The Blue Between the Clouds (7 page)

It took a good part of the morning to get to the reservation. I fell asleep part of the way. Two Moons just looked out the window and sang. The road was long and dusty. Finally we came to a hogan beside a sweat house. The fire in the sweat house was already burnin'. Pa unloaded the sheep while four women embraced Two Moons and cried. Then they turned and spoke to my father in Navajo. I couldn't understand their clicking tongues, but Pa could. He motioned to me and handed me the sheep rope. Pa must've told them the sheep was from me 'cause they came right over and started into huggin' me. Pa drove away before I could say good-bye.

One of the women took the sheep from me and tied him to the hogan. The other three spread out a blanket in the dust for me to sit on. It got pretty quiet then, and all I could hear was the chantin' inside the sweat house. Two Moons was standin' at the small openin' covered with skins. He pulled off his clothes and crawled into the sweat house.

You see, the sweat house is like a temple to the Navajo. It's where they go to cleanse themselves, sweat out all the evil in their bodies. They build a sort of teepee out of poles, then cover it with skins. Then they build a fire inside and pour water on the hot stones. It gets all steamy and hot in there. The men sit in a circle on the ground and chant for hours. I knew they wouldn't come out until they felt clean, ready to wash the dead body and get it ready for burial. That could take hours, even most of the day. I laid down on the blanket and watched the last half of sunrise.

Late that afternoon, the men came out of the sweat house. They were drippin' wet and wore only small loincloths. The women handed them bits of fry bread and gourds filled with water before they all gathered in a circle around a fire pit. Logs were dumped into the pit and a small fire was lit. Everybody was singin' mournful songs while a brave kept rhythm on a drum. One by one, members of the clan threw the old man's stuff on the fire: his hat, a string of beads, his blanket. They'd sing louder as the fire grew. This was the second day. The singin' would go on for two more days. I tried to keep up with the chantin', but late that night I fell asleep. The singin' went on without me until the next morning when I awoke. The fire was still smokin'. Two Moons was standin' with Spotted Deer, a very old man. Spotted Deer was pullin' a silver chain from his medicine bag. His hands trembled and the silver chain looked like it was on fire in the early morning light. Two Moons bent forward and Spotted Deer hung the chain on his neck, then he drew his knife and cut a lock of Two Moons' hair and put it in his medicine bag. Two Moons walked over and sat on the ground beside me.

“My grandfather,” he said, “believed that in every village lives a warrior who cannot sleep. He leaves in the night to see what is beyond the mountains. But he always returns. He brings back with him great stories of war, storms, evil spirits, and drought. The tribe then makes preparations, and many lives are spared because of this one brave warrior. Grandfather told Spotted Deer that he believed I was such a warrior, and he gave him this silver chain to give to me when he died.”

“What does it mean?” I asked.

“He says I will have to learn it on my own,” Two Moons said.

The rest of it seemed like a blur to me. The singin' and fires. On the final day, they dressed his grandfather in new clothes and buried him in his mud house. Then the feast began. They had slaughtered pigs and sheep, including the one we brought. Everybody was handin' Two Moons money and gifts because he was one of the last members of his clan. We were free to talk about his grandfather then. They called him Man with No Eyes. I think it was because he was so old that he couldn't see. Nobody could remember his name from before. They all laughed and told stories about how he used to lose at cards because he couldn't tell what he had in his hands. The stories seemed to go on for an awful long time, and so did the food. Roast deer, duck, and fry bread. My stomach was tight as a stretched deer hide, but they kept handin' me food, and I kept eatin'.

About then, a rusty old Ford drove up. Out stumbled an Indian woman and a scraggly dog. It was Little Crow from Bozeman.

Two Moons' sister was meaner than a half-starved coyote. Seems she left the clan a long time ago and only came back when she needed somethin'. Now she needed someone around the house to do some chores. She stood there lookin' like she was goin' to slap the next person she saw. Her hair was dirty, and she looked like she'd been asleep for days in the same clothes. I moved closer to her. I wanted to try and talk to her, tell her that me and Two Moons were like brothers. I stood in front of her.

