by Peggy Webb
“You don't have to be Apache, Jo. Be yourself.”
“Thank you, Colter.” Standing up, she touched his face. “You were beautiful out there. I'm so proud of you.”
“A man likes to impress his chosen woman.”
“I'm impressed.” She linked her arm through his. “These games are interesting. What's next?”
“A stave game for the women, hoop and pole for the men.”
“I'd much prefer to play hoop and pole with you.”
“These are ancient games, Jo Beth. On these game days we still do everything in the traditional way in order to keep our culture alive. Women are not permitted to play hoop and pole.”
“Then I’ll watch and cheer you on.”
“I'm sorry. That's impossible.”
“Why?”
“It is taboo.”
She started to protest, then changed her mind. Colter traced one hand down her cheek.
“Let's skip the games a while, Jo Beth. We’ll walk down to my brother's store and get ice cream.”
He nodded toward the building on the west side of the grassy square.
“No, Colter. That would be running away, and that's not fair to you.”
“Running away from what, Jo? The games? We’ll hardly be missed, and I certainly won't miss them.”
“It's not the games. It's this Apache tradition. You came back to your people to find something, and I can't take you away from that.”
“You are very wise, my Yellow Bird.”
“If I'm so wise, why don't you trust me?”
“I do.”
“Then please talk to me.”
He smiled. 'There's a good bawdy myth I could tell you, or would you prefer some erotic Apache poetry?”
“Be serious, Colter. You know what I'm talking about. Confide in me.”
He gazed down at her, but he wasn't seeing or hearing a lively blond woman; he was looking inward, seeing and hearing a dying old man, his face as white as the pillow he lay upon, his voice raspy. Promise me, Gray Wolf. Promise me....
He shook his head to rid himself of the voice.
“It's a journey of the soul, Jo. I have to make it alone.”
She felt the cold winds of doubt and fear blow over her. In the desert their love had been perfect. Isolated from the real world they had laughed and loved and lived in almost perfect understanding and harmony. But here in these distant and forbidding mountains, Colter was pulling away from her, disappearing into a silence that she couldn't penetrate, an isolation she couldn't understand.
“Go play your game, Colter.” She pulled away from him and whistled to her dog.
“Jo...” Colter lifted his hand in the gesture that was so familiar, the entreaty that she had never ignored, never until today.
“Don't say it. Don't say come, because I'm too weak to refuse you.”
He hesitated, torn between wanting to stay and clear up the misunderstanding with her and wanting to go and enter once more into the games of his people.
“I'll go... for now.” He traced the curve of her lips with one finger. “Wait for me, Jo. Please.” Then he turned and walked away.
Jo Beth watched until he had disappeared around the corner of the village's only gas station, an aging frame building that tilted heavily to one side and looked as if a stiff wind would topple it over. Then she searched the crowd for Colter's mother.
Little Deer saw her oldest son heading for the ball field where hoop and pole would be played, leaving behind the fair-skinned woman he'd brought to the White Mountains. At first she was filled with glee, and then she saw the dejected slump of the woman's shoulders.
She closed her eyes and pretended not to see, but she remembered the camera and how much she liked having her picture made. More than that, she remembered how fiercely her son had protected the woman.
She turned to her friend, Bessie Running Water. “Gray Wolf has left his friend alone.”
“You should be glad. Didn't you tell me she is a used woman?”
Little Deer hesitated. She had heard the noises in the night—Gray Wolf coming to fetch the woman. She didn't know why she had ever told such a thing to Bessie Running Water, the biggest mouth in the village. It was one thing to talk about a used woman, but it was another thing to talk about her son.
“My son is perfect. He would never fool with a used woman.”
“You told me she was used.”
“You need a hearing aid, Bessie Running Water. I told you she was a news woman. She makes pictures for magazines.”
“She makes pictures?” Bessie plumped up her hair and sucked in her fat stomach. “Do you think she might make a picture of me?”
“No. I'm the one who poses for her. Go play the stave game. I must go to the woman Gray Wolf goes about with.”
Little Deer left the table where lunch was being prepared and went to Jo Beth.
“I saw you standing alone.”
Jo Beth smiled. “I was looking for you.”
“Did you want to make another picture? You could drive us home to get the camera.”
“Do you mind if we wait until tonight? I'd like to stay here and wait for Colter. When we go home to dress for the dance, I’ll get my camera.”
“Then come with me. I will show you the village.”
Jo Beth and Little Deer walked down the cracked sidewalks toward her youngest son's general store. On the way she pointed out the coffee shop, the gas station, and the dentist's office, giving a running commentary on each. She was a good historian, and Jo Beth enjoyed the tour.
“What is that building over there, Mrs. Gray?”
“The beauty shop. Bessie Running Water's daughter runs it. It took us ten years to convince her to share her beauty secrets.”
“That's nice. But I'm talking about the unfinished building next to it.”
“That's Gray Wolf’s clinic.”
“His clinic?”
Jo Beth stood in amazement, looking at the concrete slab and the steel girders grown over with vines.
“He has not told you of this clinic?”
“No. I'd like to know its history.”
“It is for Gray Wolf to say.”
