Green Grass, Running Water

by Thomas King

  “That’s nice,” said Bursum. “More people should do things like that.”

  “It’s his birthday,” said Ishmael.

  “How about that,” said Bursum as Lionel got within range.“Lionel, you’re all wet.”

  “Something for your birthday,” said Robinson Crusoe.“Something to make you feel better.”

  “You’re making a puddle,” said Bursum.

  “You got pretty wet,” said Hawkeye.

  “Yes,” said the Lone Ranger. “You’re all wet, all right.”

  “Hi,” said Lionel, feeling the water drip off his sleeves.“Good to see you again.”

  Over Bursum’s shoulder, Lionel saw another man standing by the front door. The light was at the man’s back, and Lionel could not see his face.

  “Hello, nephew,” said Eli. “Happy birthday.”

  The day had not started out well, Lionel told himself. And things were not getting any better.

  “Is that you, Eli?” said Bursum. “Lionel, look, it’s your uncle Eli.”

  “Hi, Eli,” said Lionel.

  “Hi, Eli,” said Bursum.

  “Hi, Eli,” said the Lone Ranger and Ishmael and Robinson Crusoe and Hawkeye.

  “Is it time to sing ‘Happy Birthday’?” says Coyote.

  “Not yet,” said the Lone Ranger.

  “Where’s the cake and the ice cream?” says Coyote.

  “Maybe that comes later,” said Ishmael.

  “Nothing like having family around on your birthday,” said Bursum.

  Lionel shifted from one foot to the other. He was beginning to feel chilled. “So,” he said to the four Indians, “how have you been?”

  “Oh,” said the Lone Ranger, “just fine. How about you?”

  “I’ve been fine, too,” said Lionel. “This is my uncle, Eli.”

  “Real good to meet you,” said Ishmael, and Eli and the four Indians shook hands.

  Eli shook hands with Bursum. “How’s it going, Bill?”

  “You know,” said Bursum. “Same as always.”

  “How’s the lot?”

  “You know. Same as always.”

  Lionel felt as though he was anchored in one spot, and that if he didn’t do something soon, he was going to have to stand there all day and listen to Eli and Bursum and the old Indians exchange greetings.

  “Somebody ask me how I am,” says Coyote. “Go ahead, ask me.”

  “Uncles are pretty important,” said the Lone Ranger. “I hope you listen to your uncle.”

  “You bet,” said Lionel. “All the time.”

  “I’m fine,” says Coyote. “That’s how I am.”

  “I thought I’d look around for a radio for the cabin,” said Eli. “You got any good radios?”

  “We got the best,” said Bursum. “Lionel, show your uncle the radios. I’m going to show your other relations how The Map works.”

  “Of course, I’m also wet,” says Coyote. “Being wet is not so fine.”

  “Ah, they’re not really relations,” said Lionel.

  “Everyone’s related, grandson,” said the Lone Ranger.

  “That’s right,” said Bursum. “That’s the way things are with Indians.”

  On second thought, Lionel decided that he didn’t mind standing there, dripping water on the floor. He had the disturbing feeling that if he moved, things would begin to unravel.

  “Don’t need anything really expensive,” said Eli. “Just something that works good.”

  Bursum was already moving toward The Map with the old Indians in tow. It was, Lionel had to admit, pretty impressive. All those televisions piled on top of each other, all those televisions arranged in particular shapes, in particular spaces. It was more than advertising, Bursum had told him. It was a concept, a concept that lay at the heart of business and Western civilization. He had said some other things, but Lionel had forgotten exactly what they were.

  Lionel squeaked over to the radio display.

  “How’s the cabin, uncle?”

  “It’s okay,” said Eli. “You should come out and visit. Don’t get much company.”

  “Sure,” said Lionel. “Here’s a nice Sony. It’ll pull in the local stations. Should get CBC too.”

  “Norma tells me you’re thinking about going back to school.”

  Lionel turned the radio on and adjusted the antenna.“That’s right. I figure it’s time to finish the education.”

  “Got any ideas?”

