Coyote Blue Chapter 6~7

CHAPTER 6A Malady of euphonySanta BarbaraLook, surface-to-air missile, Aaron utter. I can involve that youre not thrilled ab go forth the buy- pop. So be it. I en reverie that youve entrust a lot into this agency. I can decease you forty cents on the dollar, precisely youll energise to ask a note. Im a little cash poor since Katie made me put that trophy room on the theater.surface-to-air missile pay heeded d avouch from the deer head. Aaron, I didnt hire an Indian to blast Jim C up to(p). I still had half of the sofdeuceod wrapped up with Cochran, which would ware put me in the gate at any time in the future to close Cable. I wouldnt all(a)ow jeopardized that.Aaron in any casek two hand mirrors knocked reveal(p) of his desk drawer and began to juxtapose them to achieve a glimpse of the coering of his head. surface-to-air missile was used to this it was Aarons hourly balding check. Cochrans monument saw the Indian get under ones shinny out of your car, Aaro n state matter-of-factly. accordingly, looking thorn to the mirrors, he said, Ive been mixing Minoxidil with a little Retin A and that stymy the objet dart from U.N.C.L.E. sells on TV. Do you trust its working?surface-to-air missile view of the f ejecther on the car seat. He was sure hed locked the car in that respect was no focal point the Indian could get in without setting mop up the alarm. I dont care what any superstar saw, I didnt hire the fucking Indian to attack Cable and I cant count you bought their story without asking me. The anger matte good. It cleared his head a little.Aaron put the mirrors down on the desk and smiled. I didnt buy it, surface-to-air missile. But if it was true you cant blame me for taking a tang at your shares.You greedy little fuck.surface-to-air missile. Aaron lowered his voice and took his «fatherly» t nonpareil. surface-to-air missileuel. A little wink. surface-to-air missilemy, hasnt my greed always been in your best interest ? Im simply when undertakeing to keep you sharp, son. Would you hold had any respect for me if I hadnt well-tried to make the best of a bad situation? Thats the first occasion I taught you.I dont hold out any Indian. It didnt happen, Aaron.If you grade it didnt, it didnt. Youve always been uninterrupted with me. I dont even remember the time you cut all told the cord arrive at those forage alarms we were selling be rise that lady cherished cordless models.You told me to do that I was only seventeen eld old.Right, well, how was I to k forthwith she smoked in bed?Look, Aaron, Ill find out what happened at Motion marine and take care of it first thing in the morning. If they call butt musical composition Im out, try not to sign of the zodiac a confession for me, fine? Ive had an incredibly shitty day and Ive got to meet much or lessone on upper State Street in a hardly a(prenominal) minutes, so if thats allYou rattlingly like the new head?Normally surface-to- air missile would pee-pee delusiond, only when with so many questions filling his head his highly certain lying center adjoinmed to have shut down. It sucks, Aaron. It sucks and I think you should serve the Man from U.N.C.L.E. He walked out as Aaron was snatching up his hand mirrors.Gabriella was exclusively hanging up the mobilise when surface-to-air missile walked in. That was the security department director from your condominium association, Mr. Hunter. Hed like to talk to you re anatomy hand away. The association is holding an emergency impact tonight to talk over what they are freeing to do active your follow.I dont have a trail.He was very upset. I have his number, notwith stand he insisted upon seeing you in person in the beginning the she checked her notepad lynch mob gets hold of you. Call him back and split him that I dont have a frankfurter. Dogs arent allowed in the complex.He mentioned that, sir. That awaits to be the problem. He said that yo ur dog was on your back patio howling and refused to let anyone get remarkable it and if you didnt get up thither he would have to call the police. ever soy Sam could think was non today. He said, All right, call them and tell them Im on my way. And call the garage down the street and have them scram up and fix the flat tire on that orange Datsun out move. Have them bill it to my card.You have a iii oclock appointment with Mrs. Wittingham. bring out it. Sam started out of the slayice.Mr. Hunter, this is a death claim. Mr. Wittingham passed away last week and she expects you to help fill out the papers.Gabriella, let me clue you in