Little Deer clamped her mouth shut, and Jo Beth faced another wall of silence. She was disturbed but not defeated. She put her hand on Little Deer's arm.
“I'm trying to understand your son, Mrs. Gray. I love him.”
Little Deer studied Jo Beth's face, and suddenly she saw the truth. This woman truly loved her son... and he loved her.
True love was so rare that it had to be guarded and protected. And if it broke her heart for a little while that her oldest son's wife would be a pale woman with yellow hair, she'd get over it when the babies started coming, for she knew that Gray Wolf was a powerful diyin. All the babies would look like him.
Little Deer smiled and covered the pale hand with her own. “I believe you do, my child. And you may call me Little Deer.”
Jo Beth was relieved and happy over Little Deer's sign of acceptance.
“Little Deer, about this clinic—” Zar's frantic barking interrupted Jo Beth. “Where is my dog?” She looked around for Zar, and the barking sounded again from the direction Colter had gone. “It's over there. He must have followed Colter.”
She sprinted off.
“Come back,” Little Deer called. “Women are taboo.”
She kept on running. She passed the row of stores, rounded the dilapidated service station, and came suddenly upon a small, grassy ball field. It was in chaos. Men in fringed buckskins were running this way and that, yelling and chasing after a gleeful golden retriever who had stolen the hoop. They were no match for Zar. He bounded ahead of them. Occasionally he dropped his prize, waved his tail in the air, and gave his you-can't-catch-me bark.
Jo Beth laughed and joined the chase. “Zar,” she called. “Drop it, boy. You're ruining the game.”
Twenty-five grown men came to a dead halt. Twenty-five pairs of eyes stared at her. Jo Beth k
ept running toward her mischievous dog. Colter watched, aware of the consequences, torn between going after Jo Beth and staying to placate his friends.
Suddenly the astonished hoop-and-pole players went into action, milling and taking.
“It's a woman,” someone yelled.
“Taboo! Taboo!”
“It's Gray Wolf’s woman.”
“Go after her.”
Colter's decision was made. He held up one hand. “Stop.” He didn't speak loudly; he didn't have to.
Standing head and shoulders taller than the rest of them and with a face as fierce as the animal he'd been named for, he commanded their attention.
“She is my woman. No one touches her.”
Still laughing, Jo Beth had reached Zar. When she heard Colter's voice, her laughter died. Too late, she realized that she had violated a sacred rule.
With one hand on Zar's collar, she turned to watch the group of men. Some of them were having a hard time keeping from laughing, but many of them, particularly the older ones, were obviously disturbed. And Colter was facing them.
A stocky man of about thirty stepped forward. “You know the rules, Gray Wolf.”
“Yes. I know the rules. But Jo Beth does not. Neither does her dog. How do you expect a twentieth-century golden retriever to know he's a descendant of the legendary coyote?” He smiled at them.
His attempt to use humor to lighten the situation worked. Several men chuckled. One agreed with him.
“Gray Wolf is right. Anyhow, it's only a game. An old game, as a matter of fact. I'd much rather be home watching baseball on TV.”
But others were not so easily satisfied.
“If all our women and their dogs violated the rules, there would be no tradition.”
“Tradition is a valuable part of our culture and should be preserved,” Colter said, “but not at the expense of common sense and common courtesy.”
He left the group and walked toward Jo Beth. When he reached her, he put his arm around her shoulders.
“I didn't mean to cause trouble, Colter.”
“You didn't. As a matter of fact, this game hasn't been so much fun since Bessie Running Water's cat crossed the field and got his tail caught in the hoop.” He chuckled. “You should have seen the look on Big Elk's face when Zar stole the hoop. I thought the whole thing was funny.”
“You're just saying that to make me feel better.”
“Does it?”
“Yes.” She laughed.
'That's what I love to hear—the sound of your laughter.” He tipped her face up with one finger. “Do you want to stay and watch the game?”
“You'd do that? After defending me, don't you think flaunting me would be too much?”
“On second thought, it might give some of the younger men ideas.” He smiled at her. “And I don't want any other man having ideas about you.”
“Because I am your woman?” she asked lightly.
“Yes. Because you are my woman.”
Together they left the playing field, with Zar trotting along behind them. They joined Colter's mother at the dinner table, and for the first time since Jo Beth had arrived, the three of them had a lively conversation. Jo Beth considered it a milestone.
She tasted all the native foods that had been prepared—the pit-baked mescal, the boiled locust tree blossoms, the cactus fruits. And she watched Colter.
The dinner tables had been set up under a grove of trees across the square from his unfinished clinic. From time to time he glanced in that direction. Sometimes he looked quickly away, and other times he stared.
It was during one of those long gazes that she spoke to him. “That's your clinic, isn't it?”
He turned to her, but his face showed neither surprise nor anger. “How did you know?”
“Your mother and I toured the village. I asked her about that building. Why didn't you finish it?”
His eyes darkened, and she saw the pain there. She reached out and squeezed his hand.
“It hurts, doesn't it, Colter?”
“Yellow Bird...” he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. His eyes cleared, and for a moment she thought he was going to tell her about his clinic. Instead, he laughed. “Why spoil a perfect day talking about things that don't matter anymore?”
