by Myrna Temte
“Nothing special. Just waiting tables at a nice little family place, but the tips are usually good.”
“Well, hell, we’ve got a restaurant at the tribal center. And there’s other new stuff goin’ on all the time these days. You come to the tribal-council meeting with me tonight. Maybe we’ll find you a job right here on the res.”
“I couldn’t take a job away from someone who lives here all the time,” Julia protested.
“So, who says you’ll have to? You just come to the meetin’ and we’ll see what’s what, okay?”
The determined light in his eyes told her she might as well give in right now. Her father was the sweetest man she’d ever met, but also the most stubborn. And, if there was a way she could spend the whole summer with him, that wouldn’t exactly break her heart.
“Okay, Dad,” she said. “Whatever you say.”
He studied her suspiciously, as if he couldn’t believe he’d won the argument so quickly. Then he let out a high-pitched cackle of laughter, grabbed her hand and hustled her out of the house without even letting her stop to comb her hair. “Well, come on, daughter. Let’s get movin’. You think we run the council on Indian time?”
Chuckling, Julia hustled to keep up with him. Her stomach clenched as it always did when she caught sight of Sam’s house across the road. That big grump could spoil a whole day simply by drawing a breath in the same room with her. He definitely would not be happy if she stayed one second longer than she’d originally planned.
Well, wasn’t that just too bad? Julia thought, giving her hair a defiant flip with one hand. Daniel was her father, after all. If she wanted to spend more time with him, it was none of Sam Brightwater’s business.
Sam Brightwater groaned silently when Dan Talkhouse escorted his daughter into the conference room at the tribal center. Jeez, the way Dan had been driving her all over the res and making such a big fuss about her, you’d think nobody else had ever had a kid before. Certainly not one as wonderful as his darling Julia.
The woman gave Sam a pain in the neck and a few other places, too. This whole past week, every time Sam had seen Dan, he’d also seen Julia—whether he’d wanted to or not. Didn’t she have a home of her own and wasn’t it about time she went back to it?
Oh, he supposed she was pleasant enough, and she acted friendly—to everyone but him. Not that he blamed her for the wide berth she’d been giving him. They hadn’t hit it off too well, and he’d willingly admit most of that had been his fault. If he was honest, he’d also admit he hadn’t done a blessed thing to ease the tension between them.
He’d had several opportunities, but he just couldn’t shake the cynicism he felt whenever he saw the big blue eyes and delicate features that proclaimed the non-Indian half of her heritage. If her white blood didn’t make him distrust her enough, those reddish streaks she’d deliberately put in her hair bugged him even more. There were some, including Dan Talkhouse, who would say he was bigoted and too suspicious of whites in general.
Well, he wasn’t any more bigoted and suspicious than the whites themselves had taught him to be. Wayne Kincaid, the only white man he’d ever been able to trust completely had been dead for years; the rest had hardly impressed him with their honesty and generosity toward Indians. While half of Julia Stedman’s genetic code had come from Dan Talkhouse, all of her had been raised and educated in the white culture.
As far as Sam was concerned, that was plenty of reason to maintain a healthy supply of skepticism when it came to believing in the purity of her motives for coming here. Being in the same room with her made him feel nervous and twitchy. She couldn’t leave soon enough to suit him.
It usually took a long time to get these meetings started because everyone had to visit and catch up with news of friends and loved ones. At last, the tribal-council members gathered around the conference table and the guests took the chairs scattered around the perimeter of the room. Sam always felt privileged to be a part of this group, which included some of the most respected members of the tribe.
When the chairman called for his report on the work being done on the new elementary-school wing at the Indian school, Sam proudly climbed to his feet and mentally swatted away the butterflies swooping in his stomach.
“The young men in our skilled-trades program have learned a lot and done excellent work so far,” he said. “We are currently on schedule and under the budget. If all continues to go well, we should be ready to start the interior finish work by the second week of August.”
