Winter Counts(79)
I saw I was near Tommy’s shack, so I decided to stop in and talk. I knocked on the door, and he answered right away.
“Hey Virg. How you doing? Come on in.” He was wearing a flannel shirt, only half buttoned, and I could see the scars on his chest from the Sun Dance he’d taken part in.
I looked around his little trailer and noticed that he’d put up some posters: Honor the Treaties, Geronimo holding a rifle, and several Billy Jack movie stills, all depicting Tom Laughlin about to kick the crap out of the white townspeople.
“Ain’t got no Shastas, but you want some Kool-Aid? I got tropical punch.” He handed me a jelly jar filled with reddish liquid. “Any news about Nathan? Marie called last night, gave me the four-one-one.”
I took a drink of the Kool-Aid and nearly spit it out, it was so overpoweringly sweet. I set the glass down on the table without drinking any more.
“No news,” I said. “There’s an alert out—allpoints bulletin—so I’m hoping some cop spots them. But you know, there are only like ten tribal cops on the entire rez. Half the time they’re dealing with some family shit.”
“Yeah, well, maybe somebody will see ’em. I’m sending out good thoughts to the Creator.”
“Marie tell you she wants Jerome Iron Shell to hold a yuwipi to find Nathan?”
“She didn’t tell me, but I heard. You know, word travels. That reminds me, I got something for you.”
He went to the other room and came back, holding his hand out to me. “This is for you, bro. Belonged to my ciye, but now it’s yours. You need to give it to Jerome tonight. He can’t start unless you give him a pipe and ask the Creator for help. Don’t worry, I already filled it for you.”
It was a cannunpa, the sacred ceremonial pipe that had been passed down to him by his brother, who’d passed away years ago. Tommy had filled the bowl with tobacco, but the stem was disengaged, as was the custom.
“I can’t take this,” I said. “I know what it means to you. And I’m not going to have the yuwipi. That’s Marie’s idea, not mine.”
Tommy held out the pipe to me. “Homeboy, take this. You fuckin’ need it.”
THE PIPE ON MY FRONT SEAT, I traveled the bruised streets of the rez, hoping to see something, anything. I knew these roads so well, my memories layered, dense, and compacted; nearly every corner triggered some recollection. Sybil, trying to breastfeed Nathan as a baby, her frustration mounting as he stubbornly refused to latch on and finally giving in and buying formula at the corner store. Nathan in diapers I’d bought at the market, dancing on a chair to some heavy metal tune I’d played. The time I dropped him off at the day-care center, his fear of being left with strangers, his little face a mask of surprise and panic. The nights he’d gotten up, sleepwalking, and how I’d quietly get him back in bed. The empty lot by Main Street, the sting in my hand when I caught a baseball he’d thrown with surprising heat. The sarcastic demeanor he’d assumed in junior high. The look on his face in the juvenile detention center.
Before I realized where I was going, I found myself at a familiar homestead south of town and got out of my car. Jerome Iron Shell greeted me.
“Been waiting for you.”
I handed the pipe to him. He took it and nodded.
On his porch, he told me about preparations for the yuwipi. He’d already gathered friends and family, who were praying and making four hundred and five tobacco ties. He’d spoken to Marie, who was bringing food and drink. Rocky was getting the yuwipi house ready, blacking out the windows so no light could come in.
“But the most important piece is you,” he said. “You can’t have a negative attitude—the spirits won’t enter. You need to have a good heart. Be best if you could sweat, really purify, but no time for that. Just try to keep any bad thoughts out of your mind. Maybe go out in the woods, sit for a bit. Clean your soul.”
I wasn’t sure if it was possible to keep negative thoughts out of my mind, but the suggestion to sit outside for a while sounded right. I drove out to a quiet spot in a patch of trees and angled my car seat back. The birds twittered and I heard an owl call, far off in the distance. In my half-conscious state, it seemed like a warning, a caution. Then I heard it again, very faintly, muffled, barely audible, and the world went dark.
OPENING MY EYES IN the early twilight, I looked around and tried to determine how long I’d been asleep. A few hours. Then I remembered. The yuwipi. If I was going to go through with this, it was time to go. I drove out to the intersection, the one that led to the yuwipi house, but waited for a second. I could just drive away and let Jerome and the others figure out I wasn’t coming. I didn’t owe them anything. I could continue the search for Nathan by myself, alone, separated from the rez and all its people, problems, complications. But Jerome had told me that about forty people were coming to the ceremony, most of whom I didn’t know, just people who’d heard about Nathan’s disappearance and wanted to help. The community.
I turned toward the house, the car seemingly driving itself over the bumps and jolts of the unpaved road. A few dozen cars were parked out in front, but for once I didn’t see any dogs or kids running around. It was strangely silent and still.
I opened the door and walked in. Someone had plugged in a few table lamps, but that was the only light. The windows had been covered with heavy paper and duct tape, and even the gaps between doors and frames had been sealed. Hundreds of colorful tobacco ties had been placed around the room and on the makeshift altar set up at the far end. Prayer flags, sweetgrass braids, a pitcher of water, and some food were placed around the altar. Two drummers and two singers sat off to the side, and dozens of others were sitting on the floor against the wall, looking at me silently. Some were smiling, but most looked serious. Marie was there, sitting right next to the altar—the place of honor—with a small smile on her face. Tommy was off to the side, next to Velma. He raised his hand and grinned at me.