Celilo's Shadow

by Wilcox, Valerie

  Since they had plenty of time before the dance started, the girls stopped at Woolworth’s for ice cream. Primarily a pharmacy, Woolworth’s also included a variety store and lunch counter with stools and a few upholstered booths. The food was good, the service fast, and the ice cream was the best in town. The drug store was located right down the street from The Music Box and was considered the spot for teens to gather when the dances ended. As a result, Woolworth’s older customers avoided the place on Friday afternoons, preferring to get their prescriptions filled and have a bite of lunch or cup of coffee earlier in the day. Or, better yet—on another day altogether. It was still an hour before the sock hop started but the teen-averse adults had already completed their errands.

  The store was practically empty when the girls arrived. Dessa bypassed the counter’s metal stools in favor of a booth by the window with a miniature juke box atop the table. Ellie inserted a dime and selected J14, Don’t Be Cruel. Dessa frowned, “Not Elvis, please. He’s so overrated”. She inserted her own dime and flipped through the pages of selections. She chose B2, The Green Door by Jim Lowe and then ordered them both a triple scoop banana split with all the trimmings.

  “I can’t eat all that,” laughed Ellie.

  “Sure, you can. If not, I’ll finish it for you. I’m going to need a boatload of sugar if I have any hope of surviving this afternoon,” Dessa quipped. She wasn’t entirely joking. Ice cream was her go-to food when stressed and the prospect of standing on the sidelines while everyone else had a good time at the dance bordered on torture. It was a sacrifice she was willing to make for a newsletter with quality photo-like sketches. It’s what any good journalist would do.

  The girls were enjoying their ice cream when Ellie’s eyes focused on a boy who’d just entered the store. “Hey, isn’t that Nick Rossi?” she asked.

  Dessa licked a dab of chocolate syrup off her spoon. “Yep,” she said, turning to look at the entrance. “Tony’s gofer.”

  Nick paused at the entrance as if he needed a moment to get his bearings. It was unusual to see him out and about by himself. He followed Tony around like an eager-to-please puppy. Dessa thought Ellie looked disappointed that Nick was alone for a change. A large overhead fan ruffled his ash blond hair. As he brushed a few strands out of his eyes, he caught the girls staring at him. Ellie smiled and gestured for him to join them. “He doesn’t have Mr. Rossi’s dark good looks, but he is cute,” she said.

  Nick looked around to see who Ellie had waved to. Finding nobody standing near him, he pointed his thumb to his chest and mouthed, “Who, me?”

  “I guess he’s cute,” agreed Dessa. “In an awkward sort of way.”

  Ellie waved again. “Be nice,” she said. “He’s on his way over.” She scooted closer to Dessa to make room for him in the booth. “Sit here,” she told him, patting the vacant space next to her.

  He hesitated. “Well, uh . . . I just . . .”

  Dessa rolled her eyes. “Sit down already,” she said. “Your master—excuse me—your cousin will never have to know.”

  Ellie quickly diffused Dessa’s flippant remark with a fetching dimpled grin. “Please, Nick” she purred. “We’d love to have you join us.”

  “Oh. Okay, then. Sure,” he said, sliding into the booth. “Just for a few minutes. I promised Mildred I’d bring back a large iced tea for her. She’s not feeling so good.”

  “What’s wrong?” asked Ellie. “Is the heat wave getting to her?” The temperature had hit the stratosphere for over a week now. Although the locals were accustomed to hot weather, the conditions this summer were breaking all records. There’d been a rash of heat related illnesses reported in The Dalles Chronicle and Dessa, too, had written an article in her newsletter about the heat wave. An elderly Hillcrest neighbor, Viola Phinney, had been hospitalized due to heat stroke. Ellie visited her in the hospital and even volunteered to help with anything she needed after she went home.