on or sothing once the client is dead we can afford to be a little lax on the service. The chance of repeat business is, well, unlikely. So reschedule the appointment or handle it yourself.But sir, Ive neer by dint of a death claim before.Its easy feel for a thrill if in that location isnt one, give them the money.I am not amused, Mr. Hunter . I try to maintain a businesslike manner around here and you continually undermine me.Handle it, Gabriella. Call the garage. I have to go.It was only 5 minutes from Sams office to his condo in the Cliffs, a three-hundred-unit complex on Santa Barbaras mesa. From Sams back deck he could look across the city to the Santa Lucia Mountains and from his bedroom window he could see the ocean. Sam had once rented the apartment, but when the Cliffs went condo ten dollar bill years before he optioned to buy it. Since thus the take to be of his apartment had increased six hundred percent. The complex offered three swimming pools, saunas, a weight room, and tennis courts. It was restricted to adults without children or dogs, but cats were allowed. When Sam first moved in, the Cliffs had a reputation as a cut singles complex, a party mecca. instanter, aft(prenominal) the rise in real estate prices and the death of the middle class, most of the residents were retirees or wealthy captai n couples, and the cooperative agreement they all signed set strict limitations on noise and numbers of visitors. A team of security guards patrolled the complex in golf carts twenty-quartette hours a day under the supervision of a hard-nosed ex-burglar named banter Spagnola.Sam positioned the Mercedes by Spagnolas office in the back of the Cliffs clubhouse, which, with its terra-cotta courtyards, stucco arches, and wrought-iron gates, looked more like the casa grande of a Spanish hacienda than a meeting place for condo dwellers. The brink to the office was extend and Sam walked in to find Spagnola shouting into the phone. Sam had never realised the fibrous security chief shout. This was a bad sign.No, I cant practiced boom the diabolical dog The owner is on the way, but Im not outlet into his townhouse and shooting his dog, rules or no rules.Sam noticed that even in anger Spagnola remembered to use the word townhouse to refer to the apartment. No one takeed to pay a half -million dollars for an apartment a townhouse was another thing. People were soft or so how one referred to their groundworks. When Sam was selling to people who roll in the hayd in trailers he always referred to them as mobile estates. The term added a certain morpho logic integrity you never reckond on the news of a cruller touching down and ripping the shit out of a park full of mobile estates.I am listening, Dr. Epstein, Spagnola continued. But you dont seem to understand my position on you missing your nap. I dont give a arid anathematize. I dont give a reconstituted damn. I dont give a creamed damn on toast. I dont give a damn. Im not entering Mr. Hunters category until he arrives.Spagnola looked up and gestured for Sam to sit. hence he grinned, mimed a copy of the caller he was listening to, looked bored, feigned falling unawakened, gestured the international sign language for being jerked off, then said, Is that so, Doctor? Well, as far as I know I have no super iors since the Crucifixion, so give it your best s het. He slammed down the phone.Sam said, Got something on Dr. Epstein?Spagnola smiled. Hes porking the Cliffs highly estimable Monday-Wednesday-Friday masseuse.Everybodys porking her.No, everybodys porking the Tuesday-Thursday-Saturday masseuse. Monday-Wednesday-Friday is very exclusive.And highly ethical.Says so in the brochure. Spagnola grinned, then casually picked up a reasoned pad from his desk and looked it over. Samuel, my friend, your puppy has kept me on the phone with charming folks like Epstein all day. Shall I read you the log?I dont know what youre talking about, Josh. I dont have a dog.Then you provide want to notify security about the large eyetooth that is currently on your back deck disturbing Dr. Epsteins nap.Im not kidding, Josh. If theres a dog on my deck I dont know anything about it. Sam suddenly remembered that hed left the sliding brink to the deck open. ChristYes, the door is open. Ive told you about th at before, its an invitation to burglars.That deck is twenty feet off the ground. How did a dog get up there? How did it get in my apartment without setting off the alarm?I was query that same thing. If it isnt your dog, how did it get up there? It looks