Peace in an Age of Metal and Men

by Anthony Eichenlaub

  “Francis,” I said, “your brother’s looking for you. Go home.”

  “Home? No, I don’t think so. The lab’s better here and these people are nice to me.”

  “You’ve done enough. These people need to be set free.”

  His expression got real serious. “These people want this. They’re happy. They’ve been this way for a long time all on their own. I’m only here to help.”

  “Generous of you.”

  “Don’t you see? It’s what we—”

  The buzz of the dead zone rippled through my body. It felt like freedom. How long would that last? Trish would come after me. There were important things I needed to do before I let her catch up to me. I’d need to learn more about what was happening in Swallow Hill if I wanted to have any chance to clear my name. My tribe needed me to help smooth relations with the other tribe. I dreaded it, but it had to happen. I needed to make sure they were safe before I left.

  If I left.

  I’d promised Ben Brown I’d help find his brother. Now I knew. He was somewhere around Swallow Hill. He was involved.

  I had no delusions that I’d be cleared of my crimes. I’d left the law behind when I robbed that bank. That was enough to get me sent north. Justice had a funny kind of severity out here in the outlands. I’d see a few years of hard labor even if Trish vouched for me. But why would she?

  Affairs needed to be in order before they caught me.

  When I left the dead zone, my arm and all of my tech snapped back to life. The aching pings of warning that my arm had been sending me came back full force, double what they were before, despite the charge I’d given them earlier. My vision wavered again, but it wasn’t as bad as before. I was getting used to it.

  “Ben,” I said into my headgear.

  “Yeah.”

  “Got a lead on your brother.”

  “Uh-huh.” He didn’t sound convinced.

  “I’ll stop by later today.”

  “Fine.”

  Moments later, sun swiftly rising, I set my jaw and forced myself to move.

  There was a line that someone had painted on the ground. It ran in clean, blue paint right along the edge of the dead zone. Perpendicular lines radiated out from it every twenty meters or so. I resolved to ask Abi about it when I saw her next.

  That was one more thing on my list.

  My skidder smelled of piss. It was an overwhelming surge of musk and stink that almost had me retching again, but I held it back.

  Once I was in the sky, moving fast, nothing smelled like nothing.

  I’d told Ben I would meet him early, but he’d have to wait. The one place I knew Trish would come looking for me was Underpass, where she knew I lived. If I was going to help my tribe, I needed to do it soon. It had to be first.

  I tried to contact Zane through my headgear without any luck. He was the key to getting things cleared up, even though I couldn’t decide how much I could trust him. Had he given me bad tech? What was his motivation in all this? I knew he worked for Goodwin, but that didn’t tell me much.

  Mina saw me coming from far away. She looked up from picking tomatoes in her garden and scowled something fierce. As soon as I landed, she dumped her tomatoes into a basket and ushered me inside. Once we were in her tiny house, she left without saying a word. When she came back a minute later, her eyebrows were knit together in worry.

  “I’ve covered your skidder so they won’t see it.” She looked me right in the eyes for a moment, sniffed the air, and started brewing a pot of coffee. “What kind of trouble are you in, anyway?”

  “Mornin’,” I said, tipping my hat.

  “They’ve had that deputy out here looking for you.”

  Mina’s coffee pot started bubbling and I just about found religion. Once it was finished brewing she poured a couple cups and handed one to me. I spent a full minute just breathing it in, and when I took a sip my headache faded.

  “Much appreciated,” I said.

  She smiled. “You’re not too popular around here, you know.”

  I took another sip of coffee and closed my eyes. The warmth sank right down into my chest and threatened to put me right to sleep.

  “Chief says you were supposed to meet Ayze yesterday. Said you’d agreed to it.” She kicked me gently in the shin and my eyes snapped open. “I’ve never seen the chief angry, J.D., but he was close on this.”

  I nodded.

  “I had to fill in for you.”

  “How’d it go?”

  She glared.