  Since Ellie had never even spoken to the woman before visiting her in the hospital, Dessa couldn’t understand her concern. “Kindness doesn’t require a prior relationship,” Ellie said. The phrase sounded like something straight out of Dale Carnegie’s book, How to Win Friends and Influence People. According to Maureen Feldman, the book was a blueprint for social and business success and an absolute must read. Following Carnegie’s principles was an exercise in futility for Dessa but it seemed a natural part of Ellie’s personality. She had quickly become known around Hillcrest as “that kindhearted Matthews girl.” The label fit, but Ellie didn’t care for it. She said kindness is often mistaken for weakness. “And I’m definitely not weak,” she insisted.

  “I don’t think it’s the heat,” Nick said. “Mildred may have an ulcer or something along those lines. She’s never said for sure.”

  Dessa concentrated on her ice cream while they chatted. The only interesting bit of information she picked up as she half-listened was that Nick planned to attend college in the fall. The gig with Tony was just a favor he’d promised to do for their uncle. “Believe me,” he said. “I have no desire to become a salesman of any kind. I’m majoring in economics.” His lips parted in a lopsided grin as he hurriedly added, “But don’t tell Tony that. He thinks I’m besotted with real estate.”

  Ellie laughed and assured him that his secret was safe with them.

  Dessa laughed, too, but gave him no such promise. She was a reporter, after all. She’d just scooped the last bite of ice cream out of the bowl when she heard Nick mutter, “Uh, oh.” When she looked up, Nick had scrambled out of the booth. If he’d been trying to avoid being spotted by Tony as he sat shoulder to shoulder with Ellie, he was too late. Tony had gotten a good look at them as he passed by the drugstore window. He strode through the front door with a scowl as big as Texas plastered across his dark face. “The fit’s really going to hit the shan now,” Nick said, worriedly.

  “What for?” asked Dessa. “It’s a free country, isn’t it?” Nick had always struck Dessa as something of a wuss but her opinion of him had risen several notches when he said he planned to attend college in the fall. If he wasn’t going to pursue a real estate career, Dessa couldn’t see what difference it made whether or not Tony was upset with him.

  “Mildred’s still waiting for that iced tea,” Tony said, glaring at Nick. The tone he used made it sound like poor old Mildred had nearly died of thirst while Nick had been frittering away the afternoon.

  Nick started to apologize but Ellie cut him off. “It’s all my fault, Mr. Rossi. I insisted that Nick hang out with us for a while.”

  Tony absolved Ellie of any responsibility for his cousin’s behavior and quickly dispatched Nick to the office with Mildred’s tea. He was all smiles when he turned back to Ellie. “Are you going to the sock hop today?” he asked. A nod from Ellie’s beaming face was all the answer he needed. “Let’s go, then,” he said, offering his hand to help her out of the booth. “I’m a great dancer!” Winking, he added, “Slow dances are my specialty.”

  Tony ignored Dessa except to hand her the check for their ice cream before he shepherded Ellie out the door. Although Mr. Matthews hadn’t said it in so many words, Dessa believed he expected her to watch out for his daughter. Why else would he insist that she accompany Ellie to the dances? Referring to a creep like Tony Rossi as Mr. Wonderful spoke volumes about her lack of discernment when it came to the male species. Dessa paid the check and rushed to catch up with Tony and Ellie.

  A blast of hot air hit her like a mugger’s fist as soon as she stepped outside the drugstore. The suffocating weather didn’t deter Tony from wrapping his arm around Ellie’s waist as they strolled down the sidewalk. When a woman across the street shouted, “Tony! Tony, wait up!” he dropped his arm to his side faster than a kid who’d been caught raiding the cookie jar.

 
Dessa recognized Clarice Nestor as the woman who’d hailed Tony. The ladies in Maureen Feldman’s garden club unanimously agreed that Clarice’s sexy, low-cut dresses, gaudy jewelry and flirty behavior was highly inappropriate for a banker’s wife. “I don’t trust her,” was Maureen’s complaint when her husband said Clarice was interested in buying their Baker Bluff property. Dessa didn’t know the details about the property sale, but her father’s claim that all the many meetings with the woman was “just business” sounded lame even to her.

