“I aim to carry you over the threshold on our wedding night.”
“I’m not that heavy, Guthrie, and if it comes to that, I’m perfectly capable of walking. Keep me posted on Mr. McCutcheon and Pony,” she said as the boarding call came over the loudspeakers.
“You still think there’s hope for them?” he said, refusing to release her.
She grinned up at him. “Hope? Guthrie, you’re about as romantic as a stone. Of course there’s hope. I’m afraid they’re going to run off together and get hitched someplace else, and they deserve to have a nice wedding right there on the ranch. Now kiss me one more time and turn me loose, before I miss my flight.”
STEVEN YOUNG BEAR CAME to the Bow and Arrow for supper that night. He came because Caleb had invited him, and he brought a package of meat for Ramalda to cook. “Buffalo rib-eye steaks,” he said, handing her the bundle wrapped in butcher’s paper. “Tatanka. Cook them quick and rare or they’ll be tough and dry.”
She snatched the package from him with one hand and waved the other toward the door. “Yo se cocinar la carne! Vete de aqui! Esta es mi cocina! My kitchen! My kitchen! I know how to cook! Vete! You go! Go!”
Steven nodded politely and walked out onto the porch where everyone had gathered to watch the sunset. The men drank cold beer while Pony and the boys had juice and soda. “I thought since you’re raising them, maybe it might be good to see how they taste,” he said, accepting a beer from Badger. He twisted off the cap and scrutinized Caleb’s face. “I sure hope Pony didn’t do that to you,” he said, somber-voiced. “She can be difficult, but I’ve never known her to beat a man up.” Pony ignored her brother’s comment, gazing out at the mountains and the pink and violet clouds that shredded themselves against the craggy summits.
“You should have seen Mr. McCutcheon!” Jimmy said, more than willing to tell the tale again. “He took on three big mean rednecks and he knocked them all down, bam, bam, bam! just like that.”
“Really,” Steven said, lifting his beer for a swallow and giving Caleb’s battered face another significant look. “And then what happened?”
“They busted a beer bottle over his head, pinned his arms and thrashed him. But he would have won if they hadn’t done that.”
“Jimmy’s obviously seen too many Sylvester Stallone movies at an impressionable age,” Caleb said, eyeing the youngest boy. “Me, I grew up on Popeye and cans of spinach.”
“Who’s Popeye?” Martin said.
“Never mind. I shouldn’t have said that. It dates me.”
“I remember Popeye,” Badger reminisced, smoothing his white mustache.
“Thanks, Badger. That makes me feel a whole lot better.” Caleb motioned to a chair. “Have a seat,” he said to Steven. “I’m glad you came. I wanted to give you this in person.” He reached into his jeans pocket and drew out a crumpled check, smoothing it against his leg. “The man I bought the buffalo from gave me a terrific deal. He sold them to me for half of what he was asking, and wanted me to present the other half of the money to the Crow tribe in his name to be put into a college fund.” He handed the check to Steven.
“Thirty thousand dollars.” Steven looked up at him quizzically. “He must really like the Crow Indians.”
“He hates Indians,” Dan said.
“Yeah. That’s what started the whole fight in the bar. The mayor’s son was trying to throw us out.” Jimmy was warming up to the subject again. “Pony told him—”
“All right, Jimmy,” Pony said. “We’ve heard the story enough times.”
“So,” Steven said to McCutcheon, carefully folding the check, “I guess Pony did do that to your face, in a roundabout way.”
“I could have taken care of myself!” Pony said, whirling to glare at her brother.
“No way,” Jimmy said. “There were three of them. They were big and mean and they’d been drinking!”
Pony jumped up and walked into the kitchen. The screen door banged behind her, and Steven took another swallow of cold beer. “She isn’t afraid of anything,” he said mildly. “She was like that growing up. Nothing scared her.”
“She’s like that now,” Caleb said.
“So. The man who hates Indians but mysteriously donates all this money. His name?”
