Rabbit Boss

by Thomas Sanchez

  I went down to the Ford to get my Gospel. After the Bull-Doggin I didn’t want to give the people a chance to get away before they could be saved. Jesus had alot of preaching to do here today. When I got to the FORD it was surrounded by people waving beer bottles in the air and whooping and hollering. “Hang on! Whoooooo-PEE! Don’t get throwed! Ride her!” I pushed my way through the crowd and saw in the backseat a big white sign with a black number 9 on it. It was a Brahma Bull rider bouncing up and down. I grabbed his humping shoulders and threw him out of the FORD. Medicine Maggie smiled up at me, her big brown body steaming with the dress pulled up high over her waist. I jerked her out of the FORD, wrapped a rope around her waist, tied the long end to the rear fender and drove off pulling her behind me. We went along the road following the railroad track, the Desert sun beating on her brown body. Sometimes I would swing around and see the rope tugging away at her heavy frame sweating and stumbling along on the hot pavement, the look on her face showed no shame. I could only drive as fast as she could walk. People passing us by would honk and whistle. We went along a big billboard I.W. HARPER WHISKEY FOR HEALTH, but mostly it was just the Sun slapping down on an empty Desert with just me, Medicine Maggie and the FORD. It took us five days to reach Loyalton and the first thing I did was to chop down her shade tree right to the ground. A Washo man does not plant the Earth.

  Back in the valley I went about doing good. Preaching the Gospel at both ends. The people were coming from way over the land to be saved. I took them to the river to be born again. I drove the FORD over to Minden Nevada, to the sagebrush town. There were many Washo people living there who were starving for the Word of Jesus. They were gathered for the Big Time. For Gumsaba. The people came around the FORD and cried, “Hallelujah. Hallelujah Bob. The Messiah has come. The Christ has appeared on Earth again. He is the son of Tavibo. Bullets pass through his body. He is wounded with scars in the hands and feet. Rejoice. He comes the second time. He is not the false prophet. The day the Sun died he was born into the heavens on a White Horse with the blood of the Spirit on its chest. The Christ is coming. Hallelujah. He walks among the Fisheaters on the shores of Pyramid Lake. He is rising up all the dead hearts. He is rising up all the people across the land. The people will stand in high places everywhere. The Tribes of the Earth will stand in great glory and power. Glory and Power. The Christ comes. The Native Ghost returns.”