  There was a tap at the door and Mina stepped over to answer it. She opened the door just a crack and whispered something to someone outside.

  She turned to me and grinned. “You’re lucky. Ayze is due to leave this morning to travel back north.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “Not so lucky.” Mina frowned at me. “Deputy Green just arrived. He’s looking for you.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Already?”

  “We’ll have to get over to the Kiva without him seeing you.” She peered at me closely. “First, we need to get you cleaned up.”

  “What? Why?”

  Mina opened a trunk at the foot of her bed and pulled out a straight-edge razor. She found a cup with soap and an old brush. She handed them to me and brought a mirror over.

  Gaunt and pale, the haunted face scowling back at me in the reflection was one sorry son of a bitch. The beard stubble was wild enough to be considered shaggy. My hair was dirty and lopsided, but I always wore a hat, so I didn’t think it would matter.

  Mina started combing the tangles out of my hair and working some kind of oil into it. While she did that, I played obedient and shaved.

  “Why all this fuss, Mina?”

  She didn’t answer, but instead tried to brush the dust off of my shirt. It didn’t work. When dirt is rubbed in that hard, there’s nothing that’s going to get it out.

  “This won’t do,” she said. She opened another short trunk and pulled out what looked like a leather poncho decorated with tassels. She draped it over my shoulders and stood back to eyeball me. “Much better.”

  I scowled at myself in the mirror. It felt good to have a shave, but unnatural to have my hair combed and parted down the middle. Also, the leather tassels felt odd.

  “Isn’t this women’s clothes?” I said, indicating the poncho.

  “Well, I’ll let you borrow it.” She rushed to the door in response to the sound of a light scratch. After a short discussion with whoever was outside, she waved me over. “C’mon, J.D. It’s time to move.”

  I grabbed my hat from the table and just about got it onto my head before Mina slapped it away. She met my eyes and shook her head, so I carried it with me.

  Outside, Marcus motioned frantically for us to cross to another building. Mina crouched low, so I followed suit and the two of us crossed and found a spot between some boxes to wait for the next signal.

  “What’s this all about?” I whispered.

  Mina just shook her head.

  Marcus waved us on. When I glanced back over my shoulder at him, I could see him approaching, hailing someone I couldn’t see. We crossed to another building, circled around it to where a fenced-in area held a couple of goats. We hopped the fence, tiptoed carefully through the muddy pen, and hopped out again next to Vincent, the gray-eared donkey.

  Mina untied the donkey from the fence and started leading him.

  “Hide behind Vincent,” she said.

  I crouched down and tried to stay behind the creature.

  “Just stay quiet,” Mina whispered to me. “We’re almost there, but we gotta cross this field and Deputy Green is talking to Marcus on the other side.”

  The donkey was damned slow and plodded at his own pace along a worn path. My back started to ache from squatting down behind the thing, and I don’t think it did a very good job of hiding me, considering my legs would be fully visible. There were some decent scrub bushes that might help, but it was hard not to feel foolish and comple
tely exposed.

  “Shit.” Mina handed me the lead. “He’s coming this way. You take it the rest of the way.”

  Mina dashed off, leaving me with Vincent.

  At first the beast kept on its painfully slow pace. It plodded forward, trundling from side to side.

  Then it stopped.

  “Move it, Vinnie,” I said. I crouched down low and peeked under Vincent’s belly. Mina was talking to a man with a deputy’s star pinned to his hat. He was young, with a small paunch of a belly under his sloppily buttoned shirt. His hat didn’t seem to sit right on his head, and he rocked back on his heels when he spoke. Mina had managed to get him facing away from me.

  I slapped Vincent on the butt. He took a step to the side, away from me, but refused to move forward.

  Vincent reached down and took a big bite from a tuft of dry grass. He chewed it with slow, mocking deliberation, as if trying to drive home that he wasn’t going anywhere.

  The lead was still in my hand, so I thought I’d try to use it. I pulled it forward, ahead of the donkey, and tried to motivate him with a few short tugs. He still didn’t move forward. Instead, he just rotated his back end around away from me, effectively diminishing my cover.

