Chapter 10: The Concert

“This is ridiculous!” Kathy griped as she wiped her brow with her apron. Despite the cold winter chill, she was sweating near the open fires as she carefully split the last salmon and inserted the green wooden stakes that would hold it securely while it baked over the open coals in the area provided for her. The larger chinooks (more popularly called ‘Kings’) she filleted and set on damp cedar planks for indirect roasting. “I’ll have to double the order next year,” she said to Peter, who was helping her by setting the prepared fish on the racks to cook.

It was Sunday, the second day of the Native American winter solstice celebration, and gathering. Yesterday she had prepared 25 large salmon, some weighing up to 30 pounds. And she knew from personal experience that they should have been enough to feed as many as 2500 people. Yet her contribution to the previous day’s feast was consumed completely within 3 hours. Looking around she realized that the number of participants during the second and final day had swollen to the point that many trading booths and service venues had spilled beyond the fairgrounds on out to the fields beyond.

“Girl, you better triple it!” Veronica remarked as she blew a lock of her short blue hair out of her face. She handed her coal rake to one of the attendants who would take over the cooking now that the setup was completed to Kathy’s strict instructions. “Man, I got serious boob lube going on!” she added as she plucked at her sweaty shirt.

“Maybe we should just arrange for a delivery truck,” Peter suggested, wiping his forehead. “You remember that weird giant canoe-shaped grill they used to use during the Puyallup?” He referred to the 3-week long Washington State Fair that occurred every August and September, back home. It was the largest fair in the state and one of the top 10 largest in the country.

Kathy made a face. “That is no way to cook salmon for a traditional First Nation feast,” she retorted. “I just need a bigger fire pit, is all.” She studied the wide circle of tables that surrounded them.

“Babe, these folks are already lining up for your fish,” Peter replied as they wandered over to a table that offered different flavored lemonades. “And this is just the Apache Winter gathering. I’ve heard that Festivals are going on all the time around here. There are big ones in Tuba City, Gallup, Window Rock, and Albuquerque. Heck, there’s supposed to be a huge rodeo right here in four months, and the oldest rodeo in the country is held in Page every year.”

Kathy regarded him like he had a third eyeball before shaking her head defiantly. “Nuh-uh, no way. I’m not marrying some rich dude just so I can spend the rest of my life sweating over a bank of coals.”

“Oh my gosh!” Ronnie squeaked excitedly as she sipped through her straw. “I still can’t get over you two getting married!” She punched her little brother in the shoulder affectionately. “I mean ... there was never a doubt, right? Duh,” she snorted. “Have you guys told Al yet?”

Peter shook his head. “We haven’t touched base with him in over a month,” he replied. “He’s down in Stanford studying his ass off.”

“I chat with him occasionally via ARPANET,” his sister replied. “He is taking on a huge curriculum. We’re talking double majors in Computer Engineering and Global Economics.”

Peter whistled appreciatively. “If anyone can pull it off it’s Shoe. He’s probably already written his dissertations.”

Kathy nodded, as she held her ice-cold drink against her neck. “God, he’s so fucking smart! And he doesn’t even realize it.”

Her husband-to-be nodded. “A hell of a lot smarter than me.”

“He will never believe that,” Ronnie stated. “He has always looked up to you as a brainiac role model.”

“You’d never guess by the way they banter back and forth about how ‘genius’ they are,” Kathy retorted with her doh-doh voice.

They stepped through the tables and began milling around the trading booths.

“Granted, I may be smart,” Peter said, “And I may have perfect recall. But Alan is a certified genius. I’m talking Mensa class.”

“What’s Mensa?” a tired voice asked.

They turned and found Charity wandering toward them dragging her feet. She was wearing her Changing Woman mantle over her brightly embroidered tribal dress. Her white feathers were hanging limp and her face was smudged with sweat and dirt.

“Hey Squirt,” Peter said as she bumped into him and remained pressed against his chest with her head facing down. He patted her hair. “Why are you so down?”

“I’m tired,” she mumbled. “I danced my butt off this morning.”

“Char, this is Veronica, Peter’s sister,” Kathy introduced.

The fifteen-year-old turned her head and peered at the blue-haired woman sporting a pixie cut hairstyle with one eye. She grudgingly pushed away from Peter and turned to shuffle over to the woman, where she promptly collapsed against her the same way she did to her brother. “Hi sister,” she mumbled. “I’m tired.”

