Reservation Blues - Alexie Sherman (38 page)

"Jeez," Chess said."I thought they
were going to scalp us."

Chess, Checkers, and Thomas sat at a table with Big
Mom. They all waited for the feast to officially begin. But the term
feast was a holdover from a more prosperous and traditional time, a
term used before the Indians were forced onto the reservations. There
was never a whole lot of food, Just a few stringy pieces of deer
meat, a huge vat of mashed potatoes, Pepsi, and fry bread. But the
fry bread made all the difference. A good piece of fry bread turned
any meal into a feast. Everybody sat at the tables and waited for the
cooks to come out with the meal, the fry bread. They waited and
waited. Finally, when there was no sign of the meal, Big Mom stood
and walked into the kitchen.

"What's taking so long?" Big Mom asked the
head cook.

"There's not enough fry bread," said the
head cook.

"
You're kidding. How much do we have?"

"
We have a hundred pieces of bread and two
hundred Indians out there waiting to eat."

"Do we have enough venison and potatoes?"
Big Mom asked.

"Yeah."

"How much Pepsi do we have?" Big Mom asked.

"
Enough."

"
Well, you take the deer, potatoes, and Pepsi
out there. I'Il bring the fry bread."

"But there's not enough bread, " the head
cook said.

"There'll be a fry bread riot. And you remember
what happened during the last fry bread riot."

Big Mom remembered.

"Just serve the meal," Big Mom said.

The head cook and her helpers served the Pepsi and
the rest of the meal, but that only made the Indians more aware of
their fry bread deficiency.

"Fry bread, fry bread, " chanted the mob.

Chess and Thomas looked at each other; Checkers and
Chess looked at each other. They were ready to run.

"It's going to be a fry bread riot," Thomas
whispered.

Just as the feast was about to erupt into a
full-fledged riot, Big Mom walked out of the kitchen with a huge bowl
of fry bread. The crowd, faithful and unfaithful alike, cheered
wildly.

"Listen," Big Mom said after the crowd had
quieted a little."There's not enough fry bread."

Indians angrily rose to their feet.

"What are you going to do about it?"

"
There are only one hundred pieces of fry
bread," Big Mom said, "and there are two hundred of us.
Something needs to be done."

The crowd milled around, stared each other down,
picked out the opponent they would fight for their piece of fry
bread. More than a few people had planned on jumping the surviving
members of the band. Thomas, Chess, and Checkers ducked under their
table.

"
But there is a way, " Big Mom said. "I
can feed you all."

"
How?" asked somebody.

Thomas, Chess, and Checkers peered from under the
table, listening for the answer.

"By ancient Indian secrets, " Big Mom said.

"Bullshit!"

"Watch this," Big Mom said as she grabbed a
piece of fry bread and held it above her head."Creator, help me.
I have only a hundred pieces of fry bread to feed two hundred
people."

Big Mom held that fry bread tightly in her huge hands
and then tore it into halves.

"There, " Big Mom said."That is how I
will feed you all."

The crowd cheered, surging forward to grab the fry
bread. There was a complete feast after all.

"Big Mom, " Thomas asked later as they were
eating, "how did you do that? What is your secret?"

Big Mom smiled deeply.

"
Mathematics,"
Big Mom said.

*

Robert Johnson was walking toward the Longhouse when
he saw the-man-who-was-probably-Lakota sitting on a rock beside the
road.

"
Ya-hey," Robert Johnson called out. He was
learning.

"Ya-hey,' ' answered
the-man-who-was-probably-Lakota.

"Where you headed?"

"
Over to the feast. I'm getting hungry."

"
Enit? I guess I'll come with you."

Johnson and the old man walked toward the Longhouse.
They didn't say much. Johnson carried his cedar harmonica, and the
old man carried a hand drum. They arrived at the Longhouse Just as
Big Mom tore the fry bread into halves.

"Ya-hey," Thomas said when Johnson and the
old man walked into the Longhouse."Look who it is."

"Thomas," Johnson said as he sat at the
table, "it's good to see you."

"
You look great," Thomas said, could
scarcely believe this was the same man he had met at the crossroads
all that time ago.

"
Big Mom's been good for me," Johnson said
as a means of explaining his appearance."She even made me this
ribbon shirt."

Johnson was wearing a traditional Indian ribbon
shirt, made of highly traditional silk and polyester.

"So, what are you doing here?" Thomas
asked. "Do you want to leave with us?"

Johnson looked up at the-man-who-was-probably-Lakota,
looked to Big Mom.

"I'm goin' to stay here," Johnson said."On
the reservation. I think I jus' might belong here. I think there's
been a place waitin' at this Tribe's tribal for me. I think this
Tribe's been waitin' for me for a long time. I'm goin' to stay right
here."

Big Mom smiled.

"Why do you want to do that?" Checkers and
Chess asked.

"I don't know. Seems like the right thing to do.
I think these Indians might need me. Maybe need my music. Besides,
it's beautiful here. And Thomas, I have seen everythin'."

Johnson took Thomas's hands in his own.

"
We both have places we need to be,"
Johnson said.

"
Yeah, Thomas," Chess said, "we have
places to be. We need to get going. It's late."

Thomas looked at Big Mom.

