In the City of Shy Hunters

by Tom Spanbauer

  You always took a chance looking into them eyes.

  Let me tell you something, Grandfather Alessandro said. So you’ll know.

  Sundance is sacred, Grandfather said. The power of the dance is to dance with God. It’s our religion. And the sweat lodge. Don’t let no book tell you different.

  Then: Bring your friend Hey-Soos, Grandfather Alessandro said. He might learn something.

  Charlie twisted his index finger into his red shirttail and looked down at the porch floor. Squashed an earwig next to the milk can with his black tennie.

  I promised Will we’d go to Spring Creek, Charlie said. Besides, Sundance ain’t no place for tybos.

  Tybo being me. White man, Cotton Parker’s boy.

  Grandfather Alessandro’s eyes, the way they were like a child’s. Nothing in between you and him. Just then his eyes got as big as my heart inside me. Two long tears down his old face. About the time the tears hit his chin, Grandfather Alessandro slapped his knee just like that and let out a big whooping laugh. His whole face laughing, his whole body, Charlie laughing too. With the rocking back and forth, I thought the house was going to fall in.

  OK, Grandfather Alessandro said. OK. You boys go to Spring Creek. Have some fun. But Charlie, I want you to remember what I told you.

  Grandfather sat up in his chair, put his boots down firm on the gray wood. The rocking chair quit rocking. No sound at all, just the wind in the sagebrush. Grandfather tilted his cowboy hat back. With his hat off, his head was like some people’s feet that’s been in boots so long they should just always stay in them boots.

  You remember what I told you, now, he said. Don’t you forget.

  CHARLIE ON AYAHUASKA, me on Chub, galloping through the sagebrush and dust. I tried the Acrobatic Back Bend, which is where you stand up in the saddle facing back and you bend backwards and hold on to the saddle horn, and I was doing it just fine when Chub dodged a big sagebrush and I didn’t dodge. I kept holding on to the saddle horn, did a flip, turned, and when my feet hit the ground I used the momentum to throw myself back into the saddle.

  Charlie didn’t do a trick for a while, just kept free-standing. I guess I’d surprised him—I had surprised my own self.

  At Spring Creek, on one side it’s all willows, willows almost as tall as you on a horse. When we got to the willows, Charlie and ayaHuaska ran into the stand of willows, into the path we’d made through the willows, then me and Chub. We ran curving through the path, willows stinging our arms and faces, until we got to our willow tree, which really wasn’t a tree, just a section of willows that were taller, and there was one willow with bark on it as big around as a horse’s leg and the willow branches leaned over onto the water. The meadow there was real green grass and in places soggy with mud.

  Charlie 2Moons slid off ayaHuaska. Shirt up over his head, his arms in the air, the black hair of his armpits, one armpit on each side of the dividing line down his middle, from his Adam’s apple down, one nipple on each side, all the way down one side of Charlie meeting the other in the middle, at his belly button, the hair at the top of his Levi’s.

  Charlie kicked his black tennies off. Sometimes Charlie wore socks and he’d have to pull off his socks, and he’d go back and forth, back and forth, one arm out, dancing on one leg, then back and forth, other arm out, dancing on the other leg, but that day Charlie didn’t wear socks. His one foot was on a patch of really green grass and his other foot was in the mud, toes sunk in the mud.

  Charlie sucked in his belly, his hands at the top button, and just by pulling the Levi’s at the top he gets all five buttons. That day the sound of the buttons five thumps in my chest. Charlie stepped out of his pants one leg at a time, then with a kick his Levi’s went sprawling and hung on a willow, Charlie never wearing undershorts, and—ta-da—there was Charlie, the sun-and-willow shadows on his skin, all of his skin from his widow’s peak down his nose to his shoulders down the long dividing line to his flat belly, to his belly button, the hair, the surprising bounce, the weight of him down there.

  So different that day for some reason how real his body was. Was like I’d never even seen Charlie’s body before.

  Charlie whooped, running to the bank into Spring Creek, the jump into the air, the gasp of breath, raven wavy hair flying back, Charlie’s big butt between earth and water, the top point of a jackknife. Then I was in the air too. My body, Charlie’s, one long arched uninterrupted muscle, each. Charlie dived into his reflection, I dived into mine. One long breath through clear water, one long hot dusty day, one long sunset shadow.