Ronnie hugged the girl delightfully and smiled brightly at them. “I love her,” she grinned.

“What’s Mensa?” the girl mumbled into her chest.

“It’s a group of really smart people who sit around telling everyone how smart they are. And every once in a while, they allow other smart people to join them so that they can feel really good about how smart they are.”

“That sounds dumb!” the girl grunted refusing to budge from her place in Ronnie’s arms.

“Now that’s a smart girl talking right there,” Kathy laughed.

“Are you Mensa?” Charity continued.

“Oh God no, sweetheart!” Veronica laughed. “I’m not half the genius these two are.”

That made the girl stand back and regarded Peter with a squinty glare. “Wait? You’re smart?”

Kathy snorted as he chuckled.

“So, they keep telling me.”

“Like, super smart?”

“Yes, baby,” Kathy assured grabbing the girl and pulling her possessively into her arms. “Uncle Peter is a certified genius! Now where’s my hug?”

The girl continued looking at him like she was seeing him for the first time as she leaned against his girlfriend. “You take an IQ test or something?”

He nodded, “I aced the Stanford-Binet when I was twelve. And shot the bell curve on Cattell and Hamburg Wessler when I was thirteen and fourteen respectively.”

“What’s your IQ then?”

“According to the Stanford-Binet, 130,” he replied. “On the Cattell and WAIS scales, I’m 163 and 178.”

“No fucking way!” she shot back causing Veronica to laugh hysterically.

“Oh God, child!” Kathy blanched. “You smell like an old goat! Come on, let’s find a hydrant and hose you off.”

“You’re smarter than Einstein?” Charity persisted as they steered her toward the camping area where the Fleetwood was parked and set up with all the utilities.

“A lot of people are smarter than Einstein, after the fact,” Peter answered. “In his day he was at the top of his class. He’s made us smarter by sharing his knowledge.” They got to the Fleetwood and he unlocked the door, holding it for them to enter. “I’m not so special kiddo, my brain just works differently. Now DaVinci? That dude was off-the-charts smart!”

Charity considered his words as Kathy and Veronica began dismantling her tribal costume. “What was his IQ?”

Peter shrugged. “Nobody really knows. Best educated guesses put him well over 200 though. He was probably one of the smartest people who ever lived.” He noticed how the reed-thin girl had started filling out in her ribs and around her hips and thighs. When she pulled off her sweaty halter her small breasts slipped free and sat firmly on her chest with tiny button nipples that barely stood out. She looked him directly in the eye as she slipped off her panties and revealed a small patch of black fuzz covering her pubis. Her youthful expression seemed to challenge him to admire her naked body as she boldly held her legs apart to display the thin slit of her vagina. Kathy spun her towards the shower and smacked her bare bottom, causing a yelp.

“In you go,” she ordered. “Scrub everything! And wash your hair twice so I can braid it.”

They heard the adolescent mime back at her as she took her time washing. Kathy smirked and began sorting through her tribal costume parts. “Jeez, this is a mess. Hand me that spray cleaner and some paper towels so I can try to make it presentable for this afternoon’s ceremony.”

While she wiped, cleaned, and brushed out Charity’s dress and mantel, Peter’s sister poked around the interior of the cabin, “So, this is what you lived in while you were traveling?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” he replied. “We stopped at a lot of hotels along the way to wash clothes and take showers and such.

“What are you going to do when you’re married?”

He glanced at Kathy who was concentrating on the heavy dress in her lap. “We haven’t thought about it, sis.” He looked up and found her frowning at him. “What?”

“You need to start thinking about it, son,” she rebuked him. “You can’t expect to raise a family in a motor home.” She bent to open the small fridge and pulled out two cans of Dr. Pepper. She handed him one and poured the other into her empty lemonade cup. “I know one thing though, just by watching you two this morning.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“You’re never leaving here, are you?”

He glanced up and found Kathy looking at him. Even with her neutral expression, he read her like a book.

“No,” he replied simply. “I ... um...”

