Thunder In Her Body (30 page)
Read Thunder In Her Body Online
Authors: C. B. Stanton
“I know, I know, we agreed on something small and simple. But as I thought about it, neither small nor simple would meet the family and cultural responsibilities. I’ve given a lot of thought to this, and I can take a lot of the hassle out of it. Trust me on this,” she asked with a confident smile.
“Tell me if I’m wrong. If you don’t invite the tribal families, won’t feelings be hurt?” she asked pointedly.
“Yes,” he said, now more serious.
“Aaron’s family may get to come, right?”
“Yes,” he replied
“What few of my friends that can make the trip, plus my family,” she looked at him questioningly. “What are our choices?”
Blaze could not argue with her rational. If this is what they had to do for her to become his wife, legally, then so be it.
“We have a huge back yard. We can seat the world out there,” she laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything. You guys just plan on doing the heavy lifting,” she instructed in a playful way.
Lynette drove into town, with a “must do” list on this day. It was sunny, though occasionally overcast when the clouds rolled in and out. The tall, swaying pines whispered their musical song. It really was true – the sound the wind makes through the branches of pine, spruce and fir trees is really a hushed whisper. It’s like the word “hush” blown slowly from the throat of an open mouth. It is calming and seductive. She drove with the windows down, and laughed at even the thought of doing so in Austin at the very end of June. It is hotter than the hinges of hell back there, she chuckled to herself, and here she was, up in the mountains, riding in her new truck, with the windows down; going to take care of arrangements for her wedding to the most wonderful man on the face of the earth. It doesn’t get any better than this. “Thank you God,” she prayed.
From a stationer in town, she purchased one hundred sheets of a beautifully embossed white paper with an impressed, raised eagle in flight at the top of the page. The paper came in a box, so the 100 was the smallest amount she could purchase. The eagle was a bonus and she thanked God again. It was more than she expected. She would’ve settled on plain white linen invitation sheets. It was a gift – the sacred symbol of an eagle - was a message, she was sure. With the paper, she purchased the tissues and envelopes to match.
On to the next stop - the bakery at Trujillo’s Grocery Store. The cake she ordered was lovely, and different. It had three tall tiers, plus two smaller, two-layer round cakes on each side. The smaller cakes would be connected to the top tier of the large cake, by red ribbons. These three cakes symbolized the two individual people, on either side, joined as one in the tall cake in the middle. Together the cakes should feed 150 people with generous slices. None of those tiny, thin slivers she’d had at other weddings. From the produce department, she ordered huge trays of “heart fruit”, strawberries, which are traditional in Native ceremonies, if in season, and this was an excellent growing season. She needed big, plump berries, enough for 125 people to have at least five each!
Contract signed. Payment made with the manager of the store for both cakes and fruit.
The dinner would be simple, southwestern, and ample. She stopped at one of the large barbecue places, known for its great meat and catering service. Brisket, pork ribs, link sausage, chicken quarters and sliced, smoked turkey breasts – that was the meat. Potato salad, cold slaw, pinto beans, whole kernel corn, squash casserole (the trinity), green salad, green bean salad, onions and pickles, side containers of barbecue sauce, corn bread and flour tortillas, plus two huge pans of cherry cobbler. That was the fare. Oh! numerous gallons of unsweetened tea, 20 cases of soda. Contract signed, payment made.
She decided to let Maurice and Hawk pick up the cases of beer the day before, and ice them down the morning of the wedding. It would be cheaper. Red letter note on their page!
On to Walmart. Guest sign-in book with simple white pen, purchased with a cake-cutter set, white Unity candle, tall tapers and small, plain, clay pottery candle holders. Check written.
Down the highway, across the tribal lands, and into Albuquerque to the party rental store. Clear glass dinner plates, red linen napkins, stainless steel eating utensils, real 10-ounce drinking glasses, white linen table cloths and table skirts, long cafeteria tables, white chairs to seat 125 guests, two large tent tops, in case of rain. To be delivered and set up no later than 10 a.m. on the day of the wedding. No exceptions. Contract signed, payment made.
Back to the village. A stop at her favorite gift and decorating store, Del Sol. A two-sided Indian wedding vessel, from which she and Blaze would drink. Night lights! Yes, those would make perfect gifts for the guests. Small copper ones - some made of hands with the eternity circle in the middle; some with a stag image; a few with a tiny pueblo village; some with images of Kokopelli and a definite number with the image of a bear claw. Those especially for the elders. 125 of them all total!!!!
“Order them please from all four of your stores,” she pleaded with the very friendly sales guy, whom she’d met when she bought the condo. Wrapped and delivered no later than July 10
th
. Contract signed, deposit given. Back to the stationery store. 125 little labels with a Native-American design and the words,
Keep the light of love burning.
Due for pick-up no later than July 10
th
– no exceptions. Must have a telephone call before the 10th, if there is a problem! A stop at the Hills Cafe. Phone number of the DJ. Phone call to DJ. Will be back next day to discuss music, fee, wedding ceremony, etc.
Last stop, flower shop. As many wild flowers as possible. No roses or carnations. Small center pieces for each of sixteen tables. Pine sprigs down the middle of each table. Small bouquet for maid of honor. No bouquet for bride. Bride will carry two-sided vessel. One large bouquet for serving table. More pine bows. Boutonnière for groom and best man and Trapper. Small corsages for daughters and her sisters. Contract signed, deposit made. Checklist growing shorter and shorter.
