“Look,” Mokwa said confidently. “Gentle Eagle gave him the name for a reason. This guy is one crazy dreamer. He is a two-spirit, after all.”
Black Crow nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah, two-spirits are supposed to have some crazy ass power,” he agreed, coming around to the notion. “Well, supposedly,” he added with sarcasm, conveying a lack of respect in Joshua’s power.
Joshua picked up on the sarcasm, and it contributed to his own doubts. But Mokwa had told Black Crow that he was a two-spirit, and one should always respect a two-spirit out of fear for their power. And Black Crow honored such traditions more than anyone he knew. So his sarcasm was perplexing to Joshua. “You aren’t afraid of my power, then?” Joshua asked.
“What are you talking about?” Black Crow said, laughing at the suggestion.
“Well, Mokwa said you were being nice to me because you were afraid of my two-spirit power.”
Black Crow’s laughter intensified, bordering on hysteria. “Dude, I wasn’t nice to you out of fear of two-spirits,” he managed to explain. “What kind of person do you think I am anyway?” He didn’t wait for a response. “I was nice to you because when I found out you were gay, I knew you weren’t trying to steal my girlfriend.”
“Oh, I guess that makes sense,” Joshua said. Kiwi’s overtures to him earlier in the summer had been relentless, after all.
“Oh, man, Apple, you need to stop listening to these guys. But okay, you want to try this dreaming thing of yours, here is what you do. It’s simple; you just think about your problems before you go to sleep and ask the dream manitous or whoever for help.”
“I don’t think it works like that,” Joshua said. “The dreams just come to me. I’ve never asked for a specific message or guidance, or anything.”
“What can it hurt to try?” Jenny encouraged.
Joshua didn’t like the idea of messing with his dreams. They had been so vivid and frightening of late. But he also felt cornered, as though he had no other choice. He didn’t know how else he was going to get out of the mess he was in. Maybe his dreams could help. If there was the slightest chance, he had to take it. He reluctantly nodded. “Okay, I’ll try it before I go to sleep tonight. Assuming I don’t get caught by then.” He shot Mokwa an accusatory glance.
“Yeah, Mokwa, don’t give him away by tonight,” Little Deer said.
Mokwa threw his hands up in the air. “Woh! Where’d that come from? Sheesh.”
“It’s settled, then,” Black Crow said. “Tonight, the dreamer will dream.”
PASTOR MARTIN unexpectedly found himself being chaperoned by Gentle Eagle as the two methodically searched the reservation for any sign of Joshua’s presence. Pastor Martin had known Gentle Eagle for decades. The conversations the two had, often philosophical, were practically legendary, mostly because the two clashed so significantly in their respective worldviews. But despite his differences with Gentle Eagle, Pastor Martin held a deep respect for him and regretted that their friendship, if one could call it that, had become so strained since the incident at Joshua’s naming ceremony.
Still, Pastor Martin respected Gentle Eagle’s usual calm and poise, regardless of the intensity of a situation. It contrasted sharply with his own characteristic impatience. Quite simply, he didn’t like beating around the bush. He wanted the truth of a situation and he wanted it now. That attitude made his time spent today with Gentle Eagle especially difficult as he just knew the kids were keeping something from him and that Joshua was most likely hiding back at the village somewhere.
Joshua’s mother, Catherine, had been adamant on that point when she called him on the phone. She explained to him that she had talked with someone from Pastor Bob’s troop, who had acknowledged giving money to Joshua so that he could “go home.” Catherine knew what that meant. And so she told Pastor Martin that he would find Joshua at that “cursed village.” But instead Pastor Martin was stuck all day with Gentle Eagle in the reservation town, following up on one false lead after another. The two had been to several locations before Gentle Eagle led Pastor Martin to the Rez Cafe. Those few dead ends were already enough to put Pastor Martin in a rather noticeable snit.
“Gentle Eagle! Haven’t seen you around here lately,” Smiling Squirrel said as Gentle Eagle walked into the cafe with Pastor Martin in tow. “I’m always happy to see you here, my old friend.”
