Thomas sighed. “Tell her we’ll be careful.”
“Thomas says he doesn’t believe in deer women,” she said into the phone.
“Santana.”
“But we’ll be especially careful all the same.”
She laughed at something Naya said, then hung up.
“Why do you have to wind Mom up?” Thomas said.
“Because we’re not living in the 1800s anymore.”
She leaned back and stretched out her arms along the back of the seat.
“God, I love this truck,” she said. “Someday I’m going to have one just like it. I’ll pull up at the powwows and the boys will all say ‘Isn’t she fine?’ And they’ll like the truck, too.”
Thomas laughed. Powwows were the one thing he’d really miss about the rez if he ever got away. Both Santana and Naya were jingle dancers, and he never missed a chance to see them perform. Powwows were also the only time that everybody got along—the traditionalists and the casino crowd. He’d thought of going to talk to Sammy Swift Grass at the casino and try to get a job where he could make some real money, but Auntie and his mother would have disowned him.
He wasn’t the only one who enjoyed seeing the girls dance at the powwows. He’d heard more than one guy already say “Isn’t she fine?” while they watched Santana. She was seventeen, almost a woman, so he made a big brother note of who they were for future reference, and let it slide. But no one got to talk that way about Naya. She was only fifteen, with a lot of growing still to do, and he was here to make sure she wouldn’t have anyone hassling her.
Listening to the wheels hum on the asphalt, he had to agree with Santana about liking the truck. The interior of the Chev had been restored with the same painstaking care as the rest of it. Reuben and his nephew Jack Young Deer had done most of the work. What they hadn’t been able to handle themselves, Reuben had gotten done in town at Sanchez Motorworks. Thomas could still remember the big grin on Reuben’s face when he finally sold off his jeep and the Chev became his main ride. Of course, now he was already working on another old junker.
“If you think this truck looks good,” he told his sister, “you just try driving it.”
She sat up and gave him an eager look. “Can I?”
“Only if the deer women steal me away.”
She collapsed back against her seat. “Now I’m actually hoping they do show up and take you with them.”
They drove on for a while without talking. Thomas enjoyed the feel of the ride while Santana fiddled with the radio dial until she came up with some music she liked. Naturally, she chose Mexican rap. Not his favourite, but he found himself bobbing his head along with the beat all the same.
Halfway to Painted Cloud Canyon, Santana turned the radio down.
“Do you believe any of that stuff Auntie and Mom talk about?” she asked.
He thought about the conversation he’d had earlier with Reuben. This seemed to be the day for it.
“Yeah, I guess I do. I’ve seen things.”
There. It was out.
He glanced at Santana to find her looking relieved.
“Really? Because you know, sometimes I think I see things that aren’t really there—or at least nobody else seems to see them. I never talk about it because I don’t want people to think I’m crazy.”
“It runs in our family, apparently,” he said. “Reuben told me today that our Aunt Lucy is the one who taught Ramon Morago to be a shaman.”
“Shut up. Are you bullshitting me?”
He shook his head.
“So how come you don’t talk about it?” she asked. “Auntie and Mom would love it.”
“You just answered your own question. I’ve already had to argue with them about not joining the dog boys.”
“I like the dog boys.”
“You would.”
She elbowed him in the side, but laughed.
“If they knew about this,” he went on, “they’d probably force me to go to Morago as an apprentice.”
“Would that be so bad?”
“I want to get away. Not today, but maybe someday. If I sign on with Morago, I can’t even pretend that’ll ever happen.”
Santana nodded. “Yeah, I wonder all the time what it’d be like to live like the rest of the world does.”
They were coming up on the parking lot for the Painted Cloud Canyon trailhead. Thomas pulled in, maneuvering the truck so the tailgate was pointing at the trail. He turned the engine off and they got out.
“Have you been out here before?” Santana asked.
Thomas shook his head. “Reuben just told me to go up the canyon and I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Huh. We’re off the rez now, right?”
“Yeah, this is all National Park land.”
“I didn’t think people could live on National Park land.”
“I don’t know what the story is,” Thomas said.
Santana helped him get the ramp on and he drove the ATV off the truck. Once he had it on the ground, he checked to make sure the big propane tank was securely strapped in place. Satisfied, he turned to his sister.
“You want to come or wait here?” he asked.
“You’re kidding, right?”
He grinned. “Hop on.”
8
Sadie
Sadie found Aggie sitting on a bench outside her studio. The handful of dogs sleeping around her feet roused when Sadie and Ruby approached. Sadie froze as the pack surrounded her, sniffing and pushing their shoulders up against her legs.
“Leave her be,” Aggie said in a mild voice. “She lives here now.”
The dogs immediately lost interest in Sadie and went back to sprawling in the dirt or on the porch where Aggie was sitting.
“I thought you were painting,” Sadie said as she took a seat beside the old woman.
“I am. Right now I’m considering colours. I usually do it on my palette, but sometimes I like to sit out here and do it in my head instead.”
Sadie nodded as if she understood.