Veronica raised her cup in salute. “You don’t have to explain it, baby brother,” she replied wistfully. “I get it.” She set down her drink and sat beside Kathy at the dinette, grabbing a washcloth and the white feather headdress. “I felt it pulling my heart the minute we got out of the truck,” she said as she began gently wiping the dust and dirt from each of the feathers and braids. “I may end up here myself once I graduate.”

They worked quietly together. Neither noticed the telling distant expression on Peter’s face as his mind wandered.

After a few more minutes Kathy glanced toward the opaque shower door. “You doing okay in there, baby girl?” There was no reply. They could see the flesh-tone form of the girl standing still under the weak spray of the shower head. “Hey, Char. You done yet?” she added, getting up from the small table.

Peter sat straight as she opened the door, where they found the naked fifteen-year-old standing under the shower, stock still with her eyes closed. He lifted an eyebrow when Kathy laughed out loud and grabbed a towel.

“Wake up you, silly goose!” she chided as she shut off the shower and wrapped the fluffy towel around the girl’s thin shoulders.

“Did she fall asleep in the shower?” Ronnie giggled.

“I’m tired!” Charity whined as she was pulled into the cabin and rubbed down.

“I would say so,” Kathy replied as she took another towel and wrapped the girl’s hair affectionately. “Come on,” she led the child over to their queen-sized bed, pulled back the covers, and pushed her over till she collapsed dramatically onto the mattress. She pulled away the damp towel and covered her up with the blanket. “You take a nap and we’ll find you some clothes to wear until the ceremony.”

“I’m hungry!” the girl mumbled tiredly.

“You’re always hungry.” She leaned over and kissed the girl’s sleepy face. Standing up she turned to Peter. “Will you go find Lenna and get this little devil some clothes?” she asked as she returned to her chore of cleaning the costume. “And bring her back a small deer or something.” She glanced at his sister and shook her head as loud snoring began from the bed. “I swear the way she eats you’d think she stars in a Suzzane Somers charity commercial for needy African children.”

Peter chuckled and stood up, “Be right back.”

“We have a set of twins, too,” Lenna stated later as she sat beside Nana Shima in a folding chair, nursing Abigail. She had just spent several hours directing the setup for upcoming activities. Peter had introduced his sister to her and the ancient woman as well as the other gathered folks from the Whiteriver clan. Several of the women took to the grad student immediately and insisted on taking her around the event to help her shop for gifts and novelties.

Charity reclined nearby in another chair wearing cutoffs, a tank top, and flip-flops. ‘In no way trying to imitate her ‘aunt Kathy’, Peter mused.

“Whatever,” the girl muttered with open disdain. “Sharma and Reddi Colson aren’t even ‘inde’,” she spat, using the Apache term for ‘the people’ (similar to the Navajo use of ‘dine’).

It was high noon and while most of the gathering participants and visitors were eating, there were several loud ceremonial dances taking place and a raucous equestrian talent show nearby. Peter was sitting on the ground with his back to a large ponderosa pine, with Kathy in his lap.

“Regardless, you will lose that sharp tongue of yours and show them proper respect when they present you and the other Changing Women at your Sundance ceremony!”

Everyone turned to see Bradly Littlewolf approaching the small gathering with his recently betrothed, Sue Meadowlark. The stout elegant woman stood beside him wearing a long traditional Navajo dress that appeared much like a long cream-colored poncho that was held around her waist by a wide decorative belt festooned with silver squash blossoms and inset turquoise buttons the size of half dollars. Around her neck, she wore a heavy amulet that was similarly adorned. She wore long strands of beads and feathers for earrings and had a simple band of braided leather around her brow. She was smiling serenely as they joined the group.

Kathy gasped in awe and rose to her feet gawking at the beautiful woman. She started forward but Peter reached up and held her back with a touch of her hand.

Sue left her betrothed’s side and continued forward to kneel respectfully before the ancient matron. She dipped her head and spoke softly in the Navajo tongue, reciting a ceremonial greeting that Peter translated immediately in a whisper to Kathy, “I pay greetings to you, high mother of my heart, and pray that you are well and ... strong (I think) of spirit, of mind, and body. May the blessings of my ancestors bring bounty and (something) to your... (extended family?)”

“When did you learn to speak Navajo so well?” she whispered back.

He shrugged as she helped him to his feet which were covered by traditional deerskin leggings. “Books and CDs that I bought while we were touring the reservation and Grand Canyon,” he whispered back. “But the women speak it completely different,” he mused.