The applause and nods of approval Sam received from around the table warmed him like a bowl of hot soup after a long winter day. For all of the years of hard work he’d spent earning his civil engineering degree, this was the payoff that most mattered to him. To be a useful, contributing member of his tribe was his greatest joy, his greatest accomplishment.
Next, the chairman called on Maggie Hawk to report from the personnel committee. Sam sat back, preparing himself to enjoy her presentation. Like many others on the res, he’d had his doubts about The Little Fed, a nickname Maggie had earned when she’d first come to Laughing Horse as a congressman’s aide. But she was so straightforward and so passionate about her work for the tribe, disliking her was impossible. Besides, she usually gave him a new perspective on at least one issue, and she was such a bubbly little gal, she was always entertaining.
Tonight, however, Maggie seemed to have run out of bubbles. Her face solemn, she stood, opened a file lying on the table in front of her, then glanced around as if to make sure she had everyone’s attention.
“I’m afraid I have bad news to report,” she said. “We’ve advertised for teachers everywhere we could think of, including the Internet and Indian Country, but we haven’t received as many applications as I had hoped we would by now. We may have trouble finding enough people with the qualifications we want before school starts.”
“Is there a problem with the salary?” Daniel asked.
Maggie shook her head. “I’ve checked with other school districts all over our region, and our offer is highly competitive. I think it has more to do with the negative perceptions most people have of reservations.”
Sam snorted in disgust and sat forward. Maggie shot him a warning frown.
“It’s not just the white teachers who don’t want to come here, Sam,” she said. “Many of our Indian candidates have expressed similar concerns. It’s a long drive to the res from Whitehorn, especially in the winter, and we don’t have much good housing for rent, even if they did want to live out here.”
“So what can we do?” Ernest Running Bull asked. “Build an apartment house for teachers? Buy a shuttle bus?”
“Probably both,” Jackson Hawk said.
“But we can’t afford that,” Rose Weasel Tail protested.
“Nobody said this would be easy,” Ernest said.
“That’s true,” Maggie said. “And that’s not the only trouble I have to report. Isabel Little Bird won’t be able to handle our summer reading program, after all. She’s having lots of morning sickness and some other health problems, and the doctor doesn’t want her on her feet any more than necessary right now. There simply isn’t anyone else available who’s qualified and interested in taking the job.”
“Yes there is,” Daniel said with a broad grin. He turned around in his chair and looked at Julia. “My daughter is an elementary-school teacher down in Colorado. She might be interested—”
“She’s not qualified,” Sam interrupted.
“What do you mean, she’s not qualified?” Daniel demanded. “She’s been to college. She’s already taught third grade and fifth grade. She’s even half-Cheyenne.”
“But she’s not really one of us,” Sam said. “She doesn’t know anything about our tribe or living on the res. We don’t even know if she’s a good teacher.”
“Aw, come on, Sam,” Rose said. “Quit grindin’ your ax, will ya? This is just a summer readin’ program.”
“Fine, Rose,” Sam replied, his
tone indicating her argument was anything but fine with him, “but I thought we were supposed to be trying to hang on to what little of our culture we still have left. If we’re going to end up hiring a bunch of people like Ms. Stedman, why are we bothering to build our own school? We might as well send our kids right back to the teachers in Whitehorn.”
“I don’t think that’s fair, Sam,” Maggie said. “In the first place, if we’re signing the paychecks, our children are bound to get better treatment than they did in Whitehorn. In the second place, whoever we hire can learn about the tribe and the res with time. At this point, I’m much more concerned about their teaching skills than I am about their pedigrees. We haven’t been drawing the most talented applicants.”
The discussion continued for over an hour. Finally the council voted to allow Maggie Hawk’s committee to continue their work of hiring teachers as they saw fit and moved on to other issues. Sam found it difficult to concentrate with Julia sitting there sending him angry looks around the side of her father’s head.
He’d lost the vote, so he should be the one to feel upset. If he could be a good sport about it, why couldn’t she? Didn’t she understand the difference between a policy decision and a personal attack? Evidently not.