Ordinarily Lynette would have stopped at the Blue Bird Café on
Main Road for their fabulous homemade chicken salad sandwich and freshly squeezed lemonade, but today she craved Mexican food. She’d lived in Texas so long that she couldn’t go to many days without it. Just up the street was a small mom-and-pop Mexican restaurant that she had somehow, in her many gustatorial pursuits, missed. “Hey tummy, let’s try something new today,” she commented out loud. There was ample parking so she pulled the truck into an opening facing the building and bounded down out of the vehicle with her purse slung on one shoulder and her yellow note pad under her arm. She figured she could use the time while ordering to work down her list. The Blue Bird Cafe wasn’t the sort of eatery where you needed a hostess to seat you, so she slipped into the nearest unoccupied red plastic booth with scarred brown table top, unburdening herself of the purse while digging for an ink pen. Laying the pen atop the yellow pad on the table, she hastily scanned the menu for something that was not too spicy. She didn’t want spicy today. The regular Mexican lunch with beef enchiladas looked safe, so that’s what she ordered when the friendly waitress brought the basket of hot tortilla chips and salsa. Starting down her most recent page in the yellow tablet, Lynette didn’t pay any attention to the other customers in the decidedly modest restaurant until a hushed word or two caught her attention from the two men sitting in the booth just in front of her. She didn’t look up though until a short, stocky, particularly unattractive Indian man entered from the side door and slid quietly into the booth with, and facing, the two other men.
“Did they say they’d back your story up?” the one man asked the Indian.
“To the hilt,” he replied, as he waved the waitress over to place an order.
There was something clandestine about the demeanor and actions of these three men. One pulled out a folded sheet of paper, which unfolded to about half the size of the table top. Lynette couldn’t tell if it was a map or just written words, but the way they hunkered over the paper, drawing their fingers over and down the page, made her believe that it was some sort of survey or drawing. She could hear an occasional word – survey…plat…plan…courthouse…, but she couldn’t get the gist of the conversation, nor did she really want to. She had a yellow tablet full of obligations. She looked up only when the waitress approached her table with the hot plate of food.
With her attention fully on her meal, she did wonder why the men bent toward each other as they talked in hushed tones. Scooping up some of the refried beans with a tortilla chip she heard the one man say something about
litigation.
Then he said in a slightly louder voice, “If he buys this piece of property, he’ll be tied up in red tape and law suits for the next twenty years.” All three men laughed as though they shared a sinister secret. Then, what caused Lynette to stop chomping on the noisy tortilla chips were the words “…Ain’t no Indian supposed to have that much land and that much money to throw around. We’ll show him.” Lynette forced herself to keep her eyes down on her table. She desperately wanted to look up, but she didn’t want the men to know that she was tuned in to their conversation. She kept chewing, but slowly, quietly now, so as not to drowned out their words with the crunch of the crisp chips. She wondered why they would say that with an Indian in their midst. She wanted to see his face, to see if he was insulted or embarrassed by the remark of the other man with the grey hair. Still she didn’t look up. Silently she ate her meal. The one man who had contributed the least to the conversation, threw his elbow over the back of the seat in front of her where she could observe rows and rows of tattoos from his wrist up to the hem of his short sleeve shirt. She recognized the type. Those used to be called “jail house tattoos.” On the right hand he wore a gaudy, bulky silver and gold ring with some sort of insignia on it – just what she could not determine. In a proud, boasting tone of voice, he spewed the words.
“You know we gotta keep you Injuns from getting back your land, and them uppity women and wet-backs from gettin’ hold of shit!” And he snorted a hateful laugh, joined in vociferously by the grey-haired man.
This time Lynette did look up, and she watched the Indian muster up a fake smile, then grin like he tasted something bad. “Yeah,” was his response, but she could see that, even though he was involved in whatever was the conspiracy, he didn’t like what the other man said. Why would an Indian be involved with people trying to make trouble for another of his kind, she wondered. But, from the looks of him, she assumed that he had not lived the most righteous life. Maybe he’s an undercover cop she thought. But whatever was going down, Lynette had a sneaking suspicion that it might have something to do with Blaze, based on what she’d heard. “And if we get the tribe on his ass, he’ll loose more than just a shit load of money,” the Indian continued with a sneer.
Not wanting to leave until the men did, she slowed her eating as she pretended to peruse her lists on the pages of the yellow pad. They talked about past deals but quieted their speech as they discussed whatever it was that was upcoming. The grey-haired man folded up the over-sized piece of paper and slipped it into a manila envelope, which appeared to have other documents in it. He beckoned for the waitress and asked for the check. “This ones on me boys,” he laughed with an air of superiority and with a hint of something good to come. Lynette bent her head sideways and pretended to search for something in her purse so that the men would pay no attention to her as they left through the front door. Her gut told her that she needed to tell Blaze what she heard.
She drove back to the ranch all the while mulling what she had overheard. It was after six in the evening when she turned into the circular driveway. Blaze heard the truck and met her outside. She looked like she’d been in a wind tunnel, but she was delighted to tell him of the day’s accomplishments. He was amazed at how much she could get done in a single day.
“Gotta go out again tomorrow. I’m going to arrange for two buses and three vans to pick people up at certain places. First stop, up in the Native village, then a stop at the Community Center. A stop at the condo, then one at the hotel. That should get everyone here. I’ll make sure that the times of pick up and places are included with the invitation,” she concluded breathlessly.
“Slow down, slow down,” Blaze insisted as they sat in the living room talking.
“You haven’t kissed me since 7:00 this morning,” he said, gathering her to him gently. He kissed her long and passionately. What a remarkable woman he had found, as he liked to say, “at the foot of their mountain.”
“Sweetie, I need you to determine which elders will attend, so they can have special seating, and which one or ones will participate in the readings. There’ll be a separate and special van for them, so there probably shouldn’t be more than nine. By the way, what did the elders say about my father’s photos?” she asked almost as an after-thought.
“They say that they have seen faces like his before, and those faces always had Indian blood. One suggested Cheyenne. They were pleased at my choice,” he said humbly.
