Speak to the Wind

by Mary Tate Engels

  Joe kissed her and teased her about sleeping in. "Coffee for the princess? And what would you like for brunch? I'm cooking."

  "Oh? You’re a chef, too?" She accepted the steaming cup of coffee her offered her. "How about . . . huevos con chile verde. I’ve been practicing my Spanish. How’s that sound?”

  “Muy authentic. Now, where are the eggs, green chilies, and – do you have tortillas? I’ll make a wrap.”

  “Sí, sí!” With a sweep of grandeur in her frumpy robe, Maria showed him the utensils and ingredients. Then she took her steaming cup of coffee to the table where she sat watching him, thinking how magnificent he looked puttering around her kitchen.

  He worked slowly and methodically, as if analyzing ever step. "Maria, I've been thinking—"

  "I assume that's why you were up so early."

  "What else could I do while you were sleeping?" He scrambled the eggs and poured them into a pan.

  She curled a leg under her. "Did I give you enough quiet time to think it through?" She held her breath. Could he have been figuring out a way for them to resolve their own personal crisis?

  "Maybe. It involves our options with the McAndrew project." He stirred a few green chilies into the egg mixture and began to stir.

  She hid her disappointment when he revealed his preoccupation with tribal crises. It was the reality she had always dealt with and would in the future if he were elected.

  "I recall in the negotiating techniques you taught me that one non-committal response is ‘I like it,' which doesn't always mean ‘yes I’ll become involved’."

  She nodded. "Sometimes it's just a delaying tactic."

  "There's also the end-of-discussion ‘No,’ which I'm not prepared to make yet." He divided the scrambled egg and green chile mixture into two warmed tortillas.

  She put napkins and forks on their placemats. "Then there's the classic 'I'll let you know later,' or ask for more clarification or information so you can make an informed decision. Both are honest, delaying tactics."

  He rolled the wraps tightly and sprinkled cheese on top. "I've used all of those so far. And McAndrew knows there will be no decision from either candidate until after the election, so he's not pushing."

  "Just keeping the pressure on," she muttered.

  "As if I don't have enough right now." He brought the plates to the table with a flourish and kissed her lips. “For my princess.”

  “Thanks for my prince.” She inhaled the earthy, chile aroma while he refilled their coffee and brought a small bowl of fresh Salsa Fresca to the table.

  He sat, but didn’t start eating right away, obviously preoccupied with his current dilemma. "But I'd like to use this time prior to the election to evaluate everything and try to come up with some solutions to our very real problems."

  "There's no rush on this, Joe. The more time you have to evaluate things, the better it will be for your people in the long run."

  He gestured with both hands. "The other negotiating response is to make a counter offer, a trade off." He paused to drink his coffee.

  She leaned forward on her elbows. “Do you have something in mind, Joe?"

  "I'm still working on it. The way I look at it, McAndrew's deal isn't great for everyone, but it beats nothing. To refuse when there aren't enough jobs could mean no future economic gains for the reservation and the people will suffer, perhaps more than if we'd agreed to the condos. My counteroffer, then, could be along the lines of—"

  She took a bite and interrupted the business conversation. “This. Is Delicious!”

  He nodded, as if he knew it would be.

  She placed her hand over his. "Did I ever tell you that you're terrific?"

  He muttered “You, too.” Then he started to eat. “Hey, this is pretty good.”

  She waited for him to return to his business dilemma, and when he didn’t, she asked, "Are you going to finish that conversation? I'm dying to know just what you’re talking about."

  "Later. Gotta think about it some more." He finished eating and took his coffee out on her balcony.

  "Joe – what the—?"

  "Thanks for letting me bounce ideas around."

  "It's called therapy,” she snapped. “I'll send my bill next month."

  "I could never pay you enough, Maria. Never."

  She watched him, hunched over the balcony railing, sipping coffee, his mind a thousand miles away from her.

  Only love me, Joe. That's all I ask.