  Gaudy or not, the gold jewelry at Clarice’s neck and wrists sparkled in the bright sunlight as she hobbled across the street in flimsy, mile-high heels. “Thank God I found you!” she said, grabbing hold of Tony’s arm. “We’ve got a problem.”

  Tony twisted out of her grasp. “It’ll have to wait,” he said. “I’ve promised to escort this special young lady to The Music Box.”

  “Hey,” said Dessa, sidling closer to Tony. “He’s escorting two special young ladies.”

  Clarice gave Dessa and Ellie a quick once-over. “Babysitting the ankle-biter set today are you, Tony?”

  “No need to be rude,” he said.

  “Maybe not, but we do need to talk.” She grabbed his arm again. “And I mean right now.” She pulled him a few steps away from the girls.

  “Who is that woman?” asked Ellie when they were out of earshot. “She seems awfully possessive.”

  “Her name’s Clarice Nestor and the skinny making the rounds is that she’s Tony Rossi’s current mistress. I guess she believes that gives her the right to yank him off the street whenever she wants.”

  “His mistress? But . . . but she’s married. I saw the ring on her left hand.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but marriage vows don’t mean a thing to men like Tony Rossi.”

  Whatever Clarice had to talk to Tony about didn’t go over very well. Even from a distance the girls could tell that he was angry. His voice was strained when he trotted back to say, “I’m so sorry, Ellie, but something important has come up and I have to deal with it.”

  “That’s all right,” Ellie said, smiling bravely. “We understand.” Her smile faded as she watched Tony and Clarice walk across the street and enter Dizzy’s. She sighed as if her heart had been broken.

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Dessa chided. “So, you got dumped for the town slut. If you’re lucky, she’ll keep Tony in her bed until you wise up and dump the dirt bag yourself.”

  Ellie whirled around to face Dessa. The lovesick schoolgirl look had disappeared. “Not. One. Word. More,” Ellie hissed through clenched teeth. Her fury was so intense that Dessa instinctively backed up a step.

  “Jeez, I’m sorry,” Dessa said. “I didn’t mean to rattle your cage.” This was how it always seemed to go. Her smart mouth had gotten her in trouble again. Her mother was right. She’d never make friends. Even the so-called “kind-hearted Matthews girl” had limits. Ellie dismissed her apology with a shrug and stomped off. “Hey, where’re you going?” Dessa called. The Music Box was in the opposite direction.

  “Home!” shouted Ellie over her shoulder.

  Dessa’s short legs were no match for Ellie’s long strides but she caught up with her at the corner. Ellie ignored her as she watched for a break in the traffic. “What about the dance?” Dessa gasped, struggling to get her breathing under control.

  “I’m not going.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Don’t feel like it anymore,” Ellie said, darting across the street.

  “Fine,” Dessa said, running after her. She’d never wanted to go to the dance in the first place. “But walking all the way home in this heat is crazy. It feels like 150 degrees out here!” Maureen Feldman had agreed to drive the girls home after the dance. Dessa dreaded the scene her mother would make when she learned how her daughter had messed up another friendship. But it was better than suffering a heat stroke. “Mom can still give us a ride.”

  “I’d rather walk,” snapped Ellie.

  Ellie’s offended act grated on Dessa’s nerves but she was determined to make peace. Loss of a friendship was one thing. That she could deal with. Loss of Ellie’s artistic talents for her newsletter was another matter. If keeping her mouth shut about Tony Rossi was what it took for Ellie to continue sketching, then Dessa would never utter another discouraging word about him. “I know a shortcut home,” she said, assuming a friendly, let’s bury the hatchet tone of voice. “I can show you, if you’d like.”

  Ellie wasn’t impressed with her conciliatory offer. “You mean the Pioneer Cemetery? Don’t bother. I know the way.”

