This got my attention. “Is there a parts store?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I’d like to work on Nicky’s bike. I don’t know if I can fix it, but I’d like to try.”
“Let’s go for it.”
I didn’t pay too much attention to the town itself when we got there, I was more interested in getting what I needed and taking care of business. Before we went to the parts store, we had to take care of Donny’s errands. That meant rounding up a case of garbage bags, a couple cases of toilet paper, some cleaning supplies, and even a little bit of lumber.
Afterward, I was able to get a headlight for the bike, which cost $22.50. I also bought six cans of Pennzoil and a can of rubbing compound. My funds were suddenly down to six bucks, but I didn’t want to think about that.
CHAPTER TEN
When we got back to the reservation, it was way past noon. We went right to the equipment shed where I helped Donny unload his stuff. He told me he had work to do, so he couldn’t help me with the bike. But I said that was okay because I needed to try and psych it out on my own anyway.
Then he left. I was the only person in the shop, which suited me just fine. I pulled the Kawasaki over by the workbench, where all the tools were kept and the light was good.
I don’t really have enough mechanical know-how to fix a seized-up engine, but I wanted to try a trick I saw Mr. Gibbs use once on a seized-up Rototiller. He took the head off and poured small amounts of oil on top of the piston, so it could seep down into the cylinder walls. I didn’t know of anything better to try, and all the sockets and other tools I needed were right on the workbench. I could only hope and pray that the engine damage wasn’t too severe.
To get at the head, I had to take off the gas tank, both carburetors, the sediment bowl, and the exhaust pipes. It took a long time, partly because I was stopping to clean everything as I went. I may not be an expert mechanic, but when it comes to engines, I know dirt is the enemy.
I was just picking the sockets I’d need to take off the head when a voice from behind startled me: “I’m looking for Charly Black Crow. Can you tell me where to find him?”
I turned around, and there was Barb. “I didn’t hear you come in. How did you find the shop?”
“I asked for directions.”
“Are you pissed at me?”
“I’m too tired for that. This has been a long drive. Is there a chair anywhere around here?”
I found her a chair, and she said she was thirsty. I got her a Pepsi from a pop machine around back. As embarrassed as I was about my escapade, I found I was real glad to see her.
She leaned back in her chair and drank some of the Pepsi. She said, “This is a long way from home, but it looks familiar. You’re working on Nicky’s bike and up to your elbows in grease.”
“It’s got a seized-up engine. I’m trying to fix it.”
“That sounds serious.”
“It seized up on the highway. It was burning oil, only I didn’t see it because I was driving in the dark.”
“Can you fix it?”
“Maybe. I really hope so. I feel real guilty about stealing Nicky’s bike. The thing is, when he gets it back, it has to be in better shape than before; that won’t square everything, but it would be a start.”
While we were talking, I started taking out the bolts holding down the head. They were rusted tight, so I had to use some Liquid-Wrench. “You came by yourself,” I said to her.
“I came by myself.”
“Does the agency know where I am?”
“No. They’re networking, but you picked an awfully good hiding place. When your chief called, I just decided to see if I could deal with it on my own.”
“You went out on a limb for me.”
“We could call it that, I suppose. I’d say your chief did, too. There are people who are willing to go to bat for you, Floyd.”
“That’s true about the chief,” I said. She had a good point.
Then she said, “What’s a hanblecheya?”
“It’s a vision quest,” I said. I went ahead and summed up the history and purpose of the hanblecheya.
“You were out in the wilderness for four days and nights with nothing to eat?”
“That’s the way it’s done.”
“I really admire you for it. It had to take a lot of courage.”
“I needed to see it through,” I said. “Not only for the meaning of it, but also because the chief was treating me with such high honor, when he could’ve just turned me over to the cops for a runaway.”
By this time the head was off, and I poured about a pint of oil on top of each piston. I sat up on the workbench next to Barb. We hadn’t talked about my going back; I couldn’t yet.
“Now what?” she said.
“We have to wait a few minutes.” You could see some of the oil dripping on the floor, but it looked like most of it was working its way down inside the cylinders.
I guess the gods were with us, because it worked. The oil penetrated, and both cylinders were freed up. I blew out a sigh of relief.
“Success?” Barb asked.
“I think so. Keep your fingers crossed.” I poured a little more oil on top of both sides, then I brought the engine oil up to the right level. Then I went to work putting the whole bike back together. When that was finished, I looked over at Barb, but she was sound asleep in her chair. Her fingers were crossed.
Since she was sleeping, I gave the bike a good workout with the rubbing compound. It shined up pretty good, considering its age and all the neglect it had suffered.
I pushed it out of the shop, quite a distance away so I wouldn’t wake her up when I started it. It was easy starting. I took it out on the road for a test run. All things considered it was running pretty well, but you could see the blue smoke coming out. It would never be a good-running bike without new rings. If you rode it any distance, you’d have to carry oil with you so you could add some every now and then.
When I got back from the test run, Barb was awake. “I see you got it running,” she said.
