“How can I help you?” a man asks from behind the counter. He is Rocky’s age, his face pale and covered with deep acne scars. One tooth on the left side of his smile is capped in gold.
Before Sam has a chance to answer, the door opens again and an old white woman enters carrying a gold purse with fake rhinestones all over it. The owner eyes the potential customer and quickly loses interest in Sam.
While the owner engages the woman, Sam wanders to a small case containing three small ruby rings and a necklace. None of them looks anything like his rough stone. He sighs with the thought that maybe the stone is worthless after all.
The man tries to interest the woman in a turquoise bracelet, all the time keeping a suspicious eye on Sam. He is used to treatment like this, especially in shops with white owners. They always watch Sam like he might steal something. When the woman eventually leaves the store without buying anything, the owner cusses under his breath and walks over to Sam.
“See anything you want, kid?”
“Did you make these yourself?” Sam asks.
“Some of them,” the man says. He yawns, like dealing with a kid is the absolute last thing he wants to do.
Sam debates whether he should show the man the stone.
“Nice feather,” the man says half-heartedly, revealing the gold tooth again.
Thinking he has nothing to lose, Sam pulls the stone from his pocket and places it on the glass display case. “Can you tell me what kind of stone this is?”
The man glances down like he has no time for some dumb kid with an ordinary rock. But then, his interest piques. He picks up the stone and looks at it more closely. Next, he takes out a jeweler’s magnifying glass and looks into the stone’s jagged center. He seems to have forgotten Sam is there and reaches inside a drawer and pulls out a small hammer. He places the stone on a thin rubber mat and hammers away a small piece of the rock. His eyes widen.
“Hey,” Sam says. “That rock’s not yours to hammer on.”
Ignoring his protest, the owner says, “Wait here, kid,” and disappears behind a drawn curtain. Seconds later, Sam hears the muffled sounds of the man on the telephone. Sam walks over to the display case nearest the curtain to listen. The bored shopkeeper now sounds animated as he speaks with someone on the phone. Sam leans in closer to hear.
“I think it’s a star ruby,” the man says and laughs. “The dumb kid doesn’t have a clue what he has.” He laughs again and then listens to what the person on the phone is saying.
“Okay, I’ll offer him fifty bucks for it. The kid’s so poor he’ll probably think he’s hit the lottery.”
For sure Sam could use fifty dollars, but it sounds like the rock is worth a lot more. At least he knows what to call it now. It is a ruby. A star ruby. Before the man finishes his call, Sam grabs the stone off the counter and runs out of the shop. The bell on the door clangs behind him, but Sam doesn’t look back. He runs through the alley and back to the safety of the library. Panting, he hides inside the door to see if the man follows him. Mrs. Peabody looks over her glasses at him. He waves and shrugs, as if running from strange men is a normal thing.
In the distance, the man stands in the middle of the street looking in every direction. He throws the small hammer to the ground and then picks it up before going back inside his shop. Sam leaves the library again and follows the back alley to Raven’s store.
Old John is the original owner of Raven’s grocery, but it is now run by his son, Young John. Young John, who is an old man himself, is bagging groceries, talking to his customers. He also has a son named John, who people call Third John. Third John is the father of Jack, the boy with Tink that day at the stream. Third John and Rocky are the same age, but Third John became a lawyer instead of going into the family grocery business. Everyone calls him “Third John,” but he calls himself “John the 3rd.” No matter. He is the same man. What doesn’t make sense is that Jack came from the same family as the other Johns.
Goes to show one rotten apple doesn’t always spoil the whole bunch, Sam thinks.
At least not with people—though Jack Raven used to be nicer before hanging out with Tinker Watson.
Sam walks through the store, keeping an eye out behind him for the gold-toothed jewelry store owner. He goes into the back room looking for Old John. A card game has recently ended, and Old John gathers his winnings—an assortment of quarters, dimes and nickels.
Four old men sit around a folding card table that is patched together with duct tape. It is hard to imagine being old someday, but Grandmother helped him value the wisdom old people offer. For now, it is nice to be around this many wrinkles.
Old John shuffles the cards and deals. “I’ll be ready to go after this hand,” Old John tells Sam.
