Day Of The Dead Part 11

Brandon Walker looked down at his own white skin and was suddenly ashamed. He felt a surge of anger toward that brutish grade school princ.i.p.al whose actions had so traumatized an innocent four-year-old girl that she had d.a.m.ned herself to a lifetime of silence.

The worthless son of a b.i.t.c.h! he thought. he thought. Somebody should have thrown his a.s.s in jail. Somebody should have thrown his a.s.s in jail.

"Two years later there was a new princ.i.p.al, a nice one," Andrea continued. "When the school secretary told him what had happened, he fixed it so Roseanne and I were in the same cla.s.s. She was my shadow."

"Ehkthag," Brandon said. Brandon said.

Andrea Tashquinth looked Brandon full in the face and smiled for the first time. "Yes," she agreed. "Roseanne was my ehkthag ehkthag."

"Whatever happened to the first princ.i.p.al?" Brandon asked.

Andrea shrugged. "Nothing," she said. "He left. Went somewhere else. When Mil-gahn Mil-gahn do bad things on the reservation, they leave, but nothing ever happens to them. That's the way it is-the way it's always been." do bad things on the reservation, they leave, but nothing ever happens to them. That's the way it is-the way it's always been."

After Philip staggered off, a humiliated Delia Cachora stood on the sidewalk looking at Fat Crack Ortiz, this ghost from her distant past. She had felt this same way the day her father had come to Ruth's house in Tempe to collect Eddie and take him back to the reservation. a humiliated Delia Cachora stood on the sidewalk looking at Fat Crack Ortiz, this ghost from her distant past. She had felt this same way the day her father had come to Ruth's house in Tempe to collect Eddie and take him back to the reservation.

When they arrived in Tempe, Ellie Chavez had planned to stay with Sister Justine's friend, Ruth Waldron, just that one night. They arrived late in the evening because it had taken so long to get the car running. Then they'd encountered a summer rainstorm that made the washes between Quijotoa and Casa Grande impa.s.sable. They'd had to wait for the water to go down.

When they finally stopped in front of the small frame house, they had pa.s.sed through the worst of the storm, but a fitful rain still fell. It was late. Eddie had fallen sound asleep in the backseat. As soon as the car stopped, an outside light flashed on and a tall bony woman-the tallest Mil-gahn Mil-gahn woman Delia had ever seen-emerged onto the porch. A cloud of mouthwatering fragrances drifted out of the house behind her, and Delia realized she was hungry. woman Delia had ever seen-emerged onto the porch. A cloud of mouthwatering fragrances drifted out of the house behind her, and Delia realized she was hungry.

Ellie stepped out of the Falcon. Taking Delia by the hand, they hurried up onto the porch and out of the rain. "Miss Waldron?" Ellie asked tentatively.

Ruth Waldron stretched out both hands in greeting. "You must be Ellie," she said. "Please call me Ruth." She turned to Delia, who wavered on the edge of the porch like a wild thing poised for flight. Ruth bent down until her face and Delia's were on the same level. "You must be Delia," she added with a toothy smile. "Now where's that brother of yours? Where's Eddie?"

Delia pointed to the car. "He's sleeping," she whispered.

"I'm sure you're all worn out," Ruth said kindly. "Sister Justine called and told me you were on your way. Go get Eddie and come in. Supper's waiting. By the time we finish eating, maybe the rain will be over so we can bring in your suitcases."

The next day, however, much to Delia's surprise, her mother didn't go apartment hunting after all. Instead, they stayed on with Ruth for the next four years-for as long as Ellie Chavez was in the undergraduate program at ASU. While Ellie was busy studying, Ruth Waldron, a phys ed teacher at two Tempe elementary schools, became Eddie and Delia's surrogate mother. She was good to the kids. She took them to ball games, to the zoo, and to the Arizona State Fair. She helped them with homework and attended PTA meetings when Ellie couldn't.

Delia loved school. At first she was far behind other kids in her cla.s.s. She was lumped in with the slower ones and pretty much ignored, but with her own natural capabilities and with Ruth's nightly tutoring sessions at home, Delia soon bubbled to the top.

Neither Delia nor her brother saw their father again until four years later, the summer Eddie turned six and Delia twelve. Delia Chavez was within days of promotion to the eighth grade when, on a warm spring afternoon, she came home from the library with an armload of books and with her little brother in tow. As they approached the house, an unfamiliar pickup truck was parked in the front driveway. Manuel Chavez stood on the front porch, shouting at Ruth Waldron and at Ellie. Delia knew at once her father was just as drunk and angry as she remembered him.