“I'm Matt Canton,” I said. “Two Moons has been livin' with me, and, well, we'd sort of like to keep it that way.”

Now, I thought for sure she would talk about it, you know, ask me why I thought Two Moons would be better off in Thistle. But she didn't. She stared at me with those dark eyes and I could tell there was somethin' brewin' in her head, like it was on fire or somethin'.

“Don't tell me my business,” she said as she walked past me.

I knew then that Two Moons would be movin' to Bozeman forever.

8

JUDGE TAGGART

A few days later, Judge Taggart was at the house early in the morning. We had just sat down to breakfast after chores when he knocked on the door. Ma wiped her hands on her apron and walked to the front door. We all knew it must be someone formal or else they would've just hollered through the window.

“Pa,” she said. “The judge is here and he wants to talk to you and Two Moons.”

Nobody talks to just part of the family at our house. Well, they try, but pretty soon everybody is crowded around with bent ears. We all followed Pa into the sitting room.

The judge was standin' just inside the door. Even though it was early, he was sweatin' already. His collar was damp and he daubed at his forehead with a hanky.

“Hi, Tom,” he said to Pa. “I'm afraid I got some bad news for your family. I wanted to tell it in person.”

“Have a seat, Judge,” Pa said. “Lay it out straight so we can get a look at what can be done.”

“Well, Tom,” the judge started. “Your family has always been one to rely on, always goin' out of your way for others. And there are many who have benefited, and many who are grateful.”

“Get to it,” Pa said. “We already feel good about ourselves.”

“Well,” said the judge. “I just got an order from a federal judge in Bozeman. It says Little Crow is Two Moons' legal guardian. He's gonna have to go live with his sister.”

Two Moons was sittin' on the floor. He let his head fall between his hands.

“The boy's happy here,” Pa said.

“It doesn't matter,” the judge said. “His tribe decides who the legal guardian is; the court has to honor their decision.”

“His tribe?” Ma said.

“I'm afraid so,” the judge said.

“Well, don't his tribe know he's happy here?” Pa said.

“They feel like he'd be better off with his own people. He's got to be in Bozeman in one month.”

I stopped listenin' about then and started thinkin' about those thirty days. What all could we do in thirty days? Then I got mad at the judge. Oh, I didn't say anything, but a man that won't stand up and fight for somethin' makes me mad. Then I looked at Pa and I could tell there would be nothin' we could do.

Esther got up and left. I think she was cryin'. If she was, it was the first, and last, time she ever did.

The judge stood up and shook Pa's hand. Ma just kinda stared at him, rubbin' her hands together. Two Moons squeezed by the fat judge and ran outside.

“I'm sorry,” the judge said. Then he made his way out the door. He hesitated on the front porch, like he wanted to say something more. But he couldn't think of anything else. Then he kind of jumped, and yelped.

“Ouch!” he said.

“What is it, Judge?” asked Pa.

“I think I just got stung by a hornet.”

The judge was rubbin' the back of his leg.

“Well, let's get some ointment on it,” Pa said.

“No, no. I'll be okay,” the judge said. “Y'all take care.”

Funny thing, the judge was stung twice more before he made it to his car. Pa said he'd better get down to the hardware store and get a nest bomb, but
I
knew it wasn't hornets.

9

THE MEDICINE MAN

I found Two Moons out by the holdin' pond. A few days earlier we had set up a stack of cans on the far bank. We'd try to skip rocks across the pond and hit the cans. That's what Two Moons was doin', skippin' rocks. I remember what a beautiful day it was, and how out of place Two Moons seemed. He was so sorrowful, and the sky was so blue. It ain't like you can talk to somebody when they're like that. They don't have any say in their life and there ain't nobody can do anything for 'em. I threw some rocks with him, but neither one of us could hit the cans. I don't think we tried very hard. Then we sat down.

“We been blood brothers for a long time,” I said.

Two Moons nodded.

“So it seems to me,” I said, “that, well, if you're thinkin' of runnin' off, I want to go with you.”