“Can I play, too?” Sam asks. With beginner’s luck, he might make some money. Plus he needs a safe place to think about what just happened.
The men laugh until they realize Sam isn’t joking.
“Sure,” Old John says. “Do you know how to play five card draw?”
Sam smiles. “Rocky taught me when I was six,” Sam says, which is true.
Old John deals Sam in.
Sam instantly feels older as he sits with the men. Old John leans back in his chair to study his cards and Sam does the same. He puts a dime in the pot and discards three cards and gets three more. It’s Old John’s turn.
“Quit thinking and discard,” Gus says to Old John. Gus winks at Sam. He is the same age as Old John. According to Old John, the two men have squared off since they were boys.
Old John snarls. “I’m taking all the time I need, just don’t expire when I raise the bet,” he says.
Sam grins. It reminds him of Grandmother’s rooster who puffs himself up and chases people away from the coop.
Gus throws down his cards like he is offended and is about to take action. In response, Old John rises from his chair.
Walt, also part of their foursome, looks at Sam. “You’d think they’d get tired of acting like this,” he says. The bottom of Walt’s mustache is tinted light orange from drinking Orange Crush.
Burt, the youngest card playing member, only seventy years of age, shakes his head. A toothpick sits in the corner of his mouth, and he eats an entire ham sandwich with it bobbing back and forth while he chews, like a fishing line bobbing in a stream.
Compared to the casino, this gambling seems harmless: a dollar or two exchanged between friends. At least it requires human interaction, unlike the casino with its robot machines.
Sam wins forty cents on the hand and the cards are dealt again. He jiggles his leg wondering what to make of the jewelry store owner’s reaction. Could the stone really be worth something? But why would the guy pretend it was if it wasn’t?
The room smells musty and old. As a young kid, Raven’s store was one of Sam’s favorite places. After hours, the store is totally dark, except for an old Coca-Cola sign that colors everything around it neon red. A brass plaque on the front of the building confirms it as the oldest building in Rachel’s Pass. Tourists often walk through the old store, gazing at everything as if it is a museum.
Sam touches the stone again, fretting about how the jewelry store owner wanted to con the ruby off of him. He’s lucky he had the good sense to run away. Meanwhile, even though Sam has been in Raven’s hundreds of times he’s looking at it as if seeing it for the first time. It’s as if the ruby is giving him heightened awareness.
Cured hams hang on hooks along the back wall, and wooden shelves are neatly stacked with basic food items. It has no frozen food section like more modern grocery stores, only a small freezer large enough for boxes of ice cream sandwiches, Popsicles and Nutty Buddies. It also houses a small hardware section. Hammers, saws, and other tools hang on pegs against one wall. Several of these items have turned into antiques while hanging on the wall. It’s almost like the old men in the back have done the same.
Rocky worked here during high school, and Young John has already promised Sam
a job bagging groceries next summer if he wants it. Until now, Sam always did his best to avoid the path Rocky has taken. But jobs aren’t easy to find on the reservation unless you want to work at the casino, which Sam doesn’t.
“Ante up,” Walt says, his turn to deal.
The gemstone weighs heavy in Sam’s pocket, as well as on his mind. What would Old John and his buddies do if he plopped the ruby on the table in front of them?
“I was just at the library and saw a photograph of a star ruby,” Sam says. “Have you ever seen one?” This question is vague enough that they shouldn’t catch on.
“Heard tell there’s some back in these mountains,” Gus says, “but I’ve never seen one.”
“Me neither,” Walt says. “It’s kind of like that panther they say is back in these hills.”
They snicker like that joke’s an old one.
“Anybody know how much one might be worth?” Sam asks. “Not that I’ve found one or anything, I’m just curious.” Sam feels wired up to an electrical current, but tries to relax. He wishes now he hadn’t shown it to that jewelry store owner.
“It would be worth a lot more than this hand I’ve got,” Walt says, tossing his cards onto the table.
“Be worth a pretty penny,” Burt says. “That’s all I’ve got to say.”
Sam wants numbers. Like is it enough to keep him and Allie in groceries and the electric bill paid for one year? Two years?