“You’re always happy, period,” Pastor Martin said sarcastically, intruding upon the conversation.
Gentle Eagle gave Pastor Martin a quick glance as if to remind him to let him handle the talking. “Yes,” Gentle Eagle said as he looked back to Smiling Squirrel. “I’ve been very busy at the village this summer.”
“Pastor Martin,” Smiling Squirrel acknowledged almost inaudibly, his tone changing to a dull monotone.
“Smiling Squirrel,” Pastor Martin said back, matching the dry attitude.
“So what’ll it be? How about the house special?”
“No, don’t want to die,” Gentle Eagle teased. “Besides, we’re not here to eat today.”
“Well you’re certainly not here for the ambiance,” Smiling Squirrel teased, laughing hysterically at his own joke.
A few other customers overhearing the conversation joined in with the laughter. By all accounts, after all, the Rez Cafe looked like an absolute dive. But the food was good, the service was impeccable, and Smiling Squirrel was unforgettable. That made his so-called dive the most popular restaurant on the reservation, even sometimes beating out the casino restaurant that the tourists populated.
Gentle Eagle’s face suddenly got serious. “So, we are looking for Joshua.”
“Oh, he’s back on the Rez, is he?”
Pastor Martin jumped in, “He ran away.”
“Just checking around the Rez in case he’s hiding out here somewhere,” Gentle Eagle said.
“Well if he came back to the Rez, wouldn’t he be at the village with you?”
“Thanks, we still have a lot of places to check out,” Gentle Eagle said, obviously anxious to leave.
“Sure, sure,” Smiling Squirrel said, looking concerned. “See ya, Pastor.” His farewell sounded overly sincere, revealing the intended sarcasm.
Pastor Martin nodded in response and followed Gentle Eagle out the door. The veiled sarcasm gnawed at him, but Smiling Squirrel did confirm what he already believed. “Smiling Squirrel is right,” Pastor Martin said to Gentle Eagle. “Surely if Joshua were back, he’d be at the village with his friends.”
“We already checked,” Gentle Eagle reminded him.
“Don’t be foolish. Those kids were probably lying.” Pastor Martin thought it an obvious charge. Sometimes a direct approach was best. Gentle Eagle, after all, always looked for the best in people. Pastor Martin admired that about him. But in this case, it was distracting them from the important task at hand.
“They could also be telling the truth,” Gentle Eagle replied. “We should exhaust all other possibilities before assuming the worst.”
“Fine, have it your way,” Pastor Martin said in frustration.
“That’s a pleasant change in attitude,” Gentle Eagle said.
“Now what exactly do you mean by that?” Pastor Martin asked indignantly. Pastor Martin was still getting over Smiling Squirrel’s sarcastic attitude, and now Gentle Eagle of all people was throwing jibes at him. He was in no mood for this.
“It has always seemed to me like everything has to be your way,” Gentle Eagle explained. “Perhaps you get that from your religion.”
Pastor Martin scowled. He wasn’t used to this level of hostility from Gentle Eagle—Little Deer, certainly, but not Gentle Eagle. It was as good a time as any to finally clear the air between them. “You’re being uncharacteristically forward with me, Gentle Eagle. You’re not still mad at me for what happened at Joshua’s naming ceremony, are you?”
“Your tone indicates to me that I should still be mad at you.”
Gentle Eagle’s often cryptic responses weren’t
going to work on him this time, Pastor Martin determined. “Now what does that mean exactly?” he asked.
“It means you don’t fully understand the nature of the insult you committed.”
“Now, wait,” Pastor Martin said, agitated. “Look, I know we have had our differences, and you know I don’t entirely agree with everything you believe, but what happened at that ceremony had nothing to do with me.” Even as he corrected Gentle Eagle, he sounded insincere.
“Oh,” said Gentle Eagle, challenging Pastor Martin to justify himself.
“Need I remind you that it was your daughter-in-law, Catherine, who interrupted the ceremony?” he said before pausing to contemplate the best approach to take with Gentle Eagle. “Look, I know you probably see all Christians as the same, but she was the one that freaked out, not me.”
