by John Hansen
“Yea, it is. She gave it to me before… before she left.”
His face became more serious. “It doesn’t have any power, you know, that necklace.”
I looked back at him, confused and worried at the same time; his tone concerned me. “I didn’t think it did.” But then I added, “Except as a reminder of her.”
He shook his head, “Her spirit is with you; I can tell… it’s troubling you, her spirit is. She won’t let you rest, will she?” He voice became lower, more secretive, and he looked honestly concerned as he said this, his eyes staring into mine. The music of the bar was fading away as I listened to his words.
“She has a strong spirit, that one,” he continued. “And now it’s with you, and it’s making your spirit upset.” He nodded and then reached down to this side where he had a fanny pack attached, almost hidden by his big belly and stretched, black t-shirt. “I’m going to give you something that does have power, Will. Your spirit needs it – to fix what’s wrong. Your spirit must put her spirit out – you can’t carry two spirits, Will.”
He handed me a little ball of black leather string, and tied to it were some beads.
“Beads are very powerful to native peoples,” Thunderbird said. “You wear it, and you’ll be at peace.” He nodded at me with assuredness as he handed me the item.
I stared down at the little beaded leather string he had given me. “I don’t want to be at peace,” I answered quietly, not even realizing that I was speaking out loud. “I want her spirit with me.”
Thunderbird shook his head slowly. “No you don’t.”
I stared back at him, unable to take eyes off him. The noise of the bar had faded to nothing.
“You can’t have two,” he said quietly. “People that have two spirits go crazy.”
I found myself outside the strip club afterwards, standing outside the leather door and facing the sunset, not sure what had transpired – or even what I had accomplished. Despite the bizarreness of the interview, however, I felt encouraged by the fact that I had found out who had actually discovered Alia’s body.
But the conversation with Thunderbird overall left me unsettled, like I had a new problem to content with – some ungraspable problem. I shook my head and wondered what I had, in fact, really accomplished today. But I kept the necklace, and wrapped it around my wrist, tying it off tightly. Just in case.
Before I left the club Thunderbird had told me that he would drop by the store in the next couple days, to talk more. I didn’t know if that would achieve anything further, but I didn’t object.
I called Greg’s office number at his house to see about a ride, but nobody picked up the phone. I looked back at the club and at the old Harley, but didn’t want to ride with Thunderbird all the way back. I thought about calling Ronnie at the store where Greg had dropped the car off, but I figured Ronnie would for sure want to go back into the strip club if he came all the way here; and I wasn’t willing to hang out in there with Ronnie and Thunderbird together by any means – that was scene I just couldn’t take at the moment.
So I started walking. It was walkable, technically, from this side of Browning to Two Med; and as I walked I thought more about what Thunderbird had said. I looked at the leather on my wrist and felt the beads rolling over my skin. They had a smooth, cold feel; and it brought me a calm feeling as I felt them rolling over my wrist. But that could have just been power of suggestion, I told myself.
I had grown up a casual Christian in a Christian household, as I mentioned, and I believed what the Christian faith teaches, at least I tried to hold on to a childhood belief, but religious teachings always came hand-in-hand with doubts for me; constant skepticism and nagging doubts as to whether it all was just fairy tales made up by men over history for various man-made schemes and purposes.
Nevertheless, I had always been sensitive to and greatly affected by spiritualism of any stripe – as a kid and as an adult. And this necklace “with power” that Thunderbird had given me was no different and his words to me about “two spirits” at odds with each other had affected me indeed. But this time it was different; this beaded leather rope was a totem of a spiritual belief that came with a uniquely personal touch – it was specifically and only meant to deal with Alia’s spirit and mine – no soul saving or all-inclusive message for the world’s salvation here. And that was different – religion to me had never been so personal and so specific as this little band of leather on my wrist. But I still wasn’t sure of what to make of the whole experience.
