The black ducks rushed at him
but he blew the medicine on them
before they could squawk.
He came up behind the Gambler
practicing with the sticks
on the floor of his house.
“I’m fasting,” he told Kaup’a’ta,
when he offered him the blue cornmeal
“but thanks anyway.”
Sun Man pulled out his things:
four sets of new clothes
two pairs of new moccasins
two strings of white shell beads
Kaup’a’ta smiled when he saw these things
“We’ll gamble all night,” he said.
It happened
just the way Spiderwoman said:
When he had lost everything
Kaup’a’ta gave him a last chance.
The Gambler bet everything he had
that Sun Man couldn’t guess what he had
in the bag on the east wall.
Kaup’a’ta was betting his life
that he couldn’t guess
what was in the sack hanging from the south wall.
“Heheya’! You guessed right!
Take this black flint knife, Sun Man,
go ahead, cut out my heart, kill me.”
Kaup’a’ta lay down on the floor
with his head toward the east.
But Sun Man knew Kaup’a’ta was magical
and he couldn’t be killed anyway.
Kaup’a’ta was going to lie there
and pretend to be dead.
So Sun Man knew what to do:
He took the flint blade
and he cut out the Gambler’s eyes
He threw them into the south sky
and they became the horizon stars of autumn.
Then he opened the doors of the four rooms
and he called to the stormclouds:
“My children,” he said
I have found you!
Come on out. Come home again.
Your mother, the earth is crying for you.
Come home, children, come home.”
“What are you doing here?”
The voice came from the yard. She was standing under an apricot tree, partially hidden by a bushy canopy of gnarled limbs sweeping so close to the earth the slender leaves touched the ground in the wind. The shadows made her skin and hair look dark.
“I couldn’t drive past the washed-out bridge. So I left the truck there and rode the horse.” The sun had gone down, behind the mesa below the rimrock. The sky and clouds on the horizon were bright red.
“Who sent you?”
“I’m looking for some cattle. They belonged to my uncle.”
“Somebody sent you,” she said, and he noticed she was holding a small willow staff, slightly curved at one end. A cool wind blew down from the northwest rim of the mountain plateau above them and rattled the apricot leaves. He got off the mare and loosened the cinch; the horse tried to shake off sweat and fatigue. The leather and steel fittings on the saddle and bridle clashed together violently. She stepped out from under the tree then. She was wearing a man’s shirt tucked into a yellow skirt that hung below her knees. Pale buckskin moccasins reached the edge of her skirt. The silver buttons up the side of each moccasin had rainbirds carved on them. She wasn’t much older than he was, but she wore her hair long, like the old women did, pinned back in a knot.
“Can I get some water for the horse?”
She gestured with her chin in the direction of the corral. Her eyes slanted up with her cheekbones like the face of an antelope dancer’s mask.
“Help yourself,” she said.
Her skin was light brown; she had ocher eyes. She stood in the yard and watched him lead the mare away.
The wind was blowing harder, and the mare’s long tail streamed around them like tall dune grass; the corral gate bumped back and forth in the wind. The mare was thirsty; she sank her nostrils under water and came up only to breathe. He rubbed her behind the ears where the bridle made sweaty creases in the hair. He smelled leather wet with horse sweat, and damp clay from the edge of the pool where the mare stood knee-deep; he smelled winter coming in the wind.
He tied the horse in the corral and pulled off the saddle. He untied his bedroll from the back of the saddle and looked for a sandy sheltered place to unroll his bed. The wind and sand were blowing so hard he didn’t hear her walk up from behind. He turned and she was there.
“Come inside,” she said loud enough to be heard over the wind. She pulled the handwoven blanket up around her shoulders and head, and walked into the stinging sand with her head bowed. He followed her with his head down and his eyes squeezed shut against the sand; but he did not miss the designs woven across the blanket in four colors: patterns of storm clouds in white and gray; black lightning scattered through brown wind.
He followed her down the long screen porch to a narrow pine door. When she opened it, he smelled dried apricots and juniper wood burning. The inner walls were massive and all the doorways were low. The smell of clay and mountain sage stirred old memories. He touched a whitewashed wall as he went through a doorway, and rubbed the powdery clay between his fingers. His heart was beating fast, and his hands were damp with sweat.
The fireplace was in the corner of the room; the flames blazed up, snapping the kindling and sucking at the wind that came down the chimney. He stood in front of the fire and held out his hands to get warm.
“Sit down. Eat.”
He took off his jacket and laid it on the bench beside him. He watched her move lids and pots on the small cookstove. She put a bowl and spoon in front of him. The chili was thick, red like fresh blood, and full of dried corn and fresh venison. She stood by the window and looked outside.
“The sky is clear. You can see the stars tonight.” She spoke without turning around. He felt a chill bristle across his neck, and it was difficult to swallow the mouthful of stew.
He had watched the sky every night, looking for the pattern of stars the old man drew on the ground that night. Late in September he saw them in the north.
He had left Laguna before dawn and drove all day until he came to the big arroyo where years of summer rain had gradually
eroded the clay bank away from the narrow plank bridge, cutting a deep new channel between the road and the bridge.
He got up from the table and walked back through the rooms. He pushed the porch screen door wide open and looked up at the sky: Old Betonie’s stars were there.
So they flew
all the way up again.
They went to a place in the West
(See, these things were complicated. . )
They called outside his house
“You downstairs, how are things?”
“Okay,” he said, “come down.”
They went down inside.
“Maybe you want something?”
“Yes. We need tobacco.”
Caterpillar spread out