“God that was so beautiful!” she whispered back as the woman reached into her belt and presented Nana Shima with a small gift that she carefully unwrapped. It was a long-braided leather loop with flat polished disks of petrified wood interspersed in the weave. She reached up and gently draped the amulet over the ancient woman’s head and then kissed her weathered palms before rising and stepping back.

Everyone waited expectantly while the old woman fingered the piece of jewelry. She looked up at the pretty Navajo with her penetrating eyes and gave her a toothless smile before speaking briefly in her native tongue. Kathy glanced up at Peter’s face and he shrugged, “I got nothin’,” he replied. “She could’ve asked for another cup of coffee for all I know.”

The gathered women began greeting the newcomer warmly but none so much as Kathy who embraced her with a warm hug and kissed her cheek tearfully. “Oh my God, Sue! You are so beautiful!” she gushed causing the shorter woman to blush.

“I have to agree,” Peter added offering his hand. She took it and he greeted her in Navajo causing her to gasp in delight. She answered quickly and he grinned replying once more, which caused her to burst out in light-hearted musical laughter.

Nana Sima grunted, “Don’t we all!” she muttered causing the crowd to look on bewildered. “The broken man asked how a knuckle-dragging idiot like my grandson could catch so fine a maiden...”

“Watch yourself pale face,” Bradly grumbled amongst all the giggles and laughter. “Them’s fightun’ words.”

“So, you are Peter Two-Spirit,” Sue greeted warmly. “You are known among my people,” she stated. “They call you ‘Broken Eagle’. How did you learn to speak our language so well?”

“He’s a genius!” Charity blurted, worming her way into the mix of gathered adults. “He’s smarter than Michael Angelo and the Mensa.”

Kathy chortled and roughed the girl’s hair.

“You’ve made quite a name for yourselves making computer games and software,” Sue remarked as she rejoined her man and wrapped an arm around his waist. “I love Sim Village.”

Charity spun around and regarded him with a look of utter betrayal. “You ... made SimVil?” she demanded.

“They both did sweetie,” Veronica answered as she appeared with a couple of other young women. She was laden with several sacks of goods from her shopping spree. “Peter can write computer programs better than most people can talk.”

Charity stomped her foot and crossed her arms bitterly. “Man, I wish I had a computer!” she sulked. Her father looked to the sky behind her and shook his head.

“Too bad,” Peter replied smugly. “You asked for a saddle. That’s what you got.”

“You mean...?” the fifteen-year-old glared back at him in disgust.

“Be careful what you ask for,” he replied sagely and winked at her father, who chuckled softly.

The girl began cursing and spitting angrily. The amused expressions around her only made her attitude sour even more.

“That’s enough pouting Char,” Lenna remarked firmly as she held her sleeping baby. “Now go get ready for your ceremony.” She glanced over at another young woman. “Bea, would you go and help her?”

“Certainly,” the girl replied and looked over as Peter tossed her the keys to the Fleetwood. “Come on, twerp.”

“Here, baby brother, I got you a present,” Veronica announced excitedly as she set down her bags and rummaged through one. She produced a hand-crafted black felt Geronimo hat with a wide flat brim. A small string of thin cylindrical mini beads in a fan pattern was sewn into the right side of the undented crown. She placed it securely on his head and stepped back proudly.

“Very nice, Two-Spirit,” Lenna remarked from her seat. He could sense by her tone that she was being genuine.

“We might make an honorary Apache out of you yet,” Bradly remarked dubiously. “But don’t hold your breath.”

“I love it, babe!” Kathy gushed as she reached up to touch the brim. “It does suit you.”

Veronica bounced happily. “There was this incredible silver hat band with turquoise and precious stones set in it,” she glanced unhappily at the girls who had escorted her around the gathering. “But ‘they’ wouldn’t let me get it,” she added accusingly. The girls blushed with guilt. “They said it wasn’t proper.”

“And they were correct, Blue-hair,” Brad replied in his soft deep voice. “That is an honor reserved for a man, typically a brother or father.” He then casually smacked her startled brother on the back, knocking the wind out of him. “So, I guess the burden falls onto me.” He concluded dryly.