“Yeah, plus it looks a lot better, don’t you think?”
“It looks nice, Floyd. It looks so much better, I hardly recognize it.”
“This’ll make Nicky happy.”
“I know it will,” she said. Then she changed the subject. “Floyd, I’m about to starve. Didn’t I see a coffee shop or something over by those tourist shops?”
“There’re places to eat. Let’s go over.”
When we got to the coffee shop, Barb ordered two double cheeseburgers. I told her she must be real hungry.
“One of them’s for you,” she said.
“But I’m broke.”
“Not anymore, you’re not. I brought you some money.”
“Your money or mine?” I asked.
“Yours. I took it from your account.”
“Well, I am sort of hungry.”
“Good.” She lit up a cigarette while we were waiting for our food. I told her I’d like to see her give up smoking.
“I’m working on it,” she said. “Now let me tell you what I’d like you to do.”
I told her I was listening.
“I’ve had a couple of talks with Wagner and Lacey this week. They’ve agreed to drop all the talk about moving you to another group home.”
She was talking about my going back.
She went on, “I have two possible placements in private homes that I think you might like. They’re both right in town. You can meet the people, if you want, and then it would be up to you. Nobody would force you.”
“You’re talking about me going back.”
“And one other thing. No probation. If you go back to Gates House, you won’t be on probation.”
“But you’re talking about me going back. Don’t ask me that now.”
“Okay, I’m listening,” she said.
“I’m trying to tell you this is a real mixed bag. The hanblecheya was real meaningful and important, and
I’m glad the bike is fixed. But this whole thing was probably a screwup, and I’m still in somewhat of a funk. I’m just not ready to talk about going back.”
“You took off because you felt trapped. You couldn’t see any other way out. People in that situation sometimes do extreme things.”
“And that’s another thing. You’re not like the system. I don’t know how you’re getting away with stuff.”
“Getting away with what stuff? Other than coming up here on my own, and not telling anybody where you are, all I’ve been doing is speaking up for what I believe in.”
“That’s not the way it works,” I said.
“That’s the way I work. I’m like the flies at the picnic, I won’t go away. I think the powers that be are starting to realize it. I can’t be fired for standing up for my beliefs, even if I do it in no uncertain terms.”
You had to respect her point of view, but she was talking about the system. Then we didn’t have to talk about it anymore, because the cheeseburgers came.
When we were finished eating, it was almost six o’clock. Since there were a couple hours of daylight left, Barb wanted to know if I would show her some of the reservation.
“I can show you the parts I know about,” I said.
We went in her old station wagon. I gave her directions that put us on that same rough road Donny and I followed the first day of my vision seek. Barb kept asking me was I serious, but I kept telling her the drive would be worth it.
Eventually we got to Donny’s village and came to a stop. She checked it out and said, “I had no idea places like this still existed.”
“It’s a kick, isn’t it? This is the real thing, Barb.” I told her if we went a mile or two farther, we would be able to see Mount Black Elk.
“What’s Mount Black Elk?”
“That’s my name for the place where I had the hanblecheya. We won’t be close to it, but we’ll be able to see it.”
“Why not?” she said. She started up the car. We went as far as we could, but the road was so primitive, it was like it wasn’t there anymore.
She stopped the car and said, “I’m afraid this is as far as we go.”
“It’s far enough,” I said. We got out of the car and sat on the front fender. You could see the mountaintop, just barely, but it was too far away to make out the cave or the pine trees. The sun was very low in the west, which gave the peak a sort of mystical golden glow.
“You were up there four days and nights by yourself, without a bite to eat.”
“It doesn’t seem possible now, not with all this food in my stomach and all the sleep I got last night.”
“Why do you call it Mount Black Elk?”
“There’s a legend that it was Black Elk’s favorite place to go on a hanblecheya.”
“It’s very beautiful,” she said. “Your view from up there must have been majestic.”
“I’d say that’s a good word for it.” Then we just looked at the peak in the late sun for a long time, without talking. It was good memories and a mellowed-out feeling, especially with Barb there to share it.
After a long silence I finally said to her, “I have to go back, don’t I?”
“My late husband, God rest his soul, always said the only things we have to do are die and pay taxes.”
“But you know what I’m saying. Even though I’ll feel like a fool.”
Barb said, “There doesn’t seem to be another right choice, now that you mention it.”
“Dakota wisdom says if you’re in touch with your inner voice, you know when it’s time to do a thing. Even dying; you know when it’s time for that.”
“What is your inner voice saying?”
“I already told you. There’s one thing, though. If I go back, I have to drive the bike.”
“Do you have a license?”
“You can’t get a license until you’re sixteen.”
She looked at me and went into a sort of hesitation. “I’m already out on the limb pretty far,” she said. “You want me to crawl clear out to the tip and break it off?”
“I know it’s asking a lot. But it’s important to me; I’m the one who stole it and I have to be the one who takes it back.”
“Better than it was?” she asked.
