Reservation Blues - Alexie Sherman (11 page)

After the Tipi Pole Tavern finally closed at 4 A.M.,
Chess, Checkers, and Thomas sat inside and drank Pepsi, while junior
and Victor grabbed a few beers and disappeared.

"You sounded great tonight," Thomas said to
the sisters.

"We all sounded great, " Chess said.

"Jeez," Checkers said. "Even Victor
and Junior, enit?"

"We just got to keep them sober," Chess
said. "Victor's the best guitar player I ever heard, when he's
sober."

"
I'm tired," Thomas said.

"Where'd Victor and Junior go anyway?"
Chess asked.

"
Outside," Checkers said. "Probably
getting drunk in the van."

"Well," Chess said, "I'm tired, too.
Let's get them and go home."

Thomas and the sisters walked outside to the van. He
opened the sliding door of the van and surprised Victor and Junior,
who were literally buck naked and drunk. The two naked white women in
the van were even drunker and scrambled for their clothes. Thomas
just stood there and stared. It was Betty and Veronica.

"Shut the goddamn door! " Victor shouted.

"
Jeez," Junior said, reached out, and slid
the door shut.

"Oh, rnan, " Checkers said. "That's
the last thing I wanted to see."

"
I think I'm going to get sick," Chess
said.

Thomas just walked away. Checkers looked at Chess,
who shrugged her shoulders. Who knew why Thomas did anything? Chess
followed him to a picnic bench behind the tavern. Checkers threw her
arms up, walked back into the bar, and fell asleep on the pool table.

"
I can't believe they did that," Chess said
to Thomas.

"We have to ride in that van."

"
Yeah, I know," Thomas said.

Chess sat beside Thomas at the picnic table, took his
hand, studied it for a minute. Beautiful hands, beautiful hands.

"
Where's Checkers?" Thomas asked.

"I don't know. She's probably beating the crap
out of Junior and Victor."

Chess and Thomas sat there quietly. Thomas thought
about stories and songs, but Chess only thought about those white
women in the van. She hated Indian men who chased after white women;
she hated white women who chased after Indian men.

"
You know," she said. "I really don't
like that. I don't like Junior and Victor hanging out with white
women."

"
Why?" Thomas asked.

"I don't; know. I guess it's about preservation,
enit? Ain't very many Indian men to go around. Even fewer good ones."

Thomas nodded his head.

"‘
And you know," Chess said, "as
traditional as it sounds, I think Indian men need Indian women. I
think only Indian women can take care of Indian men. Jeez, we give
birth to Indian men. We feed them. We hold them when they cry. Then
they run off with white women. I'm sick of it."

"Yeah," Thomas said. "I never dated no
white woman."

"Thomas, you never dated nobody."

They laughed.

"Seriously, I think Junior and Victor are
traitors," Chess said. "I really do. They keep running off
with white women and pretty soon, ain't no Indian women going to
touch them. We Indian women talk to each other, you know? We have a
network. They're two of the last full-blood Indians on your
reservation, enit? Jeez, Junior and Victor are betraying their DNA."

"Well," Thomas, a full-blood Spokane
himself, said, "do you like me or my DNA?"

"I like you and your DNA."

Thomas agreed with Chess, but he also knew about the
shortage of love in the world. He wondered if people should celebrate
love wherever it's found, since it is so rare. He worried about the
children of mixed-blood marriages. The half-breed kids at the
reservation school suffered through worse beatings than Thomas ever
did.

"I wonder what it's like," he said.

"Wonder about what?" Chess asked.

"
What's it like to be a half-breed kid? How do
you think it feels to have a white mom or dad? It must be weird."

"
My grandmother was a little bit white,"
Chess said.

"Really?" Thomas said. "What kind?"

"German, I guess.
Achtung
."

"
What was she like?"

"She hated to be Indian," Chess said. "She
didn't look very Indian. That white blood really showed through. She
left my grandfather, moved to Butte, and never told anybody she was
Indian. She left her son on the reservation, too. Just left him, and
they hardly ever heard from her again."

Thomas shook his head, closed his eyes, and told a
story:

"
A long time ago, two boys lived on a
reservation. One was an Indian named Beaver, and the other was a
white boy named Wally. Both loved to fancydance, but the white boy
danced a step fancier. When the white boy won contests, all the
Indian boys beat him up. But Beaver never beat up on the white boy.
No matter how many times he got beat up, that white boy kept
dancing."

Thomas opened his eyes, smiled, and shrugged his
shoulders.

"Wally and Beaver were half-brothers, enit?"
Chess asked.

"You got it."

"What's that mean?"

"
Don't know. Maybe it means drums make everyone
feel like an Indian."

***

From
The Wellpinit
Rawhide Press
:
               
Coyote Springs Home
Coyote
Springs, our own little rock band, returned
to
the reservation late last night, with the addition
of
two Flathead Indians, Chess and Checkers Warm
Water.
The two sisters reportedly sing vocals and
play
piano.

Lester FallsApart saw the familiar blue van
pull
in about 3 A.M., Standard Indian Time.

"They was going the speed limit,"
said FallsApart.

Father Arnold of the Catholic Church called
early this morning to offer a prayer of thanks that
the band returned safely.

According to an anonymous source, Michael
White Hawk, recently released from Walla Walla
State Penitentiary, is unhappy with Coyote Springs.

