out because it tasted like dirty socks. Between you and me, I’d rather drink ginger ale, especially the kind they make in Michigan, and listen to John Ray tell a story.

I picked up my pace and then slowed down to follow a curve in the trail until I spotted him waiting for me next to some pine trees lined up in rows on either side of the path. I pulled my hood down so John Ray could see my hair. He wore jeans, scuffed brown leather ankle boots, and his black letter jacket with red sleeves and white lettering. I’d know that jacket anywhere because I’ve watched him so often at school. His name was stitched on the front and the name of our school, Four Eagles School, was underneath that.

We’d moved here from Minnesota where I would have attended a regular high school with grades 9 through 12. Four Eagles is different because it has a kindergarten, an elementary school and a high school. The hallways and floors are decorated with designs of long, stretched-out arrows in yellow and white and black and red. Four hallways branch off from the main entrance. Each hallway has its own color of arrow running down the center.

The night I went running was one of those magical nights when you could almost see the shadows on the moon. I crossed my fingers and made a wish that John Ray liked me as much as I liked him.

“Ahau, Cady,” he murmured as he reached out to touch my shoulder. “So you came after all.” I loved it that I could look up at him. I’m 5 feet 8 inches and John Ray is four inches taller than me. The softness in his voice stopped me more than his touch. I nodded my head then raised it and looked back at him.

“Follow me,” he instructed.

He signaled for me to keep up. It was almost 8 o’clock. Darkness deepened as we went into the woods and I was glad I’d brought a flashlight. It was about 10 inches long and the light it threw was hard and bright. John Ray carried his own flashlight and we needed both of them to light our way through the heavy shadows cast by the trees surrounding us. The stars disappeared because of the blanket of dark green leaves above us. The trees reached higher than the highest buildings in Minneapolis. At least that’s how it seemed to me that night.

Probably pine, birch, sugar maple and cedar. Oak? No, not this close to the beach. Here I go daydreaming again. Quit being such a dork, Cady, and concentrate on following John Ray.

I blinked my eyes and walked faster. A few minutes later I heard the soft and rhythmic sound of the waves washing onto the beach.

Although it was dark, it seemed safer outdoors than it did at home where the television always blared. My dad and his new wife, Francine, yell at each other a lot and that wakes up my baby brother, Colson. Then he starts crying. Dad met Francine two years ago at a powwow in Barnesville, her hometown, and that’s why we’d moved here after the baby was born.

I laughed out loud, which was embarrassing because it sounded more like a snort. That always happened when I was nervous.

“What’s so funny, Cady?”

“Nothing. But these trees make me think about my dad. He’s old like these trees, he’s almost 55 and Francine, my stepmonster, is only 24. So now it’s different at home from when it was only my dad and me. I had to sneak out to meet you because I don’t think he trusts me since we moved here.”

And there was more. Like how it didn’t seem like I really had a home anymore. Like how I was starting to feel like I was in the way. Like how I wondered if my dad even loved me because he sure didn’t treat me like he used to when it was only the two of us.

It made me so frustrated that sometimes I’d stuff myself with chips and popcorn or candy bars and red licorice just to stop the loneliness and not to think about what had happened before we’d moved here. It hadn’t been my fault. But maybe it was one more reason for the move.

John Ray stopped and looked at me.

“My coach would tell you to suck it up.”

“Well, maybe your coach should try living with us. I could sneak out tonight because the baby has an ear infection and cried all day before finally falling asleep. Then Dad and Francine fell asleep. I guess they were too tired to know if I was even home or not.”

There, I’d said it. I’d spilled my guts to the best-looking guy on the rez while we were running through the woods. And because he was leading the way, I was able to really look at John Ray. His heavy, dark brown hair was cut in a blunt, straight line and touched his shoulders. He’s quick on his feet and filled with so much energy that the air around him vibrates.

I pushed those thoughts away and hurried to keep up with him. A few minutes later, I could smell a campfire. It didn’t smell like the fires my dad or older brother built. They used aged wood, which burned dry and made a crisp snap.

Must be amateurs who built this fire. I bet they used green wood and that’s why it’s smoking.