“I’ll give you a copy of the bill of sale. All the information you need is on it,” Caleb said. “I told him he’d receive some sort of written receipt from the tribe so he could use it as a tax write-off.”
“I’ll send the letter myself,” Steven said. “Anything special you want me to say?”
Caleb thought for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah. Tell him I hope he finds peace.”
RAMALDA COOKED the steaks to rare and sizzling perfection and set the big platter in the center of the table along with a cold potato salad garnished with watercress, a platter of deviled eggs and the obligatory kettle of spiced beans and bowl of cold pinole. Caleb opened a bottle of cabernet, Pony poured milk for herself and the boys, and for the next hour everyone dedicated themselves to the excellence of the meal. When every plate was empty Caleb refilled the wine-glasses and lounged back in his chair. “Well,” he said to no one in particular, “what do you think about that buffalo?”
“It was fattened in a feedlot,” Pony said.
“How can you tell?”
“It was tender, but it had no flavor. It might as well have been a steer because it was fed like a steer, kept in a crowded pen like a steer and shot full of antibiotics like a steer.”
Caleb took a sip of wine and regarded her thoughtfully. “So the buffalo that Pete manages taste different.”
Pony nodded. “Free-range buffalo raised on native grasses taste like the real thing. There is no flavor like it.”
“So in two years’ time, when we sit down at this table to eat a Bow and Arrow buffalo steak, will it taste like a buffalo from Pete’s herd?”
Pony reflected for a moment, then shook her head. “Bow and Arrow buffalo will have their own taste because the land here is different, the graze is different. The animals are the same, but where they live becomes a part of what they are.”
“Like grapes,” Caleb said, studying the dark color of the wine. “There are some people who can taste a cabernet, or any other wine, and tell you exactly where that grape grew.”
“Yes.” Pony nodded. “Like that.”
“Bow and Arrow buffalo will be the finest in the world.”
She nodded again. “I think so.”
Guthrie raised his glass. “Here’s to the Bow and Arrow Buffalo Company!”
Caleb lifted his own glass. “To the Bow and Arrow Buffalo Preserve and School of Native American Studies.”
Pony’s eyes locked with his. Everyone else raised their glasses. She was the only one who didn’t. She reached for her milk, touched it to the rim of his wine-glass and said, “To the Bow and Arrow buffalo. Long may they roam.”
STEVEN WALKED with his sister after supper. They went down to the creek and followed the trail that paralleled it, and at the swimming hole they paused to watch the trout rising in the twilight. “How’s the summer going?” he said.
“Okay. Except for the trip to Wyoming, it’s been good.”
“You seem quieter than usual.”
“I’m a little tired.”
Steven picked up an old pinecone and began peeling it apart. “I talked to Pete this morning, after Caleb called me. I wanted to ask him if there were any messages for the boys, but he said no. He wanted me to give you a message, though. He said he’d wanted to talk to you the day he brought the mustang, but he never had the chance.”
Pony kept her eyes on the dark waters of the pool. “I had work to do.”
“He wanted to tell you that the school board had voted down your proposal to increase the amount of money for counseling troubled kids.”
“That’s because there is no money,” she said with a fatalistic shrug.
“And he wanted to remind you about Crow Fair. People are wondering if yo
u’ll dance this year.”
“I can’t leave here for a whole week.”
“The dancing is important. Do you want me to ask McCutcheon if you can attend?”
She gave him a look. “No. I’m able to ask for myself.”
“You should dance.”
“Maybe. I’ll think about it.”
Steven tossed the stripped pinecone away and faced his sister squarely. “Pony, maybe it’s none of my business, but it seems like there’s something wrong. The last time I visited here you seemed so…so content. Now you seem troubled.”
“I told you, I’m just tired. Don’t worry about me!”
“I want you to be happy.”
“I am happy.”
“On the outside, maybe, but not where it really counts.” He picked up another pinecone. “McCutcheon told me about his idea for a school.”
“It’s a foolish idea!” she exclaimed.
“He asked me to look into it. I told him I would.”
“He thinks he can save the world,” Pony said.
