Whispers of Support - Chapter 13

A story of friends, leaning on each other.

To begin from the first chapter, START HERE. The previous chapter is HERE.

They came to pull weeds—but ended up planting something far deeper.

As Raven’s friends gather in her garden, they’re not just tending soil. They’re protecting legacy, easing burdens, and quietly preparing for the fight ahead. And with the arrival of young Shikáni, it becomes clear: this isn’t just about the land. It’s about what it means to belong to something worth preserving.

“Does Raven know what’s coming?” Val asked, her voice low as she pressed her trowel into the soil. The weight of the mayor’s email hung between the women, unspoken but heavy.

Riley straightened from adjusting the irrigation lines, her gaze flicking toward the house. “Not yet,” she said softly. “But we’ll make sure she doesn’t face it alone.” Beyond the marigolds and sage, the wind whispered through the Canyon as if the land knew what was at stake.

The mid-afternoon sun was intense, but a steady breeze made working in Raven’s garden tolerable. The air buzzed with the hum of bees flitting between the blooms of desert marigolds and sage. Val and Quinn knelt in the garden bed, carefully spreading a layer of compost around a cluster of salvia. Riley stood nearby, wiping sweat from her brow as she adjusted the irrigation lines. Sitting on a weathered bench, Skylar paused to examine a small, weather-beaten notebook she always carried.

Raven had left earlier that day, her voice carrying gratitude and a hint of reluctance as she explained her upcoming commitments.

“Shikáni will be able to help tomorrow if you’ll be coming back,” she had said, her hand briefly resting on Val’s shoulder. “Thank you for this. It means more than you know.”

The women had nodded, exchanging glances. They knew Raven couldn’t readily accept help, but her weariness was hard to miss.

Riley broke the silence first, her voice uncharacteristically serious. “Strength,” she murmured. “I could use some of that right now.”

Val looked up, surprised. “Come on, girlfriend. What’s up?”

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“I’ve been feeling… off,” Riley admitted, her gaze fixed on her hands. “Coaching young architects used to light me up. Watching them start their practices, mentoring them—it felt like my way of giving back. But now, it’s just… hollow. Like I’m saying the same thing over and over.” She sighed, meeting their eyes. “I didn’t think this part of life would feel so empty.”

Val’s expression softened. “You’re not alone. I’ve been asking myself the same thing—what now? What’s left for me to give? Sometimes, it feels like the best parts are behind me.”

Skylar leaned forward on the bench, her voice thoughtful. “That uncertainty doesn’t go away, even when you think you’ve found your path. I’ve spent my life proving myself in a field where no one thought I belonged. Being one of the first Black women in archaeology meant constantly fighting to be seen and heard.

Well, you’re all getting a little too serious on me,” Quinn said, standing and dusting off her hands. “Here we are in a gorgeous setting, strong, successful women who can make our own destiny. Sure, we lose our way sometimes. But isn’t that what friends are for? We can figure this out—together.”

Riley smiled faintly, her hand resting on Skylar’s arm. “Quinn’s right. We’re not alone in this.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry for unloading earlier. I guess I needed to say it out loud to make sense of it.”

Quinn grinned. “Good. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I’m fetching lemonade. Everyone, go sit in the shade and take a break. Don’t discuss anything important until I get back.”

A few minutes later, Quinn returned with a tray of drinks and fresh pineapple. As the women gathered around, Val studied her thoughtfully. “You’ve been quiet today. What’s going on with you?”

Quinn set the tray down and sighed. “I’m leaving for Japan tomorrow. Robbie’s been asking when I’ll be back. I should be excited, right? But the truth is… I’m not. I’m starting to think of this place as home, and Robbie…” She shook her head. “..feels like a stranger. I don’t know what to do with that.”

Skylar reached for a glass of tea, her movements deliberate. “You listen to yourself, Quinn. Not what’s expected of you, not what you think you should feel—what do you want?”

Quinn hesitated, then nodded slowly. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

After that, the women fell into a comfortable rhythm, weeding and planting as the conversation ebbed and flowed. They spoke of fears and dreams, of uncertainty and hope. And through it all, the act of tending the garden became a metaphor for their friendship—a quiet but powerful reminder that they were stronger together.

Suddenly, Riley remembered the email Raven had received from the mayor. “Val, since you spoke with Raven, did she mention if she had spoken with the mayor about the centennial celebration?”

