Johnny Hunter

by Richard L. DuMont

  Billy Hunter started pacing back and forth across the room. Johnny knew his father was angry whenever he paced.

  “He’s got you, ain’t he, boy? You actually believe this crazy old man is talkin’ sense. Ghosts and spirits and bullcrap that’s been dead for a hundred years. Well, you just go ahead and buy this stuff and you can kiss a decent life goodbye. You’ll end up broke and uneducated like all the other young men on this reservation.”

  “But, I know what I saw,” Johnny protested. He tried not to argue, but he couldn’t fight back the words.

  “What you saw was nothin’.”

  Billy wiped his denim sleeve across his mouth. “Your mind was playin’ tricks on you, and now they’ll spread it all over the reservation that you believe in ghosts. How will that look? Johnny, you could be a real hero, but now you’re going to mess it up with this fairy tale.”

  “It’s not a fairy tale. It’s the truth.”

  Billy’s face turned red, and his chest heaved up and down as he gripped the baseboard of the bed very tightly. “There ain’t no use arguing with you. That old man’s got you believing anything he wants.”

  “Please, Mr. Hunter, take it easy,” the priest said, stepping toward him. “This should be a happy moment for all of us.”

  “It was ’til Gray Man twisted it around. Now he’s got it soundin’ just like another Cheyenne war story. I swear he’ll be the ruination of my son.”

  “Gray Man is a good man, Billy,” the priest said softly. “He wouldn’t lead Johnny down the wrong path.”

  Billy stomped across the room to the door, kicking it open with his foot. He stopped in the doorway. “That’s how much you know about it, Father. While you’re saying Mass on Sunday, Gray Man’s out leading a bunch of his pals in worshiping the old Cheyenne gods. They burn fires and dance and shake rattles. That’s the kind of crap he’s teachin’ my son, and you think he’s a good man. Well, you think about what I told you, Father, the next time you’re saying Mass and half the reservation is missin’.”

  Billy slammed the door and marched down the hall. Johnny heard the outside door bang shut and then the Ford pickup spinning its tires as it sped down the icy road toward Rosie’s.

  Mrs. Hunter patted Johnny’s hand. “Don’t worry about him, Johnny. He’ll be okay once he cools off.”

  “Sure,” Johnny said. He was still worried. Rosie’s was becoming an ever-increasing stop for his father. He looked at Gray Man. The old man was thinking the same thing.

  THE NEXT DAY, after Johnny finished his hospital lunch of fish, instant mashed potatoes, and cherry Jell-O, he soon drifted off to sleep. He was still very tired and felt weak from pushing through the heavy snow after leaving the bus. He was having a pleasant dream when he felt a gentle shaking of his arm. Opening his eyes, he smiled as Sarah Pretty Feather took hold of his hand.

  “Hi, Sarah.”

  “Hi, Johnny. I was so scared when I heard about the bus crashing in the snow, and now you are pretty much a hero all over the reservation. Everybody says you were so brave.” She had tears in her eyes.

  “Then how about a kiss for the hero,” he said.

  Sarah nodded her head backward in the room to where James and Mary Pretty Feather stood quietly. “Oh, Johnny you must be delirious,” she said.

  “I guess I was still sort of dreaming.” He coughed nervously. “Sorry.”

  “I brought my parents to meet you. I guess I’ve done nothing but talk about you since the dance, and now everybody’s talking about you.

  “Mom, Dad, come on over and meet Johnny Hunter.”

  Mrs. Pretty Feather was wearing blue jeans, a light blue shirt with a turquoise necklace, and a brown leather jacket. She looked very pretty to Johnny and very much like Sarah, except her black hair had a few gray streaks running through it. She took Johnny’s other hand and bent over the bed to give him a hug. She smelled like lilacs too.

  “We’re so glad you are okay, Johnny. Sarah has told us all about how you saved your friend Richard and Coach Goodheart. You must have been pretty scared.”

  “I was very scared, but I knew Richard and Coach might die, so I just kept trudging through the snow until I saw the clinic lights. I knew we would be okay then.”

