by Amber Foxx
Zak’s phone beeped. A second later, David’s made a quacking sound. At the end of the aisle, Jamie saw one of the young Geronimo brothers—without his trash bag—tearing toward Orville’s booth, arms and legs pumping, shouting, “Uncle Lonnie! Uncle Lonnie! You need to help Montana!”
Zak bolted in the direction the boy had come from, toward the front gate.
“Who’s Montana?” David asked, sliding his phone from his pocket and glancing at it.
“His wife’s sister. Think I’d better go with him.” The boy had asked for a medicine man, not an EMT. This could be an emotional crisis. Zak wasn’t very good with those, and Lonnie would be slow to arrive. Jamie jogged painfully after Zak.
At the entrance gate, two BIA cops in reflective vests, one male and one female, held Montana by the arms. She was crying and reeked so strongly of alcohol that the smell hit Jamie from over a foot away. She wailed, “That witch. I have to see that fucking witch.”
Zak told the cops, “Let me take her home. I know what to do.”
“No. I want to hit her.” Montana struggled and then retched, sobbing and vomiting at the same time.
The male cop said, “You’d better go with him. We can arrest you for drunk and disorderly if you don’t.”
She curled over, spewing a stinking stream of liquid, practically hanging from her captors’ hands. “I need to see that fucking witch.”
Jamie knelt, avoiding the puddle of vomited booze. The bandana he’d used to contain his hair while cooking lunch was still in his back pocket. Never using this again. He mopped her mouth and chin. She recoiled at first, but the touch silenced her for a moment, and she looked confused.
“Better?” he asked. “Lucky you didn’t get any on your clothes.”
She nodded and took a deep breath. He stood, and she straightened up, mumbling, “Why are you nice? Your girlfriend’s a witch.”
Fuck. This was about Mae?
“Let me take you home,” Zak said. “Then I’ll take care of the witch for you.”
“She's not a fucking witch,” Jamie said. “Jeezus. We need to talk her out of that.”
Lonnie arrived and held a brief exchange in Apache with the female cop. Zak asked a question and Lonnie answered. Montana whined, “What’s everybody saying?”
Lonnie said, “That you shouldn’t come to a sacred place in your condition, Montana Chino. You know better. Now, let Zak and Jamie help you or you’ll go to jail.”
“You’re supposed to help me.”
“I will. Tomorrow. When you’re sober. You come see me at my camper.”
“I need to see the witch.”
“I’ll talk to her for you. What do you want me to tell her?”
A crowd of rowdy teenagers approached the gate. The male cop nodded to Zak and they switched off so fluidly that Montana didn’t seem to notice Zak was now grasping her arm.
“That she killed me.” Montana began crying again, and tried to twist her left hand out of the female cop’s grasp. Her engagement ring was bloody. “She killed me.”
Her hand wasn’t injured. The blood was on the stone. Jamie had a feeling that she’d used it to cut herself. He pointed it out to Zak, who said he’d check her over when they got to his house.
Lonnie asked Zak to make sure Montana woke up early and came to see him, and that she wasn’t alone during the night. He agreed, and the female cop handed the drunken woman’s left arm to Jamie. Montana sagged and struggled.
“I can handle her on my own,” Zak said. “Carry her if I have to.”
Lonnie raised an eyebrow. “All the way to your house? She’s a sturdy girl. And a fighter. Jamie understands her, I think. Let him help you.”
Zak hesitated, then nodded, and he and Jamie guided their charge down the hill. Montana alternated between attempts to get away and sudden collapses into tears. They passed Reno and Letitia, standing by the back of her SUV. She’d parked it on the side of the road above the parking lot where vendors had been set up during the daylight hours. Without stopping, Zak exchanged a few words in Apache with Reno. Jamie made out one English word, Misty. Maybe this time they weren’t using their language to hide secrets. Just bringing a sister in to help.
As they progressed through the crowded parking lot, Montana began to drag her feet. “I wanna lie down.”
“You can lie down in bed,” Zak grumbled.
She sniffled. “Lie down and die.”
“No wonder Lonnie said you understood her.”