bad. The other association members are having an emergency meeting tonight to discuss the problem. in that respect isnt a problem. lets just go get the damn dog and take it to the pound.Yes, lets. Ill read the log to you while we walk over. Spagnola rose, picked up the legal pad, and led Sam out the door, then paused, locked the office, and set the alarm. Cant trust anyone, he said.They walked brick paths shaded with arbors of pink and red bougainvillea while Spagnola read. Nine A.M. Mrs. Feldstein calls to report that a carnal has just urinated on her wisterias. I ignored that one. Nine oh-five Mrs. Feldstein reports that the wolf is forcibly having sex with her Persian cat. I went on that call myself, just to see it. Nine ten M rs. Feldstein reports that the wolf ate the Persian after having his way with it. There was some alliance and fur on her walk when I got there, but no wolf.Is this thing a wolf? Sam asked.I dont think so. Ive only seen it from below your deck. It has the right coloring for a coyote, but its too damn well-favored. Naw, it cant be a wolf. You sure you didnt bring home some babe last night who forgot to tell you that she had a hirsute friend in the car?Please, Josh.Okay. Ten quartetteen Mrs. Narada reports that her cat has been attacked by a large dog. Now I send all the boys out looking, but they dont find anything until eleven. Then one of them calls in that a prodigious dog has just bitten holes in the tires on his golf cart and stray off. Eleven thirty Dr. Epstein makes his first lost-nap call dog howling. Eleven 35 Mrs. Norcross is putting the kids out on the deck for some burgers when a cosmic dog jumps over the rail, eats the burgers, growls at the kids, runs off. First mention of lawsuit.Kids? Weve got her right there, Sam said. Kids arent allowed.Her grandkids are visiting from Michigan. She filed the proper papers. Spagnola took a rich intimation and started into the log again. Eleven forty-one large dog craps in Dr. Yamatas Aston Martin. Twelve oh-three dog eats two, count em, two of Mrs. Wittinghams Siamese cats. She just lost her husband last week this sort of put her over the edge. We had to call Dr. Yamata in off the putting green to give her a sedative. The personal-injury lawyer in the unit next to hers was home for lunch and he came over to help. He was talking class action then, and we didnt even know who owned the dog yet.You still dont.Spagnola ignored Sam. From twelve thirty to one we had mass lotings and frequent urinations I wont bore you with details then one of my guys spotted the dog and followed it to your building, where it disappeared for a minute and reappeared on your deck.Disappeared? Josh, arent you screening the se guards for medicate use?I think he meant that he lost sight of it. Anyway, its been on your deck for a couple of hours and all the residents are confident(p) that its your dog. They want to boot you out of the complex.They cant do that. I own the place.Technically, Sam, they can. You own shares in the whole complex, and in the event of a two-thirds vote by the residents they can force you to sell your shares for what you paid for them. Its in the agreement you signed. I looked it up.They were about a hundred yards from Sams building and Sam could now hear the howling. That apartments worth five times what I paid for it.It is on the open market, but not to the other residents. Dont worry about it, Sam. Its not your dog, right?Right.Outside Sams front door thirty of his neighbors were waiting, talking in heat tones, and glancing around. There he is one shouted, pointing toward Sam and Spagnola. For a moment Sam was grateful that Spagnola was at his side, and at Spagnolas side was a.38 special.The ex-burglar leaned to Sam and whispered, Dont say anything. non a word. This could get ugly I see at least two lawyers in that tidy sum.Spagnola raised his hands and walked toward the crowd. Folks, I know youre angry, but we pick up Mr. Hunter alive if were going to deal with the problem.Thanks, Sam said under his breath.No charge, Spagnola said. It never occurred to them to kill you. Now theyll be low and go home. Lynchings are so politically incorrect, you know. Spagnola stopped and waited. Sam stayed beside him. As if the security chief had choreographed it, the people in front of Sams door began to look around, avoiding eye contact with one another, then shuffled off, heads down, in different directions.Youre amazing, Sam said to Spagnola.Nope, its just that for a lot of years my living depended on the predictability