  Chapter Eleven

  "Listen, Josh. If we don't come up with an alternative, we'll be fair game for McAndrew." Joe's fist pounded the round table and scattered an assortment of papers and notes. “He will have the upper hand and the offer in his lap.”

  The small conference table where Joe and Josh had spent many hours brainstorming almost filled the tiny office in the High Meadow Tribal Building. The council had provided him the space until the election, when he'd either have the chairman's roomy office at the other end of the building or be heading back to California.

  "I'm afraid that's the way he views us, anyway," Josh admitted honestly. "McAndrew's got the upper hand because he's got the money and the plan."

  "That's even more reason we need a plan of our own," Joe countered stubbornly. "I've talked to enough people. I know they'll reject his proposal. Then we all may lose."

  "Frankly, I feel they should reject it." Josh folded his arms across his substantial chest. "Nobody should develop that area to the north and risk destroying the eagles' nests and all the wildlife. That’s part of the beauty of our reservation. Can you imagine the field day the environmentalists would have with that one?"

  "I agree. But more, I believe strongly that the Apache should have control of any major projects on the reservation. This is the wish of the people and we have to listen. To go against them invites even more trouble."

  "Yep, no ownership means no control."

  "Believe me, McAndrew's shrewd." Joe waggled his finger for emphasis. "I've met the man and he's after a profit. He sees this area as fertile ground."

  "I suppose from a business standpoint, it is. We have eager people and substantial amounts of undeveloped land. We need jobs. All that spells opportunity."

  "Yeah, but it has to be the right opportunity. He makes his living taking advantage of circumstances, whether job-related or not. And he's good at it. McAndrew will come up with something else, if this deal doesn't fly. If we can't fill this potential economic void, he will. He'll... move the project away from the eagles or... or—"

  Josh snapped his fingers. "Maybe that's a start for us. Move the project."

  "Move it? Why not cancel it? The idea smacks of mercenaries, high profit vultures. Time-share condos on an Indian reservation?" Joe winced. "Sounds so... damned commercial. His plan would draw only the wealthy, people who have excess money and time. Now how could our people relate to that kind of life style?"

  "McAndrew's claim is that guests would be spending money on the reservation. What's wrong with that?"

  "What's wrong?" Joe shook his head. "There isn't enough creativity and input from us. It's a one-sided business with no incentives for our people. No ongoing endeavors with room to grow and change. No entrepreneurship."

  "My God, Joe. What do you expect? You want everything!"

  "You bet I do. But it's for our people. I believe they should be in charge of their own destiny. We shouldn't be shoved around by outsiders anymore."

  "So you're saying the solution has to come from inside."

  "Damned right. I believe it."

  "And what if we don't have the skills base to do it? What if we try something and fail?"

  Joe spread his hands. "Then we fail. But we can't blame anyone else for it. We learn from failure and try again. It just has to be that way, Josh."

  "Okay, so you want some kind of building project, but not something so big and commercial as time-share condos?"

  "Big doesn't bother me. Nor does commercial, frankly. Realistically we're probably
going to need something expansive to create the kinds and numbers of jobs we want."

  Josh held up one hand, palm out, as if in warning. "We're talking about substantial start-up funds here that we don't have. But if we planned a large project in stages, created part of it and got it working—"

  "Then used the functioning part as collateral to acquire funds for the next stage..." Joe interrupted with a growing eagerness. "And that way there'd be no huge rush to get the damned thing functioning in a year or two. It could be a long term project, ongoing and meeting the needs of the people all along by providing jobs and opportunities."

  Josh shrugged. “It could even change over the course of time, if the people decide it isn't functional for them anymore."

  "Now we're rolling. I like that. Do it in stages. Something for the people, something they control, yet make it profitable."

  Josh whipped out a clean sheet of paper. These notes would join the reams already accumulated from various brain-storming sessions. "Okay, what have we got here? Are condos out?"

