The Pot Thief Who Studied Billy the Kid (26 page)

It was Susannah who finally spoke. “Two things,” she said. “First, I can buy that e
verything is part of a grand plan
. That
’s
why I say there are no coincidences. But second, and more importantly, this is a bar, guys. This is no
t a place for
theological discussion
s
. This is a place to talk ab
o
ut
booze, food,
romance, sports
and
adventure.”

Now it was
Martin
’s
and my t
u
rn to look at each other
then back at Susannah
and
back at each other
.

Martin spoke. “That’s what theology is about –
booze, food, romance, sports
and
adventure
.”

Susannah said, “I don’t get it.”

Neither did I. So I was happy that Martin spoke up.

“Theology is not about how many angels can dance on the head of a pin
. Or at least it shouldn’t be. It’s about how to live. And
life
includes
booze, food, romance, sports and adventure
.”

“Tell us abou
t
your tribe’s theology,” said Susannah.

He pulled a huge knife from his belt. “First
we must have the blood ceremony,
”
he said, deadpan.

“Ho
w
about another Tecate instead,” I said.

He placed the knife back in the shea
th
.

We signaled for Angie. Martin ordered his Tecate, specifying that he wanted it in a can. I ordered my usual margarita.

Susannah hesitated
.

“
Can
y
ou make a
c
ucumber
j
alapeño
m
argarita
?”

Angie looked at her as if
she were
Father Merrin
s
in
The Excorcist
.

“I’ve never heard of that,” Angie finally said.

“I’m not surprised. It was invented by a friend,
Stephanie Hunt Raffel
.”

Angie continued to stare at her.

“I’ll have my usual,” Susannah
finally
said.

After Angie left, I said, “What was that about?”

“I think we’re in a rut, Hubie. My friend Stephanie served me
a cucumber jalapeño margarita
the other day and it was great.”

“We’re not in a rut. We’re in a groove. I like
my
margaritas as they serve them here.”

“Oh, yeah? Listen to this.
You start by b
lend
ing
a peeled and seeded cucumber, a
seeded
jalapeño, lime juice, tequila,
b
lue
a
gave sweetener,
and
t
riple
s
ec until
the mixture
it is smooth and frothy.
Then you d
ip the rim of a glass into a combination of kosher salt, chile powder and
turbinado
sugar.
P
our in the liquid
,
garnish with cucumber slices
and
top with a drizzle
of
Grand
Marnier
.”
She raised her eyebrows and waited for a response.

I had to admit it sounded terrific. I love cucumbers,
jalapeño
s and margaritas. It just never occurred to me to combine them into one concoction.

I said to Susannah, “When I told you that Doctor Koehler introduced his hunting guide to me as
Alonso Castillo Maldonado
,no hunting you thought it was odd that
he gave
me
all three names. But you just did the same thing for
Stephanie Hunt Raffel
.”

“You’re a bad influence on me. I told you people can’t have two last names
,
an
d
you said they aren’t last names, they
’
re Appalachi
a
ns.”

“
’A
ppellations
’
,
” I corrected.
“Or ‘a
pellidos
’ in Spanish,” I added.

“Whatever. I don’t know whether Hunt is Stephanie’s mi
ddle name or one of those apple edos, so I
used both Hunt and Raffel.”

“Is she Hispanic?”

“How would I know?”

“You said she was your friend.”

“She is, but we don’t sit around talking about our ethnicity. Let’s find another topic. If we continue on this one, you’ll start explaining your Anthropological Theses.”

T
he drinks came
and Martin took us back to the subject of his tribe’s theology.

He picked up his cold can of Tecate and blew on it. When his warm moist breath hit the cold
surface
, it condensed and swirled around the can.

“
In the beg
inning there was only mist,” he said
dramatically
and smiled.
“
Eventually, a wind moved through the mist.
The wind separated the light from the dark.
The
light became the
Holy People
. The dark became the serpents. Both the Holy People and the serpents were
spirit
s. Nothing physical existed. The
Holy People and the serpents
started fighting
. The Great Spirit
, who we call
aeternitatis
,
was unhappy and
made
them both physical.
The
ir
first dwelling place in the physical world was the Great Mesa.
The serpents liked the great Mesa because they could come and go as they pleased. But the Holy People became thirsty because there was no water. So they left the
Great Mesa
and went to the canyons. They travelled at different speeds. Those who arrived first became men. The later one
s
became women.
Because they were second, the
women
were made to bear children.
The men ate of the
ears of white
corn
and
the women of the ears of yellow corn. Then the
Coyote
appeared and told them that each man should take a woman. If they did so, new Holy People would be created.”

He stopped and took a sip of his fresh Tecate.

“Sheesh,”
said Susannah, “It’s always the same
.
The women traveled slower. As a penalty, they
were made to bear children. The
n a dumb animal told the men to take a woman, as if we were fish from a trout stream.”

“Makes sense to me,” I said.

She threw a tortilla chip at me.

“I buy everything except the Great Spirit being called
aeternitatis
,
”
I said.

“I change
d
that part. We are forbidden to translate our language.”

“Really?” asked Susannah.

“Yep. Afraid you pale
faces would mess it up.”

”
How did we get on this topic?” she asked

“
We were discussing how
God looks at things
sub specie aeternitatis
,” said Martin.

“Yeah,” I chimed in. “
Which
proves you’re right
–
there are no coincidences. Everything is part of a grand plan. But humans d
on’t know what the plan is. T
hings look like coincidences to us, but that’s only because we are ignorant.”

“Some of us more than others,“ she said
, looking at me with a sly smile
.
“I don’t understand why
sub specie aeternitatis
was in the English version
of Spinoza’s work
.”

“I guess
the person who translated the book thought
it’s one of those Latin phrases we use, like
quid pro quo
and
carpe diem
.”

Susannah shivered. “I’ve hated that phrase ever since I saw that film.”

“
I admit
c
arpe diem
is sort of
corny
,” I said, “b
ut I loved
Dead Poets Society
.”

“
I’m not talking about
carpe diem
.
I mean
quid pro quo
.
That creepy
Anthony Hopkins used
it
in
The Silence of the Lambs
.”

“I don’t know why you watch scary movies,” I said.

“Because they’re better than reading Latin
o
r talking about theology,” she said, raising her glass.