Aggie waved a hand to take in the view. “And of course having all of this for inspiration doesn’t hurt. There’s a reason our ancestors called this the Painted Lands.”
Sadie looked out across the foothills. Santo del Vado Viejo was a hazy smudge in the distance, hard to see because of the lowering sun. She didn’t see any painted lands. All she saw was dull scrub and desert.
“I’ve never spent much time outdoors,” Sadie said. “I mean, in a place like this.”
“I’ve never spent much time in the city,” Aggie told her, “so I can’t really compare the two, but I’m pretty sure I know which one I prefer.”
Sadie did too, and she knew Aggie’s choice wouldn’t be her own. If she could get some money out of that Leah Hardin woman, she’d be so out of here.
“I found out why Steve’s been living here on the down-low,” she said. “I know all about who he was.”
Aggie regarded her for a moment, then returned her attention to the view.
“Don’t you want to hear what I found out?” Sadie asked.
Aggie shook her head. “Just because you know who someone was, doesn’t make any difference in terms of who they are now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I know everything about Steve that I need to know.”
Sadie thought about how pretty much all you wanted to know about anything was available with only a few clicks of a mouse. “The world doesn’t work like that anymore,” she said.
“Mine does.”
Sadie resisted a retort. Aggie hadn’t used the tone that Reggie did, meaning one more wrong word and you’d get a smack across the head. She didn’t even think Aggie would ever smack somebody across the head. But there was a finality in her tone that made it clear the conversation was over.
Be like that, Sadie thought. If I make any money, I won’t share it with you.
“You need to understand,” Aggie finally said. “You’re underage. We sh
ouldn’t be letting you stay here. If your parents come after you, we could be in a lot of trouble.”
“My parents won’t come after me. My old man threw me out—remember?”
Aggie nodded. “It’s just...Steve did you a favour. He’s still doing you a favour, setting you up at the school and all. Don’t repay him by digging into his past. If he wants you to know about it, he’ll tell you.”
“Okay,” Sadie said. “I get it.”
The old woman stood up. “It’s time we fed the dogs and made ourselves some dinner. Do you want to help?”
“I don’t know anything about cooking.”
“Then I’ll teach you.”
Sadie bit back another retort and found a smile to put on her face. The old woman was right about some things. She did owe Aggie and Steve for helping her out. And she didn’t have anywhere to go.
She stood up as well.
“I’d like that,” she lied.
9
Thomas
The trail was broad, with plenty of room for the ATV. From the trailhead, their route took a wide series of switchbacks through the desert, straightening when it reached the canyon. The red limestone rose taller on each side of them. In only a few minutes of driving they’d become cliffs, and Santana tapped Thomas on the shoulder, pointing. Thomas nodded. He’d already seen it. A big silver trailer up on a ledge, gleaming in the light of the lowering sun. How the hell had anybody gotten something that big up there?
He killed the engine of the ATV and the two of them got off. In the sudden silence they could hear a couple of guitars playing. One played a droning rhythm that sounded like the drum beat of a powwow round dance, while the other played the chorus of voices that would normally have added to the drums.
Santana smiled. “That is so cool,” she said.
Thomas nodded, but he was more concerned about how they were going to get the tank up the narrow little path that he could see going up to the ledge. Reuben hadn’t mentioned anything like this.
He turned to his sister. “Let’s go see if somebody up there knows how we can make this delivery without killing ourselves.”
Santana nodded. “And check out the musicians.”
But when they got up onto the ledge, they discovered it was only Steve up there playing both parts on the guitar. He seemed so lost in the music that he didn’t notice their arrival, so they stood and listened until he suddenly became aware of their presence.
“Thomas,” Steve said. He looked a little startled. “What are you doing here?”
“Ohla. Bringing you your propane.”
“And you could see… Well, obviously you could see the trailer.”
“Kind of hard to miss.”
Steve nodded. “Except most people don’t see it because apparently it only exists in magic land.”
Thomas shrugged. He didn’t know Steve Cole all that well—Reuben usually dealt with him—but even with the little he knew of him, he thought the man was acting a bit strange. How could he possibly think that anybody wouldn’t notice that big Airstream impossibly set way up on this ledge? And what was ‘magic land’?
“This is my sister, Santana,” he said.
Steve lifted a hand in greeting.
“Ohla,” Santana said. “I loved what you were doing with that round dance. It sounded like a couple of guitars playing instead of just one.”
He shrugged. “It’s just an open tuning,” he said, as though that explained everything.
Thomas looked around. This was a pretty sweet spot, with a great view going down the canyon and out onto the desert floor. The overhang above the trailer would protect it from the worst of the sun, though it didn’t feel particularly hot, even where he and Santana were standing. There seemed to be a cave opening beside the trailer, but from the light coming through, he figured it must be an arch. The landscape in this area was riddled with them.
“How’d this trailer get up here?” he asked.
“Damned if I know,” Steve said. “This was Possum’s place originally, and the secret died with him.” He set the guitar aside. “I guess we need to wrestle that tank up. You want to take the empty down first?”