And I for sure didn’t know anything about Alia’s spirit or soul, I wasn’t even sure that kind of thing existed; but I had felt different since she died, hadn’t I? Not just mourning and loss, I felt… altered. Katie had sensed it. Maybe she wouldn’t sense it now that I had my beads on... that would be an interesting test, I mused as I walked down the road.
I shook my head and told myself I was going crazy. But as I walked, I pictured Alia’s little spirit walking besides me on the road – a see-through version of the little beautiful girl I had fallen in love with, walking silently next to me. The image made me feel at peace, to picture us holding hands as we strolled down the desolate highway together. I imagined what she would have said about the Candi Store, and I smiled at the thought.
I felt her companionship for a while on that road; and even if it was a fantasy it warmed my heart – just the thought of her presence at my side.
I eventually got a hold of Greg on the phone halfway to Two Med, and he picked me up on the ranger truck. When I told him about what Thunderbird had said at the strip club, and showed him the necklace, he didn’t just laugh it away like it was ridiculous, as I kind of expected him to; rather, he said, “I told you there’s more to that guy than meets the eye.”
“He knows more about Alia than he’s telling me, though,” I said, “at least it feels that way.” I was thinking of that person “Sky,” and what she may have been doing out in the woods. Thunderbird probably knew, I figured, and was protecting her.
Greg just nodded his head. “We’ll keep looking, Will; we’ll keep talking, until we find something.”
Twenty-Three
That evening, Ronnie, his new girl Jamie and I stayed up late watching Jaws (again) and then when that was done, Ronnie got up and popped Rambo right after that. We were in Ronnie’s room, all of us lying on his bed. Ronnie smoked weed, as usual, but this time through a glass “one-hitter” pipe, puffing sporadically through both movies, and he and Jamie also sipped Maker’s Mark whiskey straight, throughout the double feature. Jamie said it was her favorite drink, and Ronnie said he would drink anything, so they were set up fine for the night. Ronnie perpetually drank and smoked, but this evening he seemed unusually desperate to drown himself in chemicals and liquids.
For my part, I had about five beers by the time Rambo started, and was feeling pretty buzzy already, when Ronnie handed me his one-hitter. I was a casual smoker at best, but I took a big drag, and held it in for as long as I could, with Ronnie and Jamie watching me expectantly (Ronnie must have told Jamie I was a lightweight with drugs). I blew out a thick cloud of smoke like a dragon, sending the cloud up to the wooden-plank roof of Ronnie’s room.
Jamie clapped and Ronnie chucked, grabbing the one-hitter back from me and called me a “degenerate drug addict,” and then refilled the pipe sloppily for himself from his now-smaller Ziploc bag of drugs.
Just then we heard a knock on the door, and Ronnie, thinking it was Larry or Phyllis, waved his hand around in front of him to try to diffuse the cloud of smoke, but I got up and asked who it was.
Katie, instead of answering, just opened the door and came in, closing the door quickly behind her. “Hey guys,” she said, a little sheepishly. “Just wondering what you hooligans are up to.”
“Just lonely, huh?” Ronnie slurred, looking at her with half-closed eyes, scratching his mustache. “Welcome aboard, we just started Rambo.” He hopped-up off the bed and grabbed the remote, swaying on his feet as he
punched the buttons to rewind the movie to the beginning.
“You don’t have to restart it.” Katie said, walking over and sitting on the end of the bed.
Ronnie’s room had come with a king size bed – Katie’s bed and mine having only a little twin. It was fitting though, I thought, given his libido and prowess. He had no other furniture, so we moved over and made room for Katie on the bed. Ronnie ripped off his white Def Leppard t-shirt he had on, revealing his vivid, full-shoulder tattoo of a Japanese coy fish that looked so out of place on him, and then he hopped back into the bed, between Jamie and Katie, bouncing us all on the mattress.
“Whoa there, big boy,” Katie said, moving over a bit and lying next to me, almost touching my shoulder with hers. “This isn’t your fantasy of a foursome finally coming true.”
“Who said anything about a foursome?” Ronnie said, winking at me, “Will, beat it why doncha?”