  1

  GAYABUC WADED into the iceflowing water swirling about his legs and scattered the silver Fish scales to the wind so they caught in the strong current and roared downstream. “Atabi, the year of the Washo begins in hunger. I go away south, to the side of the mountain, and stand in water where it is always flowing so I can catch your body and bite you. Oh Atabi, Oh Fish, I stand in waters flowing westward. I wait for you to go away up north.” He let flutter from his hand more handfuls of Fish scales over the water, “I do not wish to offend your Spirit I use you in good heart. I return these scales of flesh to your water in the Mountain House so you will multiply, Grow, be many and jump up the silver back of long rivers to high lakes. I do not wish to offend you my Brother. I give back what is yours. You have spawned in the pool of my dreams, your crowded bodies pushing from mud to stone, filling water everywhere from bank to bank where the people have been dancing your return. Oh Fish I do not waste your flesh, do not leave me. I am close to you. I am sowing the waters with the magic of your scales. Listen to your Brother, he does not offend your Spirit Come to him. The year of the Washo begins in hunger.” Gayabuc emptied his leather pouch of Fish scales to the water, watching them tuck and swirl through the rocks below where the people stood out along the banks watching the current The people watched in hunger for Atabi. They sang and danced along the banks, building up their fires where flowing water melted ice. “ATABI! ATABI!” Their chants rose with smoke. “FISH. Give the strength of your flesh to the weak bones of our bodies so that we may survive the Season. ATABI!” The roaring force of a long winter’s dying snow spoke to all creatures in the mountains. “I have spawned you in the pool of my dreams. Come to me in my hunger. It is the First Season.” Gayabuc sang up the Fish, “Come to me. Brother.” The chant swam from his swollen lips into cold air, his legs glowed the same ice blue color as the waters flowing around him. He felt the flick of a silver flash against his blue flesh, the waters were moving from within, the current trembling. “ATABI!” The waters were alive with Fish. All along the banks the people were dancing, their fires burning bright, between them Fish was jumping, throwing his silver body into the damp sprays, twisting in midair, he came sprouting up all along the endless streams. Gayabuc stood with blue legs under water, blunt flesh darted and brushed against his legs, the current all around him was trembling with climbing Fish. He stood watching the white knives of flesh flash by him into the new Season. He stood watching the people coming into water all along the banks with baskets, taking great scoops of leaping Fish captive and throwing them up onto the banks. Men jumped into water armed with nets, stretching the strength of woven plant fibers across the current to catch the quick bluebacked streaks of flesh racing in the spray. Platforms were built out over the waters and men struggled with the sweep of long poled willownets swung into the tide of flying Fish. Where the small streams ran white the stones of a Fish House were piled up, pooling the current, revealing circling clouds of Fish. Men stood high over the Fish House, dropping their bone hooks into quiet waters and pulling forth struggling white bodies hooked through the belly. All along the nightbanks torches lit up Fish flying into nets. Quivering gills shook the air around the women pounding Fish eggs to powder in the hollow of stones. Green spears of branches were run into the mouths of struggling bodies and held over flames until the white flesh burst with heat. Gayabuc waited on the slippery rock with the point of his harpoon arched over his shoulder, searching another rainbow sided body. The people moved among Fish jumping on the banks, splitting them open down the back and striking the thin line of bone from their bodies. Gayabuc waited to fling his harpoon into the strong current. Watercress waved along the banks, it waved in the blue water like flowing strands of golden hair. Sunshine hair long as a burning star trail, the hair of the Water Baby, Spirit of all water, creature of shifting currents whose magic could come hidden in a dream and give the power to walk on water, or sleep in a spring. The sunshine hair of the Water Baby grew to the knees. The tracks he left in mud around ponds were no longer than a baby foot. If you looked him in the face you would bleed from the nose and fall down sick, the Fish would always run from the point of your spear. The wegelayo of the Water Baby was not to be sought, the power of the Water Baby was to be avoided. The Water Baby was no friend of the Washo. During the time when Bluejay huddled up on the last branch of the pinetree to stay hidden from the two Weasel brothers who hunted the mountains, hitting Ducks over the head until they killed them and filling their belts with Squirrels they had shot, there was a Water Baby sleeping in a spring. Little Weasel Brother came up and peered beneath the glass surface. The Water Baby was sleeping against a log, its head resting on the tiny arm with sunshine hair spread all around and glowing up bright from the depths. Little Brother jumped high and low on the bank singing, “I will take all this beautiful sunshine hair glowing up at me and bring it fast as a golden gift to Big Brother!” The Water Baby did not hear these words, he slumbered under water. Little Brother got down on his belly and slid like Snake through the mud and into the clean depths of the pool. He came upon Water Baby and stroked the golden rays of hair, running its softness through his fingers. Then he slipped the stoneknife from his belt and laid the blade against Water Baby’s forehead, “Won’t Big Brother love me and give me all his Eagle feathers to wear when I bring him this!” He pulled the knife back to strike but Water Baby’s eyes popped open, they swelled in the water like seeds until they were big as eggs. Water Baby battled Little Brother for possession of the hair but the knife cut through his head, freeing the sunshine hair from his body. Little Brother climbed fro
m the spring with the prize tucked in his buckskin shirt He looked back at the slain Water Baby floating on the bottom with blood streaming from his head. He remembered the bad magic of all Water Babies and cried, thinking they might take revenge, so he threw two long strands of sunshine hair back into the pool. But the water had all turned angry red and was churning up in waves. Little Weasel ran to his brother and shoved the golden hair into his hands, “Here Brother! This is your present! Take it!” Big Brother took the scalp, then he pointed down the trail, “How dare you look the Water Baby in the face! He will send the waters to rise up and rush forward to drown you! Look! Here comes the water to get you!” The water was coming up over the Earth, the Weasel Brothers ran from it, but the water flooded fast, filling all valleys and lapping at their heels. They ran into the mountains and up onto the highest peak. “Quick!” Big Brother cast the beautiful sunshine hair out into the rising ocean and stood arm in arm with his Brother. “We will never meddle with your magic again!” he screamed to the flooding fingers flowing across the mountains. They stood arm in arm and watched and watched the waters over the Earth recede. When the Earth was dry footprints of water where the Water Babies had run with the sunshine hair were left scattered through the mountains in blue lakes. The Weasel Brothers went down to the Biggest Lake, to Tahoe. There on the shore of the Emerald Bay rose a hill stained with the blood of the slain Water Baby. When Gayabuc hunted the Fish by the red hill he always searched the waters lit up by sunshine for the goldenflow of hair so he could run and tell the people to catch the Fish into their baskets, for the Water Spirit was near, and he would slap the waters with the magic of his thunder and cause all Fish to hide from the people, ending the Season of Fish.