"I want my son!" he yelled for all the neighborhood to hear. "You'd better give Eddie back to me before you turn him into an Anglo and a queer, too."

Eddie had been so young when they left Sells that he had no recollection of this man who claimed to be his father, but if this loud stranger wanted to take Eddie somewhere in a s.h.i.+ny pickup truck, the boy was eager to go.

While the children looked on, the argument raged back and forth. In the end Ellie agreed that Eddie would return to the reservation with his father.

To Delia, the whole thing was incomprehensible. It had taken the next several years for her to come to terms with what had happened that day on Ruth's front porch. How could her mother bear to send Eddie off with a horrible drunk who was a virtual stranger? How could she let him go without putting up a fight? It wasn't a matter of legal custody. As far as Delia knew, there had never been a divorce or a court order or any exchange of legal doc.u.ments. Ellie simply handed Eddie over even though she must have known what the consequences would be. She must have guessed that once Manny drove away with her son, she would never get him back. He would disappear into the world of the reservation and into his father's family and be lost to her forever.

That was exactly what happened. Ellie and Ruth may have spoiled Eddie, but his Grandmother Chavez in Big Fields was far better-or worse-at spoiling. Eddie had grown up fat and lazy and every bit as much of a drunk as his father. When he graduated from eighth grade, he quit going to school, and Manny made no attempt to change his mind. Eddie contacted Delia only when he needed money-when he had wrecked his latest pickup or when he had been let out of jail and needed something to get by on until he could find a job for day wages.

As a twelve-year-old, Delia hadn't understood all the implications of what was being said on the porch, nor did she realize how much went unspoken beneath that flurry of angry words.

Delia's seventh-grade a.s.sessment of the situation was that her brother was a stupid, spoiled brat. That being the case, why had Manuel come to Tempe for Eddie and not for Delia? Why had he collected his crybaby son-someone who'd had to repeat kindergarten-and not his straight-A daughter? Why was Eddie worthy of being returned to the reservation when Delia was not?

Eventually, in high school, Delia understood more about the dynamics of the relations.h.i.+ps involved. It took that long for her to grasp what was really going on between her mother and Ruth Waldron-a former Benedictine nun with strong connections to an old Boston family. Both women were exiles-Ellie from the reservation and Ruth from her convent and her disapproving family. Ellie and Ruth had been lovers almost from the beginning, from the night Ruth took the reservation refugees in off the street and welcomed them into her home.

Years after that, when Delia was in law school, she finally grasped the kinds of pressures her father could have brought to bear if Ellie hadn't given in to Manny's demands for Eddie. Lesbian mothers had no rights in those days. If Ellie had defied her husband, she'd have risked losing both children rather than just one. A legal fracas might also have cost her the postgraduate fellows.h.i.+p she'd been offered. And a public furor might have wrecked Ruth's career with the Tempe public schools as well. Gay and lesbian schoolteachers didn't start coming out of the closet until decades later.

To their credit, Ellie and Ruth were still together, all this time later. For years, during summer vacation, Ruth would come and stay with Ellie and Delia wherever they were. Now that Ruth was retired, she and Ellie lived comfortably together in a little house Ruth had inherited just outside Cambridge, Ma.s.sachusetts. With her Ph.D. in education and her impeccable Native American credentials, Ellie Chavez had served a long stint with the BIA and was a much-sought-after consultant in the field of American Indian education, even though, after leaving the reservation that rainy August day, she had never returned to Sells, not even once.

Standing on the sidewalk in D.C., Delia Cachora was at a loss as to what she should do. She was delighted to see Fat Crack Ortiz and wanted to invite him up to their apartment, but after seeing the condition Philip was in, she worried that the apartment would be too much of a mess. Fat Crack solved the problem for both of them. in D.C., Delia Cachora was at a loss as to what she should do. She was delighted to see Fat Crack Ortiz and wanted to invite him up to their apartment, but after seeing the condition Philip was in, she worried that the apartment would be too much of a mess. Fat Crack solved the problem for both of them.

"If you'd give me a ride back to my hotel, perhaps we could talk there."

Delia was relieved to open the pa.s.senger door and let him in. When she handed the keys over to a parking valet, her 9000 blended in perfectly with other vehicles waiting in line at the Four Seasons.