“All too bloody well.” Jamie slid his arm around Montana’s waist as she tried to drop to her knees. She whimpered in protest as he supported her. “Shh. I know you want to lie down. But I don’t want you lying in the dirt, all right?”
She tried one more drop, and Zak added his arm around her. “We should carry her. You know how to make a seat?”
“Nah. Seen pictures of it. Never done it.”
Zak directed Jamie and they linked hands under Montana’s thighs with her arms draped over their necks, forming a kind of chair for her. As they hoisted her and began walking, she suddenly laughed through her tears. “I’m a queen.”
“You sure are,” Zak said. “Cleopatra, Queen of Denial.”
“That’s a song.” She began to sing it, a country song about denying the obvious truth that a man was cheating. After a few lines, she broke down in tears again.
Jamie hands were sweating and starting to slip and he had to grip Zak’s harder.
Zak winced. “Christ, Pudge. Is that because of Tana’s ass or are you always that hot and sweaty?”
“Nah. It’s you. All the years I’ve known you, mate, to think we never held hands ’til now.”
Zak laughed, with an expression as if he’d surprised himself. Montana bellowed, “It’s not funny. I wanna die.”
“Holy shit.” Zak stopped so suddenly Jamie nearly lost his grip. “You almost did die.”
A dirty white subcompact sat with its nose smashed into the back of a larger vehicle. A sparkly blue van with smoked rear windows.
“Jeezus. Bloody fucking hell. Couldn’t you have hit a fucking tree?”
Zak started to laugh again and took a breath. “Sorry. Drunk driving isn’t funny.” He cracked up. “That’s your van?”
“Just bought it for my tour. Can we put her down for second? I need to—”
“No, we can’t put her down for a second. Your van’s not going anywhere. But Tana could do anything, if she was really crazy enough to cut herself. How’d you figure that, anyway?”
“Been there. Not all those scars are from accidents.”
Zak looked into Jamie’s eyes. “Christ. You never told me.”
Jamie didn’t know why he’d finally shared it now. It had just spilled out.
Montana began to writhe and wail. Her bearers picked up their pace and her large breasts, conspicuously at eye level, bounced with their steps. There were dark red spots on the jiggling part of her T-shirt. Montana had ground her tiny diamond into the flesh over her heart.
Misty’s Harley roared into the driveway as Zak and Jamie guided Montana up the steps, too fatigued to carry her any further. The youngest Chino sister ran to catch up with them.
“What in the world? Tana never drinks. This is crazy.”
“Tell me about it.” Zak aimed Montana toward the gilder. Jamie sat with her and held her while Zak unlocked the door. “Where’s your mother? Reno said you were at her place. Is she coming?”
“Come on. When has she ever had a Saturday night off? She’s got a gig in Ruidoso at nine. I was getting my monthly ten minutes of Mom time.”
Montana curled against Jamie and whispered, “It’s all her fault.”
“Your mum’s fault?”
“Melody.”
Zak shook his head. “First it was Mae, now it’s Melody. Next thing it’ll be me. Or you. Let’s hope she passes out before she hates all of us.”
He explained to Misty about Montana’s cuts, and that she’d need to clean her up and make sure they didn
’t get infected, and then asked her to help him rearrange a few things. “We need to put the kids in together and put one of their beds in the living room so you can keep an eye on your sister tonight.”
“Sure. I’ll take care of her. But why can’t Jamie move furniture?” Zak opened the door and gestured for her to go in ahead of him without answering. She started in, then paused, glancing back at Jamie with a frown. “Seriously, Zak. Shouldn’t I stay with Tana and Jamie lift stuff?”
Jamie’s hurt exploded. “I’m not allowed in the fucking house.”
With a heavy sigh, Zak put a hand on Misty’s back. “Go on. I’ll be with you in a second.” She went in. He stood in the doorframe, arms crossed. “She’ll be asking me questions all night. You could have just said your back hurt. Or kept your mouth shut. And you wonder why I won’t trust you.” He turned and closed the door.
Fuck. Just when their friendship had been mending.