“A star ruby isn’t just about money,” Old John says. “Any-body who finds one will be one in a million or maybe one in a billion. A life would never be the same after that.”
Sam remembers the call of the red-tailed hawk and how his grandmother said finding the gemstone was a good omen. Could this be what she meant?
“Never the same,” Gus echoes.
“A star ruby also means nobility in a tribe. Only the tribal chief wears rubies,” Old John continues, looking at his cards.
Sam has the ruby halfway out of his pocket to show them when familiar laughter travels to the back room. Allie and Beth walk in. They greet the elders and then stand behind Sam. Allie’s eye widen when she sees that he is playing with the old men and this pleases him.
“How’d you find me here?” Sam asks her, letting the ruby drop back into his pocket.
“Intuition,” Allie says, as if proud to use one of Grandmother’s words.
“You don’t know what that means,” Sam says.
“Sure I do,” Allie says. “It means I guessed it.”
Sam holds poor cards this hand and puts them face down on the table. He loses a dime, but he’s still up thirty cents. His thoughts are spinning from what Old John has said.
“Can Allie spend the night with me?” Beth asks Sam. She looks at her feet instead of him.
“Sure,” Sam says. “When Allie’s at home alone she always mopes.”
“No I don’t,” Allie says.
“Deal me out, please,” Sam says, trying to sound older than his years. Old John coughs as if to swallow a laugh.
Sam walks with Allie and Beth to the front of the store where he buys them an ice cream, though he feels guilty for spending even a dollar of their dwindling supply. At least he didn’t lose any money playing cards. As he pays for the ice creams, Tink saunters into the store with Jack. While Young John isn’t looking, Jack puts a handful of Hershey bars and a pack of batteries in his pocket and walks outside without paying. Tink smiles like he’s proud of his student, but he hangs back when he sees Sam.
“How sweet,” Tink says. “Are you buying ice cream for your little girlfriends?”
Tink dates a cheerleader at the high school three years older.
“This is my sister,” Sam says, “and her friend.”
Tink shrugs. “W-Whatever,” he stammers. As if to prove his brazenness, he takes two chocolate bars and puts them in the back pocket of his khaki shorts. He winks at the girls before walking out to join Jack.
“Did you see him steal those candy bars?” Allie whispers. “That Tink Watson acts like the world owes him anything he wants.”
Sam shoves the ruby deeper in his pocket. Thieves are everywhere. After the girls leave, he sits outside on the bench in front of the store to wait for Old John wondering what to do now. His thoughts are muddled. One second he wants to show the world. The next second he wants to keep the ruby hidden where he can keep it safe.
Grandmother taught him that when a stream is muddy you have to wait until the water runs clear. Right now, every thought he has is muddy, so it’s probably best not to do anything until the stream clears. Meanwhile, there are plenty of things to keep him busy. He makes a list in his head of things he needs to do when he gets home. Grandmother’s garden has gone unattended for over a week and it is the height of the season. After he harvests the vegetables, he will keep some for them and sell the rest. Young John has bought vegetables from his grandmother for years. He takes his knife and a small piece of wood from his other pocket. Carving helps him think. The wings of the wooden hawk are beginning to take shape.
Luckily, Sam didn’t tell the jewelry store owner his name or give any clues to where he lives. The guy is new to town so that helps, too. Sam can easily avoid that section of town, using the back roads and alleys if he needs to.
Absentmindedly, he strokes the red hawk feather in his cap. Grandmother would know what to do. Life throws us unexpected things, she also told him, to make us stronger and more resilient. His grandmother spoke in riddles at times, but Sam did his best to solve them.
Finding this stone must fit into the plan the Great Spirit has for me, he thinks, even if I have no idea what that is right now.
But it is hard to think of great plans when you have to put food on the table and pay light bills. Right now, an overdue bill sits on the kitchen window sill. Late fees are piled on in two days.
Seconds later, Buddy rides up on his bicycle, spaghetti sauce from lunch dotting his face. He joins Sam on the bench wearing a pair of cut-off jeans and his black high-tops. Buddy sips a soda he brought from home and hands it to Sam. The Pepsi is warm and peanuts float on the top in a layer of backwash. Sam thanks him but hands it back without drinking. Buddy leans down to tie his shoe.
