Free Spirits Read Online Free

lead to the kitchen. I’ve learned from experience there’s a step you can sit on right before the stairs curve where you can eavesdrop without being seen. You can even peek around the corner without anybody catching a glimpse of you.
    Of course, Granny’s Sight is so strong, there’s no fooling her. She’ll know we’re here. But as long as Dagmar Moonfeather doesn’t catch on, Granny won’t mind.
    Right now Ms. Moonfeather is sitting at the kitchen table while Granny pours them both rosehip tea.
    Granny sits at the table. Methuseleh is perched pirate-style on her shoulder. He looks at Granny’s visitor with his sharp, beady eyes, then walks down Granny’s arm and stretches a clawed foot toward Ms. Moonfeather.
    “Well, look at that,” Granny says. “He wants to sit with you. You must be a real nice lady. Methuseleh won’t sit with just anybody.”
    Ms. Moonfeather reaches out her turquoise and silver-covered arm, and Methuseleh steps onto her hand and perches there. “Look at how noble you are,” Ms. Moonfeather coos at him. “You have the spirit of an eagle.”
    “Don’t give him the big head now,” Granny says. “He’s so contrary most days I threaten to stew him up with some dumplins.”
    Adam and I grin at each other. We know that Granny loves Methuseleh and vice versa, even if they give each other a hard time. Sometimes they seem less like a pet and owner than an old married couple who love each other but also get on each other’s nerves.
    Ms. Moonfeather strokes Methuseleh’s head. “I know you wouldn’t do that, Mrs. Chandler. I could see your aura, even when you were on TV. You’re a healer, not a harmer.” She keeps on stroking Methuseleh’s head. His eyes close with pleasure. “And that’s why I’ve come to you for help. I don’t know what you charge for your services, but I’m willing to pay any amount you request.”
    Methuseleh’s eyes snap open, and he squawks, “A fool and his money are soon parted.”
    Granny scowls at him. “Some parrot and dumplins is sounding pretty good about right now.” Then she looks at Ms. Moonfeather a lot more kindly. “Honey, I don’t do what I do to take folks’ money. I do it ’cause it’s a gift God gave me. If you’d like to give a little donation for my services, you can. But even if you couldn’t I’d still try to help you.”
    Ms. Moonfeather reaches into her pocket and sets a few bills on the table. I can’t tell what kind of bills they are, but I can tell it’s a lot of money from the way Granny’s eyebrows go up.
    “Thank you, honey,” Granny says.
    Methuseleh is now making his way up Ms. Moonfeather’s arm, staring straight at her face.
    “Look at him!” Ms. Moonfeather exclaims. “He’s trying to communicate with me. I’ve always used birds as my totem animals. And you,” she says to Methuseleh, “are a very spiritual bird.”
    Methuseleh lets out a loud, high-pitched screech, lunges at Ms. Moonfeather, and yanks out one of her huge turquoise and silver hoop earrings. She screams.
    With the hoop in his beak, Methuseleh flies to his perch, then drops the earring in his seed bowl. When Mom is missing an earring from her jewelry box, the seed bowl is always the first place she looks.
    “Lord, that bird!” Granny says. “Are you all right?”
    “Just startled,” she says.
    “He’s crazy about shiny things,” Granny says. She gets up and takes the earring out of the bowl and says to Methuseleh, “That’s enough from you, mister.” She sits back down and smiles at Ms. Moonfeather. “Now what can I help you with, honey?”
    Ms. Moonfeather stares down at her teacup. “Mrs. Chandler, my heart is breaking because the nation will not accept me.”
    “This nation?” Granny says. “How come? You’re American, ain’t you?”
    “I mean the Cherokee Nation, Mrs. Chandler. I am a Native American, a Cherokee. I feel it in my soul. But to be accepted as a member of the tribe, you must be able to prove your