  CHARLIE WAS LYING naked on his back in the sun on the grassy part. I was sitting, crossed-legged, chewing on a piece of grass.

  Charlie sat up and walked his butt along the grass so he was sitting, knees touching my knees.

  I’m going to tell you something, Charlie said, So you’ll know. But before I tell you, Charlie said, We got to promise.

  Promise what? I said.

  Never to tell, Charlie said.

  Tell what? I said.

  Charlie had his red Swiss army knife in his hand, and Charlie opened the knife and handed me the knife and said, Cut me right here on the wrist.

  With his index, Charlie made a line onto his wrist.

  Charlie? I said.

  We’ll be blood brothers, Charlie said. We’ll have the same blood, and everything I know you’ll know and everything you know I’ll know.

  Cut your wrist? I said.

  I’ve got something I want to tell you, Will, Charlie said, And the only way I can tell you is if we’re brothers.

  What if I hit a vein or something? I said.

  You won’t, Charlie said, If you cut right here.

  Charlie’s index across his wrist, just below the wrinkle of his palm.

  You go first, I said.

  Let me see your hand, Charlie said.

  I unfolded my right hand from my other hand.

  Charlie held my hand in his hands. The vein in my wrist was pumping blue.

  We got to do this fast, Charlie said. I’ll cut you first and then give you the knife and you cut me, and we’ll hold our wrists together and we’ll promise.

  What do we promise? I asked.

  To be brothers, Charlie said. To always respect and love each other and always tell each other the truth and to keep each other’s secrets and to never forget.

  I don’t think I can do this, I said.

  You don’t want to be brothers? Charlie said.

  Oh, I do! I said.

  Charlie sliced the knife across my wrist, and blood was up in a thin line, then blood up higher than my skin and then blood down my arm, to my elbow, dripping off my elbow, onto the hair inside my hip, down.

  OK, now you, Charlie said.

  I took Charlie’s knife and cut, but I didn’t even break the skin.

  Do it again, Charlie said. It’s all right, Charlie said. Lay the blade on my wrist, press, and pull the blade across.

  I laid the blade on Charlie’s wrist. I pressed. My breath in. My breath out. Top teeth to bottom teeth grinding. I closed my eyes. I pulled the blade across.

  That’s it! Charlie said.

  I opened my eyes and there was Charlie’s blood, more blood than mine, blood all over down his arm, dripping off his arm, down.

  Charlie laid his wrist on mine, wound to wound, blood to blood. Charlie bent near, his brown eyes into my eyes.

  Lips at my ear.

  My little brother, Charlie said, I promise to always tell the truth to you. I promise that your secrets are always safe with me. I promise always to respect and love you. I will never betray you. I promise I will never forget you.

  Now you go, Charlie said.

  I put my forehead against Charlie’s forehead.

  My brother, I said, Charlie, I promise too. I’ll always tell the truth. I’ll always keep your secrets. I will always respect and love you. I will never betray you. I promise I will never forget you.

  Then Charlie put his hand that wasn’t bl
eeding behind my neck and we sat, forehead to forehead, both of us looking down at Charlie’s wrist crossed over my wrist, looking down at the line of blood into Charlie’s belly button, the line of blood along my hip. Blood on my cock, on Charlie’s cock. Charlie and I forehead to forehead looking down at my hard cock, at Charlie’s hard cock. The line of blood dripping down onto the green of the marsh grass.

  My legs behind Charlie’s back, I pulled Charlie up to me, pushed myself up against him, opened my mouth, kissed Charlie on the mouth, put my tongue into the liar’s space, in between his two front teeth.

  Love. Wounded by the blow.

  I promise, Charlie said.

  I promise, I said.

  Then Charlie and I were rolling all over, and there was a feeling all around me, on my skin, a finger drawing a circle around my heart.