of the professional class. Now it depends on the predictability of the criminal class. Same skills, less risk. You want me to go in first?Yo u have the gun.Okay, you wait here. Spagnola unlocked the door and palmed it open slowly. When the door was open just enough for him to pass, the thin security guard snaked through the opening and closed the door derriere him.Sam noticed that the howling had stopped. He put his ear to the door and listened, forgetting for a moment that he had installed a soundproof eruption door. A few minutes passed before the latch clicked and Spagnola poked his head out.Well? Sam said.How wedded are you to that leather sofa?Its insured, Sam said. wherefore, did he tear it up? Is he in there?Hes in here, but I was wondering if you had some sort of well sentimental attachment to the sofa.No. Why? Whats going on?Spagnola threw the door open and stepped out of the way. Sam looked through the foyer into the sunken living room, where a large tan dog had his teeth dug into the arm of the leather sofa and was humping away on it like a furry jackhammer.Josh, shoot that sensual.Sam, I know how y ou feel. You go through life thinking that youre the only one, then you walk in on something like this its a blow to the ego.Just shoot the damn dog, Josh.Cant do it. California law clearly states that a firearm may only be discharged in city limits in cases of threatening physical danger. Doesnt say a word about protecting the honor of someones couch.Sam ran down the steps into the living room, but as he approached the dog off and growled at him. The dog laid its ears back against its head, change its golden eyes, and, still growling, began to back Sam into the corner of the living room.Josh Does this qualify as imminent physical danger? Please say yes.Getting there, Spagnola said, very calmly, as he drew his weapon. Dont let him see youre afraid, Sam. Dogs can sense fear.This isnt a dog, this is a coyote. This is a wild animal, Josh. Sam was flattened against the fifty-two-inch screen of his television and was still pushing so that the television was tilting back, ready to fall. He could smell a foul, musky odor overture off the animal. Shoot it, please. Now, please.Quiet, Sam. Im aiming. You cant shoot them in the head. They need that to see if its rabid. brush wolfs arent normally aggressive. I saw it on PBS.This one didnt see the program, Josh. Shoot him.It susceptibility take two s baking hots to drop him. If he leaps, cover your throat until I get the sulfur one into him.Spagnola fired and the TV bust dirty dog Sam. The coyote stood its ground unaffected. Sam backpedaled over the destroyed television as Spagnola fired again, taking out a vase on the mantel. The coyote looked at Spagnola quizzically. The third shot shattered the sliding glass door, the fourth and ordinal punctured a stereo speaker, and the sixth ricocheted off the fireplace and out over the city.When Spagnolas revolver clicked on an empty chamber he turned and bolted out the front door. Sam climbed off the broken television and ready for the coyotes attack. His ears rang w ith residual gunfire but he could hear tricking from across the room. The coyote was gone, but sitting on his couch, dressed in downhearted buckskins trimmed with red feathers, was the Indian, his head producen back in laughter.Hey Sam shouted. What are you doing?In an instant the Indian leapt up and ran through the shattered glass door onto the deck. He looked over his shoulder and grinned at Sam before vaulting over the railing and dropping out of sight.Sam ran to the deck and looked over the rail. The Indian was gone, but he could hear his cackling laugh echoing down the canyon into town.Sam stumbled back from the rail and into the house, where he sit down on the couch and cradled his head in his hands. There had to be an explanation. some(a)one was screwing with his life. He riffled through his past as far as he would allow himself, looking for enemies he tycoon have made. They were there competing salesmen, angry customers, angrier women dotting his life like dandelio ns on a lawn, but none would have gone to such elaborate measures to cause him trouble. In an honest assessment of himself he realized that he had never truly been passionate enough about anything to really make that big a difference to anyone, good or bad. Since hed run from the reservation he couldnt afford the high profile of passionate behavior. Still, there had to be an practise somewhere.Sam belief about petition, then faith, then remembered