  Soon, I was right in his face. Vincent’s bottom was facing the deputy and the damn donkey just stared at me and chewed his grass. He finished, swallowed, and took another big bite.

  I cussed at him through my teeth.

  The grass was what he wanted, so I pulled up a big handful and held it in front of his face. It almost worked. My back ached and my knees were starting to feel like they had knots in them. The donkey finished his mouthful and turned to where I was holding out more for him. It gave me a little more room to hide, which was good. The donkey took a step forward, and I tried to move with him, but my knee seized up and I wasn’t fast enough.

  Vincent’s square teeth dug into my thumb as he snatched the handful of grass from my hand. I tugged hard as I could, but again, he wouldn’t move.

  “Need some help?” someone whispered right behind me, nearly sending my heart into a fit.

  It was Haley in her soft sneaking shoes. She grinned at me, obviously proud of herself. She took the reins from me, made a kissing sound, and led Vincent slowly the rest of the way across the field.

  Once we were all the way to the Kiva, I turned to her. “Thanks,” I whispered. The door was at the bottom of a short stairwell, and I opened it as quietly as I could.

  She grinned at me and did a little curtsey. “Do good, okay?”

  I nodded. “I’ll try.”

  She leaned in close to whisper, “Make him fall in love with you.”

  “Wait, what?” The door swung closed and I was in Broadfeather’s decorated home.

  Chapter 22

  The Kiva was a structure of natural stone set deep into the earth. The door opened into a single room. There was little natural light in the building, with narrow windows near the ceiling being the only ventilation.

  The haze of tobacco and incense hit me in a swirling mess of too-strong and too-sweet. My augmented eye adjusted quickly to the dimness. Broadfeather sat cross-legged on the other side of a tiny fire pit filled with glowing embers. He wore his full fancies, including a feather headdress and colored leathers. In his hand he held a long, intricately carved pipe. It was an ancient thing, worn smooth through time and use. The pipe trailed several strings of beads, which Broadfeather held high enough that they didn’t brush the ground.

  There were others arranged in a small circle around the embers. A few I recognized from the tribe; others were unknown to me. Strangers. This was our peace pipe ceremony, then. They expected me to be here for this, to run the ceremony. I’d failed. Worse, I was walking in as it was halfway through. Nobody looked up in my direction, but I found an empty spot in the circle and knelt there.

  The peace pipe ceremony was sacred to my people, but it was not known well. Not anymore. For years, the faith practices of Hopi and other tribes were forbidden. Generations without practice left gaping holes in our understanding. When America finally fell, many of my people died as well. Traditions barely survived in the minds of those who lived. We did our best, though. We used red willow bark and tobacco, mixing for a sweet smoke that lingered but did not muddle the mind. There were no hallucinogens in this smoke. Nothing that would really alter the mind. I had missed the first part of the ceremony, when the spirits of earth and the sky were acknowledged.

  The chief passed the pipe to his left, handing it to a broad-shouldered woman I did not recognize. The woman, with a grim look upon her face, smoked the pipe then passed it on.

  Some of the men and women chanted when the pipe came to them. They would thank the earth or pledge to protect it.

  I would be expected to say something. Broadfeather had described me as the new spiritual leader of the tribe, so whatever I said had to be profound. My knees ached. The lump in my chest started to pound. It was unlike any adrenaline rush I’d ever had in a fight. This rush threatened to pull me apart and send me running.

  “Oh, great spirit, I thank you for the water from the sky,” said Edgar Buck. His best leathers were laced with feathers he had collected during his own time in the wild. “And for the creatures of the earth.” He held the smoke in, giving long pause to consider his words. He passed the pipe.

  The spirit was meant to move the words of the ceremony. It wasn’t rote memorization. There were no right words or wrong words. This made my predicament so much worse. Haze filled my head the way the smoke filled the room. I couldn’t think of a word. Not one damn word.