“Is it a perfect day?”
“It is, and it will continue to be. There's the cross-country race this afternoon—which I will win. And you will be at the finish line to greet me, dressed in your prettiest party dress. Then we will dance the night away... unless you have better ideas.”
She could only guess how much of his good humor and optimism was make-believe. But how could she be afraid when he was there at her side?
After the meal the four of them drove back home, Colter and Jo Beth in the front seat and Little Deer in the back seat with Zar. Jo Beth had insisted that Little Deer ride up front with Colter, but Little Deer had been just as adamant about leaving that seat of honor for Jo Beth.
“Contrary to what you might think, I know how to act in these situations.”
Neither Colter nor Jo Beth had dared ask her, “What situations?” They were too busy counting their blessings. When they reached home, Little Deer excused herself and went off to rest for the evening event, the Wheel Dance.
Jo Beth accompanied Colter to the paddock to get Chieftain. She stood by the fence listening as he patted the horse's muzzle and spoke in rapid and fluid Athabascan. She closed her eyes and let the music of his voice wash over her. At that moment she thought that she could live and die on that mountain as long she could hear Colter's magical, mystical voice.
She couldn't have said exactly when sparks had changed to love, but she suspected the transition had something to do with that wonderful voice. Hugging her arms around her waist, she let herself drift and dream under the spell of Colter speaking his Apache language.
“Napping, Jo Beth?”
Her eyes snapped open. Napping was as good an excuse as any, she decided.
“How can I ever keep a secret if you keep sneaking up on me like that?”
“I never sneak. I walk without sound. It's the Apache way.” He held out one hand. “Come.”
She put her hand in his and followed him to the barn to ready Chieftain for the cross-country race. He threw the blanket across the stallion and walked him out into the sunshine. Then he mounted and leaned down to Jo Beth.
“Will you be waiting for me at the finish line?”
“Yes. Nothing could keep me away, Colter.”
He leaned closer. “A kiss for luck before I go?”
She stood on tiptoe and kissed him. When the kiss ended, she stepped back. “I’ll follow you to the starting point in the truck.”
“You need your rest for the night ahead.”
“Doctor's orders?”
He smiled. “Doctor's suggestion. I would never dare give you orders, Jo Beth McGill. I still remember that big stick.”
“It's a darned good thing you do.” She sprinted off, calling as she ran. “See you at the starting point.”
She whistled for Zar and climbed into the truck, and they headed back into the small village. She was there long before Colter, for he wanted to save Chieftain for the long ride ahead.
When she saw him coming, she separated herself from the crowd. He galloped toward her, so magnificent on his white stallion that he brought tears to her eyes.
“You belong here, Colter,” she whispered to herself, “in a way that I never can.”
Colter drew the stallion to a halt beside her and leaned far down to catch her face. “Wait for me, Jo Beth.”
“I’ll wait forever if I have to.”
He pressed his lips against hers, and then he was gone. She watched him line up with the other men who would ride the grueling cross-country race. There were four of them, but the most magnificent of all was Colter.
The signal was given, and the riders were off. Hooves drummed upon the ground and dust spewed up behind them. She shaded
her eyes, straining to keep Colter and Chieftain in her sight as long as she could. The men rode hard and expertly, leaning low over their mounts so that they seemed to be a part of the animals they rode. Finally Colter was nothing more than a speck of white in the distance. Only then did she turn and head back to his mother's ranch.
“I could borrow a nice Indian dress for you.”
Little Deer sat in the rocking chair and watched the future mother of her grandchildren come out in a dress that looked like something those soap-opera women wore on television.
“That's kind of you, but I'm not a nice Indian. I'm a blond-haired, blue-eyed woman who has gone and fallen in love with a nice Indian.”
Little Deer laughed. “You have spunk, don't you?”
“I always have and I always will.” She lifted the skirt of her blue halter dress. “I hope it's not too showy.”
“My son has the blood of chiefs in his veins. It is appropriate that his woman be the most richly dressed at the dance.” She left her chair and touched the skirt of Jo Beth's dress. “It looks like summer clouds. What is that material? Silk?”
“Silk chiffon.”
“I had to know so I could brag to Bessie Running Water.” She linked arms with Jo Beth. “We will go now.”
o0o
Little Deer had slept late, so they were among the last to reach the village. Pleading old age, Little Deer elected to wait in the truck while Jo waited at the finish line.
Jo Beth merged into the crowd, pressing as close to the finish line as she could. All around her, people were talking about the cross-country race. Some were placing bets and some were telling stories, and everyone had a different story to tell.
“They say Big Elk was ahead at the bend of the river.”
“One saw the white stallion. It's Gray Wolf, not Big Elk.”
“No. Runners were sent into the mountains. The white stallion lost his footing. Gray Wolf is down.”
Jo Beth thought she would faint. She turned to the last speaker, a big man she hadn't remembered seeing that morning.
“Has something happened to Colter?” She plucked his sleeve. “Please, I have to know.”
“Runners carried a litter into the mountains. Some say his skull was crushed.”
All the air left her lungs. “Where?” Her voice was barely a whisper.