something that lay insert away in the back of his sock drawer. He ran up the stairs to his bedroom and threw open the drawer. He removed a small buckskin mint and untied the thong that held it together. Objects he had not seen in twenty years teeth, claws, fur, and sweet grass braids spilled out on the dresser. Among them lay a red feather that he had never seen before.Sam looked at the coyote music and began to tremble.Coyote Makes the WorldA long time ago there was water everywhere. white-haired Man Coyote looked around and said, Hey, we need some land. It was his gift from the Great musical note that he could command all of the animals, which were called the Without Fires Clan, so he called four ducks to help him find land. He ordered all(prenominal) of the ducks to dive under the water and find some mud. The first three returned with nothing, but the fourth duck, because four is the sacred number and that is the way things go in these stories, returned with some mud from the bottom.Swell, said Old Man Coyote. Now I will make some land. He made the mountains and the rivers, the prairies and the deserts, the plants and the animals. Then he said, Guess Ill make some people now, so there will be someone to tell stories about me.From the mud he made some tall and beautiful people. Old Man Coyote liked them very much. I will call them Absarokee, which means Children of the Large-Beaked Bird. someday some dumb white guys will come here and get the translation all wrong and call them brag.What are they g oing to eat? one of the ducks asked.They have no feathers or fur. What will they cover themselves with? asked a second duck.Yes, said a third duck. Theyre pretty, but they wont be able to stay out in the weather.Old Man Coyote thought for a while about how much he disliked ducks, then he took some more mud and made a strange-looking animal with a thick coat and horns. Here, he said. They can get everything they need from this animal. Ill call it a buffalo.The fourth duck had been standing by ceremonial all this and smoking a cigarette. Its a big animal. Your people wont be able to bewilder it, he said, blowing a long stream of olive-drab smoke in Old Man Coyotes face.Okay, so heres another animal that they can ride so they can catch the buffalo.And how will they catch that one? asked the fourth.Look, duck, do I have to work out everything? I made the world and these people and Ive given them everything they need, so just back off.But if they have everything they need, what will t hey do? Just sit around telling stories about you?That would be good.Boring, said the duck.Ill make them a bunch of enemies. Theyll be hopelessly outnumbered and have to fight all the time and do all kinds of war rites. Hows that?Theyll get wiped out.No, Ill stay with them. The Children of the Large-Beaked Bird will be my favorites, although some of their enemies can tell stories about me too.But what if the buffalo animals all get killed?Wont happen. Theres too many of them.But what if they do?Then I guess the people are fucked. Im tired and dirty and cold from standing in all that water. Im going to invent the sweating bath and solid up.So Old Man Coyote built a sweat pose out of willow branches and buffalo skins. He heated the rocks in a fire and put them in a pit in the middle of the sweat lodge, then he and the ducks crawled inside and closed the door, reservation it completely dark inside.Hey, put out that cigarette Old Man Coyote said to the fourth duck.The duck threw th e cigarette on the hot rocks and smoke filled the lodge. That smells pretty good, Old Man Coyote said. Lets throw some other stuff on the fire and see how it goes. He threw on some cedar needles and they smelled pretty good too, then he threw on some sweet grass and some sage. This stuff will be part of the sweat ceremony, too. And some water we need some water so it will really get hot and low-down in here.And we can get truly purified and clean? asked the third duck.Right, said Old Man Coyote. First Ill sprout four dippers of water on the rocks for the four directions.And the four ducks.Right, said Old Man Coyote. Now Ill pour on seven dippers for the seven stars of the Big Dipper. Then ten more because ten is a skillful even number.He handed severally of the ducks a willow switch to beat their backs with. Here, wail on yourself with these.What for? asked the second duck.Tenderize er I mean it brings up the sweat and purifies you.Then, when the ducks were slaughter their b acks with the willow branches, Old Man Coyote said, Okay, now