Val knelt by a bed of desert sage, her hands covered in soil, her voice heavy with her earlier conversation with Raven. “The mayor’s email wasn’t just about Whitman or Raven’s training center. It’s about the Valley’s future. There’s a push for implementing a regional AI-based resource management system that could override local decisions about land use and water allocation.”

Skylar raised her head sharply from her notebook. “You mean centralizing control? Overriding the Sabáka city council and even Sabákari elders?”

Val nodded. “Exactly. The proposal would hand decision-making power to an AI system designed to ‘optimize’ resources. On paper, it sounds good—better water distribution, controlled growth—but it’s not designed for places like this. It doesn’t understand our history, culture, or the balance we’ve fought to protect. The mayor’s email was a warning: if we don’t speak up, the system will be implemented without our input.”

Riley frowned, her hand tightening on the spade. “So, decisions about Echo Canyon could be made by a machine that doesn’t know the first thing about this place or the people who live here?”

Val sighed. “That’s why the mayor’s pushing for the community to stand together now. There’s a contingent of business leaders in favor of the changes. You’ll never guess who’s leading that group.”

“Who?” Everyone echoed the question at once.

“Whitman, of course. Assuming the application for Echo Canyon can be declared a historical site before the Council’s final vote. In that case, it’ll protect the Canyon from being swept into this AI system. Ben has been working hard on the application and getting the needed signatures. Still, Raven is the connection to the Sabákari First Nation. She’s been stretched thin with everything else. She doesn’t need to carry this fight alone.”

Skylar tapped her notebook thoughtfully. “This is about more than just preserving the Canyon. It’s about standing up for the idea that human stories, traditions, and wisdom still matter in a quickly automated world.”

Val looked toward the horizon, her voice soft but resolute. “That’s why I thought we could help her in the garden. It’s not just a garden. It’s her sanctuary, her anchor. If we can take some of the burden off her, maybe she’ll have the energy to keep fighting for what matters.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the garden in shades of amber and rose, Val stood back to admire their work. “We’ll finish the rest tomorrow,” she said, her voice tinged with satisfaction.

Riley glanced toward the house. “Raven’s going to love this.”

Skylar smiled. “And she’ll know she’s not alone.”

The women lingered for a moment, their shared struggles forgotten in the glow of what they’d created. Together, they hugged Quinn, wishing her well and promising strength and solidarity for the days ahead.

---

The following morning, the women returned to Raven’s garden, greeted by the crisp desert air and the soft light of dawn. The ranch was at a higher elevation above the valley’s subtropical climate. It was considered a mid-desert region and experienced more significant temperature swings in all seasons.

The women were quieter today, the chatter from yesterday replaced by the steady rhythm of work. The group had made significant progress, but there was still much to do—new herbs to plant, the Sabákari medicine garden to establish, and the irrigation system to fine-tune.

Val was kneeling in the soil, placing small pots of lavender and sage in neat rows, when a soft voice interrupted the quiet.

Shikáni’s Bag, Imagined by Marylee, Created by ChatGPT

“Good morning.”

The women turned to see a young teen standing at the garden's edge. She was slender, with long dark hair braided neatly down her back, her expression a mixture of nerves and determination. She carried a small woven bag, its intricate Sabákari patterns vibrant against her simple, loose-fitting work clothes.

“You must be Shikáni,” Val said warmly, standing and brushing dirt from her hands.

“Yes,” Shikáni replied, her voice steady despite the slight tremor in her hands as she clutched the strap of her bag. “Raven asked me to come. She said I could learn a lot from working with you. I’ve brought some seeds from my grandmother to add to Raven’s garden as an offering to honor our heritage.”

“You’re just in time,” Riley said with a welcoming smile. “We could use an extra pair of hands. I’m Riley. I’m so glad to finally meet you.”

Skylar stepped forward, offering a hand. “I’m Skylar. It’s nice to meet you, Shikáni. Raven’s spoken highly of you.”

Shikáni’s cheeks colored slightly as she shook Skylar’s hand. “Thank you. I hope I can live up to her expectations.”

As the women guided Shikáni to the workbench, the awkwardness began to dissolve. Val handed her a small trowel, and Riley explained the plan for the day. Shikáni listened intently, her gaze flitting between the women and the garden.

While they worked, the group’s natural curiosity began to surface. Skylar voiced what they were all thinking.

“Shikáni, can I ask—how did you come to work with Raven?”

Shikáni paused, her hands gently pressing a basil plant into the soil. She looked up, her dark eyes filled with quiet pride. “I sought her out. My family is part of the Sabákari council, and for years, I’ve heard stories about Raven—how she bridges our traditions with the modern world. I’ve always wanted to learn from her.”