  The rebuff hurt but Dessa shrugged it off. “Okay,” she said, “I’ll just follow you then.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Reba had just filled a big metal pan with water to cook the roots she’d gathered for a village-wide feast when a government pickup followed by a string of barking dogs roared into the village yard. Startled, Reba dropped the pan, splashing water over the front of her dress. The driver swerved to avoid some children at play before he came to an abrupt, dust-swirling stop in front of the Long House. A government vehicle at Celilo always attracted attention and a fair amount of concern. In the villagers’ experience, the government’s presence at Celilo usually meant something bad had happened or was about to happen. And the way this driver had barreled through the village at top speed intensified their fears. Within minutes, a large crowd of wary villagers had gathered outside the Long House.

  A tall, sandy-haired government official jumped from the cab and rushed to the back of the truck. “There was an accident,” he said, opening the tailgate. Reba was too far away to see what the man was pointing to. Word passed through the throng of onlookers that it was George Featherstone. “Easy, there,” the official said to George when he attempted to sit upright. “He’s been hurt,” he explained. “Is there anyone here with medical training?”

  The anxious villagers who’d been pushing and jostling one another to get a closer view, parted to make way for Chief Tommy Thompson. Reba was relieved to see him, for his presence had a calming effect on the gathering. Despite his advanced years and the need for a walking stick, Chief Thompson had a proud and stately gait. He had been their leader for as long as Reba had lived at Celilo and was widely recognized as a great man even by non-Indians. Their chief would know how to handle the situation.

  Reba and the rest of the villagers watched the government man carefully. Much could be learned about the man’s character when he met Chief Thompson. He was taller than the chief but he didn’t carry himself in an intimidating way. As the chief approached, the stranger straightened his shoulders and dipped his head slightly while casting his eyes downward. His show of respect for Chief Thompson caused a murmur of approval to ripple through the crowd. Danny should be here, thought Reba. He needed to see that some shuyapus—even government shuyapus—can possess some good qualities.

  Chief Thompson responded with a welcome nod and then turned his attention to George. “We will care for our brother,” he said, directing four young men to carry George into the Long House. They carefully lifted him out of the truck using the gray blanket he laid on as a stretcher. “Where’s Reba?” the chief asked. “George needs her healing.”

  Reba had begun to push past the women and children at the fringe when the need for medical assistance was first raised. “I’m here, Chief Thompson,” she said as she reached the front of the onlookers. She told him that she would go straight home and get her medicine bag. The government man slammed the tailgate shut and addressed the chief, “Sir, could I have a moment of your time to speak in private?” Chief Thompson led him into the Long House. Near the door, they passed a little carved bird named Pi-a-koot sitting atop a pole. Chief Thompson carved the
bird many years ago to replicate a bird he saw in a vision. He believed that the spirit of Pi-a-koot carried his prayers and messages to the Creator. Reba quickened her pace toward home with myriad questions racing through her mind. What kind of accident did George have? How did a government man find him? Why did the man need to talk to Chief Thompson? Was his unexpected arrival at the village a blessing or a curse? What message would Pi-a-koot carry for the chief today?

  She returned to the Long House a few minutes later holding a small leather bag in one hand and a couple of clean rags in the other. Oscar followed closely behind her carrying a canvas folding cot. After overseeing George’s transfer from the dirt floor where he’d been placed to the cot, Chief Thompson nodded to Reba and said, “George is in good hands now.” The men who’d attended George in Reba’s absence departed and the chief led the white man to a couple of metal chairs across the room.

  Reba noted with relief that George was conscious, although disoriented and complaining of a headache. Someone had already applied a makeshift bandage to his head but it was now blood-soaked. The stench of alcohol on his body was overpowering. His skin felt clammy, and when she checked his pulse it was racing. Alarmed, she quickly removed a short, thin needle from her bag and pulled George’s shirt open at the abdomen. Holding the syringe in one hand and, grasping a fold of his skin between her fingers and thumb in the other, she inserted the needle at a 45-degree angle. Once the needle was through the skin, she pushed the plunger on the syringe.