Chapter Seventeen

Needless to say, I didn't find the sensation pleasant and in the process of trying to push the apparatus out of my nostril, I awoke with a start. A poor wandering horsefly fell out of my offended proboscis and onto my lap, then buzzed drunkenly off into the pines. I blew my nose about ten times and winced as the previous night's bruises spoke up. "Sore all over and snorting flies, what a way to start the day." I thought crossly.

I staggered over to where James and the two Mescaleros were squatting by their pickup. Coffee time was long past so I dug a root beer out of their cooler and washed the fly smell away. James allowed that his head hurt and that in the clear light of day, he had changed his mind about being my brother. I knew he was kidding but I still felt a twinge of guilt. As we sat there, letting the mountain air heal our wounds, one of the Indians who had been standing in the back of the truck said something guttural to James in the same language they had used the night before. James jumped up and looked up the park road towards the highway. As I hauled my creaking frame upright, I asked James what was going on.

"Jimmy Loco thinks my grandfather is coming." he replied.

"How does he know?" I asked. Soon I had my answer. Clattering down from the cutoff into the roadside park chugged the loudest and certainly the brightest VW van I had ever seen. It was fluorescent yellow with a primitive bright orange sun painted on each side along with symbols and characters I didn't recognize. As it clanged and puffed around the corner below the high ground where the Mescalero's pickup was parked, I could see that the entire roof of the van was painted deep blue with squiggly little yellow stars like some acid freak's idea of the night sky. A silver haired old Indian was in the driver's seat and the back of the van was filled with young children. The unlikely contraption backfired one last time and came to rest near the U-haul.

I turned to James. "I thought Indians were supposed to creep noiselessly through the underbrush in perfect union with nature."

He laughed, put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer, speaking in a confidential tone. "Grandfather likes to make an impression. You have heard of Geronimo's Cadillac, well this is Na Na's van. Come on," he grinned from ear to ear "I'll introduce you to a real medicine man."

The four of us went to join the rest of our group as they gathered to inspect the bizarre intruders. The old man got out of the van and started mixing with the children, squatting, patting heads and laughing. In no time, he was the center of attention. "Well," I thought "he seems to have the right medicine with the kids." It was a good sign. As the four of us waded into the crowd around the van, we could hear a barrage of questions coming from the children.

"Are you a real Indian chief? Who are those kids in the car? Did you ever kill a bear. Are cowboys or Indian's tougher? Can you shoot a bow and arrow?" Mary and Variety, obviously embarrassed by the racial stereotyping from the kids, were trying to herd them away from the old man but he seemed to be enjoying himself. He looked up and recognized James' face.

"Kwahadi," he called "these are some tender young white eyes. We shall have plenty to eat if they do not kill us off first with their questions." He reached over and pinched one of the kids on the leg. They all squealed in delight tinged with a little fear and hustled out of his reach. James embraced his grandfather and began to introduce him all around. After the old man shook my hand, I wandered over to the van and looked in the window. Several stern faced children filled the rear of the old vehicle along with two scruffy looking dogs that must have been part coyote or wolf. Between the dogs bared teeth and the kids stony stares, I figured I wasn't welcome and walked over to join the others. James and his grandfather met me on the way back.

"I see you have met the chiefs," observed Na Na carefully. "They are not a very cordial group. I hope they remain peaceful." He looked a little worried. James rolled his eyes at me so I wouldn't take him seriously. The old man's long silver hair flipped in the wind as he fought a little battle with the side door of the VW. After a minute or so, he pulled it open with a bone shaking squeak and the "chiefs" started to jump out of the van.

There was something odd about these kids. They moved with too much wariness and grace for children of their apparent age and each one sported a wicked looking hunting knife on his hip. Two of them were dressed in the breech cloth and moccasins that I was later to see on James. The rest made do with fragments of more modern clothing cut up to provide for freedom of movement. They were absolutely silent and kept distance between them so that each child moved within his own space. Their presence was so odd, so inappropriate for children who apparently were five to seven years old that we all began to stare.