I heard boys’ voices before I saw them, Derek and James. Both boys were juniors like John Ray and both were wearing jeans and Carhartt jackets. They stood hunched over that pitiful fire and were smoking cigarettes. I didn’t like them. They were spitters. They’d pull on their cigarettes as they inhaled and then take turns spitting. And they were saggers. Their pants hung loose on their hips and I could see their underwear.

Those two guys sure aren’t traditional and they’re not even urban. The guys I saw in downtown Minneapolis liked to slouch around with their pants low, but these guys have never been out of the UP. They must think it’s cool to have their jeans hang low, but they are so lame. At least they’re smoking cigarettes and not pot. I knew what pot smelled like but tonight all I smelled was good ol’ cigarettes or “smokes” as some of the old folks call them.

They were both Ojibway, unlike John Ray and myself. Most people don’t get it that just because we’re Indian, we’re not all alike. Different tribes have different customs, traditions and languages. But those two boys and John Ray and myself are alike in a lot of ways because the Potawatomi, Ojibway and Odawa are part of the Three Fires Confederation. Potawatomi means Keepers of the Fire, the sacred and ceremonial fires, and not that lame fire Derek and James had built.

John Ray reached out to touch my shoulder.

“Relax, Cady. It’s ok, you’re with me. Once they’re gone, I want to talk to you about the eagle feather.”

“You mean the one I found in school?”

“Yes, that one,” he answered.

“But no one but the principal knows about that.”

“No, Cady, you’re wrong. Someone else knows about it and that person told me. Come on.”

I followed him but I was nervous. Eagle feather business is serious.

2 - Ishkode (Fire)

We’d left the woods and walked onto a strip of beach about 20 feet by 20 feet. In the center of this area was the fire struggling to stay lit. A ring of blackened rocks, stained by earlier fires, surrounded the pitiful little flames the two guys had built.

Derek and James were puffing on their cigarettes. They offered to share with John Ray but he turned them down. And then I remembered—John Ray doesn’t smoke.

“I like doing sports, guys, and Coach would kill me if he knew I’d been doing that stuff,” I had overheard him tell his buddies in the school hallway. Everybody at school knew John Ray trained all year and between track and basketball, football, soccer and boxing, he didn’t have much time to fool around. The other boys admired him but they’d never admit it.

I don’t know why John Ray hangs out with Derek and James because they’re both losers. But I’m the new girl in school and maybe I don’t know everything about them. Or maybe it’s a guy thing?

“Still smoking, huh, Derek? One of these days I’ll get you to quit,” John Ray joked. Then he put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it softly. I leaned in a little to be closer to him. I hoped he’d kiss me but that didn’t happen. The others didn’t notice. They were too busy arguing about the score of a basketball game. About five minutes passed and then Derek flicked his cigarette into the fire. He nudged James in the shoulder and motioned back to the woods, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Yeah, time to leave the lovebirds alone. Later, dude,” James muttered and straightened up. He paused long enough to give John Ray a fist bump. “Later, bro. Next time we’ll bring something to drink.” And then, of course, he spit but not at John Ray. He spit like he was marking his territory.

“Yeah, it will be time to paarrr-ty!” Derek added.

The fire was dying but it still cast enough light that I could see the slight snicker on James’ face as he and Derek walked off through the woods.

John Ray added a few small branches to the flames.

I was so nervous that I thought I might throw up. I swallowed a few times so I didn’t. I was glad I’d only eaten soup and a few crackers for supper. John Ray sat on the log his friends had dragged from the woods. He pointed to a log on the other side of the fire.

“Why don’t you sit over there, Cady?”

I hesitated and maybe I even shrunk a little into myself because it hurt that he didn’t want me to sit next to him. What? No kiss? I tugged at the bottom of my hoodie and pushed a stray lock of hair out of my face before I sat down. I looked down at the ground and picked up a small and smooth brown stone and slipped it into my pocket. I wanted a souvenir of this night, something to look at and touch to help me remember this important night, the night I met John Ray in the woods.

John Ray stood and searched the area until he found a dry piece of wood tucked away a few yards from the fire ring. He threw the log on the fire, and bright flames rose in a brief blaze of orange and yellow before settling down. And this time, the wood made a satisfying crack as it burned. I used the toe of my right shoe to sketch a pattern in the sand. I was trying not to stare at John Ray.

“Cady, I know about the sacred eagle feather you found in school.”