Once they were seated in the lounge and had ordered drinks, Fat Crack grinned at her. "Accommodations for Indians are nicer around here than they were in the old days," he said. "At least when the Great White Father is paying the freight."

By then Delia had collected herself and she was able to smile back. "Yes," she said. "Things have changed."

Gabe Ortiz told her about his position with the tribe and explained how he'd come to Was.h.i.+ngton for an Indian gaming conference, but that still didn't make clear to Delia why he'd come looking for her.

"Did my mother's aunt Julia send you?" she asked.

Fat Crack searched her face in a way that made Delia feel he was peering into her soul. "Yes," he admitted finally. "Julia Joaquin did ask me to drop by. She's concerned about you. She wanted to know whether or not you're happy, but that's not why we're having this talk."

Delia felt a sudden rush of anger. She barely knew her busybody great-aunt. Had Delia pa.s.sed Julia Joaquin on the street, she doubted she'd recognize her, yet Aunt Julia felt she could interfere in Delia's private affairs. It took a moment for Delia to realize Fat Crack had stopped talking and was waiting for her response.

"Why are we?" she asked finally.

"Have you ever thought about coming back to the reservation?" Fat Crack asked.

Delia shook her head. "Never," she said. "I like D.C. I love my job, and I haven't been near the reservation in years. Why would I want to go back there?"

"Your aunt tells me that you're very bright, that you're working as a lawyer for the BIA. What do you do there?"

"I study treaties," she said, relaxing a little. "My job is to try to make sure agreements that were supposed to last as long as the 'gra.s.s shall grow and rivers flow' continue to have meaning in the modern world. If a tribe signed a treaty about fis.h.i.+ng rights a hundred years ago, one they haven't revised, then the treaty should still apply right now."

"Are you having any luck?"

"Some," Delia said. "Those Mil-gahn Mil-gahn treaty writers were pretty d.a.m.ned tricky." treaty writers were pretty d.a.m.ned tricky."

They both laughed at that.

"You mentioned fis.h.i.+ng," Fat Crack resumed a moment later. "Does that mean you deal with mostly Northwest tribes?"

"No, they're from all over. Fis.h.i.+ng rights. Timber rights. Mineral rights. Grazing."

"Gambling, too?"

"That's not usually mentioned, but we're maintaining that since the tribes are sovereign nations, it's implied."

"We're going to need a new tribal attorney," Gabe Ortiz said abruptly, without any additional preamble. "Elias Segundo is about to retire. I'm offering you the job."

Delia was dumbfounded. "Based on my aunt Julia's recommendation?" she asked. "Have you looked at my academic record, talked to my supervisors?"

"No," he said, after a moment. "I've done none of those things, but I can see you're your mother's daughter. That's good enough for me."

"You're serious, then?"

"Yes."

"Surely someone who's lived on the reservation all his life would be more qualified than I am."

"You'd be surprised," Fat Crack replied. "Or maybe you wouldn't. Young people on the reservation, especially the girls, haven't had the benefit of your education or experience."

Delia thought about that for a few moments-about all the girls whose mothers hadn't been able to do for their daughters what Ellie Chavez, with Ruth Waldron's help, had done for her.

"You want me to be a role model?"

"You would be," Fat Crack said. "You're one of the Tohono O'odham's lost girls. If you came home, maybe others would, too."

"My husband would never agree to go back," Delia told him finally. "This is where his business is-his gallery, his friends." She didn't add "and his drinking and drugging buddies," but she didn't have to. Fat Crack Ortiz already knew about that. He'd witnessed it with his own eyes.

"It might be good if Philip went home," Fat Crack suggested. "Reconnecting with your roots could be good for both of you."

It was one thing for Delia to agonize about her husband's difficulties. Having this relative stranger offer advice about them offended her. She put down her drink. "No," she said slowly. "I don't think it would. Philip will be fine, and so will I. He'll find his way." She stood up then. "Thanks so much for the offer, Mr. Ortiz. I really appreciate it, but I can't accept. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get home."

"Sure," Gabe said. "I understand."

As Delia walked away, she knew it was true. Fat Crack Ortiz understood far more than she wanted him to.

After spending most of the night awake, Lani didn't wake up until early afternoon. In the kitchen she made toast and a pot of coffee, then she settled in to study. For some reason she couldn't keep her eyes open. No matter how hard she tried, the words on the pages drifted into nonsense and her head drooped. most of the night awake, Lani didn't wake up until early afternoon. In the kitchen she made toast and a pot of coffee, then she settled in to study. For some reason she couldn't keep her eyes open. No matter how hard she tried, the words on the pages drifted into nonsense and her head drooped.