  The Season of Gumsaba was the Big Time. It was the Gathering Year. The sap of sugarpine ran like molten snow down swelled trunks. The wild strawberries blazed in a ring round the shore of the Tahoe Lake. The roots of all plants turned tender. The people moved with all growing things. Everywhere they saw grass turn its green arms to Sun. Small Birds sang of the black juice of chokecherries. Soft winds blew wild seeds. Grasshoppers grew slow with the warmth, their golden bodies picked from bushes and roasted in pits. Fires burned where the hills had matured brown, the flames driving the wild bugs into hollow places where their bodies were ground beneath stone into sweet flour. Pointed sticks were thrust into holes and twisted in the fur of Gophers, the smouldering fat of their bodies cooked in ashes. On the shore of the great lake Mono, where the water was too bitter for drinking, the hot sun ripened basketfuls of Fly eggs in the powder soft rocks. The green time was golden and brown. The waters ran clear. The Sun held long on the people coming together from across the land. Coming up from the mountains. Up from the hotlands. Up from the valleys, Joining hands for the Big Time among the groves of the Sacred Tree, the Piñon. Singing up Gumsaba.

  Gayabuc walked with the people. The first hot rains had stormed, he read their Sign. Always after Death water cleanses Earth. Water came to wipe the footprints of the White Ghost from his dreams. The waters had removed the stone of the white bones from all places. He no longer watched the Fox, the blink of its eye the color of dying Sun had vanished. The Spirit of the Fox had been captured and stripped from the heart of existence. The wild stone-eyed Beast he had watched on the shore of yonder lake was a power he no longer feared. The people had their need. The people had their want. He moved through the trees. Always the trees. It is the way of the people. It is the way of the Ancestors. The medicine of those who ate of their own flesh on the shore of yonder lake had been broken, their Ghost had traveled across the Sky to the south. It is best not to disturb the Dead. All the dead bodies piling up in the Earth had been washed clean. He walked with the people back into the past It is best not to disturb the Dead. He had no Dreams.