I made like I was getting up, as a joke, and Katie grabbed my arm and dragged me back down again. My head was no swimming in a marijuana dizziness and beer buzz.
“Don’t even think about it,” she said, and then looked around the bed. “Now what’s a girl gotta do to get some whiskey around here?” She reached over and grabbed the bottle of Maker’s Mark as we applauded this new side of Katie. Jamie reached for a glass but Katie just took a large swig from the bottle. Even in my haze I realized that she was behaving strangely. I looked around the room. Why were we all getting so stoned?
By the time Rambo finished his bloody mayhem at the end of the movie, I was feeling very drunk. Jamie and Ronnie had gotten under the covers during the movie somehow, and I knew it was time to go and leave them to it. I also figured I had better rescue Katie from any danger of assault; although she seemed to be able to take care of herself. She had drowned herself in whiskey and seemed a little crazy-eyed when I looked at her as I was leaving.
I pulled her up by her arm off Ronnie’s bed, and dragged her towards the door. As we walked down the hall towards her room, she suddenly looked at me intently and said, “Will, go to church with me Sunday.”
She swayed a bit and grabbed my hands in hers, holding them both tightly. Her hands were very warm.
I felt a stirring and involuntarily thought of her and I together. Immediately I pushed the thought away. “Church?” I asked, trying to pick up the thread of the conversation.
“It’s not really a church,” she said lazily, shaking her head slowly. “It’s just a church service held in the camp sites here every Sunday.”
She leaned in and gave me a hug. “Just come with me this Sunday,” she said, giving my hands a final squeeze and then left me out in the hall as she closed her door loudly.
I stood there for a moment, listening to her opening and shutting some drawers and then landing onto her bed. I could also hear Ronnie and Jamie moving under their covers. I turned and walked to my room and shut the door behind me. Siegfried and Roy were gone too.
Twenty-Four
The next day I had a viscous hangover – my head hurt and I felt like I had gotten no sleep at all. I was unfortunately on gift shop duty and I stationed myself at the register, readying my mind to deal with foul Larry. I was leaning against the counter, trying to hold my body as still as possible, just watching an old couple mill around the coffee mug sections, when I noticed the side door open and a long-haired guy walk in by himself. As he came further into the store, I saw that it was Clayton Red Claw. My guard went up instantly and I felt a cold sensation of nervousness grow in my gut.
He looked around the store for a second as he walked, then he saw me and walked straight towards where I was.
“Here we go....” I said to myself, wondering what was next. Clayton had on some kind of work uniform, and upon closer inspection I saw it was a FedEx uniform. He was a driver? That didn’t fit the image I had of him as a wild, drug-dealing gangster.
“You’re Will, right?” he asked. He looked only irritated, like he was being inconvenienced to be there, not deadly.
“Yea.” I said, putting a little force into my voice. “We met at the bonfire.” He walked up to the counter, a little too close to me, and said, “I’m Clayton Red Claw.” He had a mean look, a thin-lipped scowl and a furrowed brow with eyes that looked a little burnt out, with red circles around them. He had a thin, wiry build, with a hungry look. I noticed with a start that he was wearing an identical leather string as mine on his wrist.
He looked around the store and then back at me. “Have you been asking questions about me and Alia around town?”
“No.” Not yet, I thought to myself.
“I want to you to stop asking around about me,” he said, as if not hearing me.
“Did Thunderbird talk to you?” I asked, my voice sounding a little weaker than I intended.
“You got something to say about it, you want answers, you come to me – directly,” he said, not blinking once. He had the right kind of voice, I figured, for this kind of thing – gritty and harsh. He had a couple pens stuffed into the front shirt pocket of his uniform, which contrasted with his rough mannerism.
“I just want to know what happened to Alia, Clayton, that’s all.” I said. “I couldn’t care less about what you or anyone else is doing.”
“You come see me and we’ll talk about it – I’ll write down my address.” He scribbled it onto a postcard – one of those that were for sale – and flicked it over to me when he was done. It hit me in the chest and fell spiraling down to the floor.