One of the children turned to Na Na, James' grandfather, and said something in the same language the Mescaleros had used. The child's tone was startling. His words to the old man were obviously a command, by someone who was used to being obeyed. James jumped at the disrespect. I saw him stuff a wave of anger. There was a quick exchange of glances between him and the old medicine man. They muttered a few heated words to each other. I saw James fighting for composure. At last, he turned to us looking somewhat shocked and confused.

"I think they are offended by us watching them. Mary, why don't you take the kids and start packing up the campsite."

John and I helped him herd everybody off, avoiding their questions since we had no answers. The little "chiefs" and Na Na squatted beside the van and talked amongst themselves. For the next hour, as we finished breaking camp, they squatted without changing positions except for the occasional speaker who would rise and address the rest with many signs and gesticulations. I couldn't imagine what kind of culture would turn out kids that hard and calloused. When we were almost fully packed, the old Indian stepped away from the circle and walked over to where Sam, James and I were loading the last few sleeping bags.

"The chiefs want to talk to the leaders of the little ones." He seemed tense. "I offer you no advice on this. The chiefs are violent and although I do not think they will hurt your children, I cannot be sure." He looked away from us for a moment, tilted his head back and sniffed the wind. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then turned back to face the three of us. "This I will tell you though, much depends on the chiefs accepting the children behind us and began to smile. "It seems the little ones do not wait for your council."

We turned to see Dusty, Joey and Nam, leading a pack of several of the larger dogs over towards the Indian children. John Jr., Ricky Esquivel and Radio spread out behind them like nervous bodyguards. I started to go to them but James stopped me.

"Let them go Tom. This is their path. You must let them walk it."

"Walk hell James, they could get run over on this path. Those children..something's not right. Our kids could get hurt."

"I'm sure they'll be okay," he assured "they've got the animals with them. It doesn't look like Dusty's taking any chances." I had to admit, our kids walked up to the Indian children warily, Dusty and both boys with their hands on the scruffy necks of their dogs. I knew they were a lot more sensitive to danger than I was. That's what worried me. The whole situation seemed extremely tense. The animals on both sides had their hackles up. The chiefs spread out like they were getting ready for hand to hand combat. I shook off James' hand and started to walk towards them but before I got ten feet, Joey saw me and put his hand up.

"Stop dad, go back." I froze and glanced at Radio, he shrugged, then turned his attention back to the pow wow with the little Indians. I felt rejected and powerless once again. I wanted to walk over, grab Joey by the ear, take him to his room and give him a good talking to but I knew Jubie would`t let me without a fight. "Damn!" I thought "What the hell good are paternal instincts. I can't even protect my own kids." I turned on my heels and stormed back to where James was listening to his grandfather.

"Your friend is right Kwahadi, these chiefs are very dangerous. They have personally killed many people...and they do not like white eyes."

James looked as confused as I felt. "What do you mean grandfather, these children..."

"They are not children," he interrupted "at least on the inside. I do not call them chiefs to amuse you. The small ones have called back the chiefs from the spirit world." He pointed towards the group of kids. They seemed to have settled down a bit. They were all sitting cross legged on the ground. Dusty was up talking to them but I couldn't hear what she was saying. "Those two closest to the van are Victorio and an old Lipan chief they called El Calvo. The shortest one is Cochise the Chiricahua. The other three are chiefs from a long time ago, before the Anglos came to our land. One is Navaho. One is Kiowa. One lived even before the Mexicanos were here. He knows nothing of the hatreds of the others. He only hates the Pueblans and their mud houses. The spirit children brought them back and share their bodies with them."

James, Sam and I must have looked like a line of open mailboxes. I'm surprised the old guy didn't put special delivery letters in our mouths. Finally, Sam was able to pull his jaw up into a usable position.

"Are you saying that actual people...dead people...are in those kids? Is it some kind of seance thing...you know like maybe they're channeling them from somewhere." Sam was not a new age kind of guy. I was surprised he even knew what "channeling" was. He must have read some of the newspapers Mary brought home from the whole foods market.