  Charlie’s back and Charlie’s arms and his hands, Charlie’s butt, his legs, his smooth cool skin, his hard cock beside mine sliding up and down, and then Charlie was shooting strands of cum all over onto my belly. I was hanging on to willows, one in each hand, and then I was cumming too, and we were yelling and kissing and rolling around. Charlie and I were not on the premises, no rules, the space in between us went away, and we went in, both of us, and everything, the whole known universe, was silent and all one thing, perfect, just perfect, and in my mouth was mud and grass and sweat and blood and cum.

  CHARLIE ROLLED OVER on his back. The wind through the willows was a voice whispering. Charlie poked me with his elbow and I looked over and Charlie was pointing up. In the big willow was a redtail hawk.

  Grandfather said, Charlie said, That we are all of us our brother’s keeper. But me especially I am my brother’s keeper.

  Charlie’s chest jumped up with a laugh, but he wasn’t laughing.

  Just then the redtail hawk sang out a screech and flew off west into the yellow-gold sun. Charlie eyes followed the hawk, the sun coming up gold on his chin.

  Then, when he spoke, Charlie put his face right into my face. His black eyes deep as a new bruise, his smooth cinnamon skin, his lips that had kissed me, sucked me, his tongue so pink behind his white teeth.

  Grandfather Alessandro said, Charlie said, That I am your brother.

  Brother? I said. What does he mean?

  Charlie raised his shoulders up, let them drop.

  Charlie’s smile. The liar’s space between Charlie’s two front teeth. His hair wet and shiny slick, just starting to curl.

  Hell if I know! Charlie said. I just thought we should make it official, Charlie said.

  Charlie touched his hand on my shoulder, brought his hand down my arm, to my hand, off my hand to my thigh, then onto my cock, cupped my balls. Charlie’s bruised black eyes got darker.

  Something else, too, Charlie said. Grandfather told me that you and I must go into a sweat lodge together and smoke the pipe.

  What’s a sweat lodge? I said.

  Charlie let his hand slide up my belly, up between my nipples. Then he took my hand, put my hand inside his, open palm to open palm. The blood.

  My grandfather loves me, Charlie said, Like nobody else. And he wants me to be happy. He’s seen me, Will, and you, and Grandfather wants to bless it. Bless us.

  Will you do it, Will? Charlie said. For me?

  What about Father? I said. He hates anything Indian.

  Fuck your father, Charlie said. Jeez!

  Charlie leaned up on his elbow. His full soft lips against my lips.

  My breath in. My breath out.

  Sure, I said, I’ll do it.

  Promise?

  I promise, I said.

  Between us and the sun, ayaHuaska and Chub were horse shadows, the gold sky behind them getting fancy with pink.

  Then just like that, Charlie sat up quick, threw his leg over me. His hands grabbed my wrists and pushed my hands out above my head. Charlie slow-sat his cock and balls down onto my belly.

  When the fuck didya learn the Single Vault? Charlie said.

  The what? I said.

  Riding down here today, Charlie said, You went from the Acrobatic Back Bend to the Single Vault off the horse, feet on the ground, then jumped back on.

  Learned it just now, I said.

  Never could lie to Charlie.

  That was real pretty, Will, Charlie said. I’m going to have to try that.

  Where’d you learn the Acrobatic Back Bend? Charlie asked.

  It was in the book, I said.

  You been practicing without me? he asked.

  Wanted to surprise you, I said.

  It was a surprise all right, Charlie said. I didn’t know you could bend that far back.

  Double-jointed, I said.

  Charlie’s breath in. His breath out. Charlie licked his lips before he spoke.

  If you can bend that far backwards, Charlie said, Can you bend that far frontwards?

  I can, I said.

  Then that means . . . Charlie said.

  That I can give myself a blow job, I said.

  A blow job? Charlie said. You don’t even know what that is.

  I knew what the Acrobatic Back Bend was, I said, Now didn’t I?

  Charlie’s head jerked back quick to make sure he could see all of me.

  Will Parker, Charlie said, You son of a bitch. You been practicing without me.

  Charlie let go my arms, sat up straight.

  My eyes were so happy. All they could see was Charlie, his hair sticking up all around his face, the sun gold and pink through the black waves.

  The liar’s space between Charlie’s two front teeth.

  Can I watch? Charlie said.

  KNEES AND ELBOWS, I was shits and giggles, taking off my pants, standing naked outside in the sun, Charlie naked too. Alessandro’s big old cock with gray hairs all around it.