  “I’m sure someone was looking out for you,” Mary released his hand and stood back from the bed. She waved her husband over.

  Johnny started to let go of Sarah’s hand, but she held on tightly. Her hand felt warm and reassuring.

  James Pretty Feather wore a dark business suit, cowboy boots, and a turquoise bolo tie. His black hair was cut short in a flat top. He had a strong face with a slightly bent nose. When he reached the bed, he extended his right hand and gave Johnny a firm handshake.

  “I’m proud to know you, Johnny,” he said in a deep voice. “Not many boys your age would have known how to find their way in a snowstorm. I’m sure our Cheyenne ancestors were looking out for you, Richard, and Coach Goodheart.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Pretty Feather. Richard really got us going for help, and he got us most of the way to the clinic.”

  “I heard you had some help after that, too.”

  Johnny felt his face flush. “Well, uh, yeah, this is still hard to describe but my grandmother’s spirit appeared to me and led me out of the snowstorm. It’s kind of unbelievable, but the more I think about it, the more sure I am that she helped us to safety.”

  “I heard that from some Cheyenne friends. That’s why I asked.”

  “Do you believe me?” He looked at Sarah, her mother, and her father.

  “I certainly do,” James said. “You must have a strong gift to be able to see her. I know Gray Man has been proudly telling everyone about your spirit saving the three of you.”

  Sarah and her mother nodded in agreement.

  “Well, that makes me feel better. My dad got pretty upset when I told him about seeing my grandmother’s ghost.”

  “I think he’ll be okay after a while,” Mary Pretty Feather said. “Just give him some time and he’ll come around. After all, you are his son and a real hero.”

  James moved to the other side of the bed. “If you are looking for a job this summer, I think I can find a part-time spot for you with my company.”

  Johnny’s face broke into a big smile. “Really? That would be great. We can always use some extra money.”

  “I could probably find some work for your father, too. But, he would have to show up for work every day. Talk to him about it, and let me know if he’s interested.”

  James Pretty Feather took his wife by the arm. “Come on, Mary. Let’s give these young people a little time without us. Sarah, we’ll be waiting in the car, so don’t take too long.”

  Mary Pretty Feather leaned over and kissed Johnny on the cheek. “Get well,” she said to him, “and do what the doctors say. You can come visit Sarah at our house when you feel better.”

  Sarah’s parents walked out of the room and down the hallway.

  “That was nice of them to come,” he said. “You have some great parents. I can see where you got your good looks.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “Now, does the big hero still want a kiss?” Sarah bent over and gently kissed him on the lips. “How’s that?” she whispered.

  “Sweet,” Johnny answered. “Can I have another?”

  “One more when I leave. Now, tell me all about the bus crash. And be quick. Mom and Dad are…waiting.”

  A few days after the school bus accident, the agency doctor released Johnny. The doctor told him to get plenty of rest, and because he hadn’t suffered frostbite or any other serious injury, he could start back to school the next week.

  “How are you feeling today?” Mrs. Hunter asked, as she brought him soup from a kettle that always seemed to be cooking. Johnny had been home for about five days.

  “Real good,” he answered. As he watched a football game on television, he took the spoon and began eating the red beans and rice soup. Steam rose from the bowl. The black and white picture wa
s hazy and full of static lines.

  “Who’s winning?” she asked without looking at the picture.

  “The Rams, but it’s kind of a slow game. Not enough touchdowns.”

  She nodded and sat down on the old couch, picking up her needle and thread. The needle darted into a button and she resumed sewing on the plaid shirt she was fixing for Johnny.

  “I wish Dad had stayed home and watched the game with me. It’s more fun that way.” He finished the soup and stretched out on the rug in front of the television. Although it was bitter cold outside, the iron stove kept the living area of the small house warm and cozy.

  “Your father’s still upset about the ghost of your grandmother story. Some of his friends at Rosie’s gave him a hard time about it and he blames Gray Man. I think he’s just making a big deal out of it. Don’t worry; he’ll get over it. I’m sure he’ll be watching the game with you next week,” she said softly.