"I have spoken with them. They are chiefs. I am a medicine man of the N'de." He stuck out his chin in pride. "I know the tests for these things. They are confused, these chiefs. They could not agree in the old days. That is why we lost our lands but they have seen much in the spirit world. They have learned much from the children they inhabit about this modern time. Perhaps they can get along now."

His lined face settled back into a sly mask. "I have not told you Kwahadi, I have a friend who has a spirit guide like the little ones, someone you know. I have had much talk with the spirit world through him. He called me from Los Angeles right after this started, even before you. He has been back from the land of rock and roll stars since last Friday. He is now a man of powerful medicine." He smiled a goofy smile, dangling the worm on the hook. He seemed so childish and full of pranks, I was sure, if a vendor had been nearby, he would have hit his James in the face with a pie.

Slow realization crawled over James' face. "Not Angel! Angel Colorado, that puppy, that whelp of a camp dog. He cannot have a friend! He's twenty-two years old Grandfather. Adults do not have..." James hesitated, looked at me and thought better of what he was saying "...well most adults." He looked away for a second. "Why didn't you tell me Na Na? He is my cousin. I would do nothing to hurt him and I do not discuss the tribe's business with others."

"There are those who would call him a witch my son. You know how our people are about such things. I had to be sure. He is an impulsive boy. I did not want him to reveal himself until the right time. You and he are too much alike. I did not want you to influence him until I could see the good of the tribe." His good humor hardened. "I do not distrust you young one, but such decisions are mine among the people."

James was still disturbed. He sounded almost jealous. "He is young and stubborn. He does everything the hard way. It is not right that he should be the one with a friend."

The old man jabbed James gently in the ribs. "The boy takes after you, does he not, Kwahadi." I could tell his grandfather was getting in a private dig. James looked embarrassed. Na Na went on gently. "The spirit people choose their mates for reasons of their own. We do not get to say what is right or wrong."

"Amen" I said under my breath.

One of the Indian children stood up and hailed the old medicine man. He stood up resolutely. "The chiefs call. Perhaps we can talk treaty now." He pushed off the truck and walked towards the beckoning child.

I couldn't wait until Na Na walked off to ask James a burning question. "Did you say Angel Colorado, you mean Angel Colorado, the songwriter and pop star?"

James rolled his eyes and snorted in disgust. "He is my hellion of a cousin. He and his mother lived with me for a while before I moved from Austin to Houston. He is an okay kid, just a bit too cocky."

"Wow!" I exclaimed "Angel Colorado is your cousin. Radio will die. He's crazy over him. So is Ricky Esquivel. They think he's a God. I've got his album in the truck." I guess I got a little starcrossed at the idea of being so close to a celebrity. I could see James would have been happier if it hadn't come up. Sam didn't seem to know what I was talking about. Neither of them shared my compulsion for pop music. "Ah," I thought, "the curse of being a hip teenage dad."

I let my thoughts slide like bubbles off my soap box and onto the conversation Sam and James were having. Sam was groaning up a storm.

"Once again this business makes no sense to me. I miss my ordered universe, my morning paper, the six o'clock news. God I even miss mowing the lawn. I never thought I'd say that." He laughed. "Just give me a boring, regular world, one without Indian chiefs, spirit guides and imaginary friends." He put on a lighthearted act but underneath it he sounded truly lost. "I'm going to go put my poor head in Mary's lap and not think for a while." I thought about Jesse's lap. The thought made my eyes cloud.

"I know what you mean Sam. I miss Jesse and I miss my big screen." I commiserated. "Hell, what I miss most is my remote control. I haven't had any control over anything since this thing started. Sometimes, I just want to get drunk, do drugs or hit my head on a rock...something."

James laughed bitterly and rubbed the bandage on his forehead. "I wouldn't suggest the rock idea Tom. I already tried that and it didn't help."

I blushed. The two of them laughed. Sam squeezed my shoulder and walked off to find Mary. James saw my embarrassment, turned and put his hands on my shoulders. "You are a guilt ridden white man Tom Bowie. It is a weakness. There is no shame in a battle won. You should let the past go." He shook me a little. "I say who injures me. I say when there is a debt due me, not you. Do not let this white man's burden of yours come between us." His smile was wicked. "If I had known you would be in such great pain about hurting me, I would have made sure to beat you soundly so you could feel better." I decided I better take his advice. It didn't sound like an empty threat.