  “Maybe law. Probably try a few things out.”

  “Lots of ways to live a life.”

  Lionel put the Sony back and brought out a larger Panasonic.

  “When I was young,” said Eli, “I couldn’t wait to get off the reserve.”

  “I figure it’s time I made some moves.”

  “Of course,” said Eli, “lots of people stayed, too.”

  “Figure in a few days that I’ll tell Bill that I’m going to be resigning soon. Give him some notice, you know.”

  “Norma’s still here. Camelot’s still here. Lots of people are still here.”

  “Sure,” said Lionel, flipping the switches on the Panasonic.“You came back.”

  Eli laughed and shook his head. “You’re right. After all that time, I came back.”

  “I came back, too,” says Coyote. “You guys know where a phone is? I have to make a call.”

  “What do you think?” said Lionel.

  “About coming back?”

  “No, about the radio,” said Lionel.

  “No, no, no,” says Coyote. “About the phone.”

  Bursum lined the old Indians up in front of The Map. He stood off to one side and waved the remote in a circle and then hit the button.

  “Ah,” said the Lone Ranger as the screens came to life.“That’s very beautiful.”

  “Yes,” said Ishmael. “Everything is so silver.”

  “And bright,” said Hawkeye. “Everything is nice and bright.”

  “Boy,” said Robinson Crusoe, “can you do that again?”

  “Sure,” said Bursum, and he turned The Map off and then on again several times.

  “That’s amazing,” said the Lone Ranger. “What else does it do?”

  Coyote dials the number several times. Busy. So that Coyote dials that number again.

  “Hello,” I says. “First Nations’ Pizza.”

  “Hello, Friday,” says Coyote. “Hee-hee, hee-hee.”

  “Hello, Coyote,” I says.

  “Don’t hello me,” says Coyote. “What’s happening with Thought Woman?”

  “Who?” I says.

  “Is she still floating around?”

  “Who?” I says.

  “Stop that,” says Coyote. “It’s mean stuff like that that makes this world so silly.”

  “This one,” said Lionel, “is the best we carry. On a good night you can hear New Zealand with this one.”

  “Don’t know that I want to hear New Zealand,” said Eli.“Norma says you’re coming out to the Sun Dance.”

  “You don’t have to listen to New Zealand. You can listen to France.”

  “I thought maybe I’d go this year. Thought you might like to come along.”

  “It’s fairly expensive. It just depends on what you want.”

  “What I want,” says Coyote, “is a party.”

  “Thought we could have lunch. Maybe say hello to Latisha,” said Eli.

  “Sure,” said Lionel, holding up the Sony and the Panasonic.“What do you think?”

  “I think we should start the party,” says Coyote.

  “Probably the little one,” said Eli. “It’s not as large a world as people think.”

  Lionel smiled and put the radios back in the case. As he did, the front door swung open and Charlie Looking Bear came in. The first thing that Lionel noticed about Charlie was that he was dry.

  “Lionel,” said Charlie.

  “Charlie,” said Lionel.<
br />
  “Bill,” said Charlie.

  “Charlie,” said Bill.

  “Hello, Charlie,” said Eli.

  “Eli,” said Charlie.

  “Hello, Charlie,” said the Lone Ranger. “Good to see you again.”

  Charlie looked at the Lone Ranger, Ishmael, Robinson Crusoe, and Hawkeye and smiled. “Sure,” he said.

  “Thought you were in Edmonton,” said Lionel.

  “You got that right,” said Charlie, looking back at the old Indians. “Who are they?”

  Lionel looked at the old Indians and then he looked at Charlie. “Beats me,” he said, and he put Eli’s radio in a bag.

  “They look familiar,” said Eli. “Maybe they’re from Brocket.”

  “Hello, Charlie,” says Coyote.

  “Lionel,” shouted Bursum, “when you’re done with Eli, show Charlie that new television system.”

  “How’s life in the cabin?” said Charlie, pulling the radio out of the bag and looking at it.

  “Good enough,” said Eli. “How you doing up in Edmonton?”

