Blue Coyote Motel

by Dianne Harman

  Sam remembered one particular evening when he was in his early teens and Strong Medicine asked Sam to follow him into the hills. They waited until the stars filled the sky and somewhere around midnight, Strong Medicine began to chant in a singsong voice. Soon they could hear the horses coming out of the hills to join them where Sam and Strong Medicine were seated on the ground. Wild appaloosas and pintos, who moments before had been snorting or wildly pawing the ground, became calm and stood quietly in front of Strong Medicine.

  He continued singing, deftly passing three noosed ropes to Sam, pointing to the three horses he wanted Sam to harness. Soon Strong Medicine stopped chanting, stood, and told Sam to lead one of the horses back to the reservation. He led the other two. Sam was amazed that the horses were quiet, calm, and gentle. They provided no resistance to the ropes looped around their graceful necks. Sam and Strong Medicine had never spoken of that night, but its memory had stayed with Sam over the years.

  When Sam was in medical school, one of his fellow students asked if he wanted to join a few of them who were going to a nearby race track that afternoon. Tired of studying and having been brought up with horses, he eagerly accepted the invitation.

  There had always been races on the reservation, but this was different. Sam went to the paddock area before the first race and carefully looked at each of the horses. He knew horses and he had a pretty good idea which ones were ready to run. He bet $2.00 to win on Gypsy Wind, a long shot. When the race was finished, Sam discovered he had won $122.00. Eight races later, his winnings totaled more than $800.00. It did not escape the notice of his friends. For the rest of his time in medical school, during his internship, as well as his residency, he spent time at the track whenever he could. Sam understood horses. It was almost as if the horses spoke to him and said, "Sam, bet on me. I'm going to win." Even though Susie was getting a monthly check from the casino earnings, he still gave her all of his winnings. He never asked what she did with the money he gave her. He didn't care.

  Strong Medicine was a very wise tribal leader. After the citizens of California approved gambling on tribal lands, he kept in close contact with elders from the other tribes. He knew that his tribe must always be aware of what was going on in the world of gaming if the casino was to do well. He had been contacted by a non-profit organization called NCLGS, the National Council of Legislators from Gaming States, which presented seminars throughout the country on issues relating to the gaming industry. They were neither pro-gaming nor anti-gaming.

  He felt it was important for the tribe to be represented at the meetings and it provided an opportunity to meet with legislators, not only from California, but from the other states as well. Some of the other tribal leaders had attended the conferences and felt they had benefited from the information shared on gaming issues. Strong Medicine decided to attend one of the conferences being held in the Florida Keys.

  Strong Medicine asked Sam to go with him and he readily agreed. They flew to Miami, rented a car, and made their way down Highway 1. The terrain was completely different from what they were used to in Southern California. In many parts of the Florida Keys, the highway was built on an elevated causeway with water on both sides and mangroves spilling almost onto the highway. The abundance of fish and fishermen was new to Strong Medicine and Sam.

  At the conference there were a number of tribes represented from throughout the United States. Strong Medicine and Sam learned about the common problems other tribes from around the country had encountered as they became involved in gaming. The information proved very beneficial as their casino continued to flourish.

  What Strong Medicine and Sam had not been prepared for was the large turnout at the conference by representatives of the horse racing industry, which was huge in other areas of the country. They listened to the problems that the industry was having: declining attendance at the tracks, problems with trainers and employees who doped horses, horse farms that were neglecting the health of the horses, and what to do with the horses once their racing careers were over.

  Several of the California horse owners who attended the conference shared their concerns about the industry. They cited racetracks being closed, diminishing purses, unreliable horse farms, and lack of places for boarding and training their horses. Strong Medicine sensed that the California horse and track owners felt that the Indian casinos had really hurt their industry. On the East Coast, racinos, which were a combination of a racetrack and a casino, had helped the racetracks stay in business, but racinos were not allowed in California because of the terms of the compacts between the tribes and the State of California.

  As Sam and Strong Medicine prepared to return home to the reservation, they had a different outlook on where tribal gaming and the horse racing industry, in particular, were headed. Both of them had an interest in doing something with horses. They talked of nothing else on the long plane ride home. Somewhere over Texas they came up with the idea of building a world-class horse ranch slightly away from the reservation, up in the hills, catering to the East Coast breeders and the horse owners in California.

  They knew that this would be a tough sell to the Tribal Council. While all of the Council members had horses, very few of them revered horses the way Strong Medicine and Sam did. They began to draw up a plan. Strong Medicine and Sam attended more NCLGS conferences, where they met members from other tribes and particularly, members of the horse racing industry. Due to his medical commitments, Sam often couldn't travel with Strong Medicine, but they were constantly in touch. Strong Medicine began subscribing to magazines and journals that catered to the horse industry. He researched horse farms and ranches and how they operated. With his own money, he hired an architect to draw up plans for a horse ranch that could accommodate five hundred horses. He began to look for land.