Steven nodded. “I know. I recognize his symptoms because my sister suffers from the same illness.”
Pony reached down, picked up a stone and tossed it into the middle of the pool. “See those ripples, Steven? Watch them closely, because in a few moments they’ll be gone. That’s all the effect any of us ever has.”
“I told Nana to make sure your dress was ready for Crow Fair,” Steven said. “If all we ever amount to is a ripple in a stream, then watching you dance is the prettiest ripple a lot of Crow people will ever see.”
She glared at him. “You are such an idiot,” she said, but before she turned away he saw the bright shine of tears.
STEVEN CAUGHT UP with McCutcheon one more time before heading home. He found him on his cabin porch, trying to read in the fading light. “That’ll hurt your eyes,” Steven said, climbing the steps.
“The days are getting shorter and shorter,” McCutcheon said, marking the page with a sprig of sage and closing the book. “I keep trying to pretend they aren’t, but you’re right. I’ll go blind at this rate.” He nodded to a chair. “Thanks again for coming to supper. And thanks for bringing the buffalo steaks. I know ours will taste better, but they were pretty good.” He paused, as if considering his next words. “There’s something I want to ask you before you leave.”
Steven sat down. “Ask away.”
“I know it’s none of my business, but Pony and Pete Two Shirts. Were they ever…involved?”
The question startled him, but he shook his head. “Pete was my best friend growing up on the rez, and about seven years ago she worked for him, with the tribal buffalo herd. The summer ended, and she went back to college.”
McCutcheon stood up and paced restlessly. “That’s it? She worked for him one summer, seven years ago?”
“As far as I know.”
“She acts like she’s walking on eggs whenever she’s around him.” McCutcheon walked the length of the porch again and then swung around. “Seven years ago?”
Steven nodded. “That’s all I know.”
“Huh.” He dug his hands into his jeans pockets, hunched his shoulders and leaned against a porch post, studying the horizon. “Okay then, there’s something else. I need some legal advice.”
“All right. But first, are you going to Crow Fair?”
“Crow Fair?” He straightened and turned. “When is it?”
“It starts in three days and lasts a week. It’s held outside Crow Agency on the reservation and it’s the biggest Indian powwow in the nation. There are over a thousand tepees set up and twenty, thirty thousand Indians attend every year. There are horse races, grand parades, rodeos, and dancing. Lots of dancing. Pony dances at Crow Fair every year, and every year she wins top honors in the women’s straight dance and the buckskin dance. She wears her great-grandmother’s elk-skin dress, and it’s almost as beautiful as Pony is. The elders love to watch her dance. People come from all over the country to watch Pony dance.”
Caleb ran his fingers through his hair. “The boys told me about it a while ago. But your sister hasn’t mentioned it.”
Steven raised his shoulders in a casual shrug. “Maybe she thought because she was working here, she couldn’t go. But even if she can’t go, you should. It’s something to see.”
“Of course she’ll go,” Caleb said. “I’ll tell her tomorrow morning.” He turned and lashed out suddenly at the porch post with his booted foot. “Dammit!” he said. “I don’t understand that woman.”
Steven watched him and felt the other man’s pain as if it were his own. “Me, neither,” he admitted, “and I’ve known her all my life.”
Caleb slumped back into his chair with an air of dejection. “All right,” he said. “The legal question I need to ask involves my wedding gift to Guthrie and Jessie,” he said. “I want to make them full partners in the ranch. They were raised here. They belong to the place, and so should their kids.”
Steven glanced sharply at him and then quickly away. Why couldn’t Pony realize that the dreams this man had were not so very different from hers? Surely the two of them could find a way to share the same path.
“Okay,” he said. “Ask away.”
THAT NIGHT Caleb had a dream that haunted him long after he awakened. Pony was surrounded by dancers, who were moving around her in a circle. She stood at the center, a beautiful woman in a beautiful elk-skin dress, and when Caleb could stay away from her no longer, he broke through the circle. When he was near enough to touch her she looked at him with those dark eyes and said, “I’m sorry, but I cannot dance with you, Mr. McCutcheon. You are not an Indian. I do not dance with anyone unless they are a full-blooded Crow Indian.”