He turned to leave. “And leave Sky out of it too,” he said over his shoulder as he walked out.
“I don’t even know her,” I called over to him as he walked. But I’d like to…
I picked up the card and shoved it into my pocket, wondering about who had talked to him. Come and see him? To Hell with it, I decided that I would. Whatever happened, it was a step in the right direction… more promising, if not more dangerous, than Indian bars and strip clubs at least.
Larry was gone from work a lot more during work hours these days, which was unusual, but he always had some excuse like picking up “supplies in town” or that he had park business “with the brass,” meaning the administration office down at the main lodge. But I had asked Jamie before about all these recent supply runs of his, and she said the managers of the various locations like Two Med didn’t ever need to travel to the main office for anything – it’s all trucked in.
“The park delivers supplies to the various locations like Two Med.” She had said.
So I didn’t know what he was up to, but his being gone was a relief. Phyllis was filling in for him more often, and I enjoyed her soft-spoken and grandmotherly personality. But the other reason was because lately, when Larry was at work, he had become even more insufferably domineering, tyrannical and unbearable. He and I had developed a strong antagonism lately, ever since our standoff, and I wasn’t sure where it would end. I thought about quitting a couple of times, but I wasn’t quite ready to be unemployed in Glacier Park – I needed a backup plan.
Larry also yelled at Katie for various reasons in a harsh way now. One thing I was sure about, though, was that Larry was a confirmed and fervent racist, and he was getting worse. His distrust of any Native Americans that were unlucky enough to wander into our store when he was on duty had increased tenfold lately for some reason.
The same day Clayton had paid me that little visit, while I was still working at the gift register, a young Blackfoot kid came in with a younger boy, clearly his younger brother as they looked almost identical. The older boy wanted to buy a poster using his paycheck from the ranch. This nearby ranch was well known, and a big employer in that part of the state. Even I had heard of it, and certainly Larry knew about it, and had helped out ranch employees visiting the store before.
But when the kid came to the counter, Larry happened to be standing by me and he looked at the boy with obvious distrust. With hard eyes and a scowl he questioned the kid and his brother – unusually brusquely. T
he boys looked scared and shy, and the older kid stiffly mumbled answers to Larry’s pushy questions about his job the paycheck the boy was trying to use to pay for his purchases. It was embarrassing to watch, and I was disturbed at the scene and tried to intervene to help, but Larry ignored me and continued his interrogation. In the end I just interrupted Larry and told the boys, in the kindest voice I could manage, that they should just go.
Larry watched them shuffle off and then stormed away without looking at me, and I stood there alone after the scene was finally over. I imagined the older boy talking happily with his little brother on the way to the store, excited to cash his small paycheck, and buying something for his brother in the store. Just a stupid poster, nothing important, but Larry treated them like criminals and ruined that day for those kids. I never saw them in the store again.
Twenty-Five
Sunday morning came, and I heard a soft knock on my door, and I knew by that fact alone that it wasn’t Larry. I was half asleep when Katie stuck her face in the door and announced, “Get up sleepy head, it’s churchin’ time!” She looked at me with an amused smirk. I rolled over and pressed a pillow over my head, but she just walked up to the bed and jerked the blanket off, flinging it over to the wall.
“You promised!” she said, looking worried.
“I did no such thing,” I groaned, now lying bare before her in my underwear and socks, like a sick fish exposed on a rock.
“When you were stoned the other night you said you’d go, so let’s go.” She walked over to my drawer and pulled out some clothes, throwing them on top of me and then leaving the room. “You have five minutes,” she ordered.
I looked at the clock by my bed and it said 6:30 a.m. What the hell? When did this weird church start exactly? It was the earliest I had even been up since arriving there. Larry was always criticizing me and Ronnie that we were missing incredible sunrises by sleeping in, but Ronnie always reminded him that he was missing the vast stretch of stars and the Milky Way panoramas by going to bed so early, and that he was going to miss the Perseid meteor shower to boot.
