Quentin had leaned back in his chair and casually crossed one leg over the other. "You've got it listed at forty-two hundred. I'll give you thirty-five, take it or leave it."
The sad look that came over Winston's face was as predictable as his initial closing question. "You can't be serious. We're in this business to sell cars, not give them away."
But when Quentin got up to leave, the bargaining had begun in earnest. Quentin ended up paying thirty-six fifty. But the most fun came when the dickering was done and Winston had said, "How do you intend to pay for this?"
That was the supreme moment, the one Quentin had been salivating over all morning. Nonchalantly, he had reached for his wallet and opened it. One by one he drew out four of the thousand-dollar bills and laid them down on the desk in front of the salesman. "You can give me change, can't you?"
The look on Winston's face as he scooped up the four bills had been well worth the price of admission. He had taken the money and disappeared into his sales manager's office. He was in there for a long time. No doubt, everybody there was busy trying to figure out whether or not the money was counterfeit. Eventually, though, he came back out and finished up the paperwork.
Leaving the lot, Quentin still felt good. After not driving a car for six years, it was strange to be back behind the wheel again, odd to be in his own vehicle. Knowing what would most likely be waiting for him in the desert, he stopped at a grocery store and picked up a six-pack of beer, a flashlight, and several spare batteries, as well as a large box-an empty toilet-paper box. Then he headed out of town.
The good mood lasted for a few miles more, but as soon as he crossed the pass and could see the mountain ahead of him, a pall of gloom settled over him. He popped open the first can and took a sip of beer, hoping to hold off the blanket of despair that was closing in on him.
If only his father hadn't made him take Davy out to the charco that day. Then, none of the rest of it would have happened.
"Do I have to?" Quentin had whined to his father on the phone. "Me and Tommy have better things to do today than haul Davy Ladd out into the desert to put a bunch of plastic flowers on something that isn't even a grave."
"Listen here, young man," Brandon Walker said. "We're not talking options here. Where did you get that car you're driving?"
"From Grandma," Quentin conceded grudgingly. "You bought it for us from Grandma Walker."
"That's right. Diana and I both bought it for you," Brandon corrected. "As long as we're paying for gas and insurance, you'd better straighten up and help out when required to do so. Is that clear?"
"I guess," Quentin said. "But do we have to do it today?"
"Yes. Today is the anniversary of Gina Antone's death. Rita's too busy with Lani to take care of the shrine herself and it would be too hard on her anyway, so Davy's agreed to do it for her. It's very important to Rita that the work be done today."
"Well, I'm not doing any of it."
"Nobody's asking you to. Davy will do whatever needs doing. Brian will probably help out too, if he can come along." Now that Quentin was being slightly more agreeable, Brandon was willing to be conciliatory as well. "I'll send along enough money so the four of you can stop off at the trading post and have a hamburger or a burrito on your way back. How does that sound?"
"Okay, I guess," Quentin said.
Showing off, Quentin had driven the aging '68 New Yorker like a maniac on the way out to the reservation. Tommy was game for anything, but Quentin was waiting to see if he could scare either Davy or Brian into telling him to slow down. Neither one of them said a word. The bad part came, though, when they turned off Coleman Road and headed for the charco.
Quentin was still going too fast when they came around a blind curve that concealed a sandy wash. He jammed on the brakes. Seconds later, the Chrysler was mired in sand up to its hubcaps. By then they were only half a mile or so away from the charco and the shrine. Brian and Davy had set off with their flowers and candles. Meantime, Quentin left Tommy to watch the car while he hiked out to the highway to find someone to pull the Chrysler out of the sand.
That took time. He was gone over an hour. When he came back with a guy with a four-wheel-drive pickup and a chain, Tommy was nowhere to be found. The car was out of the sand, the guy with the pickup was long gone, and Brian and Davy were back from doing their shrine duties before Tommy finally showed up.
"Where the hell have you been?" Quentin growled.
"I got bored," Tommy told him. "But you'll never guess what I found. There's a cave up there," he said, pointing back up the flank of Kitt Peak. "It's a big one. I tried going inside, but when it got too dark, I came back." He wrenched open the passenger door, opened the glove box, and took out the flashlight Brandon Walker insisted they keep there in case of trouble.
"Come on," he said. "I'll show you."
"We can't do that," Davy said.
"Can't do what?"
"Go in the caves on Ioligam, " Davy told him.
"Why not?"
"Because they belong to the Indians. They're sacred."
"That's bullshit and you know it!" Tommy said. "Caves belong to everybody. What about Colossal Cave? What about Carlsbad Caverns? Besides, it's Kitt Peak anyway, not 'chewing gum.' "
"Ioligam,"Davy repeated, but by then Tommy was already headed back up the mountain. Quentin paused for a moment. He himself wasn't wild about exploring caves, but the idea of doing something Davy was against proved to be too much of a temptation. "If Tommy's going, I'm going," he said. With that, Quentin set off after his brother.
"Why are the caves sacred?" Brian asked as he and Davy trudged reluctantly up the mountain after the others.
"Nana Dahd told me that it's because that's where I'itoi goes for summer vacation," Davy answered. "But Looks At Nothing told me once that back when the Apaches attacked the village that used to be here, the village called Rattlesnake Skull, the only people who lived were some little kids who hid out in a cave. Later on, the Tohono O'othham found out that one of the girls from Rattlesnake Skull had betrayed her people to the Ohb. Some hunters went looking for her. When they found her, they brought her back and shut her up in one of the caves on the mountain to die."
With three older brothers, Brian Fellows was used to having his leg pulled. "Is that the truth or is that just a story?" he asked.
Davy Ladd shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "Looks At Nothing told it like it was the truth, but maybe it is just a story."
They had followed the older boys to the entrance of the cave and then waited outside until the flashlight gave out, forcing Tommy and Quentin to emerge.
"It's beautiful in there," a gleeful Tommy reported. "Unbelievable! It's too bad you're both chickens."
"We're not chickens," Davy said quietly.
Quentin laughed. "Yes, you are. Come on, chicky-chicky. Let's go have that hamburger. I'm starved."
During the next couple of weeks, Tommy had persuaded Quentin to spend every spare moment exploring the cave. When they ran out of money for gas and flashlight batteries, they stole bills from their mother's purse. And even Quentin was forced to agree it was worth it. The cave was magnificent-magnificent and awful at the same time. It was so much more than either of them had imagined and yet it was terribly frustrating. They had found something wonderful and amazing, beautiful beyond all imagining. Gleaming wet stalactites hung down like thousands of rocky icicles. Stalagmites rose up out of watery pools like so many gray looming ghosts. Here and there, pieces of crystal reflected back light like a thousand winking eyes. Tommy was dying to share their discovery.
"You know what'll happen if anybody finds out," Quentin had warned his brother. "They'll kick our asses out of there and we'll never get to go back."