"James, your grandfather calls you Kwahadi. Is that your Indian name?"

He looked chagrined, gazed up at the sky and let go of my shoulders. "No Thomas, my name is James Cabellos Purcival. One of my grandfather's great pleasures is to bedevil me. The Kwahadi are a tribe of Comanche people, also called the Antelope people. In the old days they were perhaps the fiercest of our enemies. Their name means `backshade' because they come from treeless country where the only way to get shade is by turning one's back to the sun." He shook his head. "Na Na says I do everything the hard way, he says I fight the world, turn my back to the sun. He never lets me forget that I left my people to take up the white man's life."

"Two rebels without a cause." I noted. I put my arm around my blood brother's shoulders. "Come on you backwards misfit, lets go see if Dusty and the chiefs have worked out our fate. By the way," I connived "do you think we might get a chance to meet this cousin of yours. It would be interesting to talk to another adult who has a friend."

"Don't try to con me white man. I can smell a groupie a mile away. I just might do it anyway though. Maybe you'll run off with my rock star cousin and leave me free to chase your wife." I made a halfhearted attempt to wring his neck.

"Always a savage. Listen my little crimson brother, I'm just being a good dad," I hammed it up. "You know how much it would mean to Radio. I'm only thinking of him."

"Yeah, right." He did a markedly poor John Wayne impression, at least I think that's what he was doing, could have been Jimmy Stewart. "Well cowboy, don't you worry your purdy little head. If I know my cousin, he'll show up whether I want him to or not."

As we approached, the circle of kids was breaking up. Dusty, Joey and Nam looked drained. They held hands and walked off towards the vehicles. Radio and Ricky trotted over towards James and I with excited looks on their faces.

"Wow!" exclaimed Radio "That was awesome. Dad those guys are real Indian chiefs. They like lived in the old west, an..."

"It was cold." Ricky interjected, his macho on overload. "I thought we were gonna have to squab with those little chiefs, them with their blades. I wasn't afraid. I was gonna be kickin'. I don't back off, no mon, I takin' care of my home boys." Ricky kind of bobs his upper body like a pullet when he gets into his macho street mode.

"So what was decided?" I asked.

"Dusty an that Victorio dude, they stare each other down but I think it's okay. I think the kid in the chief was on our side and kept the old grump inside cool. Anyways, they say we're Uzzen's children and I think that means we get to go to the waterfall." Ricky turned to James. "Hey Tonto, you think everything gonna be okay at this new place, no more bad dreams for my brothers?"

James reached for the boy, they had developed a special bond in the last two weeks. "Sure little man. Uzzen will take care of his children. Evil spirits cannot enter his keep." As he comforted the boy, the two Mescaleros walked up and waited a few feet behind him, their faces like granite.

Na Na stood up from his place in the council circle among the chiefs and walked over to us. "It is done. The little chiefs have made the children the wards of Uzzen. Let's see Ayachala try to buck this. The spirits have spoken. No true man of the N'de can deny their claim."

James stood and nodded to his stocky bodyguards. "Just the same grandfather, I intend to make sure that the spirits have teeth. The man has plenty of guns and we can't count on it that the white eyes won't come looking for these kids."

As I looked at the rigid faces of the Apaches, I felt a flutter of unease. Some conflict was setting up. Not just the all encompassing, universal one that gripped our world as a whole, but a more intimate struggle, one that was personal and according to the grinding knot in my stomach, more dangerous. I looked across the campground and saw Big John, Sam and John Jr. loading the kids into the vehicles. Variety and Willa were washing faces on some of the smaller children while Mary fussed around the picnic tables checking for lost items and misplaced refuse. As I watched the people I loved, I felt another stab of misery. "Jesse," I thought "where are you when I need you?" I wondered when this was over how many of my friends would still be with me. It was a train of thought I would have been happy to have missed at the station.