Dance of the Bones

Covering his mouth with his hand, he managed to stifle himself and waited through the agonizing time—-the better part of a minute or so—-that it took for the vehicle, a green--and--white Border Patrol SUV, to finally reach him and drive past. Once the SUV was gone, Gabe struggled to his feet. The ends of some of the cholla spines still jutted out through his clothing. He pulled out the ones he could reach, then turned his attention to the blanket.

A foot--long branch of cholla along with a dozen smaller balls of thorns were embedded in the tightly woven wool. Without the blanket to keep out the cold, Gabe was already shivering. He needed the blanket’s protection, but first he had to remove the spikes. In the dark, with his hand shaking from the cold, that was far easier said than done. He found some rocks and used those to chisel away as much of the cholla as he could. The rocks worked fine on the bigger pieces—-the ones he could see—-but it would take light and a pliers to remove the spines that remained.

Giving up, Gabe flung the blanket over his shoulders and resumed his painful journey, wincing with every step, as first one spine then another bit into his flesh.

Damn Lani Pardee anyway, he thought. It was all her fault that he was out here in the middle of the night with cactus spikes stuck in his butt. And damn I’itoi, too! If he was the Spirit of Goodness, why hadn’t he kept Gabe from tumbling into that patch of cholla?

More alone than he’d ever been, to say nothing of hurt and angry, Gabe Ortiz stumbled on through the night, but he knew what he was going to tell his parents as soon as he saw them—-that Lani Walker--Pardee wasn’t his godmother anymore. After all, he was almost a grown--up now, and grown--ups didn’t need god-parents.





CHAPTER 8




AFTER OLD MAN RETURNED WITHOUT heat, the Indians held another council. This time they asked the Thah O’odham, the Flying -People, for help. Oriole—-S--oam Shashani—-was listening, and he said he would go. The next morning Oriole started off very early. He did not return until very late, and when he did, he was changed. Some of his feathers had turned the color of the sun and others were black. He said that when he came too close to Tash, some of his feathers started to burn. He had to find some water and dive into it. That is why, even to this day, some of Oriole’s feathers are black and others are yellow.

After that, several more birds were sent, but none of them could bring heat. The Indians decided that since the small birds could not bring heat, they should try the big birds.

Nuwiopa—-Buzzard—-was floating around in the sky and listening to the -People talking. The Indians called to him and told him that he flew so well that it would be a small thing for Buzzard to go to the home of Tash and bring back some fire. Nuwiopa, too, thought this would be very easy. The next morning he started out. All the -people were sure that this time Buzzard would succeed, and so they stopped work and waited.

About noon they saw a tiny black speck, high in the sky. When Buzzard came down, the Indians saw that all his feathers, which had been brown, were now burned black and his head had no feathers at all. It was all covered with blood. The -People did what they could to help poor Nuwiopa, but that is how Buzzard is even to this day. He is covered with black feathers and has a head the color of blood.

BATHED IN THE WARMTH OF the overhead heaters and with Bozo snoring contentedly beside him, Brandon Walker savored the quiet and let his mind wander back to the point where Amos Warren and John Lassiter had first come to his attention.