Despite the man’s nonchalant manner, Peter felt a wave of emotion stir deep within his core and he felt Kathy squeeze his hand knowingly. His eyes stung for a moment and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Thanks, sis,” he muttered and then turned away from the group to find himself a cup of coffee.

Nana Shima called after him in Navajo and he nodded with a wave of his hand, obediently.

Kathy turned to Bradly’s fiancée, curiously.

“She wants a cup of coffee,” the woman smiled back at her.

Kathy was standing with the Whiteriver clan during the Sunrise Dance ceremony that marked the ritual transition from girl to womanhood. She gasped as the group of Changing Women was escorted into the central clearing before the stage. “Jesus Christ!” she whispered between Peter and Lenna. “Is that them?”

“Yup,” the Apache girl grunted.

“There should be a fucking law!” she gasped.

“No kidding.”

Peter just gazed ahead trying to keep his expression neutral as the renowned Colson twins entered the clearing clad in very scant native costumes that bordered on scandalous. They were identical in every way and gorgeous beyond words. And there was no question whatsoever that they were very much ‘women’ as they danced forward in complete synchrony, skipping and twirling for the amazed crowd. They each wore a slender deerskin mantle secured about their waists with a thin beaded belt. A long feather headdress covered their thick braided hair and fell sweeping to their bare ankles that were wrapped in similar feathered bands. The leather shrouds left their arms and legs free and barely concealed their pleasantly endowed breasts and inner thighs. They danced toward the center, crying out while beating decorative hand drums rhythmically, and every so often their thin veils shifted to expose more than modesty would dictate. But the two beautiful visions swirled about, indifferent to the expressions of the onlookers, as the small group of girls followed them into the clearing in a pair of single file lines. The girls, all adorned with their white feather mantles skipped and swayed in a different choreographed step, until they formed a complete circle surrounding and facing the twins. Then the drums stopped and they all became still as the dust settled around their feet.

“Holy fucking shit!” Veronica breathed next to her brother. “No wonder they forbid picture-taking during ceremonies!”

Kathy was tempted to reach down and check Peter’s groin, but wouldn’t disparage him if he were hard as a rock. She was feeling a wave of desire as well.

“God, I want to fuck them both!” his sister whispered harshly.

“You and everyone else here,” Peter murmured back.

“Ahem,” Kathy replied grinning. “As long as you include me.”

The twins suddenly emitted a loud shrieking cry that echoed around the gathering and began slapping their drums in a rapid pattern.

Peter nearly leaped out of his skin at the sound.

“They are calling upon the spirits, to watch and observe the Sundance ritual,” Lenna replied.

‘Screaming like that would certainly wake the dead,’ he mused.

“It has begun,” she added harshly with a catch in her throat.

Suddenly all of the girls erupted into a dance and cried out in time to the drum beat as they demonstrated the dancing ritual that they each had to perform for the previous four mornings as the sun came up. Charity could be seen on the far side of the circle, waving her arms and dipping her torso as she skipped and twirled in perfect synchrony with her peers. The demonstration lasted for several minutes becoming livelier and more frantic as it went, growing into a crescendo of shouts, yips, drums, and stomping feet. Then just as suddenly, it stopped and the girls stood frozen facing the twins once more, all of them panting and gasping for air from the strenuous routine. Silence fell over the clearing again and the onlookers waited for some sign of what was to come. They found out moments later when both of the twins began shrieking, chanting, and twirling once again, but with greater energy and volume as they skipped their feet and slapped the drums in their hands. They built up to another frenzied demonstration that became almost erotic with their supple movements, while the circle of girls quietly observed, still as statues. They concluded their dance suddenly but continued crying their mesmerizing chant as they lifted their faces to the sky and raised their still drums high above their heads. They ceased the chanting and allowed the silence to once more prevail before suddenly screaming at the top of their lungs and bringing the drums down in swift arcs, smashing them violently against a raised knee, sundering them, and casting the pieces aside with a final shriek.

“Holy shit!” Peter breathed quietly as he recovered from the intense spectacle.

Silence reigned once more and then the twins simultaneously cried out a single word in the ancient native tongue. The girls spun about as a single unit facing the crowd of onlookers.

The gathering erupted in deafening applause and cheers as the girls began smiling proudly back at them.