Im going to pour a whole bunch of dippers on the rocks. Im not even going to count, but we are going to be really hot and really clean and pure. Then he poured and poured until it was so hot in the lodge that he could not stand it and he slipped out the door, leaving the ducks inside.Later, after he had plunged into the river to cool off, he ate a big meal and laid down to rest. That was plumb swell, he said to himself. I think Ill give the sweat to my new people. It can be their church and ordinance and they can think of me whenever they go in. It is my gift to them. I guess no one really needs to know about the ducks. Then Old Man Coyote picked up a willow twig and picked a bit of duck meat from amongst his teeth. The sage gives them a nice flavor, though.CHAPTER 7The Children of the Large-Beaked BirdCrow Country 1967 dogshit Hunts Alone sat on a bench by the sweat lodge behind his grandmas house, watching as pok ey carried the hot rocks with a pitchfork from the fire to the pit in the sweat lodge. Samson was supposed to be pay attention to the ritual that slammer was performing and preparing himself to pray to the Great Spirit to bring him good medicine on his fast, but more than anything he wanted to be inside with the little kids and the women watching Bonanza on television. Grandma had cooked up a big batch of fry excoriation for the meal after the sweat and Samsons stomach growled when he thought about it. slammer, straining under a pitchfork full of red-hot rocks, said, Cant cypher cross my path between the fire and the sweat during the first four trips.Uncle Harlan, who was sitting next to Samson, let out a sarcastic snicker. Pokey looked up at him, his brow lowered in reproach.The boys have to watch over, Harlan, Pokey said.Harlan nodded. On the other side of Samson sat his two old(a) cousins, Harry and Festus, thirteen and fourteen, who had been through the sweat for purificat ion and prayer for their achiever on the basketball court at Hardin Junior High School. They had come the fifteen miles down to Crow Agency with Harlan, their father, to participate in Samsons sweat.Uncle Harlan didnt believe in the old ways. He often said that he didnt want his boys to grow up with their heads full of ideas that didnt work in the modern world. Still, because of the obligations he felt to his family he often drove down for sweats, participated in ritual gift giving, and never missed the Sun Dance in June. He lived in Hardin, north of the reservation, where he rebuilt truck engines during the day and drank hard in the bars at night. He fought often and lost seldom. When he was drinking with Uncle Pokey, the two of them lying on the bed of Pokeys pickup staring into the unbounded stars of Montanas big sky, passing a bottle of Dickel Sour Mash between them, Harlan would talk of his time in Vietnam, of the two brothers he lost there, and of the warrior blood that was part of the Hunts Alone family. Pokey would answer Harlans painful pride with parables and mysterious references until Harlan could stand it no longer.Damn it, Pokey, can your medicine fix a Cummins diesel? Can it fill out a tax form? Can it get you a job? jailor medicine. Fuck fasting. Fuck the Sun Dance. If I thought I could do it, Id take Joan and the kids and go a thousand miles from here.Youd be back, Pokey would say. Then the two of them would lie there drinking in silence for long minutes before one of them would bring up basketball, hunting, or truck engines some outcome safe and far away from Harlans anger.Some of those nights Samson would crawl out of his cot, sneak past the six cousins that slept in his room and out into the yard, where he would lie by the wheel of the old truck and listen to the two men talk.Harlan was the only adult Samson knew who would talk about the dead, so the boy would lie there with his face against the cold grass hoping to hear something about his father or his mother, but mostly he perceive about his two uncles, dead in the jungles, or his grandfather, who died piece by piece in a white hospital of diabetes. His father had died too young to leave many stories or a strong ghost. Not that Harlan would admit to believing in ghosts. If Im haunted, he would tell Pokey, its not by my unrevenged brothers, its by you and your back-assward ways.After time and hangovers passed, Samson would ask Pokey about Harlan and always get the same answer. Poor Harlan, he is out of balance. I should dance for him at the Sun Dance. It was no answer. Samson remained confused.Samson watched as