“Is that old for a horse?”
“Pretty old.” He wiped his hands on the towel and looked at her. “Hope you didn’t mind me running interference on my dad. It’s just that he’s kind of like Joker. He gets going and forgets his age…and that he needs to pace himself. I could tell he was tired, so I kind of jumped in.”
“Oh, no, that’s fine. I wondered if that was the problem.” She glanced at her watch. “And, really, don’t feel like you need to baby-sit me. I’ll be fine on my own. I can come back in a few hours and—”
“I’m not baby-sitting you.” Cody grinned. “I just thought I could show you around the reservation a bit—something beyond the casino, hotel, and golf course.”
“Yes, I already saw those.”
“Did you make it to Tamástslikt yet?”
“No, what’s that?”
“Our cultural center. It’s near the casino, but it’s tucked way back so you might’ve missed it.”
“Yes, I’m sure I did.”
“And there’s Crow’s Shadow, our art center. They have a great print exhibit going on right now. Then I thought I could direct you to our radio station, KCUW. I won’t have time to do much more than point these things out because I teach a class at Yellow Hawk at two. But if you don’t want my help—”
“No, I’d love to see some things and possibly meet some people. I just hate feeling that I’m putting you out. You and your dad and Echo—you’ve all been so nice to me. I don’t want to take advantage of your hospitality.”
He laughed as he reached for his hat. “Hey, we Barretts are a tough bunch. You can be sure we’d tell you where to get off, if we thought you were taking advantage of us.”
“Oh, okay.” She nodded and reached for her purse.
“Maybe we happen to like your company.”
She smiled. “Thanks. You’ve made me feel really welcome and at home…almost like family.”
“You haven’t had too much of that in your life, have you?” He opened the front door, waiting for her to go out.
“Not too much.”
“Must’ve been hard.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It almost seems harder now—like I’m suddenly discovering all I’ve missed out on. I was so used to my quiet, little, controlled urban life…just my grandmother and me. I suppose it’s true that ignorance is bliss. Then you wake up.” She glanced at his pickup. “Maybe I should follow you since you have your work to do and all.”
He nodded. “Good idea. How about if we go to Yellow Hawk first? We can leave your car there. Then I’ll take you around so you can get the lay of the land. When it’s time for my class, we’ll come back for your car.”
She followed him to a complex of yellow buildings, parked her car next to his, and got out.
“This, as you can see, is Yellow Hawk.” He pointed to the biggest building. “The clinic and classrooms and social services offices are in there, and that’s where I spend most of my time, either doing counseling or diversion classes, unless I’m off-site doing home visitations or probation hearings.” He pointed another direction. “That’s the day care center and Head Start classroom. Over there is where we have community classes like the one Dad goes to for controlling his diabetes.”
“That’s great to have all those services available,” Sunny told him.
He glanced at his watch. “Now, if you want to ride with me, I’ll take you to the other spots you might like to visit.”
She locked her car and got into the pickup. “Thanks, Cody. I really appreciate you taking this time for me.”
He turned and grinned. “My pleasure.”
Warmth rushed up her neck, flushing her cheeks. What was it about this guy that got to her? Maybe it was simply the romantic combination of being in the company of an attractive gentleman while in the land of her ancestors. Anyway, that was what she told herself as he drove. Still, she wondered.
“Over there”—he pointed to his right—“is a fairly new housing development.”
She glanced over to see what looked like a nice neighborhood, especially compared to some of the other areas she’d seen on her first trip through the reservation. But this one had attractive two-story homes, trees, paved streets, landscaping. Really, it wasn’t much different from the newer developments she’d noticed popping up in some of the Portland area suburbs.
She took in the landscape as he drove away from the populated part of the reservation. Graceful golden hills, dry grasses swaying in the wind, an occasional tree, and always the wide open skies. “I feel so strangely at home out here,” she told him. “As if a part of me is a part of this land.”
“That’s how I’ve always felt too.”
“That makes sense, because you grew up here. But with me, it seems odd. I mean, since this is my first time here.”
“I believe God made us with special gifts.” Cody paused to glance at her. “It probably sounds weird, but I think we have a lot of hidden senses that most people never tap into. Kind of an extrasensory perception or sixth sense, but even more so. Maybe that’s why you feel the familiarity of this land—because of your ancestors.”
Sunny nodded eagerly. “I believe that too. Like intuitions that are unexplainable, but turn out to be correct.”
“It might be God’s way to communicate with our spirits—to lead us to places where we might not otherwise go.”
“Yes. I think you’re right.”
Cody turned off of the main road now. “And this is Saint Andrew’s Mission,” he told her. “It was established around 150 years ago.”
“Really? That long ago?”
“Yes. It was a Catholic mission.” He pointed to a pale stucco building that looked like it could’ve been built in the Southwest. “The goal of the mission evolved over the years, but back in the early part of the past century, it housed a school where Native Americans were boarded and educated in the hope that they would assimilate into white culture. Of course, the assimilation program was initiated by the government, and when the church cooperated, they received federal aid to run the school.”