Peter lost it and began hooting as he clapped exuberantly. Kathy began bawling and turned to hug Lenna who also wept tears of joy.

“Our baby girl is all grown up!” she sniffed.

Darkness had fallen over the gathering on its final night and Kathy had moved onto the stage to get ready for her upcoming performance. Aside from the great bonfire that burned brightly within the ring of tables, a series of floodlights had been set up and were illuminating the dance ground before the stage as well as the stage itself. Hundreds of people were gathered around waiting for her to begin while others continued milling about the venue. All of the other ceremonies and events had concluded and many of the attendees had chosen to load up their various wares and livestock and depart. This opened up the area around the grandstand to her right, allowing even more guests to wander in. She was dressed in a black leather skirt, a light cotton blouse, and knee-high leather moccasins. Her only accessory was a tribal pattern headband that was embellished with sparkly beads. She tied her shoulder-length hair back into a single ponytail with a leather thong.

“Hello, everybody,” her soft voice boomed through the amplifiers. Heads turned toward the stage and the group grew quieter. “Did you all have a good time?” She was holding her orange padauk guitar in her arms with a lavishly embroidered strap around her neck.

The response was deafening as they began sensing and sharing her bright sense of spirit and energy.

“Well, that’s just disappointing,” she teased. “We will try to do better next year.”

The laughter and applause brought a devious grin to her face. She strummed a few chords letting the notes echo across the fairgrounds. “I’m just teasing y’all,” she smiled. “Because next year we’re gonna blow your fucking minds!” Her ending shout was met with even louder cheering. “It’s my understanding that, since the Gathering has concluded — alcohol is now permitted on the grounds...” She was drowned out by a loud and raucous cheer as hundreds of adult beverages were hoisted up. “Ah, I see you heard that too.” The crowd laughed delightedly at her humor. She put her nose next to the mike and sniffed several times, “It smells to me like there might be a little... ‘sumpin-sumpin’ going around out there besides alcohol...” She grinned as the crowd began cheering again.

She strummed a few more chords and then reached into her loose cotton shirt for a piece of paper. “Before we begin, I was asked to go over a few things, since this is the last performance of the evening.” She made a show of carefully unfolding the sheet and holding it up to read. “So, without further ado, ‘we’,” she held up her fingers in double quotation marks, “would like to thank the Apache County ... something or other, the Fort Apache Chamber of Commerce...” She paused for a second and a chorus of chuckles ran through the crowd. “Uh-huh ... uh-huh, Apache this ... uh-huh, Apache that ... uh-huh,” she nodded her head while the laughter began in earnest. “And there’s a whole list of really important-sounding mother fuckers at the bottom.” She crunched the paper up into a ball and tossed it into the crowd. “Here pass it around so everyone gets a chance to read it!” She shouted over the outcry of laughter. A drum staccato sounded loudly behind her and she turned in surprise. “Oh, Micky! You showed up!” she called warmly to the drummer. “I was worried you forgot about me.”

“No one could forget about you, Kathy,” the man said into his microphone.

She turned back to the audience. “Everyone that is ‘Oh, Micky’. He played drums for the Healey Brothers earlier and I suckered him into staying and helping me out tonight. Give him a warm round please!” She clapped her hands in encouragement to the exuberant applause. She turned and looked sideways at the crowd. “You know why we call him ‘Oh, Micky’ doncha ... ladies?” she asked in a conspiring tone.

A bunch of female voices in the crowd began chanting, ‘Oh, Micky, you’re so fine! You’re so fine you blow my mind!”

“Yes!” Kathy laughed delightedly clapping her hands over her head. Then she held her hand over her eyes to peer around the audience. “Speaking of suckers...” she muttered into the microphone which prompted more laughter. “Where is my steel guitar guy?” She looked from side to side, pausing to wave to the Whiteriver clan that was gathered to her left. “Has anyone seen an older dashing George Strait-looking fellow, walking around?” She paused and pointed to a silver-haired man who stepped into the dancing area and tipped his Stetson at her. “There he is! What’s your name again, sweetheart?” She bent over as he called back to her. “Desmond?” She straightened. “That’s Desmond, everyone. He’ll be back in a bit when we start getting all folksy.” The crowd cheered again and many clapped the man on the back as he retreated. “Don’t forget about me, Desmond!”