* * *
Big Mom lit the sage, and Chess, Checkers, and Thomas bathed themselves in the smoke. They pulled the smoke through their hair, over their legs and arms, into their open mouths.
"Who do you want to pray for?" Big Mom asked.
"Everybody."
Big Mom picked up a 45 record with her huge hands and gently placed it on the turntable. She placed needle to vinyl, and they all waited together for the music.
* * *
Spokane Tribal Chairman David WalksAlong sat in his office, thinking about his nephew Michael White Hawk, when Victor came looking for a job. His nephew had been getting progressively worse, going from wandering around the football field in confused circles to drinking Sterno with the Android Brothers behind the Trading Post. All those half-crazy Sterno drunks talked some kind of gibberish to each other that only they understood. WalksAlong was wondering if he should Just shoot his nephew in the head and end his misery, just like that Junior Polatkin ended his own misery.
"What the fuck do you want?" WalksAlong asked Victor when he walked into the office, pushing open that warped door. Victor'd worked up all the courage in the world to come to Walks-Along.
"They said you're the one who decides who gets to work. I want a job," Victor said."Please."
"Look what you did to the reservation, and you want me to give you a job?"
"I'm sorry about your nephew," Victor said, but he wanted to tell WalksAlong that his nephew never had a chance.
"Well," WalksAlong said, "what the hell can you do?"
Victor handed him a piece of paper.
"What the hell is this?" WalksAlong asked.
"It's my résumé."
"Your résumé?" WalksAlong asked, in complete disbelief.
"What do you think this is, Wall Street?"
"I thought this was the way it worked," Victor said. "Enit?"
WalksAlong read the resumé, crumpled it up, and threw it at Victor.
"Get the fuck out of here," WalksAlong said.
Victor picked his résumé off the floor, smoothed it out, then folded it neatly into a small square, and tucked it into his pocket. His hands were shaking.
"Listen," Victor said, his voice breaking."I thought this was the way it worked."
WalksAlong turned his back. Victor tried to think of something to say, some words that would change all of this.
"I want to drive the water truck," Victor said."Just like Junior used to. I want to be like Junior. It was his last wish."
WalksAlong didn't respond, and Victor left the office, feeling something slip inside him. He stole five dollars from Walks-Along's secretary's purse and bought a six-pack of cheap beer at the Trading Post.
"Fuck it, I can do it, too," Victor whispered to himself and opened the first can. That little explosion of the beer can opening sounded exactly like a smaller, slower version of the explosion that Junior's rifle made on the water tower.
* * *
From The Wellpinit Rawhide Press:
Father Arnold Leads Catholics to Championship
Father Arnold scored 33 points Tuesday night, including the game-winning free throws with no time left on the clock, to lead the Catholic Church to a thrilling come-from-behind 111-110 win over the Assembly of God in the championship game of the Spokane Indian Christian Basketball Tournament.
"I wasn't sure those free throws were going in," Father Arnold said, "but I sure prayed for them. Who knows? Maybe God was listening this time."
Randy Peone, minister of the Assembly of God, had no official comment about the game, but was reported to have said that Father Arnold had probably spent more time away from the church than with his church, and that explained all the time he had to
practice.
"He just didn't play like a Catholic," one spectator said. "Especially not like a Catholic priest."
"Hey," responded Bessie, the oldest Catholic on the reservation, "what the hell do any of you know about being Catholic? You have no idea how hard it is."
* * *
A few days after Junior's burial, while Chess and Checkers were taking a sweat with Big Mom, Thomas Builds-the-Fire heard a scratching on his roof. At first, he wondered which ghost had come to haunt him. But then he heard a knock on the back door.
"Who is it?" Thomas asked. He was still worried about Michael White Hawk.
"Package," the voice said.
Thomas opened the door Just a bit and saw the FedEx guy standing on the back porch, with rappelling gear.
"Jeez," Thomas said."It's Just you."
"Mr. Builds-the-Fire, I presume," said the FedEx guy.
"You know who I am."
"We can never be too sure. Sign here."
Thomas signed the form. The FedEx guy handed him a package and then climbed back onto the roof and scampered away. Thomas closed the door, took the package inside, and set it on the kitchen table. It was a small package, barely weighed anything at all. The return address said Cavalry Records. He didn't want to open it and almost threw it in the garbage, but curiosity got the best of him. Inside, there was just a letter and a cassette tape.
Dear Coyote Springs,
We just heard about Junior, and we wanted to tell you how sorry we are. We'll miss him. Things are going well for us. We signed a deal with Cavalry Records, thanks to your help, and we're currently working on our debut CD, which will be out next summer. We recorded our first song the other day, and there's a copy on the tape enclosed.
We both think that Junior is in a better place now.
Sincerely,
Betty and Veronica
Thomas read the letter over a few times. He held the cassette tape in his hands. He didn't know what to do and was shocked that Betty and Veronica had signed with Cavalry Records. Should he throw that cassette away and never listen to it? That wouldn't do any good, because the CD would be all over the place next summer. He'd hear it played on the radio. Betty and Veronica would have a Platinum Album, a number one hit, and videos on MTV. Thomas wanted to protect Chess and Checkers from the music on this cassette tape. He held it in his hands for a while, studied its design, then walked over to the tape player he'd hidden away, dropped the cassette into place, and hit the play button. Thomas heard a vaguely Indian drum, then a cedar flute, and a warrior's trill, all the standard Indian soundtrack stuff. Then Betty's and Veronica's beautiful voices joined the mix.