“Oh.” Sunny frowned. “I’ve read about government assimilation programs. A lot of heartaches resulted.”
He just nodded. “Crow’s Shadow is housed in that building now. I encourage you to come back here and take some time to look around. I checked the schedule, and there should be a moccasin-making class going on here later this afternoon.”
“That sounds interesting.”
He turned the pickup around now, heading back out. “That’s the church,” he said as he pointed to a tall building. “The stained-glass windows in there are worth seeing too. They depict biblical stories with Native American characters.”
“I’ll be sure to take a look.”
He pointed to a small cemetery now. “The old graveyard might interest you as well. It’s one of several, and most people on the reservation can find a relative’s name here or there.”
They drove around for about thirty more minutes while Cody pointed out the radio station, the museum, and several other places of interest. Then it was time for him to return to Yellow Hawk for his diversion class.
“Thanks so much for showing me around,” she told him as he parked. “I feel like I can find my way now.”
He pulled out his business card. “Feel free to call if you have more questions or need any help. Or just call my dad. I’ll jot his number on the back for you.” He grinned as he handed her the card. “I think he’s got a crush on you anyway.”
She laughed as she got out of the pickup. “Your dad is a real sweetheart.”
“You take care now.” He reached for a tooled leather briefcase. “And just because you feel at home on the reservation doesn’t mean that it’s perfectly safe here. I’m not trying to scare you, Sunny, but you need to be as street smart here as you are in Portland.” He looked into her eyes. “Does that make sense?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Then they
said good-bye, she got into her car, and drove back to Saint Andrew’s Mission.
Chapter Fifteen
Sunny parked her car in front of the stucco building at Saint Andrew’s Mission, then got out and walked around to look at the architecture. The building appeared to be fairly old and in some disrepair, but the marker by one of the front entrances was dated 1931.
“Hello?” called a woman’s voice. “Are you here for the moccasin class?”
Sunny turned to see an older woman waving from the side of the building. “Mostly I just wanted to look around Crow’s Shadow. I heard there’s a good print exhibit to see.”
“Come this way,” the woman called as she disappeared around the back side of the building.
Sunny walked on around to where several cars were parked in back. An open door led into what appeared to be a gallery with pale hardwood floors and white walls, where a number of attractive Native prints were displayed.
“The class is back here,” the woman called as she went into another room. “Come on in if you like.”
Sunny thanked her, then took some time to examine the prints. Again, she got that feeling—like she was connecting to this artwork in a way that was unexplainable but very real. She studied the names of the artists, but none of them sounded familiar. Finally, lured by the quiet voices of women, she went into what looked like a craft room to see five older women intently working with leather and beads.
“Are you here for the class?” a different woman asked.
“No, she’s just looking at the prints,” the first woman answered for her.
“You don’t want to make moccasins?” another woman asked. “She’s not here for that.”
Sunny came closer to the first woman now, looking over her shoulder as she laid out some cut pieces of leather with beadwork on them. “That’s very pretty,” she said as she studied the flower design. “I have a really old buckskin jacket with some interesting beadwork on it.”
“Was it in your family?”
“I believe so. I’m not totally sure. But I do think it’s quite old. Maybe even a hundred years old.”
The oldest woman nodded with interest. “You don’t look familiar. Are you new?”
Sunny introduced herself, explaining that this was her first time to visit the reservation. “But my grandmother was born here. She left back in the thirties.”
“My mother left back in the thirties too,” the oldest woman said. “Left me with my aunt. She raised me.”
“What was your mother’s name?” another woman asked.
“Polly Wikiapi Blue Crow.”
And although none of them were old enough to know her, they were soon telling her about other people somehow connected with the Blue Crow family and how they were either friends or relatives. “I think my cousin’s daughter married a Blue Crow…unless it was a Yellow Crow, but he turned out to be no good. Left her with three little kids.”
“You mean Tulip?” another said with a creased brow. “My daughter can’t stand that woman. You know Tulip is Walla Walla. Mimi told me Tulip would drive any man to run off.”
“So does everyone know everyone on the reservation?” Sunny asked.
They all nodded as if this were a given and not the least bit unusual. And then they began talking about what must’ve been the most recent scandal—a young man who’d been involved with two girls at the same time—and now both girls were pregnant.
“Starla should’ve known better than to trust that boy,” Mimi’s mother said. “I would’ve thought she was too smart to fall for his tricks.”
“Starla is just like her mother,” another said as if this explained everything.
And with the chattering gossip of these old women ringing in her ears, Sunny quietly said good-bye and went back outside to where the sun was shining brightly. She remembered what Cody had said about looking in the church, so she went inside to see that he was right—the stained-glass windows were remarkable and well worth seeing. She recognized the familiar Bible characters and scenes from years of going to the Presbyterian Church with her grandmother. But seeing the traditional pale-faced figures replaced with Native Americans seemed to make the stories come to life and make more sense. And, really, she decided as she finally left, the Native American features were probably more like the Middle Eastern ones anyway.