  Alessandro went into the sweat lodge first. Then me. When I stepped in, when I crossed over into the darkness, what I remember is trying not to laugh at Alessandro’s butt crack. Then inside, sitting cross-legged, knee to knee around a fire pit in a dark hut with two men, I tried to cover myself. I thought it was my cock hanging out I was trying to cover, but it was another nakedness.

  Grandfather Alessandro reached behind him and in his hands was a bundle, two red strings around a piece of spotted fur.

  That bobcat skin? Charlie asked.

  Ocelot, Alessandro said.

  In all the world, there I was, inside a hut made from bent willows, the hut covered with animal hides, old blankets, canvas, plastic, Alessandro cross-legged on the other side of the fire pit from Charlie and me.

  Alessandro undid the red strings and unrolled the piece of ocelot fur out in front of him. The medicine pipe was in two pieces, The pipe stone and the stem. Alessandro’s crooked hands picked up the stem, picked up the pipe stone, put the stem against the hole of the pipe stone, twisted the stem inside.

  Regard the male and the female, Alessandro said. How they come together and make a whole.

  Alessandro picked up the pipe and held the pipe with both hands.

  The bowl of the pipe is red stone, Alessandro said, It is the female, it is earth. The buffalo carved into the stone represents the four-leggeds. The stem of the pipe is the male, it is wood and represents all that grows upon the earth. The twelve feathers that hang here are from eagle, and they represent all the wingeds of the air. The shells and the beads that hang from the stem represent the one-leggeds, the fish that swim in the rivers and the sea.

  When you pray with this pipe, you pray for and with everything, Grandfather Alessandro said. With this pipe you will be bound to all your relatives, those living and dead, your grandfather and father, your grandmother and your mother, your brothers and sisters.

  Alessandro lifted the pipe above his head, looked up, said something in Indian, held the pipe that way, then laid the pipe down inside the circle of our knees.

  Regard the medicine pipe, Alessandro said. When you are with this pipe, when you hold the pipe in your hands, you must speak only truth.


  Alessandro started singing high, yelling, magpies and crows.

  Out of a buckskin bag, Alessandro pulled a pouch of Bull Durham tobacco and some paper sacks. He took a pinch of Bull Durham and held the tobacco between his crooked thumb and long fingers, next to the dirt. He lifted the tobacco above his head, then moved the tobacco in a circle around him, stopping four times.

  Alessandro put the tobacco on a square piece of polished wood, into a circle of brass tacks on the polished wood.

  Out of one sack, a pinch of sage. Alessandro held the sage, same way as the tobacco, singing high, his voice flying around my ears. He held the sage to the earth, to the sky, to the four points of the circle around him, then put the sage with the tobacco into the circle of brass tacks on the polished wood.

  There were other herbs, cedar and red willow, I think, and some I didn’t know. Each time, with each pinch, Alessandro sang, held the herb down, up, and around, and put the herb into the circle of brass tacks.

  Alessandro mixed the herbs together, grinding and sifting them between his crooked thumb and long fingers.

  My arms were behind me, my hands on the dirt, and I was leaning back on my hands. I couldn’t take my eyes off the pipe. I just kept staring and staring at the different parts of the pipe put together—the dark blue beads, the feathers, the pipe bowl, the carved buffalo, the stem.

  My breath in. My breath out.

  In my forearms, it started.

  What scared me was that the pipe was alive.

  ALESSANDRO HELD UP his hand, his wide palm another face. He folded down his fingers into his palm except for two.

  I’ll tell you something, Grandfather Alessandro said, So you’ll know.

  There are two roads, Alessandro said.

  The red road is the vertical road. It runs north and south and is the good or the straight way. North is for purity and south is the source of life.

  Then there is the blue or black road, which is the horizontal road. It runs east and west and is the road of error and destruction. He who travels on this path is one who is lost, distracted, ruled by his senses, sees only what is in front of his eyes, and lives for himself rather than his people.

  All that there is, is represented by the offerings to the powers of the four directions, Grandfather Alessandro said. And all things—represented by the pipe mixture—all come together in this single point, to the bowl or heart of the pipe.