"They think they're hot [manure],"
White Hawk
was rumored to have said. "They
play a few shows
and they think they're [gosh
darn] stars. [Forget]
them."

Coyote Springs could not be reached for
comment.

* * *

After they arrived back at the Spokane Indian
Reservation, Chess fell into an uneasy sleep in Thomas's bed with
Checkers, while he lay on the floor. Junior and Victor slept in the
blue van even though there was plenty of room in the house. Chess
dreamed of a small Indian man on a pale horse. With an unpainted body
and unbraided brown hair, the small Indian looked unimposing. Even as
she dreamed, Chess knew the unpainted Indian in her dream was not
Spokane or Flathead, but she had no idea what kind of Indian he was.
The unpainted one was unhappy as he rode into a cavalry fort. Many
other Indians greeted him. Some with pride, others with anger.

Came along
, an angry
Indian shouted loudly at the unpainted one, who dismounted, and
walked to an office. A dozen Indians stood in the office while
hundreds of other Indians gathered outside. The white soldiers kept
rifles at the ready, while the Indians and white civilians gossiped
nervously. The unpainted one waited. Soon, a white officer appeared
and told the unpainted one it was too late for talk. They all needed
to rest.

Ho
, the Indians called out
and left the office. The unpainted one left last with the white
officer in front of him, the angry Indian behind him, and two
soldiers on either side. The unpainted one followed the officer
without question. They led him to a small building, and the unpainted
one quickly pulled a knife when he saw the barred windows and chains.
The angry Indian grabbed the unpainted one from behind. In that way,
both staggered into the open.

He's got a knife!

In Chess's dream, the soldiers trained their rifles
on the Indians who might help the unpainted one. The angry Indian
knocked the knife away from the unpainted one and pinned his arms
behind his back.

Kill the Indian!

A soldier lunged forward with his bayonet and speared
the unpainted one once, twice, three times. The Indians gasped as the
unpainted one fell to the ground, critically wounded. The angry
Indian trilled. Nobody stepped forward to help the unpainted one; he
lay alone in the dust.

He's dying!

Then a very tall Indian man stepped through the crowd
and kneeled down beside the unpainted one.

My friend
, the tall Indian
said, picked up the unpainted one, and carried him to a lodge. Other
Indians sang mourning songs; the soldiers shook their heads. Dogs
yipped and chased each other. In Chess's dream, the tall Indian sat
beside the unpainted one as he bled profusely. The white doctor came
and left without song, as did the medicine woman. The unpainted one
tried to sing but coughed blood instead.

My father?
the unpainted
one asked.

He's coming
, the tall one
said.

The tall one greeted the father when he arrived, and
both watched the unpainted one die.
 

Chess woke from her dream with a snap. Unsure of her
surroundings, she called out her father's name. Checkers stirred in
her sleep. Chess held her breath until she remembered where she was.

"Thomas?" she asked but received no
response. He's dead, Chess thought but was not sure whom she meant.
Then she heard music, so she crawled from bed and made her way to the
kitchen.

Thomas sat at the kitchen table and wrote songs. He
hummed to himself and scribbled in his little notebook.

"Thomas?" Chess said and startled him.

"
Jeez, " he said. "You about gave me a
heart attack."

Chess sat beside him.

"When you coming back to sleep?" Chess
asked.

"Pretty soon," he said. "I'm sorry if
l woke you up."

"You didn't wake me up. I had a bad dream."

"It's okay. You're awake now."

"Is it okay? Really?"

Chess smiled at Thomas, reached over and mussed his
already messy hair. She took the guitar out of his hands and set it
aside, then kissed him full and hard on the mouth.

"What was that for?" he asked.

She kissed him again. Harder. Put her hand on his
crotch.

"
Jeez," he said and nearly fell over in his
chair.

Their lovemaking was tender and awkward. Afterwards,
in the dark, they held each other.

"We should've used some protection," Chess
said.

"
Yeah. It was kind of stupid, enit?" Thomas
asked. "Are you sure it's okay?"

"
I'm sure."

"
Next time."

They lay there quietly for a long time. Chess thought
Thomas fell asleep.

"
Listen," he said suddenly and surprised
her.

"
To what?" she asked.

"
What do you hear?"

"The wind."

"No," Thomas said. "Beyond that."

Chess listened. She heard the Spokane Reservation
breathe. An owl hooted in a tree. Some animal scratched its way
across the roof. A car drove by. A dog barked. Another dog barked its
answer. She heard something else, too. Some faint something.

"
Do you hear that?" Thomas asked.

"
I hear something," she said.

"Yeah," Thomas said. "That's what I
mean, Do you hear it?"

"Sort of."

Chess listened some more and wondered if it was her
imagination. Did she hear something just because Thomas wanted her to
hear something? She listened until she fell asleep.

* * *

Coyote Springs scheduled their first non-reservation
gig in a cowboy bar in Ellensburg, Washington, of all places, and
drove down I-90 to get there. The old blue van rapidly collected the
miles.

"
Thomas," Victor yelled from the back. "I
think it's about time we picked up a new rig."

Coyote Springs agreed with Victor, but Thomas wanted
no part of it.

"This van is older than any of us," Thomas
said. "It has seen more than any of us. This van is our elder,
and we should respect it. Besides, we have no money."

Coyote Springs laughed, even Thomas, and kept
laughing until something popped under the hood. The van shuddered and
stopped in the middle of the freeway.