Thomas regarded him for a moment. Steve was fit, especially considering his age, but Thomas didn’t see how the two of them were going to get the tank up that narrow trail. He wondered how Steve and Reuben had ever managed it in the past. It had been hard enough when he and Reuben had been wrestling the tank onto the back of the ATV earlier today.
“Sure,” he finally said. “I guess.”
But before they could move, a new voice said, “I can do it.”
The newcomer was a slender woman in her mid-thirties with tanned skin and long red hair, dressed in denim cut-offs and a sleeveless white T-shirt. She was standing by the end of the trailer, undoing the hose that was connected to the old tank.
Right, Thomas thought. Sure you can. Even empty, a tank that size was a fair weight and awkward to carry.
“Yeah, I don’t think you should…” Thomas began.
His voice trailed off as the woman hefted the tank easily onto her shoulder.
“I’m Calico, by the way,” she said as she went by him.
“Ohla,” Thomas said automatically.
He and Santana watched her go down the trail, managing the tank as though it didn’t weigh much of anything.
“Show off,” Steve said.
Thomas turned to him.
“She’s a ma’inawo.” Steve said. “You know—they’re stronger than us.”
“Us?”
“You know, humans.”
“A deer woman,” Santana muttered. “You’re so screwed, Thomas.”
Steve laughed. “Don’t worry. She’s not a deer woman. She’s a foxalope.”
They regarded him with blank looks.
“Part fox, part antelope.”
“Oh-kay.”
“What’s he been telling you?” Calico asked.
Thomas felt his mouth fall open. She was already back, carrying the full tank with the same ease as she’d dealt with the empty one.
“That you’re...you’re a spirit,” Santana said.
Calico shook her head. “Just a cousin.”
She continued past them, set the tank down, and began to hook it up to the hose from the trailer. Thomas couldn’t stop staring.
“Stay for a beer?” Steve asked. His gaze went from Thomas to Santana. “I’ve also got juice, or tea.”
“A beer would be good, thanks,” Thomas said.
“Me too,” his sister added.
Steve glanced at Thomas, waiting for his nod before going into the trailer. He came back with four beer bottles and set them on the picnic table. Calico finished hooking up the new tank and joined them.
Steve lifted his bottle and clinked its neck against theirs before he took a swig.
“So you’re the reluctant Indian,” he said to Thomas, setting his bottle on the table. “We’ve never really had a chance to talk.”
Thomas flushed. “Why’d you call me that?”
“Sorry. Reuben talks about you and your itchy feet. Says you remind him of himself when he was your age, only you’re smarter.”
Thomas could have gotten upset, but there was no point. Reuben talked with everyone about everything—it was just his way.
“So, if you could go away,” Steve went on, “what would you do?”
“There’s no real point in talking about it,” Thomas said. “I’ve got my family to look out for.”
“Yeah, but if their expenses were covered and you could do whatever you wanted?”
Thomas shrugged. “I guess I never really thought past wanting to get into a truck and just start driving.”
“That’s a way to do it,” Steve said. “Very organic.”
“Why are you so interested in me?”
“I’m interested in everybody. It’s good to know about your neighbours, see if you can lend a helping hand. But mostly I’m just making conversation.”
<
br /> According to Reuben, Steve helped a lot of people out. He’d show up at a place when there was some work that needed to be done, then afterward just drift away. The more Thomas thought about it, pretty much everybody he knew had a story about Steve Cole. Even his mom.
“You think I should just up and go?” he asked.
“If you can get your family set up for while you’re gone? Sure. The way I see it, the sooner you get it out of your system, the sooner you can figure out who it is you want to be. Maybe the world outside of the rez is just what you’re looking for. Maybe it’s not. But you won’t know unless you go and find out for yourself.”
This was the day for it, wasn’t it? Designer woman in her Caddy, Reuben back at the trading post, and now Steve. Was there something in the air today?
“I’m not embarrassed about being Kikimi,” Thomas said.
“No reason you should be, and I don’t think that.”
“It’s just some of the traditions make me feel a little uncomfortable, like we’re living too much in the past.”
“But I hear you’re going to the sweat at Aggie’s,” Calico said.
Santana looked up in surprise.
“How would you know that?” Thomas asked.
Calico shrugged. “Some little cousin told me. The animals couldn’t care less, but the cousins live to gossip about anything, including you five-fingered beings.”
Santana looked down at one of her hands. She flexed her fingers and smiled.
“Reuben kind of talked me into it,” Thomas said.
“You might like it,” Steve told him.
Thomas nodded, but he wasn’t so sure. “You’re so close to the tribe,” he said. “How come you never take part in any of the traditional ceremonies?”
“The Kikimi are my friends,” Steve said, “but I’m not some white guy who thinks he can walk the Red Road just because he hangs out with you and feels all spiritual. You’re who you are, and I’m who I am, and we meet at the edges.”
The Wind in His Heart Page 6