2031
She waited in the Forerunner with the windows down. She was a good mile from the homes. It would be intrustive to come any closer. The group of two houses and a hogan meant extended family lived here. The entire outside area was one big living room for them
Course right now there were around 10 other vehicles surrounding the place, all spiraled to focus on the teepee that seemed to spring out near one of the houses.
She wasn't sure how long the ceremony would last, but she wasn't exactly close to anywhere else. Not like she could just jet off real quick. It had take a couple hours of driving from Gouldings just to get here.
Nothing for it but to wait. She backed up a bit and found a place to park so the sun would shine through the driver side window and she could keep an eye on the place. She took off her coat and beanie and cracked the two front windows. As the sun got stronger it would start to warm up and she liked the weak breeze, its knife chill playing around her neck and face. She set her seat back and closed her eyes.
There was always time to nap- halfway, anyway. Her gun was sitting next to her and she had opened herself up to her surrroundings.
She let herself drift, focused on her breath in and out, and let her thoughts drift across her mind lazily like clouds across the sky, leaves on a river. Just observed them uncritically, unexamined, and gradually she drifted off into that non dreamy state of asleep and awake, her mind a swimmer dipping below and cresting the surface with ease.
She was aware of the shift of the sun by the change in warmth on her arm and cracked an eye. It was after 3, now. In the distance she saw the covering halfway unwound from the skeleton of sturdy poles, the teepee now a carcass being skinned to reveal the bones and muscle and sinew beneath it.
It took an hour for it to be loaded along with whatever else had been used in the ceremony, and for the first truck to rumble past her. She saw the faces of the passengers turn to watch her as they went by, some curious, some showing hostility. One truck stayed behind the longest before it too finally left.
In the distance she could see movement in the yard. It was time. She started her vehicle and moved forward. Between the sun and the other trucks, the ground had been churned to slush and mud. This mud-clay-whatever was dense and sticky, the kind that coated the bottom of any truck, filled up the treads of any tire, no matter how wide or deep. She'd be seeing muddy water flow from underneath her ride for the next month whenever she washed it. But momentum would keep her from getting stuck.
Finally, she arrived, somewhere in the center point between all three dwellings. This close she could also see a shade-house lean to and a sweat lodge. The teepee had been nearer one of the houses, while the furthest one had a Navajo rug the door. Two ceremonies, then, one NAC and one traditional.
She waited until she saw movement of the curtains in one of the windows and then got out and stood by her vehicle. A couple rez mutts- blue healers- wandered around, sniffing and peeing on her tires. She smiled at that. Regan used to joke that was their version of texting.
The door with the rug opened and it was pulled inside before a woman about her age, pretty with her tan skin, came out. She had long dark hair in two braids over each shoulder of her dark green wool coat. Beneath it were jeans tucked into boots.
She wasn't smiling but was not unfriendly either. The dogs moved closer and the woman hissed at them, sending them away. Jacinda breathed, not at the dogs, but that finally it was beginning. But you couldn't live life avoiding things that were hard.
She reached out her hand. "Jacinda Cross,"she said into the quiet.
The woman took it but only squeezed softly. That's right. She had to remember. It was aggressive to squeeze, though not everyone remembered anymore. The old ways. Regan had always liked to squeeze unless he needed something. He wasn't exactly Martin Luther King when it came to race relations.
"Jill Benally."
Her dark eyes didn't seem to say if she was glad or not that Jacinda had come. She turned her head indicating the house she'd come from. "My father is expecting you."
She motioned for Jacinda to follow, which she did.
She was normally content to let there be quiet, but for some reason she felt like talking. Maybe it had been the long day of travel and then waiting, all without a word to anyone. She looked around as they walked. "I forgot how beautiful it was out here."
Her words seemed to linger in the quiet of the afternoon.
The woman- Jill- answered, giving her a sidelong glance that seemed assessing. "Oah', father said you were from around here."
Jacinda smiled weakly. "A couple hundred miles actually. South Fork. But I've been here a few times."
And then, with the words on her lips, for some reason, her desire to talk just kind of drained away.
They got to the door and kicked their shoes at the concrete steps, scraped the slush and mud against the mounted metal brushes and then went inside. Of course there was where footwear came off and was put by the door on the tiles.
She felt heat from the wood stove like a punch to her face, after having been out in the cold for so long. The coat and thermals now felt stifling. Jill helped her with her jacket and she did the same, and soon both hung on the pegs by the door. She was going to have to change, though. And soon, or she'd be soaked to her skin.