"We have to go," he said.

"Okay," Big Mom said. "But hold on a
second. You need some start-up money. That operator job won't pay you
much. And you need first month, last month, and deposit to move into
an apartment."

"We'll manage," Chess said.

"
You'll do more than that," Big Mom said
and stood. She cleared her throat, and the feast crowd turned all
their attention to her.

"
Listen," Big Mom said. "Thomas,
Chess, and Checkers are leaving the reservation today. They need some
money. We need to have a collection."

"Bullshit!" shouted somebody.

"
Now, I know some of you aren't happy with how
this all turned out," Big Mom said, "but think of poor
Junior Polatkin. Think of how hard these kids worked. Think of your
tribal responsibilities."

"
Think of getting them off the goddamn
reservation," shouted a voice in the back. It was David
WalksAlong. He threw a hundred dollar bill into his cowboy hat and
sent it around the room."We'll never have to see their faces
again. We won't have to hear any of their stink music."

The cowboy hat made its way around the room. Some
Indians gave money out of spite; some gave out of guilt; a few gave
out of kindness. There was a few hundred dollars in the hat when it
finally made its way to Big Mom.

"There you go," Big Mom said and dumped the
cash in front of Chess, Checkers, and Thomas."It ain't a whole
lot. But that should be enough to get you started."

"You better take care of it," Thomas said
to Chess. She stuffed the bills into her pockets.

"
Well," Big Mom said, her voice breaking a
little, "I guess this is it."

"
Jeez," Chess said, "we ain't going
that far. Just to Spokane. It's an hour away."

"
Anywhere off the reservation," Thomas
said, "is a long ways from the reservation."

Thomas, Chess, and Checkers left the Longhouse. A few
Indians waved goodbye. Big Mom, Robert Johnson, and
the-man-who-was-probably-Lakota followed them outside.

"We'll see you soon, " Thomas said but knew
he was lying.

"Just call information," Chess said, "and
maybe I'll be your operator."

Checkers climbed quietly into the van.

"Goodbye, " Big Mom said."You can
always come back."

Robert Johnson pulled out his harmonica and blew a
few chords. The-man-who-was-probably-Lakota played along on his hand
drum. The blue van pulled away.

"The end of the world is near! The end of the
world is near!"

* * *

They drove away from the Spokane Indian Reservation
in silence, Chess, Thomas, and Checkers all struggling with the
silence and wanting to find something to say. They smiled at each
other and tried to read each other's mind. Chess could feel Thomas
and Checkers trying to read her mind, but she wouldn't let them in.
She tried to read their minds, but they wouldn't let her in. What
were they all thinking? What did they think was going to happen in
Spokane? Would Thomas be ignored in the city, would those Urban
Indians try to hurt him? Would some friend of David WalksAlong or
Michael White Hawk come running out of the crowd with a knife, a gun,
or a razor-sharp piece of a broken dream? Was Checkers still thinking
about Father Arnold? Did she think she'd come running back to the
reservation? And what about Victor? Would he still be trying to drink
himself to death when he was eighty years old, a complete failure at
everything he ever did?

"I'm scared," Chess said to Thomas.

"Chess," he said, "we're all scared."

They all held their breath as they drove over the
reservation border. Nothing happened. No locks clicked shut behind
them. No voices spoke, although the wind moved through the pine
trees. It was dark. There were shadows. Those shadows took shape,
became horses running alongside the van.

Chess, Checkers, and Thomas all looked at each other
with fear and wonder. A shadow horse was running so close to the van
that Chess could have reached out and touched it. Then she rolled
down her window and reached out to touch that shadow, that horse. It
was hot and wet. Checkers reached out of her window and touched a
horse of her own, while Thomas drove the van, illuminating more
shadows galloping down the road in front of them.

Those horses were following, leading Indians toward
the city, while other Indians were traditional dancing in the
Longhouse after the feast, while drunk Indians stood outside the
Trading Post, drinking and laughing. Robert Johnson and
the-man-who-was-probably-Lakota played a duet. Big Mom sat in her
rocking chair, measuring time with her back and forth, back and
forth, back and forth there on the Spokane Indian Reservation. She
sang a protection song, so none of the Indians, not one, would forget
who they are.

In a dream, Chess, Checkers, and Thomas sat at the
drum with Big Mom during the powwow. All the Spokane Indians crowded
around the drum, too. They all pounded the drum and sang. Big Mom
taught them a new song, the shadow horses' song, the slaughtered
horses' song, the screaming horses' song, a song of mourning that
would become a song of celebration: we have survived, we have
survived. They would sing and sing, until Big Mom pulled out that
flute built of the bones of the most beautiful horse who ever lived.
She'd play a note, then two, three, then nine hundred. One for each
of the dead horses. Then she'd keep playing, nine hundred, nine
thousand, nine million, one note for each of the dead Indians.

In the blue van, Thomas, Chess, and Checkers sang
together. They were alive; they'd keep living. They sang together
with the shadow horses: we are alive, we'll keep living. Songs were
waiting for them up there in the dark. Songs were waiting for them in
the city. Thomas drove the car through the dark. He drove. Checkers
and Chess reached out of their windows and held tightly to the manes
of those shadow horses running alongside the blue van.