  One day, Sam's cell phone rang as he was returning to his apartment. When he picked up the phone, Strong Medicine said, "My son, I have found the land for our ranch. It is perfect. You must see it. Could you be ready in an hour? I'll pick you up." Strong Medicine was usually a man of few words and very reserved. Sam had never heard this much excitement in his voice.

  "Of course. I'll see you then." Sam was just as excited and could barely keep his voice from showing it. He jumped into the passenger seat when Strong Medicine drove up in his old truck. "Tell me about it. Why do you like it so much?" Sam asked.

  "Well, it's about 2,500 feet higher than the floor of the desert where the reservation is located," Strong Medicine said. "The temperature is much cooler and will be better for the horses. There's a little valley between the hills that would be perfect for the horses, the barns, paddocks, a six-furlong track, a main house, a guest house, and the other outbuildings that we'll need. You haven't seen the plans I've been working on, but we're going to need a lot of land. The property is one hundred fifty acres and perfect for what we need. I think the price is fair and I don't think too many people are going to want to buy a piece of property that big that far away from any town. No developer is going to sit on it and hope the population increases enough to justify building on it."

  Strong Medicine continued, "The problem is the money. I don't think I can get the Tribal Council to buy it now. Later, when we're successful, I think they'll be interested. I don't know what kind of money you have. I know the tribe didn't pay for your undergraduate education, but they paid for your medical education and you've been getting over $300,000 a year for several years now from the casino’s revenue, so you must have something. I have saved my casino payments and I think you and I should buy the property. The plans have already been drawn up. It will take a couple of years to build it, which is fine with me. It should be ready when you finish your residency and return to the reservation. This will give us time to get the word out to the breeders and to the other horse people so when we're ready, they'll be ready.

  "We'll need a manager and a lot of people to work the ranch, but that's the beauty of it. Our young people, those who don't want to go to coll
ege, could work on it. One of the buildings would be a ranch house for them where they could live. What do you think?"

  That was the longest speech Sam had ever heard from Strong Medicine.

  "You know how much I love horses. I think it's a wonderful idea. The horses would be well cared for, it would give our tribe a sense of pride, and I particularly like the idea of having our young people work at the ranch. I have saved some money and yes, count me in."

  The rest of the day went by in a haze. They met the real estate agent for a tour of the land, offered a price much lower than the asking price, and two hours later found that they were the owners of a soon-to-be-built horse ranch.

  Over the next two years, Strong Medicine was involved in every phase of the construction of the ranch. The more Strong Medicine read, the more things he added to the original plans. The finished ranch was beautiful. Strong Medicine asked Sam if it would be all right if they named it "Legacy Ranch" in honor of their forefathers. It would be a legacy to them. When it was finally completed, it was perfect in every detail. Word quickly spread and soon, the ranch began to develop a loyal clientele.

  When Sam returned to the reservation to work at the center, he found he was spending every minute of his free time at the newly completed horse ranch. Even after several months of visiting the ranch, every time Sam drove up to it, his heart soared. The horse breeders were bringing their stud horses and mares to the ranch and word soon spread in the industry that it was the Cadillac of horse ranches. Water misters cooled the horses on hot days. There were special rooms for breeding, foaling, and grooming and a small grandstand had been erected. The young tribal men and women were naturals when it came to training the horses. Four of them did nothing but break the young horses that had never been ridden and had been brought to the ranch.

  The heart of the massive operation took place in the ranch's office. A special computer program had been designed to keep track of each horse, what stall it was in, what it was to be fed, and any other information necessary for the horses' welfare. Very soon, the horse ranch, from a financial standpoint, was a successful operation.

  The Tribal Council became interested in acquiring the horse ranch as one of the tribe's many business investments. They knew a key component for their tribe to be successful with the management of their newfound wealth was to diversify their investments. They offered to buy the horse ranch from Sam and Strong Medicine, who agreed to sell it to them. It really was the best of times. The ranch manager and his family lived in the main house and Sam spent so much of his off-time there that he decided to move into the guest house on the weekends. Although the ranch manager, Rick, was in charge, it was clear that not many decisions were made without Sam's input.

  As passionate and excited as Sam was about both the horse ranch and the center, once again he was beginning to feel overwhelmed, but now it was in a different way. Whenever he went to the ranch, the manager would greet him with a litany of the latest problems. Each morning when he went to the center, the nurses and Phyllis would greet him with their litany of the latest problems. Where previously he had found it invigorating to solve these problems at both places, lately he had begun to dread them.

  He felt angry that everyone was so dependent on him. His temper became short and he noticed that people were beginning to look at him differently. Rather than smile and look him in the eye, they would avoid having eye contact with him. He began to lose weight. He had always been slender, but now he was downright skinny. When he looked in the mirror, he was certain that he looked older. The intermittent bouts of nausea and vomiting he'd been having the last couple of weeks weren’t helping. And he’d never felt this tired. He began to wonder if there was something seriously wrong with him.

  Sam realized he loved Phyllis, but he was getting tired of her morning briefings. He knew he was overreacting, but he felt that she was constantly complaining and it made him angry. A good director must keep the primary doctor aware of everything that was going on in the center, but the way she communicated with him about the problems at the center didn't feel good to him. What had happened to the excitement he had for the beginning of each day and when had he started to look and feel older than he was? He wondered where his feelings of rage were coming from. What was going on?