When the meeting ended, he tried to slip out quietly, but he didn’t accomplish the task fast enough to avoid Julia. From the expression on her face, he suspected she’d spent the rest of the meeting writing a furious speech in her head for his benefit.
“Excuse me, Mr. Brightwater,” she said, trapping him beside the driver’s door of his pickup. “May I have a moment of your time?”
Sam trained his gaze an inch to the left of her nose and tucked his fingertips into his front jeans pockets. “What can I do for you, Ms. Stedman?”
She straightened her shoulders as if she was trying to look taller, but of course it didn’t help her much when he still towered over her. Didn’t seem to bother her, though.
“You can tell me what I’ve done to earn such a low opinion from you,” she said.
“Nothing. I barely know you.”
“That’s funny, I didn’t think you’d admit that. Then why is it that every time I see you, you appear to disapprove of me?”
“I wouldn’t know. Anyone ever tell you you’re paranoid?”
If she was at all tempted to smile at his feeble joke, she hid it well. “No. But whenever I come into contact with you, I keep expecting John Wayne to show up and tell me there’s not room enough for both of us on this reservation.”
“Maybe you should see a shrink,” Sam suggested.
“Maybe you should,” she retorted. “If anyone’s paranoid here, it’s you.” Eyes flashing, she pointed her index finger at his chin and repeatedly thumped the air with it. “And furthermore, don’t you ever question my qualifications as a teacher again. I may not be adequate as an Indian in your eyes, but I’m darn good at my profession.”
“Must be nice to have so much confidence in your work.”
“Yes, it certainly is. I earned that confidence with hard work and experience, so trust me when I tell you, kids are kids, and I love them no matter what color they are. If it’s a kid and it’s breathing, I can teach it.”
Sam raised a doubtful eyebrow at her. “Well then, maybe you should talk to Maggie Hawk about a permanent job here.”
She gazed at him for what felt like a long, long time, then gave him a slow, knowing smile that told him she knew exactly what he was up to. “You know, I just might do that. Good night, Mr. Brightwater.”
“Good night, Ms. Stedman,” he muttered, watching her hips move back and forth with each long, graceful stride she took. “Dang woman. She’ll probably do it just to spite me.”
At nine o’clock the next morning, Julia followed her father and grandmother into the tribal center’s restaurant. Sitting across from them in a booth, Julia studied her closest living relatives with a smile. If her father looked older than his forty-eight years, her grandmother, Sara Talkhouse, looked younger than her sixty-six. Her hair still had more black than silver, and her dark eyes often glinted with good humor.
Julia enjoyed both of them. It was easy to tell they were up to something, but heaven only knew what. She smiled. They smiled back. She frowned. They kept right on smiling. They were up to something, all right.
She never should have agreed to wait one more day before leaving for Colorado. In all honesty, however, she really didn’t want to go back. There was nobody special waiting for her, and she still had questions she needed to ask Daniel and Sara. She simply wanted a little more time to feel as if she truly belonged somewhere.
Of course, Sam Brightwater would continue doing his best to make her feel unwelcome at Laughing Horse, but she was finished listening to his snide remarks. No matter what Sam or anyone else thought, her father, grandmother and other relatives loved her and wanted her to stay. It was the first time in her life she had known anyone who felt that way about her and she wasn’t even close to being ready to give it up.
If Sam didn’t like it, he could go roll in cow-pies. The silly mental image made her chuckle. Daniel and Sara gave her puzzled looks, but before she could explain, the restaurant’s front door opened and Maggie Hawk walked in. She paused here and there to chat, but made steady progress toward the Talkhouse booth as if that had been her destination all along.
Daniel beckoned the waitress over when Maggie sat down. Each of the four people in the booth looked at the other three while they waited for Maggie’s coffee to arrive. Hiding a smile with her own mug, Julia settled back, stretching her legs out under the table as if she hadn’t a clue as to what was going on. Maggie finally broke the silence.
