Rabbit Boss

by Thomas Sanchez

  The Washo watched. The Washo watched through the trees. The Washo watched through the trees as the two Ghosts worked their magic. The waiting spring light fell flat on the Ghosts as they bent beneath the trees, their hands working quickly over the magic until the ritual was complete, and they were gone, swung up on the backs of their beasts so they formed one towering wild eyed beast The Washo watched as the beasts rode off into the trees, they watched until the iron hooves could no longer be heard pounding the forest floor. In the silence left behind the Man of Medicine spoke in a loud whisper so that all his brothers hidden behind the trees could catch the words, “These Ghosts are gone. They go up to the other Ghosts where the stone-eyed beasts pull the turning houses covered by a white cloud. This Ghost has worked magic here. He leaves his power behind. We must steal his power.” Another voice was heard, it spoke above the whisper of the Man of Medicine, it was the voice of the Rabbit Chief. “No, we must not go up to their magic, we have no teaching, we have no power for that which we do not know.” “The Chief of the Rabbit uses words from my own lips,” the Man of Medicine answered. “We must not go up to their magic without power, but we do have teaching, we have the secret of Hawk’s flight, we will use the medicine of the Hawk to capture this magic. The secret medicine of Hawk is patience. To wait. To watch. Hawk circles endlessly in the vast blue Sky, watching, he circles forever so his prey forgets what is swooping overhead, what is waiting above, then down Hawk comes with the full secret of his power and his fierce claws take what has come to him. We will wait. We will watch. This power hidden beneath the trees will forget us, it will sleep, all things must sleep, no matter how powerful, even rocks sleep. We will watch. Then we will take what has come to us.”

  The Washo watched. They lay hidden behind the trees, waiting. The Sun slipped out of the Sky. The Washo watched. The Sun slipped back up into the Sky. The Washo waited. The Moon chased the Sun away. Then the Moon went away. There was no Sun and no Moon. Gray light filled all space. The night Birds were going to sleep and the morning Birds were waking up. The voice of the Man of Medicine came through the gray light, “The power of the Ghost sleeps. We will go up behind Gayabuc and steal the magic.” Gayabuc slid from behind his tree, pulling silently through the pine needles until he came within two body lengths of the bush that covered the magic. He flattened himself out on the ground like a blanket. His breath became slow until it almost stopped. He waited. Nothing happened. The only movement was the steady sweat running off his back. Then the light popped. The first clear swift light of the morning shot over the trees and hit full on the bush that covered the magic. The stump of a hoarse cry wrenched from Gayabuc’s throat as he jumped to his feet, hurling the blade of his knife with the full muscle of his body into the bush. It was there! It too had been waiting! It did not sleep! The knife tore through the branches of the bush and there was a loud sound as if it had struck a rock, then a louder sound clanged out of the bush, a fierce clamp, sounding like teeth with the power of three Bear jaws slamming shut, shaking all the branches of the bush. Gayabuc jumped back. The power had eaten his knife! His father came running by him with a scream, bringing the swing of his arm down and flinging his own stoneknife into the heart of the bush. All became quiet. Another man ran for the bush, sending his knife straight into the branches. No sound came back. Another man came at the bush with his knife, and another, until all the men had sent the full muscle of their stone blades into the bush’s heart. No sound came up from the branches. The Man of Medicine waved his Skunk skin over the top of the bush and called on all the clouds to gather around to witness this magic of the Ghost the Washo slayed with the muscle of their knives. He unhooked the medicine bag hung around his waist on a Deer-muscle belt and emptied its yellow powder into his open palm, “Damomli! Deubeyu! Magician! Power of Spirit!” He blew the yellow powder out in a soft ribbon so it all settled at once onto the head of the bush. Gayabuc came forward with the blade of his stone hatchet and chopped through the blood colored wood of the bush’s base. The Man of Medicine took hold of the top branches and flung the bush aside, leaving the magic exposed to the eyes of all men. They gathered round and looked at that which they had never before seen. A great skeleton of steel teeth was before them, teeth large enough to cut the life out of a small Animal, powerful enough to clamp on a man’s leg, breaking through his bone and holding him there until the Ghost came back. What was before them was the magic of a fierce trap. The Ghost had left his teeth behind, and so that no one could steal his magic he chained the teeth to a stake driven deep into the Earth. But the magic had been broken. The magic had been captured. The teeth had clamped shut, but they captured nothing. The Washo gathered up their knives and sat about the magic of the teeth as they ate their dried strips of Rabbit flesh, never taking their eyes from the power. “We must keep going,” Gayabuc stood, wiping the grease of the Rabbit on his thigh. “We must go up to the Ghost and take all of the magic. We have the secret medicine of the Hawk to go behind. We can break any power before us and capture it as our own.” “Gayabuc speaks the true water,” the Man of Medicine stood, pushing pieces of Rabbit flesh from his lips into his mouth. “We have our want here. We must go up to the Ghost, he is already two days beyond us. We will leave three of us behind to guard this magic we have captured. We go up to the Ghost. It is his Day.”