Two Moons looked at me for a long time before sayin' anything. “I thought about that,” he said. “I suppose it would be a lot like ‘Icarus.' A good dream but an awful short flight.”

We started to laugh then, but only for a moment. Neither one of us could think of anything else to say. We just sat there on the bank of the holdin' pond watchin' the circles grow on the still water. It was so quiet you could hear the magpies in the field. Then we heard a crash. It was the cans. Someone hit the cans with a rock. At first we thought it was Esther, but even she isn't that good. Whoever it was must have pegged them from the barn. We couldn't think of anyone we knew who could throw that far. While we were sittin' there stupefied, a rock sailed from behind the barn in a long arc and landed right in the middle of the pile of cans. Then another one sailed overhead and before it hit, a rock shot like a bullet in a beeline to the cans. Both rocks hit about the same time. We couldn't believe it. Nobody can throw like that, we thought; got to be a slingshot. Then we heard the laughin'. It was Emmett.

He appeared from behind the barn, laughin' and strokin' his face like he just shaved. He stopped and covered his eyes like a baby playin' peekaboo.

“The sky is falling!” he shouted. “The sky is falling!”

Then he laughed and laughed and ducked like he was runnin' for cover.

“What are you doin', Emmett?” I said.

He held his arms out like a big bird and soared around us. He flew in close, then backed away. He swooped down, splashed in the holdin' pond, then stomped his feet on the bank. His mouth putted like an engine and his arms rattled like wings. He looked at us kinda funny, the way he would if we had on the wrong shirt for church or somethin'. His engine roared louder.

“I think he wants us to fly with him for a while,” I said.

Two Moons nodded and we were off, flyin' like a squadron through the field, around the pond, and into the deep blue of the sky. We circled the apple trees and the old Ford and stopped in front of the barn. Emmett motioned us inside and we dove like bombers through the opening and out the back door, where Emmett bumped his head. We made a quick landing so Emmett could rub his lump. While we were standin' there, Emmett noticed the plane. I knew he had seen it before, but maybe it just dawned on him what it was. He fell to his knees like he was worshiping a great idol. Then he stood up and his face became serious.

“Fetch my tools, Matt,” he said. “We gotta get this baby back in the air before tomorrow's raid.”

Now, I really didn't want Emmett messin' with my plane. I mean, he could put it in pieces, make it into nothin' more than a pile of junk. But then again, maybe he could get it into the air. I ran to his truck to find his tools.

When I returned, Emmett had the baler tines from old man Hawkins' place. He was holdin' 'em to the plane, sizing 'em up for wings.

“We're gonna need some canvas, boy,” he said. “And a bucket of starch. Find me some heavy thread and some fine sand, too. A little bit of motor oil and gas wouldn't hurt either.”

Me and Two Moons scampered off like squirrels. We found some old canvas in the barn and a bag of corn starch in the pantry. We couldn't find heavy thread, so we got some fishin' line out of Pa's tackle box. The hardest thing to find was sand. We looked everywhere. Finally, Two Moons remembered the judge was puttin' in a brick walkway by his garden. We ran all the way there and came back with a flour sack half full.

By the time we got back, Emmett had Pa's welder out and was makin' wing frames out of the baler tines. He worked fast, and didn't say a word, but every now and then he'd hold his thumb up to his nose and sight down his hand. I guess that's how he kept everything straight. Then he'd pull at the skin on his forehead like he was tryin' to get somethin' out of his brain. Me and Two Moons could hardly keep from laughin', the way he was flitterin' around like a goose without its mate.

By late afternoon the plane was a skeleton. All the old canvas had been stripped off the fuselage and the wings grew out from the body like long, graceful fingers. The whole thing looked like a tailor's cage—you know, that mannequin made out of wire the tailor hangs dresses on. All we had left to do was to wrap the whole thing in canvas and put the engine back together. The engine lay spread out on the grass in pieces. No two movin' parts were hooked together. It was glorious. Emmett was covered in gritty oil and was cleanin' each piece. I was sittin' in the cockpit testing the tension on the cables that connected to the control stick. The wing tabs worked, the tail rudder worked. I began to think it really might fly.