“Right. I have to take it back in better shape than it was. It would feel like I was getting a little honor back.”
“I’ll offer a compromise,” she said. “We’ll go back together. You drive the bike, and I’ll follow behind in the car. How’s that?”
I thought about it. It might be an advantage to have the car along; we could store extra quarts of engine oil in the back. And I would still be driving the bike back.
“That could be okay,” I said.
On the drive back down, I asked her if she’d like to spend the night in my tipi.
“Not likely. I’m too old for that. I’ve got a room at a motel in town.”
When she dropped me off in the campground, it was almost dark. She said she’d see me for breakfast. She didn’t add that we’d have to reach a firm decision about her travel compromise, but she didn’t have to.
By the next morning I was in the right head. We were eating breakfast in the coffee shop when I said to Barb, “I’ll go ahead and meet the two foster placements.”
“I’ll arrange it so you can. It will be your decision, though.”
“I understand.”
“If you don’t feel comfortable about either one, then we’ll see if we can find some other options.”
“I understand.” I ate some more of my sausage, gravy, and biscuits. Then I asked her if I’d ever told her about the Stone Boy legend.
“I think you mentioned it once or twice, but not in detail.”
“That was the most important part of the hanblecheya,” I told her. “The legend came to me complete. It also got very symbolic, which is where the chief came in; he helped me interpret.” I went ahead to explain to her the connection between Stone Boy’s legend and certain parts of my own life.
“You are Old Woman,” I told her.
“Great.” she said. “I’ve been called Coarse Woman for years, now I get to be Old Woman.”
“That’s not the point,” I said. “It’s what these things stand for. Stone Boy was half stone, but also half flesh. When he put his trust in Old Woman, his human side came out.”
“This was your vision,” she said.
“That’s the vision. I have to put my trust in you, and I think I can do it. I have to change my thinking. Belonging is important to me, but you can’t really do it until you’re ready to belong.”
Not that these things were easy for me to say to her; in fact, it was embarrassing. But when a thing needs to be said, you have to find a way. Barb didn’t say anything. She was drinking her coffee and thinking.
I told her, “You said to me that I can’t turn everything in, sometimes I have to turn out and ask for help.”
“I said it and I believe it. But you were right, too, Floyd.”
“How was I right?”
She said, “The social services system is something like the serpent tree in your Stone Boy legend. Big bureaucracies can get that way; they can turn into monsters. They get so they serve their own needs rather than the people they’re supposed to help.”
“I know. But if you never find a place to put your trust, it’s like you turn to stone.”
It wasn’t too long after that when Barb said, “We’ve got a long trip ahead of us. We need to think about getting started.”
“I’ve got my stuff packed. But I’d like to say goodbye to the chief before we go.”
“No doubt you would. You think maybe I could meet him?”
We drove to the chief’s trailer. We didn’t have an invitation, so I felt a little funny, just dropping in. But the chief was glad to see us.
I introduced him and Barb; the two of them shook hands and said how happy they were to meet each other. We all sat down at Chief Bear-in-cave’s kitchen table, wher
e he had a lot of papers and folders spread around.
He asked me, “Is it time to go?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s time. Let’s be realistic, I can’t pick up campground litter for the rest of my life. Besides, the hanblecheya has helped me get into a new head.”
He smiled. “I was expecting you today. I thought it would be time.”
“Why?” I asked.
He was still smiling. “Dakota wisdom,” he said. “I’m glad you did come, because there are a couple of things for us to discuss.”
I asked what they were.
“Item number one, I make you a suggestion. Next summer, why not come here and work on the reservation? We have summer staff jobs for teenagers. Unfortunately, all the jobs are filled for this year. The work would be monotonous and the pay would be low. But you would spend the summer living and working among the Dakota. It might take you around another bend or two on the river, which might teach you more about your destiny.”
“Sign me up,” I said, with no hesitation.
“Not so fast. Think it over and talk it over with this lady.” He nodded in Barb’s direction. “I think she is a good person who will not stand in the way of things that are beneficial to you.”
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
The chief held up his hand like a stop sign. “Now the second thought. Remember, I had two. I have something to show you. Please follow me.”
Barb and I both followed him into the den part of the trailer. Chief Bear-in-cave put on his glasses. I wondered if the right side had a lens in it or just clear glass. Anyway, he got three ledger books from the bookshelves, and sat at a small desk nearby.
He said, “We keep records of everyone who is enrolled in the tribe. As you can see, our records are kept the old-fashioned way, in ledger books. The records aren’t perfect, but I daresay they are more accurate than the records in the Bureau of Indian Affairs, even though they keep theirs in a computer.”
Barb said, “The Bureau of Indian Affairs sounds like another one of those serpent trees that Floyd has nightmares about.”
“Most definitely,” said the chief. “A monster with many heads.” He waved his arm at all the books on the shelves and continued, “We also have our history stored here. It isn’t organized quite the way it ought to be, but it’s all here if a person wants to take the time to find it.”
Dakota Dream Page 13