  "Yeah, condos are out. But I'm not opposed to rental apartments or even patio homes. Hold it. We're getting ahead of ourselves. That's later. First we need..." Joe pushed himself away from the table and walked to the window. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stood there quietly for a few moments. "What I'd like to see first..."

  "Come on, big brother. Spit it out. What's in that head of yours?"

  Joe turned around, his expression uncertain as he tested his idea on Josh. "I've always wanted to see a cultural arts center on the reservation. A big building that could house a variety of Native American activities, especially Apache crafts and arts."

  "You mean, something like a museum?"

  "A living museum," Joe said with a little rush. "People could gather on the premises to do their work, to exhibit and show, to sell, to interact and participate in joint projects. Even to dance or hold ceremonies. It would be a place for the people. And possibly outsiders could attend for a fee, the way they do at any other museum."

  "A living museum," Josh mumbled, mulling the idea over in his mind. "I like it. Like it a lot. Have you mentioned it to anyone else?"

  "I bounced the concept off Uncle Will once when we were fishing."

  "And? What was his reaction?"

  "Said he wasn't sure. Needed time to think about it."

  "That could take years," Josh said with a shake of his head.

  "But I got a more immediate response when I talked with Aunt Minnie and her friend, Rose. They make miniature burden baskets together and sell them in shops in Phoenix and Tucson, so they know a little about the commercial market. And the difficulties involved. They liked the idea and even suggested building a heritage room where ancient Indian crafts could be taught and practiced. That way the arts would never die."

  "Hey, yes. Great idea." Josh made more notes. "Did you tell any others? Maria?"

  Joe shook his head. "Just you."

  "It's a damned good idea, Joe. So far, the count's running four in favor and one undecided. Not bad for something that has no real plan yet."

  "But it has a purpose for our people. And that's what counts. A good purpose."

  "Yeah, Joe. I agree." Josh took another sheet and began scribbling. "Okay, we have a cultural center to be built first with possible apartments in the future. What about accommodations for tourists once they get here? The reservation's not the center of a metropolis, you know. There's no McDonald's or Holiday Inn on the corner."

  "You mean... restaurants and hotels? We do need them, don't we?"

  "Yeah, if you plan to bring people in here, you have to provide for them. There may even be a market for a variety of shops. Maybe a whole bunch in a complex—"

  “That's it. Josh!" Joe's expression became animated as the ideas flowed freely between them. "A total Indian complex. Something that will take planning, architectural studies, engineering—not necessarily my company, though—we’ll bid it out. We will employ Indians as much as possible. Otherwise, we'll hire from the Anglo community, but it'll be on a job-by-job basis. We'll retain control."

  "We'll need to get professionals to design it. Can we find enough from the Indian community?"

  "I'm sure we can, if we start looking," Joe said. "For instance, I know of an Apache architect in Phoenix."

  Josh's excitement grew along with Joe's. "I think we're on to something big."

  "Indians will be a part of every step and stage, both professional and nonprofessional. Young and old, skilled or untrained. We'll train them, teach them skills, make jobs available. This is it, Josh!"

  "You know what else we can do?" Josh leaned back and tapped his cheek with a finger. "Federal grant monies are available to Indian businesses. We just need to apply properly in order to receive the funds."

  "We'll get a lawyer to look into that ASAP." Joe walked to the huge map of the reservation tacked to the wall. "Let's see now. Where would be some possible locations for something of this magnitude?"

  Josh stood behind him, then pointed. "This area is the most logical. It's land that's already cleared, already has roads. You've got to admit it's very scenic."

  "But it's already in use."

  "Just as vacation homes. And not even by Apaches."

  "The residents have paid for long-term land leases. Some Apache live on this side." Joe moved to another section.

  "Compare the profits of the vacationers versus this multi-million dollar project."

  "Well, I'm not sure it's profitable at all right now. It's self-sustaining, though. Maybe if we cut garbage and sewer services, profits could be increased by a little." Joe shrugged and tried to steer Josh's attention away from the lake, but his campaign manager seemed single-minded about it.