  “Good enough,” said Charlie. “You should get that small Sanyo. It’ll catch stations as well as the Sony and it’s cheaper.”

  “That so?” said Eli.

  “Hey, cousin,” said Charlie, “we going to have a party or what?”

  “Now you’re talking,” says Coyote. “Now you’re talking.”

  “This,” said Bursum, holding up the tape as if it had some significance, “is the best Western ever made.”

  “Yes,” said the Lone Ranger. “It’s our favorite, too.”

  “John Wayne, Richard Widmark,” said Bursum.

  “Yes,” said Hawkeye. “All our favorites.”

  Bursum put the tape into the VCR and hit the play button.“Watch this,” he said, and settled against the wall. “Watch this.”

  “A movie!” says Coyote. “I love movies.”

  “Hey, Bill,” said Charlie. “What’s on?”

  Come on,” said Bursum. “You’ll love it.”

  “Come and join us, grandson,” said the Lone Ranger.“Bring your uncle and your cousin.”

  “Maybe we should give Lionel his birthday present before we start,” said Hawkeye.

  “That’s a good idea,” said Ishmael.

  “Yes,” said Robinson Crusoe. “We don’t want to forget that.”

  “Okay,” said Bursum, and he pushed the pause button.“But let’s be quick. This is a great movie.”

  “Here, grandson,” said the Lone Ranger.

  Lionel took the package reluctantly and unwrapped it.

  “Look at that,” said Bursum. “That’s a really nice gift.”

  “Let me see,” says Coyote. “Let me see.”

  Lionel held it up. It was a jacket. A leather jacket. With leather fringe. Lionel slipped on one arm and was surprised how soft and warm the jacket felt.

  “Fits real good,” said Eli.

  “Looks old,” said Bursum. “It’s got a couple of holes here in the back, but nothing serious.”

  “That’s true,” said the Lone Ranger. “It’s pretty old.”

  “But these things never wear out,” said Ishmael.

  “Yes,” said Hawkeye. “You can wear them forever.”

  “And they’re always in style,” said Robinson Crusoe.

  “We got to sing ‘Happy Birthday,’” says Coyote. “We can’t have a party without singing ‘Happy Birthday.’”

  “I guess you’re right, Coyote,” said the Lone Ranger. “We better sing ‘Happy Birthday.’’’

  “Sure,” said Charlie, trying to keep from smiling. “Let’s sing.”

  “Make it quick,” said Bursum, fiddling with the remote.

  “Happy birthday, nephew,” said Eli. “You know, you look a little like John Wayne.”

  Alberta stood at the desk and waited for the officer to return. She had never been inside a police station, had seen them only on television. The real thing was not as depressing as she would have supposed. It looked rather like an insurance office or maybe a radio station, the kind of place you would expect to find lawyers and politicians. It was the locks and the heavy glass and the uniforms that gave it away.

  “Late model Nissan, that right?”

  “That’s right,” Alberta told the officer. “It was parked in the Blossom Lodge parking lot.”

  “And it was locked?”

  “I always lock it.”

  “Well, I’ve got everything I need. If we get anything, we’ll leave a message for you at the Lodge.”

  “I really need my car.”

  “I know what you mean,” the officer said. “If I lost mine, my kids would shoot me.”

  “I mean, I can’t believe anyone would steal my car.”

  The officer smiled. “Believe it, honey,” she said. “The bastards will steal anything.”

  * * *

  For a time, Amos had worked for the tribal police. Missing cars on the reserve were a common enough occurrence. Generally, the cars had been borrowed by a family member or a friend or a relative. And, generally, they made their way home. Amos’s job, among others, was to hasten their return, to soothe hard feelings, and to prevent trouble.

  He had been on the job for six months when his brother-in-law lost a Ford pickup truck. Milford had parked it in front of Super Sam’s in Blossom and had gone in to pick up a few groceries. When he came out, the truck was gone. At first he thought someone was playing a trick on him, or that one of his sons or daughters had taken the truck. Late that afternoon, he caught a ride back to the reserve, half expecting to see the truck parked in his yard. It wasn’t there, and none of his children had seen it.