Jamie began to rock the glider and stopped. For Montana, things were already spinning. He could feel it with her, the sickening drunken rotation that wouldn’t stop, and the bottomless pit of loss, the crazed blind urge to take it out on herself. He hugged her and she wept, softly now, tears he shared with her.
The border between them was shifting. The healing energy leaking. He hadn’t meant to do it, but he’d been moved and it happened like it had with Ezra. It was stronger this time, and if Jamie didn’t stop it the inner door would open, and he would see and feel her whole soul. Closing that door was hard, too hard for a night like this.
Feeling guilty, he pulled himself in a little. Lonnie would help her more and do a better job of it. He rubbed Montana’s shoulder. “You want to talk?”
She raised her head, leaving a puddle of tears and snot on his shirt. “I can’t.”
“Hurts too much?”
Montana nodded.
“Guess Will broke up with you.”
Whimpering like a wounded animal, she dropped her head and clung to him again. Affirmation, as if he’d needed it. No point in asking more questions. Mae had healed Will. It must have moved him to come clean. Maybe to confess he’d never loved Montana, but had always kept that place in his heart for Melody—who had never loved him, just used him for fun and to get back at Zak. The old dead-end soap opera, still playing.
Jamie hugged Montana tighter, letting her weep. Her loss soaked into his heart with her tears soaking into his shirt. Loss of love. Nothing worse in the world. No world left after it happened.
*****
Mae stood with the crowd behind the drummers, wondering when Jamie would be back. She felt as though more than an hour must have passed and she was starting to worry, but she didn’t want to miss him by going off to look for him. That could make him worry.
The black-painted Ga’an dancers exited and a new group of drummers settled along the benches. A line of men reloaded the fire with logs, each approaching the blaze, tossing his burden, and filing out the far end of the arena. Another group of dancers entered, painted bright green with yellow symbols like a row of mountains on their backs and chests. As the new song started, the dancers slapped their lightning sticks against their leather-kilted legs. The night sky was crawling with rags of gray clouds, blazing with stars and distant lightning. Songs came from in front of and behind her with equal strength, the rattles and gentle chanting of the medicine men in the big tipi and the more vigorous drumming and singing of the men on the benches. The Ga’an dancers sprang and swayed in front of the fire, the clowns echoing their movements.
Jamie loved this more than any other part of the ceremonies. Where was he? Feeling it would be rude to use her phone in this sacred space, Mae eased her way through the people packed between the big tipi and the drummers’ benches. A few phones lit up occasionally among the community members watching from the bleachers and the circle of lawn chairs. Maybe it would be all right to call from there.
Earlier, Pearl’s husband had arrived with chairs, and the family had moved down closer to the dancing. Mae noticed Melody tucking a blanket over the twins in their stroller, empty seats all around her except for Pearl’s sons and husband. Many of the Apache women, wrapped in shawls, had formed a curved line around the perimeter of the dance area and sidestepped in a tight formation, shoulders subtly turning side to side, feet keeping the rhythm. Most wore jeans and sneakers below their wraps, a few were in military uniforms, and others wore full traditional regalia. Bernadette and her female relatives passed in a cluster, shoulder to shoulder.
Mae made her way to Melody’s side and took one of the empty seats. “Hey. Have you heard from Zak? I was gonna call Jamie, but I thought maybe you knew what was up.”
Melody shrugged. “Call him. I have no idea.”
“I see a few people on phones, but is it bad manners to call from here?”
“Kind of, yeah. Not that it’s ever stopped Zak. He’s so traditional and spiritual and then he sits here texting.”
Mae didn’t know what to make of Melody’s attitude. She sounded bitter or cynical. “You got something against traditional and spiritual? Or Zak texting?”
“The whole Zak thing. I don’t speak Apache. My dad’s Navajo—or so Mom says. I grew up on the road with her band until I was old enough for school. Mom and the drummer were the only Apaches I knew until I was five. I’ve been trying to be more into the culture for Zak, but I’ll never be where he is. Or where he says he is. It’s like, I could always try harder, but it’s okay if he doesn’t because he’s already perfect.”
Another group of dancing women passed, blocking Mae’s view of the Ga’an dancers. No wonder Melody wasn’t among them. Not only sore legs from the race, but a break from meeting Zak’s expectations.