The walls were sparsely decorated: an American flag, a few faded pictures of men and women in uniform, family photos. There was carpet, for which she was glad. Her stockinged feet would get cold from the tiles, she was sure. Two girls maybe 6 or 7 sat on a couch watching TV. A table in the kitchen had four chairs around it. She could smell some sort of stew- the bite to it saying it was mutton.
But what drew her attention was the very old man at the table. She didn't know how old. Didn't know the age markers to look for. His hair was wispy and yellowish white, his tanned skin leathery and wrinkled. Bu his black eyes had laugh wrinkles around the corners and around the mouth. He work a checkered shirt, his sleeves rolled up. A silver bracelet studded with turquoise circled one wrist.
And there on his forarm was the snake, an old faded tattoo, the ink black-green. It was faded and the details were hard to make out. But still unmistakable.
She reached out her hand and took his hand in hers, squeezed softly with just the top half of her fingers. His skin was loose and smooth against her fingertips. "Jacinda, Mr...."
She trailed off, not sure what to call him.
There was a hint of a smile and he gave a short nod. "Hosteen. Albert Hosteen."
It wasn't really a clear answer. She'd play it safe. "I am glad you came. Normally, I'd ask another Dineh, but we had a need."
She had wondered at that herself. There were other Atharim among the Navajo, though how many, she wasn't sure. Still, she'd been on the boards and seen the request. She'd been in Utah then, near Dinosaur, Colorado. Before that Idaho, the Dakotas, before that....
In retrospect it was obvious she'd been working her way back to where it had begun for her, albeit in a roundabout way. He nodded to a chair and she sat. Jill asked "Would you like some coffee?"
There was still reservation there, but a bit of friendless peeked through her black eyes.
Jacinda nodded. "Yes, thank you. Black."
The woman nodded and starting fixing it. Jacinda looked at Hosteen with just the hint of interest. She had let the feel of the land sink into her and somehow she just knew that being pushy and in a hurry would be wrong.
Once the cups were out and the coffee steaming, thanks given, did Hosteen speak. He'd been watching her. His voice was thin. "You are different than Regan."
The name cut through to her heart and she choked, her eyes widening. "I'm sorry. What?"
It had felt like a punch to her gut.
He smiled, his teeth yellowed, probably from chew. It was not an unfriendly smile, though. A chuckle could be heard coming from his chest. He had that way of old people about him. Everything amused him. Not ha-ha funny. Just that he'd seen all life had to offer and was surprised by very little. "Oh, just that he would be talking my ear off by now. You wait. You're quiet. Different."
She relaxed a little though she wasn't sure why- or why his words had hit her. "Ah. Well. Yeah, I guess he would have."
At least the first few years anyway. That last year he had spoken less and less to her. But she shoved those memories away. Not something she wanted to think about.
She wanted to change the subject. Maybe it was rude, but she was starting to feel that discomfort that came from being reminded of him. "So....Mr. Hosteen, what do you need?"
He regarded her for a minute. Maybe she wasn't coming off so zen now. Well, what's done is done. He glanced at Jill. There was an air of sadness to him now, the amusement having slipped away. "A hunt. We need to hunt. Something has been killing us."
He got quiet but this time she bit her tongue, forced herself to wait. The painful part had passed. He looked at the window, she realized, looking to where the teepee had been.
"My son in law was killed a few days ago. His family had a ceremony here for him today. And we honored him with our own ways too. His spirit needed to go to rest. It cannot return here."
She looked at Jill. For a widow she seemed put together. Maybe it was shock.
"I am sorry for your loss."
It always sounded weak and trite. But what else was there.
She nodded. "Thank you. But it wasn't my husband. It was my sister's. She is at her home there with her in-laws. "
She nodded to the girls. "My nieces. They are young still. It hasn't hit them."
Jacinda nodded.
She looked bacl at Hosteen and nodded. "Ok. A hunt. I mean no disrespect, Mr. Hosteen....but you seem a bit too old to hunt."
A sharp laugh cut the air, though humor painted his face.
"Always so blunt. Yes, that is Regan. Don't be fooled, girl. This old wolf still has bite. But....I do not mean me."
He nodded and Jill rolled up the denim sleeve of her shirt.
Jacinda nodded.
Edited by Jacinda, Jul 5 2018, 04:39 PM.