  After the second week, Milford called Amos.

  “Hell, Amos,” Milford said, “the truck is eight years old. Shocks are shot, and the steering box needs work.”

  “You check with all your relations?”

  “Whoever took it could have done a whole hell of a lot better.”

  “It’ll probably show up. I’ll ask around.”

  “What am I going to do without my truck?”

  The truck did show up. But not where anyone would have expected it. Milford was driving to bingo with his wife, Bernice, when he saw the truck parked at Peterson Chevrolet. There were little flags hanging from the antenna and across the windshield was painted “Runs Good.”

  Milford had Bernice stop the car so he could get out and take a closer look.

  “Damn,” he said to Bernice. “It’s my truck all right.”

  “We’re going to be late for bingo, Milford.”

  “They’re trying to sell my truck.”

  “Tell Amos. He’ll take care of it.”

  “It’s not Amos’s problem.”

  The next day, Alberta’s mother got a call from Bernice to ask her if she could ask Amos to come down to the jail in Blossom and talk to Milford.

  “He found his truck,” Bernice told Ada.

  “What happened?”

  “Just tell Amos he found his truck.”

  Alberta stood under the overhang of the police station and watched the rain fall. The weekend had turned into a disaster, and in spite of her best efforts, she found herself blaming Lionel. Lionel’s birthday. If it hadn’t been for his birthday, she would be in Calgary curled up on the sofa with a book, safe and warm. Instead, she was in Blossom in the rain without her car. Alberta leaned against the wall and waited.

  “Hey, you look lost.”

  It was the police officer who had just finished helping her.“Look, my name’s Connie. You’re not local, right?”

  “Calgary.”

  “I’m really sorry about your car.” Connie looked at the rain and then back at Alberta. “You can’t stand here all day. How about I give you a ride back to the Lodge? It’s no trouble.”

  Alberta started to shake her head, but Connie patted her shoulder. “Yeah, I know. It’s a pain in the ass. You
got any kids?”

  By the time Amos got to the jail, Milford was stretched out on a cot, sound asleep.

  “Crazy bugger was trying to steal a truck right off of Peterson’s lot,” the officer told Amos.

  “It’s his truck,” said Amos. “It was stolen a couple of months back.”

  “He ever file a report with us?”

  “Nope. He filed it with the tribal police.”

  “Hell,” said the officer. “You know that doesn’t count.”

  Milford’s eyes were red and there was a nasty bruise on the side of his face.

  “They got my truck at Peterson’s. I tried to tell them it was mine, but they had a bill of sale with my name on it. I told them someone stole the truck but they just kept waving that bill of sale at me.”

  “They say where they got the truck?”

  “They say they got it from me. But that’s a damn lie.”

  “I’ll see about getting you out.”

  “I want my truck back, Amos.”

  “I figured that.”

  “It’s one thing for family to take it.”

  “That’s true.”

  “They aren’t family.”

  “Family’s a great thing,” said Connie as she drove down Fourth. “I got four kids. You believe that?”

  “You look great,” said Alberta.

  “Had them when I was young. Doesn’t tear you up as much if you have them when you’re young. But then I was dumb, too.”

  “I’m thinking about having a child.”

  “You married?”

  “No.”

  “No law says you got to do that. Man’s a nice thing to have around but so’s a dishwasher. I take it you’re progressive.”

  “What?”

  “You know, women’s libber.” Connie turned her head and winked. “It’s okay. So am I.”

  Alberta started to laugh, and then she began to cry.

  “Whoa,” said Connie, and she guided the car into the Lodge parking lot. “We better talk about this.”

  Fred Peterson was all smiles when Amos came into his office.

  “Afternoon,” said Fred. “Haven’t seen you in quite a while.”

  “Never been in,” said Amos, and he put his tribal police badge on the edge of Peterson’s desk.

  Peterson looked at the badge, sucked his mouth into a smile, and picked at the side of his nose. “Didn’t I sell you a Camaro four, five years back?”

  “Must have been my twin.”