Can you hear the eagle crying?
Can you hear the eagle crying?
I look to the four directions
And try to find some connection
With Mother Earth, Mother Earth
I offer you tobacco and sweetgrass
I offer you tobacco and sweetgrass
I pray to the four directions
And try to find some connection
With Father Sky, Father Sky
And my hair is blonde
But I'm Indian in my bones
And my skin is white
But I'm Indian in my bones
And it don't matter who you are
You can be Indian in your bones
Don't listen to what they say
You can be Indian in your bones
Can you hear the buffalo dying?
Can you hear the buffalo dying?
I look to the four directions
And try to make the corrections
For Mother Earth, Mother Earth
I'Il smoke the pipe with you
I'll smoke the pipe with you
I pray to the four directions
And try to make the corrections
For Father Sky, Father Sky
And your hair is blonde
But you're Indian in your bones
And your skin is white
But you're Indian in your bones
And it don't matter who I am
I am Indian in my bones
I don't listen to what they say
I am Indian in my bones `
Thomas hit the eject button, threw the cassette
on the floor, and stomped on it. He pulled the tape ribbon from its casing until it spread over the kitchen like pasta. Using a dull knife, he sliced the tape ribbon into pieces. Then he ran around his house, grabbing photos and souvenirs, afraid that somebody was going to steal them next. He had photographs of his mother and father, a Disneyland cup even though he'd never been there, a few letters and cards. He gathered them all into a pile on the kitchen table and waited.
* * *
Victor Joseph
Wellpinit, WA 9904O
Jobs I had before.
Leed Gitar Player Coyote Springs
Viceprezidant Senior Class Wellpinit High School.
Mowd lawns and shuveled snow.
Edgeucation.
Graguatid Wellpinit High School 1978.
Watched Jepordee a hole bunch on tv.
Skills.
Drive water truck & rode with best friend Junior alot.
Am strong & fast.
Refrences.
Thomas Buildsthefire & Big Mom.
* * *
Coyote Springs was gone. Thomas, Chess, and Checkers packed all their stuff into the blue van and left Coyote Springs behind in the house. Victor didn't want anything to do with Coyote Springs, either. He just wandered around the reservation with his three dogs. He hadn't taken a shower in a week. Everybody figured he'd be drinking Sterno before too long. They all worried about the dogs.
*
"We're leaving," Thomas had said to Victor earlier that morning.
"For where?"
"Spokane."
"When you coming back?"
"We aren't," said Thomas and then reluctantly asked if Victor wanted to come along. He shook his head and walked away. Thomas stood in the driveway, studying his HUD house, the familiar angles and weathered wood. It had never been painted. Thomas closed his eyes and saw his mother and father standing on the front porch, waving. When he opened his eyes, Chess was standing beside him.
"Are you going to say goodbye to your dad?" Chess asked.
"I don't even know where he is," Thomas said. "Besides, he's got Indian father radar. He'll show up at our place in Spokane, knocking on the door at three in the morning."
"Really?" Chess asked, impressed and not altogether happy about it.
"Yeah, he's amazing that way."
"Well, I guess I'll go get Checkers."
Chess walked into the house, found Checkers in a back bedroom, and both soon came out.
"Do you want some time alone?" Chess asked Thomas.
Thomas looked at his house.
"No," he said, "it's time to go."
The trio climbed into the blue van. Thomas drove. Chess sat in the front passenger seat, and Checkers sat in the back. Thomas put the car into drive, and they pulled away from his house. There was a tightness in Thomas's chest that he could not explain; he took a deep breath. The blue van rolled down the reservation road.
"Look," Chess said and pointed. Big Mom was standing on the roadside with a big thumb sticking up. Thomas pulled up beside her. Checkers rolled down her window.
"Where you headed, sweetheart?" Checkers asked Big Mom.
"Over to that feast at the Longhouse," Big Mom said. "You should come with me."
"Nah," Thomas said."We'll give you a ride over there. But those people don't want us around."
"Well," Big Mom said as she climbed into the van."I think you should eat before you go."
"Those people will eat us alive," Checkers said in the back.
"Where's Robert Johnson?°' Thomas asked.
"Oh," Big Mom said, "he's up at the house, I guess. He's getting better every day. He'll probably be leaving us soon."
"That's good," Chess said.
"I suppose," Big Mom said.
They were quiet until they arrived at the Longhouse. There were a few dozen reservation cars parked at random angles.
"Jeez," Checkers said."The whole Spokane Tribe must be here."
"There are quite a few," Big Mom said."Are you sure you don't want to eat? You can't; leave on an empty stomach. It's bad luck to travel on an empty stomach."
"Where did you hear that?" Thomas asked.
"I just made it up."
"I don't know," said Checkers, obviously frightened.