“Aren’t you afraid you’ll keel over from the stink?” Sam asks.
Buddy laughs. “At least I’m not wearing a feather in my cap, like the biggest dork of all time. Where’d you find it, anyways?”
Sam touches the red hawk feather. He often forgets he is wearing it. “It’s a long story,” Sam says. He hasn’t told anybody what happened the day Grandmother died. He might never tell anyone. Sometimes he thinks he may have dreamed it. It was like his warrior days were over before they even started.
While Buddy gives Sam every gory detail of a kung-fu movie he watched on television the night before, Sam debates whether or not to tell his best friend about the ruby. It is probably the biggest secret he has ever kept from him. The secret tugs at Sam like it wants to be told, muddy stream or not. Buddy is in the middle of showing Sam a kung-fu move when Sam feels like he might bust out of his skin: “Buddy, quit talking for a minute and follow me. I have something to show you.”
Buddy follows Sam to Old John’s truck. “Get in,” Sam says, opening the creaky door. Buddy does as he is told. Sam gets in after him and slams the door, lowering the window to disperse the odor of Buddy’s shoes.
“You have to promise me you won’t tell another living soul about what I'm about to show you,” Sam says.
Buddy promises, matching Sam’s seriousness. He seems younger than Sam now, but that’s not Buddy’s fault. It’s like Sam’s grandmother’s death has aged him.
“No, I mean this is really a promise, Buddy. You can’t tell another living soul. Understand?”
Sam remembers the jewelry store owner’s reaction. One person too many already knows.
“I promise,” Buddy says again. “Now what is it?”
Sam pulls out the rock. “It doesn’t look like much from the outside,
” Sam says. “But look in the center.”
Buddy peers inside the stone. With the part gone the jeweler broke, more of the stone’s deep red center is revealed. It sparkles inside like a magic cave.
Buddy’s mouth drops open. “Where’d you find it?”
“Out by the stream. The day Grandmother . . . .” Sam stops. He hasn’t actually used the word yet. Using the words might make it feel too real.
Buddy admires the stone. “I've never seen anything like it,” he says. “That’s amazing.”
Sam returns the stone to his pocket. He likes that Buddy is impressed.
“What are you going to do with it?” Buddy asks.
“I'm not sure yet,” Sam says, which is the truth. “But that’s the least of my worries. I need to come up with money to pay the bills since Grandmother is gone.”
“What about Rocky?” Buddy asks.
“He’s on another losing streak so I can’t count on him for anything,” Sam says.
“Do you think the ruby’s worth a lot of money?” Buddy asks.
Sam tells him about what happened at the jewelry store and again swears him to secrecy. As they did in Cub Scouts, Buddy holds up two fingers to swear. “I won’t tell a soul, Sam, I promise. Not until you tell me it’s okay to tell.”
Back at the front of the store, Buddy takes a sip of soda and practically chokes when one of the peanuts goes down the wrong way.
“My best friend is rich,” Buddy says between coughs, and then belches loudly as if to add an exclamation point to his words.
CHAPTER 14: A TURN FOR THE WORSE
Sam mows the tall grass at his grandmother’s house and gathers three baskets of vegetables to sell at Raven’s store. Old John agrees to pick up the baskets in his truck and deliver them to his son, Young John. This will help with their cash problem. Besides paying bills, Allie will need things when school starts. Since anything to do with the ruby is on hold right now, he spends most of the day pretending it doesn’t exist.
A summer breeze blows through the valley, revealing a hint of the fall to come. Sam opens up the house to welcome in the fresh air like Grandmother used to do and then he rests on the front porch with Little Bear. Sam didn’t realize how much work Grandmother did until she was gone and how little he did in comparison. He wants to hear Grandmother’s voice again, or dream about the ancestors. Without these connections, life feels empty, and a lot of hard work and worry. Sam would even welcome seeing the red hawk again. He searches the empty sky. Then he reaches into his pocket for the carving of the hawk he works on when he has the time—which isn’t often these days.
Circle of the Ancestors Page 6