“I saw Refugio Baca,” Melody said. “Will’s little brother. He said Will’s quit drinking, smoking—everything. He even wants to quit rodeo and come home to be a real cowboy on the Baca ranch.”
Mae did her best to act surprised. “Wow. That’s great.”
“Getting sober is. But coming home? He broke up with Montana. It’ll make her miserable to have him around. And he’ll be bored out of his mind. Start riding the damned free-range cows. He’s come home to rest after some injuries and pulled that line before, but he never really planned to stay and his parents didn’t want him to. He’s not reliable. So why try it again now? A grown man wants to live with his parents? He must have money troubles.”
He did. And there could be another reason. Though Melody had joked about her unattractiveness and Zak’s jealousy, Will might not care about her weight, and he’d never cared about her relationship with Zak. In fact, Jamie had said Will was all the more attracted to her because she was taken. Mae said, “Maybe he won’t stick around. Once he gets some things straightened out.”
“I wouldn’t mind if he stayed a while. Once I lose some weight, I could ride some Baca horses again.”
I hope you really mean horses and not Will. The images of the fight lit up in Mae’s mind. Melody should know better than to play with fire that way. “And make Zak jealous?”
“Will’s my friend. I can choose my friends. I let you and Jamie in the house, didn’t I? Zak doesn’t get to run my life, even if it drives him crazy. Serves him right if it does. Running around with that photographer.”
This is not a healthy relationship. And Melody knew it. She didn’t believe in them.
Mae excused herself to go call Jamie, but as soon as she reached the vending area, one of Orville’s younger sons, carrying a trash bag and picker-upper, approached her. “Uncle Lonnie wants to talk with you. It’s really important. He’s in the booth”
Before going in, Mae double-checked with Orville that it was okay, then went behind the counter to sit with Lonnie.
“My nephew has no helpers besides me right now,” the old man said, “so I’ll make this short. Montana Chino is drunk and she says you're a witch. Do you know how bad this is in Apache culture?”
Stunned, Mae froze for a moment before she could ans
wer. How could this happen to her again? This was like the gossip back in Tylerton, North Carolina—only worse. “Yes, Bernadette told me. It’s really evil. Scary.”
“Orville says you healed his friend, Niall. And I know when I’m in the presence of a witch. You’re not one. So why does Montana say this about you?”
“I don’t know.” Mae clenched her fists. She tried to hide her rising anger, but her voice shook. “I didn’t do anything bad. She asked me to help someone.”
“She asked you?”
“For the other person. Yes.”
Lonnie watched a group of noisy, laughing women arriving at the booth. Mae had the feeling he wasn’t really looking at them but into his thoughts. He finally spoke. “Be careful. She’s a very dissatisfied customer.”
He stood, and Mae followed suit, assuming she had been dismissed. “Thanks for letting me know.” She took a step to leave, then paused. “Where is she?”
“Zak and Jamie took her to Zak’s house. You shouldn’t go there tonight. I’ll see her in the morning. You can’t talk sense into a drunk.”
Mae paced up and down the main aisle of the vending area while she called Jamie. Were people looking at her strangely? How many of them had heard what Montana said? Did they know who was being called a witch, or not? He didn’t answer. She left a message for him to call her and returned to the arena to take her place beside Melody again. Leaving out the witch part, afraid to have it overheard, Mae summed up the rest of what Lonnie had said.
Melody rocked the stroller back and forth as Deanna began to wake. The little girl closed her eyes again. “Tana can’t bear life without drama. Will’s out of the picture, so now she’s drunk and crazy. At least her mess got Zak talking to Jamie.”
“I wonder if he let him in the house.”
“I doubt it.”
They watched the ceremony without talking for a while.
Startled by the sound of slurping through a straw, Mae looked around to see Jamie standing behind her and Melody with a large cup of soda. “Hey, sugar. I missed you.”
He took his hat off, shook his hair as if something had landed on him, and jammed the hat back on. His eyes had a hot, distracted look, avoiding meeting hers. He’d changed his shirt, not to a sweatshirt for the cold evening but another big loud Aloha shirt, wrinkled from being in his pack.