and holding hands, Cristal and I began to apologize all at once. Myra shushed us both and told me not to be mad at Cristal; that Cristal had always tried to protect her from hurt, though she’d rarely succeeded.
It was quiet for a few heartbeats as we gazed at each other, then Myra looked at the ground and said, “Puwsungwa, I’ve gotten fat.”
I said, “You are beautiful! I love you; I have always loved you. Only you! It’s tragic that this old man tries to replace the young one who fell in love with you, but I’ll try to make it up if you’ll let me.”
She sobbed and held me with her teary gaze, “I just want to hold you again … forever.”
I kissed her hands and sought solace in the copper eyes. We said things and whispered things that I’d never tell. That you wouldn’t tell. I felt the warmth and sense of her begin to revive the decay that had been my heart and my soul.
Chapter 10.
Many overflowing days followed. I listened, and talked little. My eyes, ears, heart and soul feasted and could never be sated. Home! I was finally home! Every day was like a rebirth. The days turned into weeks and I was never leaving.
I sought Uncle Preston’s sage advice about etiquette and Native American sensibilities. He wasn’t one for bullshit though. He advised me to treat everyone as I would any round eye. I think he appreciated my concern and my intent to treat Myra and her kin with the utmost sincerity and warmth, no matter the reciprocation.
As for Myra and me, it was difficult to make up for lost time. She had a couple of nice kids. They were a bit unruly at times, but show me a teenager who isn’t. Her daughter’s name is Rainbo and her son’s Raymond. She was 13 and he was barely 15 when we first met. They’d seen firsthand what their father did to Myra, so with the help of their mother, it was fairly easy to win their friendship, if not their trust.
Myra wasn’t wealthy by any means, but she had a nice house, purchased with the help of the council. It was a three bedroom, two bath cinder-block home just suited to the three of them, and that’s the way it stayed. I rented a small, second story apartment with a small balcony close to downtown and the diner. I optimistically rented on a monthly basis.
Myra and I got to know each other again over the following weeks. I also got to know my D.C. boss a bit better. Charlie was a retired brigadier and had been through hell in ‘Nam. He had round scars on his back and chest where Kalashnikov rounds went cleanly through his body. We’d been through a lot and he knew enough about my behavior to know I sounded happy. He confirmed he could get along without me. Everything else was just fine too, until Lew Lew got back into the picture. For some reason that’s when the feces hit the swamp cooler! It was about two weeks after I hit town.
Chapter 11.
Lew Lew got a warrant to search my apartment, ostensibly looking for contraband. I’d been cleaning up my father’s grave site and was not at my best when I arrived at the apartment and found the La Paz County Sheriff’s Deputy knocking on my door. He showed his warrant, with Lew Lew’s signature, and a judge’s signature, and I let him in. He brought no one else and somehow I found that disturbing. I called Cristal, since Myra was on duty. She was there in about ten minutes. Although the deputy didn’t comment, he didn’t seem to appreciate her presence. It was puzzling! I was worried he would plant something incriminating so I followed him closely. After about 25 minutes of searching he thanked us and left.
Cristal and I looked at each other and without a word or moments’ hesitation, began to search the apartment. We found nothing! I called Lew Lew and could not get past her flunky. So, I did the next most natural man thing; I went to her office and barged in. In the presence of her Para-legal she explained that she’d received some confidential information that I was in illegal possession of Native American artifacts, but also that she could have been misinformed. Although I thought I noticed some change in her demeanor from previous encounters, she did not apologize. I thought it may have been due to the presence of her secretary. I also thought it prudent to talk to Uncle Preston immediately.
At the time, Preston didn’t believe in telephones-they kept people from seeing each other’s eyes when they talked … so I had to drive to his little house to see him. He was thankful for the company and he gave me the chance to take him to Dale’s for a bear claw and coffee. I paid. I asked him why Lew Lew would pull a stunt like that. He asked who the deputy was. I told him who, and he asked me if I thought the man was handsome. I said, “I really don’t look at men that way,” and then I got it.
My expression must have been telling because Preston said, “Lew Lew has been seein’ that white guy for about four months and she thinks no one knows about it.”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit two faced?”
“Not if you’re Lew Lew,” he stated. He briefly flashed a Mona Lisa smile and went on, “She’s been living under a different standard ever since she was a young girl. She’s the daughter of a former elected tribal official who I helped with his election ‘cause we’re kin. You know we kind of have a double standard here on this reservation too. When he was elected he seemed to be a great guy and was all interested in the welfare of the people he was supposed to represent.
“After a while though, he started listening to his wife and used his office to get some concessions for farm land he didn’t deserve and didn’t know how to work. He got elected a couple of times, but finally got found out and found himself without that easy job anymore. He had land, but didn’t know how to honor it. He hired some Mexicans and tried to grow some stuff, but he wouldn’t take anyone’s advice.”
Preston paused to sip coffee and seemed to reflect a bit. Finally he continued “’Bunch of guys, relatives really, tried to help him because they knew what a problem his wife was, but he just wouldn’t listen. Meanwhile, Lew Lew was maturing in that mess listening to all the trash her mother’s side threw his way, and I guess she just decided to do things her own way when she got older. She did great in school, but she wasn’t really an Indian. She got ahead any way she could. She didn’t have much honor though. Still, she ended up comin’ back here after she got her law degree and passed her bar exams. She works for the State and keeps track of Native American development projects on the reservations on this side of the state I think. I hear she does a good job, but she doesn’t go to church and she doesn’t believe in Indian ways at all.”
I had to ask, “Preston, what did you mean when you said there’s a double standard on the reservation?”
“Well, you’d pick up on it after a while, livin’ around Myra, but there are two kinds of government on the Res, on most of them I think, except back East where they’re mostly white now. One bunch is the elected officials (holding up one set of fingers on his left hand to emphasize quotation marks), and the other bunch is the folks who’re granted the honor by way of birth or inheritance. If they’re smart enough I mean.”
“You mean like the old chiefs and medicine men and all that?” I inquired.
“You bet,” he said. “Except each bunch of people who consider themselves part of a tribal lineage has to accept the true inheritance or lineage of the man or woman in charge. That’s usually somebody who’s a leader and has the blood of chiefs in his veins. Now, if this man or woman over here are the grandchildren of Cochise or somebody, but they pick their nose in public and eat Javelina poop, they’ll be tolerated, but not have a whisper in tribal policy. Get it”?
“So ... who has the greater voice in tribal politics?” I asked.
“Well, we don’t like to call it politics, I guess it is in a way, but we think all the people have more of a voice in things than in white politics. To answer your question though, everybody works together and talks about everything important before it’s voted on. There’s hell to pay if something important is done by the elected council without talkin’ to the people. That’s what got Lew Lew’s dad in trouble. He did whatever his wife told him. She had practically no tribal connections except a bit down in Tohono O’odham, so she thought her