  He was a doctor and should know the answers to these questions, but he was at a loss to understand his symptoms. He was getting very concerned about his mental and physical health.

  Strong Medicine asked to meet with him. He began, "Son, people are talking. They say you have changed in the last couple of months. Rick said you took a whip to a horse last week and that you put your boot to Rebel, the dog you've called your best friend. There are rumors that you stopped at a bar off of the reservation to have a beer and ended up in a barroom brawl that resulted in a man being badly beaten. The rumors also say that no one has seen the other man in the fight since that day and that you paid him well to leave the area so you would not be reported to the authorities. What is going on? This is not the man I've known for many years."

  Sam replied, "I don't know what's going on. I feel angry, like after my mother died, before my vision quest. I'm having bouts of nausea and vomiting. I feel like too many people are asking too much of me. I don't have any energy. I can't sleep and I'm tired all the time. I'm angry at everything. It seems like the slightest little thing can send me into a blind rage."

  He continued, "Yes, the rumors are true about the man in the bar. Believe me, I'm not proud of that moment. I saw red and I went to an emotional place where no one could reach me. There were others in the bar who tried to get me to stop hitting him. I didn't. I couldn't. Now I lay awake at night, terrified it might happen again. Next time, I might kill someone. I know when I'm in a rage I'm capable of it. Can you give me something from the old traditional ways that might help me?"

  Strong Medicine looked closely at him. "I remember when you came back from the vision quest, when I picked you up at that small desert motel. You were full of enthusiasm and hope for the future. You need to recapture that feeling. Another vision quest is out of the question. A man only gets one in his lifetime. I think you should go back to that motel and spend a couple of days there. Relax. Take some time for yourself; maybe that will help. Between the center, the ranch, Phyllis, and my teachings, you have had very little time to yourself. Try it. See if that works."

  Sam went back to his apartment, which was attached to the pediatric center. He easily remembered the name of the motel, the Blue Coyote. His friend was the artist who had painted the blue coyote series of paintings that hung on the walls throughout the motel.

  He got the number from the motel's website. He dialed, trying to remember the name of the woman who had given him the clothes, the beautiful Hispanic woman, but to no avail. The phone was answered on the third ring. "Blue Coyote Motel, may I help you?" said Maria.

  The voice was that of the young woman he had met last year. "Perhaps you might remember me," Sam said. "I'm Sam Begay, the one who had just come down the mountain from a vision quest. You were kind enough to give me some clothing."

  Maria laughingly answered, "Of course I remember you. I hope you're calling because you're coming back and that this time you will be wearing clothes. How can I help you?"

  "Actually, I would like to stay Friday and Saturday of the Memorial Day weekend. I hope you still have a room available. I felt really good when I left your place. I don't know what you have there, but I need some of it now," Sam said.

  "I'm glad you're coming back and yes, we have one vacancy. I can almost guarantee you that you'll feel better after your stay with us. We'll see you that Friday. I have you down for two nights, Friday and Saturday." Maria said.

  She smiled as she hung up the phone. Memorial Day weekend was going to be a full house, all return customers, all of whom needed Freedom. She made a note to tell Jeffrey he definitely would need to mix up a little extra "medicine" for that weekend.

  CHAPTER 32

  The F
riday before Memorial Day was one of those rare beautiful desert days that seem to happen only once in a while, with a soft blue sky and warm temperatures. The desert's searing summer heat was still a few days away and the bitter cold of winter had gone. It was a perfect time to be in the desert.

  Maria went to each of the five rooms in the motel that morning, making sure that everything was perfect for the returning guests who were scheduled to arrive later in the day. She remembered them all. She liked them and was happy that once again she could take part in making them feel good about themselves.

  After she carefully inspected the rooms, she made sure that the refreshment area was well stocked with food and drinks. She had precooked a number of meals, which just needed reheating in the microwave, so there was plenty of food for the guests. The motel was literally in the middle of nowhere with the nearest town and restaurant miles away, so any food or drink that the guests wanted had to be made available on the premises.

  She walked down the steps leading to the lab, carefully holding on to the handrail. The lighting had never been very good and she was always afraid she would miss a step. She hated to go down there because of the rats in all the cages. She could hear them squeaking and every time she went there; it reminded her of the gang rape and the rats' tails brushing up against her when they licked her blood. She shivered at the thought. Anxious to get back upstairs, she quickly asked, "Jeffrey, the guests will be here later today. Is everything ready for them? Maybe you should start piping Freedom into their rooms."

  Jeffrey was beginning to look exactly like one would expect a mad scientist to look. He spent every waking hour in his lab. His hair had turned to a dirty brown-grey, hanging to his shoulders. He was so engrossed in his research and tests that he often forgot to bathe or shave. He'd lost so much weight his dirty clothes hung on him like a scarecrow. He'd lost interest in pleasures such as eating and Maria couldn't even remember the last time they had made love. She wondered whether she even still loved him.