He awoke filled with a desperate sense of loss, and when he went up to the ranch house for breakfast the first thing he did was draw her aside. “Crow Fair starts in three days, and you’re going.”
She bristled. “Did Steven…?”
“I want you to give me a schedule of events so I can bring the boys to watch you dance. There will be no more discussion about this. You’ll take my pickup truck. It’s safer than yours. You’ll get your elk-skin dress from your old aunt and you’ll dance at the Crow Fair.”
“But—”
“That’s my final word,” he interrupted curtly. “The boys’ll be fine here without you for a week. We’ll get by. But I want that schedule. Can you get it for me?”
She nodded, studying her feet while color crept into her cheeks.
“Good. Then it’s settled. And there’s one other thing. I want you to think about something while you’re away. I want you to consider staying on and teaching at the school your brother is going to set up. I want you to teach here, because…” Caleb faltered, wishing she would look at him, give him some indication of what she was thinking. “Because I want you to stay,” he continued. “Every time I try to tell you how I feel about you, I mess it up. But the truth is…” She raised her eyes at that moment and Caleb drew strength from what he read in her expression. “The truth is—this isn’t about the school or the boys or the buffalo, though all these things are important to me. This is about you and me, and the possibility of us sharing a future together.”
She shook her head, a small movement that seized his heart with uncertainty. “There’s something I must tell you before you say anything more,” she said. “Something about my past…”
“No,” Caleb interrupted her again. “I don’t want to discuss your past or mine. I’m asking you to think about our future. I’m in love with you, Pony, and I can’t imagine living here without you. Will you think about that?”
For several long moments their eyes held, and then she said, in a voice barely louder than a whisper, “Yes.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ON THE LAST DAY of Crow Fair, Caleb drove the boys out to Crow Agency. Pony had only been gone for five days yet it felt more like five weeks. Her absence had become an intense and unbearable ache. It didn’t help that
Caleb knew Pete Two Shirts was at the fair riding in the rodeo. No doubt Pete and Pony had crossed paths.
When Caleb reached the fairground it seemed as if finding one person amongst twenty to thirty thousand other people would be an impossibility. He had never seen anything like the scene that spread itself over the landscape. Hundreds of big tepees, horses being led or ridden. Dogs running around. Thousands of people, young and old, milled about. A helicopter passed overhead, thumping loud and flying low. Two youths riding bareback trotted by, laughing and talking. A young man in dark shades, red bandanna tied around his head, swerved past on a loud Harley. A sound car drove slowly by, announcements blaring continually. The noise was amazing, but over it all Caleb heard the rhythmic pounding of the drum and, flanked by the boys, he found himself being drawn toward it.
The beat grew louder as they approached a large arena surrounded by benches for the dancers, a grandstand for the audience and an area for the emcee and judges where the colorful tribal flags waved in the breeze. In the center of the arena was an arbor made of four upright posts with a roof of interwoven branches. There were eight men seated around the drum, singing and drumming, and the arena itself was crowded with dancing children, some barely old enough to toddle. All were dressed in tribal regalia.
“This is a candy dance,” Jimmy said. “Every time the drum stops, the emcee throws candy and the kids pick it up.”
As Caleb and the boys approached, the song ended and the brightly attired youngsters dispersed, the littlest being swept into the arms of nearby relatives.
“Okay!” the emcee said. “Good job! Ladies and gentlemen, that was the last of the children’s dances for the afternoon. We’ll be taking a two-hour break before the evening dancing. I suggest you all get something good to eat and drink, and we’ll see you back here then!”
Caleb looked around at the crowd with a growing sense of despair. “How will we ever find her?”
“She said she’d meet us near the arena. She’s probably up in the grandstand….” Jimmy scanned the crowded bleachers. “Hey! There she is!”
Buffalo Summer Page 23