  The pipe made its way around the circle. Next to me, a person who defied gender sat with a look of absolute serenity. This must be the two-spirited one, then. Her lids were half closed. The pipe came to her.

  She licked her lips and breathed deeply. “Peace at all costs,” she chanted. She passed the pipe to me.

  The pipe was lighter than it looked. I ran a hand along the smooth wood. The feathers hanging from the bowl were old, ragged, but those on the pipe itself were much newer. Brighter. I closed my eyes.

  “Oh, earth spirit,” I said, “give us protection that we might seek peace.”

  Broadfeather pointed the pipe upward to the sky, emptying the bowl and cleaning it. He then separated the pieces and stored them in a red bag made especially for that purpose. After he was finished, people stood up without word and many of them left. Broadfeather, the two-spirit, and myself remained.

  The chief said, “J.D. Crow, this is Dibe Ayze.”

  Dibe’s dark hair was pulled back and braided with black feathers and white frost aster flowers. Her slender body was bronzed and oiled, seeming to shine in the dim light of the fire’s embers. The garment draped across her shoulders was loosely gathered around her waist. Her broad shoulders and strong back were undeniably masculine, but I couldn’t think of any word to describe her other than “beautiful.”

  The sound of shouting came from outside. I couldn’t make out the words, but somewhere not far away there was a commotion. I tensed up. My time here would be short.

  “You are a man of peace?” Dibe asked.

  I nodded. “I hope there are many reasons for our tribe to find peace.”

  “If someone came to hurt you, would you fight?”

  “I expect so.”

  “What if they came to hurt your people? Then, would you fight?”

  I nodded.

  “Then you are no man of peace, Mr. Crow.”

  Was she right? These past four years I’d lived without violence. I’d stopped being the sheriff and had started living a life of relative peace. When people needed help, I was there for them. I helped my tribe rise from poverty and starvation into something that could eek out a living in the harsh desert. It was a struggle. Every day tried to lead me back to the violence I’d left behind. Apart from the past couple days, I considered myself successful in my quest for peace.

  But was I?

  “Dibe,” I said, “there
aren’t many of us out here. If someone came to hurt you, I’d stop them. All I hope for is that you might do the same for us.”

  “In the north we survive by not poking bears,” Dibe said.

  I shook my head. “But if they come to you, do you feed them? There might be no reason to fight, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be ready for it.” Another shout rang out, this time just outside the door. I took Dibe’s smooth hand in mine. “Please, consider my words. We must stay together in this.”

  Broadfeather slipped outside, leaving us alone in the hazy room.

  “Bring your Hopi north,” said Dibe. “They would be welcome.”

  North. The Navajo Nation. It would mean safety, but at what cost? Would they allow us to continue to be our own tribe? “We’ll consider it. Hopi lived on lands up north long ago. Before the earth broke.”

  “The sky is cooler. There is water.” Then it came. “Merge your tribe with ours, Crow. Broadfeather will not do it, but you would be chief one day if you desire. There are so few of you. Come join Navajo and be part of something larger. It will be safer for your people.”

  Safer. Could there even be such a thing? All it would cost would be the traditions of my people. This last scrap of Hopi would be dissolved once and for all. We’d follow their traditions. We’d live under their rule.

  “I’ll think about it.” With that, I turned and pushed back into the blinding sunlight. The scene outside was not one of peace.

  Deputy Green was pointing his gun at Mina. She stood between him and Broadfeather’s hogan, making no secret of her defiance of the lawman. At Green’s feet was a limp figure, but the angle made it hard to tell who. There was blood on it and blood on Green’s shirt. Broadfeather leaned heavily on his walking stick, a somber look on his face.

  “Just let me serve my warrant,” said Green. He turned to me, “Mr. Crow, I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with me unless you want this getting ugly.”

  “Point the gun at me, Deputy,” I said. “The lady’s got nothing to do with it.”

  Green’s gaze darted from me to her and back. His gun hand shook. He took a step back, but the gun stayed on Mina.