  “I hope so,” Johnny said. “I don’t like it when he drinks too much. It scares me to think about him driving after a night at Rosie’s. Even more so after we found Moody Johnson frozen to death.”

  “It scares me, too, but you know your father. He does what he wants.”

  Johnny sat up and tossed his pillow on the worn green couch. The couch had been a gift from the church. “This game is a bore. Is it okay if I go out and brush down Thunder and the mares? I feel like doing something besides lying around.”

  She looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.

  He smiled at her and pleaded. “Come on, Mom.”

  “Okay,” she said, sighing. “But don’t stay too long and be sure and turn on the kerosene heater out there. Put on an extra sweater before you go outside.”

  Johnny entered his room and pulled out a blue sweater from his dresser. Gray Man’s bunk was still made from the night before. The old man often slept elsewhere, but he was away more and more these days. Johnny used to think he was at Logan Badger’s, but this time he believed there was a big dance going on in some remote corner of the reservation. Gray Man hadn’t said anything to him about it, but the old man had possessed the look of power in his eyes the last time Johnny saw him. Slipping the sweater over his head, he pulled on his sheepskin jacket and walked into the kitchen.

  “See you in about an hour.”

  “Okay, but you stay warm. If you get a chill, come back in.” She smiled at him as he walked out the door.

  The cold northwest wind smacked his face as he trudged through the snow to the horses’ shack. He hadn’t been outside since the bus wreck, and he felt a chill that was not just from the cold. When Johnny reached the shed, he lifted the metal latch and pulled the frozen door open.

  Gray Man was sitting on the hay-covered floor as if he was waiting for him. “How are you feeling?” the old man asked. Gray Man wore cowboy boots, jeans, and a plaid shirt. The cold never seemed to bother him.

  Johnny pulled the wood plank door closed behind him and walked over to his grandfather. “I’m feeling pretty good, Grandfather. How long have you been here?”

  “Since sunrise. I have been waiting to talk to you.”

  Johnny scratched his nose and coughed. “How’d you know I would come in here today? You might have frozen to death before I came out.”

  “I knew,” Gray Man answered, his voice deep and clear. “My medicine tells me many things. You are not the only one with spirits to help you.” He pointed his hands toward the sky.

  Johnny grinned. “Well, I’m never sure just how much you do know. Sometimes it’s kind of scary.”

  “The spirit world is only fearful to the whites. To us it is just another part of this world and nothing to be feared. You have great power already; don’t be afraid to use it.”

  There was silence in the shed. It was so quiet that Johnny could hear the horses chewing on the winter hay.

  “Why did you want to see me?” Johnny asked after a minute

  “We are having a massaum and I want you to come to it. You are special, a Cheyenne who has a spirit guide at a young age. Our people will be glad to see you come to the dance.”

  “What’s a massaum?”

  “It is a ceremony that goes back for a thousand winters. We have used it whenever our people were hard-pressed, and this snow has made the hunting bad. Logan Badger has the venison we gave him but there are others who need to catch rabbits and quail to make their food supplies stretch through the winter. The ceremony takes five nights to complete because every step must take place in the exact manner of our ancient customs.”

  “I couldn’t come for five nights,” Johnny said, standing by the door. Snow had blown in through the cracks in the walls and steam rose from the stalls where the horses crowded together for warmth. He blew on his hands to warm them.

  Gray Man stood and walked over to him. He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It is not possible for you to come every night because the massaum started four nights ago.”

  “That’s why you haven’t been home, huh?”

  Gray Man nodded his head. “I have been very busy making sure that the rituals are performed correctly or Maheo will not smile on us. I want you to come on the fifth night of the dance. Your mother will be working at the school tonight and your father will be drinking beer again.”

  Johnny felt a tingling sensation in his stomach. “I don’t know, Grandfather. It sounds neat but Dad’ll sure get mad if he finds out.”