  "Why don't we do a feasibility study? I would certainly expect this Indian center to be highly profitable in the long run. As well as something of the people, for the people."

  "Yes, oh, yes." Joe's lips pressed together, and he could feel a tightening in his chest. A study would commit the fiscal facts to paper and eliminate any sympathetic views.

  "Another thing," Josh continued. "If we use this area that's already available, we won't have to clear new land. That should please the environmentalists as well as the Indians."

  Joe faced his brother with arms folded across his chest. "But this land isn't available, Josh."

  "It could be easily enough."

  Joe shook his head. "Not easily at all."

  "But it's recreational land and most of the inhabitants are part-timers."

  "They own land leases."

  "End the leases when they come up for renewal."

  "Dammit, Josh—" Joe ran his hand around the back of his neck. "We—we can't. .. I just can’t."

  "Why not? It would probably take some legal adjustments, but—"

  "Adjustment! It would take eviction!"

  "Think of the total picture." Josh stared at his brother. "What's wrong with you? Suddenly you're being unreasonable. This sort of thing is done all the time, Joe, when new and better use of the land is needed."

  "My God, Josh," Joe muttered hoarsely. "This would hurt Maria more than anything I could possibly do!"

  "How?"

  "She owns one of the vacation houses. Her father built it. There's a great deal of sentiment attached to the place."

  Josh shuffled across the room and took his seat again. "Ahh, now I understand your resistance, Joe." All was quiet for a minute. Then he took another tack. "But you're dealing with this from a strictly personal level. I'm thinking of what's best for the whole tribe." Josh looked at his brother and saw the anguish on his face. "Sorry, bro. It’s inevitable."

  "You're right." Joe's tone was hollow as he walked to the door. "Call a meeting with Albert and John and Phillip. Also Uncle Will and any others you think should be in on this. We need to talk. And plan. Start looking for a lawyer."

  "Where are you going?"

  “I'll be back later. I need to think."

  "Joe,
are you with me on this?"

  "Look, I won't fight it. I’ll go with the majority, after a feasibility study. And when I'm assured there is no other—better—location." He walked out of the building, feeling the tremendous burden of a leader. A good leader had to consider what was best for all, not best for any one person, even if that one person meant more to him than anyone else in the world.

  Joe Quintero was a man with a heavy heart. He could only imagine what this developing project would do to Maria as he drove Uncle Will's truck into the mountains. He went as far as the end of the pavement, then parked and walked along the dirt road. He'd already planned to buy an SUV if he won the election. Living on the reservation almost required a four-wheel-drive vehicle in the winter. But he also wanted to be able to travel for pleasure in the rugged high country. Knowing Maria, he was sure she'd want to, also.

  He breathed deeply, thinking how Maria would love this site. The heavy pine smells, the moist air, the special feelings of being in a remote place and seeing wild animals. Joe wanted to bring her here, to this place of his ancestors... near the home of the mountain spirits and the origins of the wind.

  The roadway dwindled to become a trail that led farther into the wilderness. This was the area McAndrew had proposed to develop. Now Joe knew they couldn't let it happen.

  He tried to spot the treasured eagles. Instead, he startled a small flock of wild turkeys who were feeding on acorns. How different the clumsy turkeys were from the graceful eagles.

  Yet in their own way both were valuable and important in nature's scheme.

  He remembered how in early morning the bald eagles circled the ponderosa pines and swooped down to the lake for food. It was a glorious sight to see the magnificent birds riding the wind, their wingspan so broad that they made shadows on the earth. Oh, how Maria admired them.

  Joe struggled over the rough terrain, pausing more than once to catch his breath in the high, thin altitude. He stepped on a dry branch and startled a deer that bounded away. He figured he was about eight thousand feet up now. They should be close.

  He shaded his eyes and scanned the treetops. At last he spotted one. An eagle's nest. The complex structure was almost as big as his office. Joe slumped against a boulder and lay back to gaze up at the huge nest made of interlaced branches. Maria would love seeing this.