“When she visited our village, I stayed close, hoping she would notice me. After seeing me ride my horse in the hills, she finally came to talk to me.”

“That sounds like Raven,” Skylar said, smiling. “Always seeing potential where others see obstacles.”

Shikáni smiled shyly. “It’s not always easy. Some people in my community think we should hold onto the old ways without change. Others think traditions are holding us back. Raven… she’s found a balance. She told me it’s not about choosing one or the other—it’s about finding the thread that ties them together.”

The conversation shifted naturally to the upcoming nursery grand opening. As they worked, Riley crouched by a bed of rosemary, her mind clearly elsewhere.

“We should do something for Raven at the nursery event,” she said suddenly, her voice breaking the rhythm of planting.

Val looked up, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

Riley shrugged, a thoughtful look on her face. “The opening is the perfect opportunity to showcase what makes Raven’s work unique. We could plan something—maybe a demonstration of her training methods or a way to highlight her connection to the Sabákari traditions. Similar to the open house she had here. I imagine there will be a larger crowd from all over.”

Shikáni’s face lit up. “We could incorporate a traditional blessing to honor the land and the people. It’s something my grandmother taught me, and it could show how the Sabákari culture respects the balance between nature and people.”

Skylar nodded slowly, her hands stilling in the soil. “That’s a beautiful idea. And we could invite allies—people who’ve worked with Raven in the past and, of course, the Sabákari elders. It would show that she has the community’s support. What’s the best way to ask for their help, Shikáni?”

Shikáni’s enthusiasm grew with each idea. “I will talk with my Mother. We have enough time to involve the elders as long as I follow the expected traditions.

“And Raven could do a demonstration with her horses. It would show how she combines our shamanistic traditions with modern psychology.”

Val leaned on her trowel, a small smile playing on her lips. “I like it. We could blend the old and the new, just like Raven does. Maybe the nursery could feature displays showing traditional gardening techniques alongside their modern, drone-led systems. It would fit perfectly with the theme.”

Riley grinned. “I love it. A celebration of everything Raven stands for—a way to show Whitman and anyone else that this community values its roots and future. We’d better talk to Cameron and Channing before you talk to your mother, Skikáni.”

As the ideas flowed, the conversation took a more serious turn. Shikáni’s smile faded slightly, her brow furrowing.

“There’s one thing we should be ready for,” she said hesitantly. “Mr. Whitman. If he shows up, it won’t just be to admire the nursery. He’s dismissed Sabákari traditions before, calling them… primitive.”

Skylar’s jaw tightened. “Of course he has. That man wouldn’t know culture if it hit him over the head.”

Riley’s eyes narrowed. “If he comes, we’ll be ready. The best way to deal with someone like him is to focus on the positive—showcase Raven’s strengths and the unity of this community. He can’t argue with that.

“Let’s not worry about him now. Stay with the positive. I’ll reach out to the guys as soon as I get home. Then, I’ll let everyone know we’re a go, including you, Shikáni. Then you can talk to your mother.”

Laughing lightly, Riley added, “Maybe we need to talk to Raven. We kind of need her on board.”

All of the women started laughing, showing their fatigue from their labors.

Val was the first to recover. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow. I’m coming over for a ride, which will be the perfect opportunity. Riley, I hope you will have an answer from Cameron before then.”

The group exchanged determined glances, a silent agreement passing between them.

As the sun climbed towards its zenith, the women finished planting the herbs, traditional medicine plants and Shikáni’s seeds. The garden came alive with color and texture, and each plant was chosen carefully to reflect Raven’s vision.

Shikáni stepped back to admire their work, her face glowing with gratitude. “Thank you for welcoming me today. I’ve learned so much just by watching you all work together. It’s inspiring.”

Val placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We’re glad you’re here, Shikáni. You’re part of this now.”

The women gathered around the final plant—an agave chosen for its symbolism of strength and renewal. Together, they dug the hole, placed the plant, and covered its roots with soil. As they stood, brushing dirt from their hands, a sense of accomplishment and unity settled over the group.

Friends’ Hands United, Imagined by Marylee, Created by ChatGPT

“This is more than a garden,” Skylar said softly, her voice filled with emotion. “It’s a testament to what we can do when we come together.”

The others nodded, their gazes lingering on the transformed space. Despite the challenges ahead, they had hope in their hearts and a quiet anticipation for the nursery event—a moment to stand united and showcase what truly mattered.