“And if it were just you, would you not have interrupted the naming ceremony also?”
“Of course not,” Pastor Martin insisted. He felt a bit hurt that Gentle Eagle still didn’t trust him after all these years. “I didn’t even know what was going on that night until we arrived there. I was just trying to help Catherine find her son, before….”
“Before?”
“Before it was too late,” Pastor Martin finished.
“Too late?”
Pastor Martin sighed, releasing some of his frustration. “Are you aware of your annoying habit of answering questions with questions?”
“Do I?”
The two shared a mild and unexpected laugh. Pastor Martin once again was reminded of Gentle Eagle’s greatest gift: his apparent ability to defuse any situation with barely a word. “Okay, so I thought you were trying to introduce Joshua to Midewin culture,” Pastor Martin admitted. That was the two-hundred-ton elephant in the room. That strange and secretive order to which Gentle Eagle belonged. The Midewin. The very word often sent shivers down his spine.
“And what if I was?” Gentle Eagle asked.
Pastor Martin wasn’t sure how to answer that. There was so much about the Midewin that he feared, but at the same time, he knew so little about them. “From the Christian perspective,” Pastor Martin said, “the Midewin are, well, dangerous.”
“So, back to having it your way.”
Pastor Martin wasn’t going to let him get away with that charge. He hated it when people confused concern with arrogance. “What am I supposed to say to that? What would you do if you believed someone you cared about was going to do something that jeopardized their immortal soul?”
“I suppose I would try not to be so melodramatic.”
“Come on, Gentle Eagle, just once answer one of my questions.”
“Okay, then,” Gentle Eagle said, seeming to contemplate the question. “I can identify with what you’re saying, though for slightly different reasons.”
“Go on.”
“You remember how I treated my own son when he decided to marry Catherine, a Christian? She made him reject everything about our ways, and then they fled the reservation together.”
“Of course, how could I forget those times?” Pastor Martin said.
“I was less accepting of him back then, and I regret that. I drove him away. I lost my son. My own concern for his well-being drove him away. I learned my mistake. And so maybe that’s what I never really understood about you,” he said, challenging Pastor Martin. “Why do you insist that your way is the only right way?”
The question caught Pastor Martin off guard. Gentle Eagle was clearly right. He did believe his way was the only right way. But why? He hadn’t really considered that before. Without giving it much thought, he gave a rehearsed response. “Well, it’s all about love,” he said, deciding it was the obvious answer. “Love compels us to reach out to those who are different and show them the true way.”
Gentle Eagle took in a deep breath, as if reflecting. Then he let flow his own rehearsed response. “Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful.”
“Is that what the Midewin teach?” Pastor Martin asked, unimpressed.
“No, that’s 1st Corinthians, Chapter 13, Verses 4-5,” Gentle Eagle said calmly. “You may have heard of it. It’s from your Bible.”
Pastor Martin was astounded at the ease with which Gentle Eagle recited scripture. “Scripture? Really Gentle Eagle, you continue to shock me, even after all these years. And I guess I needed reminding of that. I must come across as pretty arrogant to you.”
“Hmm, an understatement.”
Gentle Eagle’s recitation of scripture required a very genuine response. Pastor Martin pushed all his concerns and anxieties about the Midewin aside, and spoke from his heart. “Whatever our differences and whatever you think of me, I want you to know that I am profoundly sorry for what happened to Joshua at his naming ceremony. I’ve always rather admired those, actually.”
“Oh?” This time it was Gentle Eagle who sounded surprised.
“Quite so. It is a precious gift you give your youth. You show them who they are, their true identity. And more importantly, you allow them to change and earn new names as they grow. It’s quite beautiful actually.”
“I have never heard you talk like this before,” Gentle Eagle said, sounding impressed.
“Well, I have never heard you quote scripture before,” Pastor Martin said.
“True,” Gentle Eagle snickered.
“Tell me something. We’ve been conversing for decades now, so how is it that we’ve never truly talked?” Pastor Martin asked.
“Perhaps we both needed to know that the other was truly listening.”