  Gray Man walked away from him and stood near the unlit kerosene stove. Moving his hands up and down, he began to speak. “I do not like to come between a boy and his father, even when the father is as blind to the truth as a bat that lives in a cave. A boy should love and respect his father and I want you to do this also. But, sometimes there is a thing in life that is bigger than a family relationship, and the Cheyenne people are involved in a struggle bigger than you or your father. We are trying to survive as a people and you have the gift and signs to be a leader of our people. Someday the old ones like me will be gone and you will have to lead our people or we will cease to exist as Cheyenne.

  “Maheo picked you out, not me. A Cheyenne finds a spirit because of what’s inside him. It is a gift given to few. You cannot ignore it. I have seen the power in your eyes and it makes my heart soar that my grandson has the gift of medicine.”

  Gray Man dropped his arms to his side. “So I ask you to come to the massaum, not to disobey your father or for my sake but for your people’s future.”

  Silently, Johnny stood watching and listening to Gray Man. The mention of secret powers excited and scared him. He had never had any mystical experiences before the ghost of his grandmother started appearing to him, and here was Gray Man telling him it was a gift that was just starting.

  “Okay,” Johnny said, his voice cracking. “I’ll come, but I’m not so sure about me having all this medicine power.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It will take a long time to grow if you really have it. Maheo doesn’t give power to anyone who doesn’t truly want it.”

  Johnny slowly nodded his head. “Where’s the ceremony?”

  “Same place as last time, Spirit Canyon. Come at sundown tonight and bring the bear claws I gave you. They will be an important part of the ceremony for tonight. I must go now and prepare.”

  Gray Man walked around him, led his horse out of her stall and slipped the reins over her head. He climbed on her back. Johnny opened the door. Wind blasted in, carrying snow into the shed, and then Gray Man was gone. Johnny picked the horse brush off a nail on the wall, opened the gate, and walked into the stall.

  “Hey, Thunder, how you doing? Let me feed you and I’ll run this brush over you once or twice. It’ll feel good, even through your winter coat.” The horse turned and pushed his nose into Johnny’s chest.

  AFTER SUPPER WITH his mother, Johnny helped her wash and dry the dishes. They were placing them in the cabinets over the sink when she spoke. “I don’t like leaving you alone like this, Johnny. I wish your father would have come
home tonight like he was supposed to.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “Really, I’m feeling good enough to stay by myself. I’m almost ready to go back to school.”

  She patted him on the cheek. “Okay. I really do want to go. We’re working at the school on our blankets for the Christmas fair and I need to get going on mine. I missed last week because of the accident and the other ladies are way ahead of me. Christmas will be here before you know it.”

  “How you getting there?” he asked, hanging the dish towel over the faucet.

  “Mrs. Amos is picking me up. I can’t depend on your father for a ride anymore.” She ran a comb through her long black hair.

  They heard a truck crunching up the gravel driveway. Johnny looked out the frosted window and recognized the Amos’ brown ’70 Bronco. “It’s Mrs. Amos. Better get your coat on.”

  Minatare straightened her skirt and pulled on a faded yellow coat. She wrapped a scarf around her head, kissed Johnny goodbye, and went quickly out the door. He watched her climb into the truck and it slowly drove down the driveway.

  Within ten minutes, Johnny was riding Thunder on the snow-covered trail toward Spirit Canyon. It was cold, but the sky was clear and the stars glistened above him in the Montana sky. A half-moon lit the way for him as Thunder walked easily on the hard crust of the week-old snow. He felt a churning of excitement in his stomach, his blood racing through him, warming his whole body.

  Johnny reached inside his jacket and rubbed the bear claws with his gloved hands. They felt warm to him, even though he knew they had to be cold. Gray Man’s magic made them warm.

  The horse and boy rode swiftly down the canyon trail, descending to the valley floor without slipping. “Good boy,” Johnny said, patting the brown and white pinto on his neck as they reached the bottom. The snow on the canyon floor was pressed smooth from the horses and men who came before him. They rode across the snow to the circle of rocks. Pounding drums echoed up and down the sheer walls of Spirit Canyon, signaling that the dance had already started.