  The Chief of the Rabbit stood before the people, a Gray stone growing from solid Earth, he held his palms outstretched to the Sun, the blades of two Eagle feathers dangling from his elbows, “The first frost of the Season of Atabi has passed, bringing up the people from the land for the Season of Gumsaba. We stand among the blood of our heart, the Sacred Piñon Tree. We are the children of the Tree. Our roots go out over the land, our branches reach up to the mountains. The truth of all our ways is in one Tree, the Sacred Piñon. We are scattered over the Earth, we have burst from open cones, on winged seeds we fly before the breeze, we take root, we are the blood of our own heart leading back to the same Tree. The road coming is the road going. We are everywhere. Our ways are everywhere. We will survive. We have gathered here as one Tree to take our want, to take our need. This will be my last journey to the pinenuts. I will stay here and die. I will not return with you to the Big Water, Tahoe. When you leave here you can follow Gayabuc. Always move with green things growing. He knows the way. He too is a Chief of Rabbits. Son of my hands. I have sent the knotted Deer thong out among you, to tell you the meat of the pinenut grows sweet in the cone. To bring you together. This season the Piñon Tree is heavy with fruit. I have dreamed our need. I have sent out for all the people and you have come into the Season of Gumsaba. I will pray over your gathering. I will fast and drink only cold water to make you strong during these four days we will celebrate as the blood of one Tree. You will dance and gamble with bones, you will hunt Rabbit, bathe and rise to go among the fruit of the pine. Paint yourself red with the wegeleyo of the Owl. Paint yourself white with the wegeleyo of the Eagle. Paint yourself yellow like the Hawk. Paint yourself so your medicine will be stronger than the rattling Snake and he will not strike you as you go among the fruit of the Sacred Groves. Wear the black hooves of Deer around your necks so that you hunt well. Pierce the flesh of your ear with the bone of the Lizard so you can stand in the long Sun knocking the fruit from the Sacred Tree. I pray that the fruit of the Piñon will not be eaten hollow by worms. The people will have their need, they will have their want. Now listen to me as you dance four nights. Take up your tools. Take up the hooked poles for drawing the coned fruit of Tree close to Earth. Take up your straight knocking poles with their blunt ends wrapped in the hide of Deer. Take up your stones for grinding the fruit to flour. Take up your paddles for stirring the thick mush. Dance in a circle. Follow the Moon. Follow the three Seasons of the Washo. Follow Fish, Gumsaba, the Hunt. Now listen to me closely you people. Treat your children good. Be kind to your wives. Don’t pick the fruit from your Brother’s tree. Join hands and follow the Moon, cross your right foot over your left foot and hop. Cut only wood you can burn. Help the old people who are blind from the smoke of a thousand nights’ fire. Put mud on their face to soothe the broken eyes. Shoot Rabbits, eat them. Dance. Behave properly. Charm antelopes. Don’t fight. Make acorn soup and eat it. Play games. Stalk Deer. Stalk longlegged insects. Weave baskets that don’t leak water. Do not fight. Play. If you lose, do not get angry. Spear Fish. Do not point at rainbows, your finger will fall off. Use burning sticks from fire to fight off white Owls. Sit beneath a tree and use tobacco. Do not eat wild parsnip. Let Dogs bark at night. Don’t let meat spoil. Gamble with bones. Some win, others lose. Eat sunberries. Don’t be afraid of Bears. Let Dogs bark at night. Never use bad medicine. Hold hands tight and dance. Never look a Water Baby in the face. Never follow Ghosts. Beware of Coyote. Don’t believe everything Coyote says. Live in the Mountain House. Lock your heart to the land. Drink only pure water. Stand in high places. Don’t injure small Birds. Watch Ducks at Sunrise. Beware of Fox. Don’t give your dreams to your Brother. Respect the Sun. Sleep where the Crickets sing. Do not put your mark on the land. Sing the songs Birds sang long ago learned in dreams. Take only what you need. Don’t eat green meat. Dance. Do not leave your mark on the land, protect your Mother. Do not pick pinenuts before they are ripe. Eat all the eggs you steal from Eagle. Don’t use false magic. Never waste fire. Stand in high places. Don’t give your Brothers dreams. Let all children grow straight Lock your heart to the land. Protect your Mother. Love your Brother. Go out in four sacred directions and meet your Brother. Go out i
n four sacred directions and meet yourself. See heart to heart. The road going is the road coming. Capture power and use it for good. Don’t fight. Dance. Then dance with your wife. Don’t fight Dance. Dance with your wife. Make her sleep well.”