Winter Counts(51)

“I’m Muckleshoot—from Washington—but as a food justice warrior, I’ve studied the indigenous lifeways and nourishment customs of Native peoples from all regions of this hemisphere. I’ve always loved the food of the Plains; you have such riches here.”

Riches? Had he driven around our reservation at all?

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You have amazing herbs, seeds, vegetables—all growing right outside your door. Where I live, in LA, it’s a wasteland for wild foods. I have to go inland or to farmers’ markets to get what I need. You Lakotas are lucky to have such a bounty of traditional foods here.”

I didn’t feel lucky, but I knew it was better to stay quiet.

“Lack, how long are you staying in South Dakota?” asked Ann.

“Well, we’re funded through this week by a grant program. After that, I was planning to drive down to New Mexico—Santa Fe. I’m thinking about opening a second outpost of my restaurant there. But you guys have shown such hospitality that I thought I’d stay for a bit, give my employees a break. The hotel here at the casino comped our rooms, really nice of them.”

Ann touched Lack’s arm. “I love Santa Fe. The city has such beautiful architecture and history; we love to walk around the plaza and explore the shops. Marie, didn’t you apply to medical school in New Mexico? She’s planning to become a physician.”

Marie, uncomfortable, said, “Yes, Mom, but the med school’s in Albuquerque, not Santa Fe.” She looked over at Lack. “I’d like to stay here, but New Mexico has one of the best internal medicine programs in the country. I’m waiting to hear back where I’ll be accepted. If anywhere.”

“What type of medicine do you plan to specialize in?” Lack asked.

“Probably general practice. But I want to combine traditional indigenous healing customs with Western medicine. Native people have always known you have to heal the spirit as well as the body. I want to use ceremonies, herbs, and prayers along with allopathic cures to help people walk in beauty.”

“Walk in beauty! I love it,” said Lack. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to do with indigenous food.”

“I didn’t come up with the concept,” said Marie. “It’s Navajo. Not that I’m any expert in their culture.”

“Well, it’s a marvelous way to express it. The idea that we can combine traditional indigenous customs with the technology of the twenty-first century.” Lack looked over at me. “Virgil, what do you do?”

I hated that question. It was such a white way of looking at the world, that a person is judged by their job, not their character. While I was thinking about how to reply, Ann chimed in.

“Virgil is our local hired thug.”

“Mom, you know that’s not true,” said Marie. “Virgil does a lot of things. Construction, odd jobs, raising his nephew.”

“You’re a pretty big guy. Maybe I can call you if anyone gives me a hard time around here,” Lack said with a half smile. “Tommy, what about you? You work around here?”

“I’m between jobs right now,” said Tommy. “Looking for the right fit. You hiring?”

Lack laughed. “Maybe. My crew’s pretty intense, I got to warn you.”

Right at that moment, a drunk and dirty Indian stumbled into the restaurant. The stereotype—a skinny dude on crutches, with long greasy hair and wearing an old green jacket. He spotted our group and started limping over to our table.

“Oh no,” Ann said.

“Hey, can you lend me some money? I lost my wallet, need a few dollars to get home.”

Lack, Ann, and Marie looked away from the man and were quiet. The little dog wagged her tail, hoping for some affection from the guy. I quickly got up and led the man out of the restaurant into the hallway. I put a few bucks in his hands. He didn’t thank me, just wandered off down the hallway, past the hanging portraits of Chief Spotted Tail, the great leader of our tribe. Spotted Tail, who’d been killed by one of his own people, ambushed and shot before he could return fire.

When I got back to the table, Lack said, “Do you know him?”

“Not really. His name’s Russ, he served in the army a while back. Got sent overseas to fight in the war. Had his leg blown off by one of those land mines. That’s all I know.”

There was silence at our table for a while, then Lack jumped up and hurried out of the restaurant.

“We can’t even have a nice lunch around here anymore,” said Ann. “Now we’ve offended Lack.”

“Should I go after him?” asked Marie, looking out into the hallway.

Lack walked back in to the restaurant and sat down again.

Ann said, “Lack, we’re sorry that man bothered you—”

“It’s fine, no problem,” Lack said.

“Where did you go?” asked Marie. “Did you say something to him?”

“I told him to come around to the food truck later if he was hungry. Gave him a hundred dollars.”

I knew I should be jealous of Lack. That he could give so much more money than me, hand out free dinners and lunches. That he got to look like the hero in the situation. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling, but jealousy wasn’t it.

“Perhaps we should get our food before this place fills up,” Ann said.