“Thanks for not answering that with another question,” Pastor Martin said with relief. “We have indeed made progress today.”
“Yes, progress. But we still need to find my grandson.”
Pastor Martin still thought the two were wasting their time looking around the reservation for Joshua, instead of searching the village for him. But he was a bit more content with Gentle Eagle’s company as the two hurried off to search their next location. If he accomplished nothing else today, he was glad to have settled some of the tension between them. He sensed that Gentle Eagle felt likewise.
AFTER LUNCH, Joshua’s friends got back to work with the tourists, while Black Crow left the village with a very important mission: to further distract Gentle Eagle and Pastor Martin. The boys didn’t want anything to look out of the norm at the village, worried that it would draw attention to Joshua’s presence there. So they performed their afternoon routines, checking in tourists at the Trading Post and leading them through the various sites at the village. Joshua desperately wanted to join them. It hadn’t been that long ago when he himself had led tourists through the various sites at the village. He was fond of telling stories to tourists at the Moon Lodge. It helped him learn the stories himself. There was so much magic, so much mystery in Ojibwe legends, Joshua reflected, even when the stories didn’t always make sense to him. They always enticed him to want to learn more.
But now Joshua felt almost like a prisoner at the village, or a fugitive rather, as he hid out at the lake unable even to talk with Gentle Eagle, a man he trusted more than anyone in the world.
Pywacky lay in Joshua’s lap, fast asleep, while Joshua contemplated his time on the reservation. He wished he had met Pywacky earlier that summer. Pywacky appeared peaceful and content, despite the constant interruptions during lunch. Joshua could learn something from him. Gentle Eagle and Mokwa had both encouraged him previously to look to animals for guidance, and Joshua could now see why. He admired Pywacky’s ability to exist completely in the present. Enjoy it while you can, Joshua thought as he reflected on the unstated lesson.
The two shared a common predicament. Both needed a home, and both were hiding out at the village until they found one. Joshua cupped his hand and placed it over Pywacky’s head. “Such a good little kitty. Yes you are.” He massaged and scratched Pywacky’s ears with his fingers.
Pywacky tilted his head to the side, pushing his head up against Joshua’s fingers, clearly wanting more. When Joshua finished, Pywacky laid his head down and again closed his eyes, continuing with his nap. He purred loudly, offering a soothing white noise for Joshua as he drifted off into a deep and comfortable sleep.
PYWACKY MADE his way frantically through the reservation campgrounds, frightened by the excessive commotion of the many tourists. Joshua caught a brief image of him being thrown out of his house just prior, after having been beaten by an abusive owner. And now Pywacky faced another kind of abuse as he navigated the swarm of sadistic tourists who saw this nonhuman life as a mere plaything for their own amusement.
“Come here, fraidycat,” one camper called gently, trying to coax Pywacky closer. He was roasting hotdogs on the campfire, and he pointed a hot metal rod with warm meat on it toward the trusting, starving cat. “Come closer, little guy. Aren’t you hungry?”
Pywacky hadn’t eaten in many hours, and he was exhausted and starving from his successful escape. He sniffed cautiously and was overcome by the enticing odor. He approached, taking in another whiff, now just inches away from the tempting catch. His entire focus was now on the approaching meal. He stuck out his tongue, licking his lips in anticipation. Then suddenly, as if snaring a trap, the man plunged the hot rod forward, singing the edge of Pywacky’s tongue. Pywacky shrieked, obviously in pain, and darted off as fast as he could—tired, lonely, confused, and most of all, frightened.
Then something unusual occurred, something unlike anything Joshua had ever experienced before in his dreams. He saw himself by the lake in the background, as the sun rose above the horizon. He had been practicing his Fancy Dancing there and was interrupted by the cries of the poor abused cat. He observed himself looking over and seeing Pywacky hurrying away from the offending tourist. Joshua was furious! He realized what had happened as the tourist tried to tempt his victim back with more hotdog. A fire raged in Joshua’s eyes as he aggressively approached the tourist. As the tourist saw Joshua’s threatening advance, his smile waned, and he stopped laughing.
Onwaachige the Dreamer Page 6