Sometime later, a ringing telephone startled her from a sound sleep. As she reached for the phone, she glanced at the clock. It was four o'clock in the afternoon.

"Lani?"

"Wanda?" Lani asked, struggling to recognize the woman's voice. "Is that you?"

"Yes," Wanda Ortiz said. "I went outside to check on him, Lani. Fat Crack's gone."

"Gone?" Lani took a deep breath and closed her eyes. There was no need to ask what "gone" meant. "I'm coming home," she said. "I'll call Mom and Dad first, then I'm on my way. I'll be there as soon as I can."

It took several hours to contact her various professors and make arrangements for her finals as well as for having her belongings packed and s.h.i.+pped home. Once that was accomplished, she called for airline reservations. The only flight available meant she wouldn't arrive in Phoenix until early afternoon the next day. Only after purchasing her ticket did Lani try calling her parents.

She knew from experience that when dealing with offspring, her dad was a far softer touch and more understanding than her mother. Diana was the tough one-the disciplinarian. Brandon was a pushover. From the time Lani was tiny, she had been smart enough to play both those ends against the middle.

She tried her dad's cell phone first, but he didn't answer. She hung up, but before she could dial again, her own phone rang.

"Lani," Diana said uncertainly. "Honey, I'm so sorry to have to tell you this. I just heard from Wanda Ortiz and-"

"It's all right, Mom," Lani interrupted. "I already heard. Wanda called me, too. I'm on my way. I'll be on the Northwest flight from Minneapolis that gets into Phoenix at one tomorrow afternoon. I'll catch the shuttle from there home."

Lani expected her mother to say she shouldn't come rus.h.i.+ng home, but Diana surprised her. "Don't even think about the shuttle," she said. "Someone will be there to meet you."

"Thanks, Mom," Lani managed. They both heard the catch in her throat. "See you tomorrow."

Fourteen.

They say it happened long ago that the Tohono O'odham first came to the northern lands looking for new hunting grounds. Because it was very hot and dry, the first thing the hunters needed to find was water. In some mountains with very steep slopes they came upon a hollow shaded by mesquite trees, and in this hollow was a pool of water. There was a rock in the middle of the pool and on it sat a coyote.

When Coyote looked up and saw the hunters, at first he was very frightened because he didn't know what the hunters would do to him. Then he looked back into the pool and said in a very loud voice, "Stay down there. Don't come out and hurt these people."

This, nawoj, nawoj, my friend, was back at a time when the Indians and the animals all still spoke the same language. When the hunters heard this, they were very puzzled because coyotes usually run away and hide somewhere. my friend, was back at a time when the Indians and the animals all still spoke the same language. When the hunters heard this, they were very puzzled because coyotes usually run away and hide somewhere.

The hunters stopped at the edge of the water and looked around, but they could see nothing. Finally, one very old man stepped nearer and asked Coyote why he was talking.

"Can't you see?" Coyote asked. "I'm talking to my people who live in this pond. I do not want them to come out and kill you."

The hunters were surprised and told Coyote that they did not know his people lived in the water. Poor Coyote was trembling with fright but he answered bravely. "Oh, yes," he said. "Up here many coyotes live in the water except when they hunt." And then, looking back down into the water he said, "Do be quiet and let these people have some water."

And so, one by one, with Coyote watching, the hunters came to the pond and drank. After that, whenever Coyote saw the hunters coming, he would hurry to the pond. And there he would be, sitting on his rock, where the hunters first saw him.

And that, nawoj, nawoj, is where the village of is where the village of Ban Thak- Ban Thak-Coyote Sitting-is to this day, near the rock where Coyote sat to guard his pond.

Please tell me about your sister," Brandon said to Andrea. about your sister," Brandon said to Andrea.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything. Was Roseanne smart?"

Andrea Tashquinth stared off into the middle distance. "I think she was smart," Andrea said finally. "When someone told a joke, she'd laugh along with everyone else. She never did any homework, but she could read. She loved reading books, especially the Bible. One of the nuns at Topawa told my parents there was a convent where she could go, a contemplative convent-where no one was allowed to speak. When our mother told Roseanne about it, she smiled and nodded. It was something she would have been good at and someplace where she would have fit in."