Lacing her fingers together on the table, she said, “So, Julia, your father tells me you like being a teacher.”
Julia nodded, but said nothing.
“Have you ever thought about teaching on a reservation?” Maggie asked.
“No,” Julia answered. “I can’t say that I have.”
“Why not?”
“It never occurred to me.”
“Why not?” Maggie repeated.
Julia shrugged one shoulder. “My mother would have hated it, I suppose. Nothing would have made her any happier than for me to forget all about being Indian.”
Sara scowled and shook her head, muttering in Cheyenne. From the expression on her grandmother’s face, Julia guessed it was probably just as well she didn’t speak the language. Maggie grinned at Sara, then turned back to Julia.
“But you’ve never quite been able to do that, have you?” Maggie said.
“Could you ever forget it?” Julia asked.
“No. In fact, the harder my mother tried to make me forget it, the more impossible it became,” Maggie said.
“Exactly,” Julia agreed. “What’s this all about?”
“It’s about a chance for you to explore your Indian heritage instead of trying to deny it. I’ve already confirmed that you have a valid Colorado teaching certificate,” Maggie said. “Of course, you’d need a Montana certificate to teach here, but I have an in at the Superintendent of Public Instruction’s office, so I can get you a temporary certificate in a day or two. If you’re interested in directing our summer reading program, I need permission to call and ask your principal in Arvada for a verbal reference.”
Julia looked at Daniel, then at Sara, then at Daniel again. “You put her up to this, didn’t you? Wow, when you two start messing with someone’s life, you don’t fool around.”
“Why waste any more time?” Sara asked. “We already lost the first twenty-seven years of your life, Granddaughter. And you are as curious about us as we are about you.”
“That’s true, Grandmother,” Julia admitted. “I’d love to stay, but I have to make some money this summer. How much would I earn?”
Maggie named a figure that made Julia grimace.
“I’m sorry it can’t be more, but it’s only three mornings a week,” Maggie said.
“Well
, hey, you can save the whole thing if you live with me,” Daniel said.
“Oh, Dad, you don’t have room—”
“A Cheyenne always has room for family.”
“But I can’t take your bed all summer long.”
“You let me worry about that,” Daniel scolded her.
Maggie stood. “Julia? May I speak to you outside?”
“Well, um, certainly,” Julia said. Excusing herself, she followed Maggie out of the restaurant. To Julia’s surprise, Maggie kept walking until they reached the edge of the day-care center’s playground. A sturdy little boy about three years old dashed out to greet Maggie, throwing his arms around her thighs.
“Mama! Mama! I’m happy to see you.”
Maggie scooped the child into her arms and settled him on her right hip. “I’m happy to see you, too, Franklin. This is my friend, Miss Stedman.”
Franklin melted Julia’s heart on the spot with a bashful smile and an index finger stuck in the side of his mouth. “Hello, Miss Stedman.”
“Hello, Franklin. It’s nice to meet you.”
Maggie set her son on his feet and sent him back to the other children with a pat on his bottom. Julia accompanied her on a leisurely stroll toward the community center next door.
“Your son is adorable,” Julia said.
Maggie sent a glance over her shoulder, then smiled at Julia. “Yes, he is. But that’s not why I brought you out here.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. Why did you bring me out here?”
“To stop you from offending your father and grandmother. If a Cheyenne invites you to stay with him, don’t doubt the sincerity of the offer. He really does want you to stay.”
“I know. And I want to, Maggie. I just feel a little…”
“Guilty?” Maggie asked. “As if somehow you’re betraying your mother’s memory?”
“I don’t know why she was so determined to keep me away from my father. She said awful things about him—that he was a lazy drunk who never wanted me, but those letters I found said exactly the opposite. He did want me. He wanted both of us, and he’s so sweet, it just doesn’t make sense. Even so, I suppose I do feel guilty for coming here now that she’s… passed away.”