As the cold wind whistles through a tiny reservation shack, an Ojibwa Indian girl watches as her drunken father staggers and throws a box containing her birthday cake on the table. A few minutes later, he drives away, leaving her alone to celebrate eighteen years of life. As she nibbles the cake and feels the sweetness quickly sour in her stomach, Heidi Barton has no idea that in less than twenty-four hours her father will be dead. After her father's body is found, Heidi is wracked with guilt that she was not able to save him from his alcohol abuse. Determined to carry out her dream of becoming a native healer, Heidi summons the strength to begin a challenging initiation process that requires great humility and tenacity. After she is left on an island without food for five days, her mentor finally appears and leads Heidi to a cleansing ceremony where she sits among the Mide council, divulges her incredible vision, and learns of a sacred secret that will change her life forever. Saving Skunk shares the compelling tale of a girl who embarks on a journey of healing and ultimately discovers her true destiny. Saving Skunk A Novel By Richard R. Roach iUniverse, Inc. Copyright © 2013 Richard R. Roach, MD All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-4759-8651-8 CHAPTER 1 Present The door crashed open, sweeping in the cold wind of a Minnesotafall. It whistled through the tiny Indian reservation house, a mereshack, set off alone at the end of the last dirt road. Heidi ran toembrace her father in her birthday dress. He was disheveled in his tornblack-and-red wool shirt. His unshaven face, deeply scarred from toomany fistfights, presented a persistent crooked smile. He opened thedoor reeking of alcohol. "Happy birthday. Here's your fucking birthday cake," Roycescreamed as he threw the box onto the table. It slid off the Formicasurface, slamming into the oven door on the other side of the table. "Shit.I didn't mean for that to happen." His face flushed with embarrassmentand alcohol. "You're drunk," she said as she cowered on the floor beside her cake.Red and green frosting, Heidi's favorite colors, dripped down the ovendoor. She picked it off with her finger and stuck the sweet commercialtopping into her mouth. Royce took a swing at her but missed. "Get up off the damn floor." "Mother doesn't want you swearing at me." Her voice was just louderthan a whisper. "Besides, I thought you were harvesting wild rice." "The reservation council said I was disruptive." He spit out the lastword. "They kicked me out." "Daddy, you aren't disruptive when you're sober. You're sweet andkind and gentle." "Since when does a teenager have the right to criticize mydrinking?" His face blazed with anger. "You're not old enough toknow what you're talking about. Wait till the world has knocked youdown a few times; then come and tell me about drinking." He slappedher face. This time he didn't miss. Heidi felt the welt swelling on hercheek. She covered her head in defense and started to cry. He slappedher again. "Would you grow up? You're eighteen years old today.Crying is for babies." "Be nice, Daddy. Please be nice." "Who cares about your goddamn birthday, anyway? I have moreimportant problems to deal with. Now shut up and eat your cake." Hestaggered out of the house. The door screeched on its hinges as anotherburst of cold air blasted through the kitchen. Heidi chased him out the door. "Daddy, you shouldn't drive whenyou're drunk. Come back in the house and sing `Happy Birthday' tome. You haven't sung to me yet." "Eat your cake. I got things to do." Heidi watched his unused seatbelt catch in the car door as he droveoff. She cringed as she watched the car swerve down the dirt road. Tearsfilled her eyes. She touched the welt on her cheek. The cold air soothedthe swelling. She turned back to the house. The tar paper flapped in the wind,exposing the underlying boards. Their house had never been finished.Royce had spent the money the tribe had given him to finish the sidinggetting drunk. An addition perched on the side was added several yearslater when rice-harvest money bought a washing machine and hot waterheater for a shower. The rusty hinges squeaked in resistance as she yanked the dooropen. She plunked down on the kitchen floor beside her cake. Her fatherhad chosen her favorite white cake with cream filling. The frosted redroses on green leaves wilted in the shattered bakery box. She put herfinger into the cream filling and stuck it in her mouth. It was so smoothand sweet. She broke off a piece of the cake and nibbled it, but it souredin her mouth and her stomach convulsed with cramps. * * * Several hours later, her mother, Angela, came home from work. Sheparked in the rutted dirt patch outside Heidi's bedroom window. Heidiwas still sitting on the kitchen floor, fingers smeared with cake crumbsand cream filling. She hadn't moved since her father left. Her five-foot-tenframe, tall for an Ojibwa Indian girl, wilted beside the oven door.R