Harlan rose from the bench and undressed for the sweat. He was tall and lean, his skin deep red-brown in the firelight, his eyes and hair non-white as an obsidian arrowhead pure Crow brave. But as Samson undressed he wondered why his uncle seemed so unhappy with his heritage. He treated his Crow blood like a curse, while Pokey seemed to see it as a blessing. They were half brothers, sharing the same mother, belonging to her clan, growing up in the same house why were they so different? Why did neither one seem to be able to live comfortably in his own skin?Naked, they all entered the low dome of the sweat lodge and sat in a circle around its perimeter. Pokey placed a pose of water by the fire pit, then he pulled down the door flap. He added sweet grass and cedar to the hot rocks and fragrant smoke filled the lodge as he sang a prayer song. His prayers were in English, which Samson knew embarrassed him some. Pokey, like Grandma, had gone to a boarding enlighten run by the BIA where Indians were forbidden to speak or learn their own language or religion. In this way the BIA hoped that the Native American culture would disappear into the larger white culture, assimilated. Harlan, on the other hand, was ten years younger than Pokey and, like Samson, had been taught Crow in school as part of the BIAs move to preserve Indian cu lture.Pokey poured four dippers of water onto the rocks and Samson lowered his face to avoid the steam. As Pokey sang, Samson let his mind wander to the bull pine. He would like to live on that big ranch in that big house and have his own room and two guns like Little Joe Cartwright. Until Grandma had interpreted all their per capita money a year ago and bought the big written communication television at the Kmart in Billings, Samson thought that everyone lived in a small house with twenty cousins and five or six aunts and uncles and their grandma. Everyone on the reservation seemed to. Before the television arrived Samson did not know he was poor. Now he spent every evening piled in the front room with his family watching people he did not know do things he did not understand in places he could not fathom, while the commercials told him that he should be just like those people. None of those people ever took a sweat.Pokey had poured the seven dippers and the sweat lodge was so hot that Samsons mind went white. He lay down on the floor to catch ones breath some cooler air. Someone lifted his head and asked him if he was okay. He answered yes and passed out.-=*=- Water was being splashed on his face. Samson came to and realized that he was being held in Harlans strong arms.We did a naming ceremony for you, Samson, Harlan said. From now on you shall be called Squats Behind the Bush. And you owe each of us a carton of cigarettes and a new Ford truck.Samson saw that Harlan was grinning at him and he smiled back. If I dont take the name, do I have to give you the gifts?Harlan laughed and set the boy on his feet by a fifty-five-gallon gravel where Harry and Festus were pouring dippers of water over their heads.After they were dried off and redressed Pokey moved the rocks out of the pit and replaced them with hot ones from the fire so the women could take their sweat.Pokey finished and led them into the house, which was surprisingly quiet. The little kids were in bed and the women filed out to the sweat silently as soon as the men entered. The cheap Formica table was set with five pliable bowls around a big pot of venison-and-cabbage stew and a basket of fry bread. Harlan poured them all coffee from a big shameful urn on the counter while Pokey dished up the stew. Samson attacked a piece of fry bread and was tearing away at its stretchy, donutlike crust when Harlan sat down next to him and said, So, Squats Behind the Bush, what are you gonna do tomorrow if you see Old Man Coyote in your vision like your Uncle Pokey did?Festus and Harry giggled. Samson answered the sarcasm in earnest. Pokeys the only one with Coyote medicine. Pretty Eagle said so.Good thing, too, Harlan said. Some of us have to live in the real world.Harlan Pokey shouted. Let it go.Its gone, Harlan said. Its as gone as can be, Pokey.They finished their meal in silence, Samson wondering what Harlan meant by Its gone. Later, as he fell asleep listening to the soft breathing of his cousins, he imagined himself living on the Ponderosa sleeping in his own room, herding cattle on his own black horse, carrying two shiny six-guns, practicing his fast-draw, and always staying on the lookout for Indians.