Next she went to the little cemetery. Walking around, she read the names and dates and was surprised at how far back some of them went. But the most surprising thing of all was when she found a gravestone with the name Polly Wikiapi and dates 1895–1924. Sunny knelt down and put her hand on the stone, which, despite the hot sun, remained cool. Because of the dates, she knew this had to be her great-grandmother’s grave. Yet it made no sense that Polly Wikiapi, someone who’d been portrayed as a crazy, alcoholic, wild woman, was buried in a Catholic cemetery. Sunny whispered a quiet prayer just then for her great-grandmother…and for herself. Then she merely stood there and wondered. What did it mean?
“I think I’m feeling a little overwhelmed,” Sunny admitted to Hank as the two of them sat sipping lemonade in the shade of the locust trees. She’d just told him about finding her great-grandmother’s grave and how it made no sense.
“Not surprising. It’s a lot to take in.”
“Going from knowing next to nothing about my culture and my ancestors and this whole place, then trying to absorb so much in one day.”
“I can understand how you feel.”
Sunny appreciated his sympathy, but how could he possibly understand? “It’s different for you. You’ve had this and been here all your life—”
“Hold on a minute,” he told her. “What are you insinuating?”
She blinked. “Well, just that you’ve lived here your whole life and—” “See, there you go again.” He shook his finger at her. “Making assumptions. Have you ever heard about that definition of the assume word?”
She forced a smile. “Yes, but what is it you think I’m assuming?” “That I grew up right here on the reservation.”
“You didn’t?”
“Nope.” He held his chin up.
“Oh?”
“You know that my mother was Umatilla and that my dad was white. But I guess you didn’t know that the whole time I was growing up, my parents lived off the reservation. I was a town kid.”
“I didn’t realize—”
“I know. You assumed.”
She nodded. “Sorry about that.”
“Funny thing is, I grew up much like you did, Sunny. We lived in town and, for the most part, I was fairly ignorant about my Indian roots. My mother had some of the Indian looks, like her big dark eyes. But she wore her hair short, always got her permanents, and dressed white, acted white, and mostly passed for white. We were regular working-class folks. I went to public school, played sports, and like a lot of local boys, got interested in rodeo and farming. After high school, I enlisted in the navy, did two tours of duty, and saved up my money with the intention of getting my own place. When I got home and had the opportunity to get my hands on some farmland, the best deal just happened to be on the reservation. I bought a lease from a white guy who was getting too old to farm anymore.”
“So you don’t actually own this land?”
He shook his head. “It was a ninety-nine-year lease that he’d had for nearly fifty years, and I bought it from him. The lease actually expires in 2016.”
“What happens then?”
“Hopefully Cody will get the chance to lease it back again or maybe even buy it.”
“Get the chance?”
“It’s up to the tribe.”
“But you’re part of the tribe,” Sunny pointed out. “Don’t you have a say?”
“Not about this particular piece of land. It originally belonged to some other family and when the lease expires, it returns back to them.”
“Oh.” She thought for a moment, trying to recall what they’d been talking about. “So you didn’t move out to the reservation unti
l you were an adult. Did you start connecting with members of your family then? I mean, the ones on the reservation?”
His eyes looked sad. “Not really.”
“But you did know you were half Native American by then, didn’t you?” She studied him closely as he sipped his lemonade.
“Oh, sure.” He set his glass down. “I always knew I was a half-breed, but like I said, my folks never talked about it. And it wasn’t until I was a grown man about Cody’s age that I got to know anyone on my mom’s side of the family.”
“So how did that happen? When did you connect with your aunt Lulu and Raymond?”
“Well, when I first started working this farm, after the navy, my neighbors, like you, made their assumptions. They regarded me as a white man, a foreigner, and for a while I went along with it. Eventually, I married Helen. As you know, she was a white woman. I brought her out here, and together we built this house. After a while, Cody came along. For years, the three of us lived here like we had nothing to do with the Indians. Sometimes Helen and I would put the Indians down—but not to be mean. We just didn’t like to hear about them drinking and carrying on and being irresponsible toward their families. I s’pose we thought we were better than them—some of them anyway.”
“Did Cody know about his heritage?”
Hank let out a long sigh. “That’s where we made our biggest mistake. For quite some time, Cody had no inkling he was a quarter Indian. Helen and I didn’t think much of it. Truth be told, there are a lot of folks with Indian blood running through them who don’t know about it. We figured, what did it matter? We were who we were. Didn’t matter what you called us, did it? We were the Barretts—simple, hardworking people who tried to live according to the Good Book. Oh, sure, I drank a bit in my younger day, but not like some of them did. And Helen was a good Christian woman, a good wife and mother. Cody was a good boy, a good student, well liked in his class. So why should anyone care about anything beyond that?”
Love Finds You in Pendleton, Oregon Page 13