"They might try to hurt us."
"I won't let them hurt you," Big Mom said. "Hey, do you have any money?"
"A little, " Thomas said.
"Well," Big Mom said, "I have a few bucks I've saved up. Here. And maybe we can take up a collection inside."
"They ain't going to give us any money," Chess said.
"Maybe not," Big Mom said, "but at least you can get some food."
Thomas's stomach growled loudly.
"I guess Thomas has made up his mind," Chess said.
"Let's go, then," Big Mom said and led Chess, Checkers, and Thomas toward the Longhouse. They could hear laughter and loud conversation inside, but everybody fell into silence when they walked in. All the Spokane Indians stared at Big Mom and her co-dependents. Big Mom waved, and the crowd gradually resumed their conversations.
"Jeez," Chess said."I thought they were going to scalp us."
Chess, Checkers, and Thomas sat at a table with Big Mom. They all waited for the feast to officially begin. But the term feast was a holdover from a more prosperous and traditional time, a term used before the Indians were forced onto the reservations. There was never a whole lot of food, Just a few stringy pieces of deer meat, a huge vat of mashed potatoes, Pepsi, and fry bread. But the fry bread made all the difference. A good piece of fry bread turned any meal into a feast. Everybody sat at the tables and waited for the cooks to come out with the meal, the fry bread. They waited and waited. Finally, when there was no sign of the meal, Big Mom stood and walked into the kitchen.
"What's taking so long?" Big Mom asked the head cook.
"There's not enough fry bread," said the head cook.
"You're kidding. How much do we have?"
"We have a hundred pieces of bread and two hundred Indians out there waiting to eat."
"Do we have enough venison and potatoes?" Big Mom asked.
"Yeah."
"How much Pepsi do we have?" Big Mom asked.
"Enough."
"Well, you take the deer, potatoes, and Pepsi out there. I'Il bring the fry bread."
"But there's not enough bread, " the head cook said.
"There'll be a fry bread riot. And you remember what happened during the last fry bread riot."
Big Mom remembered.
"Just serve the meal," Big Mom said.
The head cook and her helpers served the Pepsi and the rest of the meal, but that only made the Indians more aware of their fry bread deficiency.
"Fry bread, fry bread, " chanted the mob.
Chess and Thomas looked at each other; Checkers and Chess looked at each other. They were ready to run.
"It's going to be a fry bread riot," Thomas whispered.
Just as the feast was about to erupt into a full-fledged riot, Big Mom walked out of the kitchen with a huge bowl of fry bread. The crowd, faithful and unfaithful alike, cheered wildly.
"Listen," Big Mom said after the crowd had quieted a little."There's not enough fry bread."
Indians angrily rose to their feet.
"What are you going to do about it?"
"There are only one hundred pieces of fry bread," Big Mom said, "and there are two hundred of us. Something needs to be done."
The crowd milled around, stared each other down, picked out the opponent they would fight for their piece of fry bread. More than a few people had planned on jumping the surviving members of the band. Thomas, Chess, and Checkers ducked under their table.
"But there is a way, " Big Mom said. "I can feed you all."
"How?" asked somebody.
Thomas, Chess, and Checkers peered from under the table, listening for the answer.
"By ancient Indian secrets, " Big Mom said.
"Bullshit!"
Big Mom held that fry bread tightly in her huge hands and then tore it into halves.
"There, " Big Mom said."That is how I will feed you all."
The crowd cheered, surging forward to grab the fry bread. There was a complete feast after all.
"Big Mom, " Thomas asked later as they were eating, "how did you do that? What is your secret?"
Big Mom smiled deeply.
"Mathematics," Big Mom said.
*
Robert Johnson was walking toward the Longhouse when he saw the-man-who-was-probably-Lakota sitting on a rock beside the road.
"Ya-hey," Robert Johnson called out. He was learning.
"Ya-hey,' ' answered the-man-who-was-probably-Lakota.
"Where you headed?"
"Over to the feast. I'm getting hungry."
"Enit? I guess I'll come with you."
Johnson and the old man walked toward the Longhouse. They didn't say much. Johnson carried his cedar harmonica, and the old man carried a hand drum. They arrived at the Longhouse Just as Big Mom tore the fry bread into halves.
"Ya-hey," Thomas said when Johnson and the old man walked into the Longhouse."Look who it is."
"Thomas," Johnson said as he sat at the table, "it's good to see you."
"You look great," Thomas said, could scarcely believe this was the same man he had met at the crossroads all that time ago.
"Big Mom's been good for me," Johnson said as a means of explaining his appearance."She even made me this ribbon shirt."
Johnson was wearing a traditional Indian ribbon shirt, made of highly traditional silk and polyester.
"So, what are you doing here?" Thomas asked. "Do you want to leave with us?"
Johnson looked up at the-man-who-was-probably-Lakota, looked to Big Mom.
"I'm goin' to stay here," Johnson said."On the reservation. I think I jus' might belong here. I think there's been a place waitin' at this Tribe's tribal for me. I think this Tribe's been waitin' for me for a long time. I'm goin' to stay right here."
Reservation Blues - Alexie Sherman Page 25