Chapter 35

We flew back to Burnside North, Arizona. When I did my periodic mental check-in with all my friends, I got a bad feeling about Wild Mustang. He was mentally disjointed. I raised Bright Sunrise and scanned her. She was his granddaughter and the named successor to his position as Tribal Medicine Man. Her memories revealed that Wild Mustang was physically fine, but his mind seemed to be ‘with the Great Spirit’ most of the time.

Rock was a grandson of Wild Mustang, too, but not in the same way as Bright Sunshine. Don’t ask. It seemed that Wild Mustang, who never married, had a wide range of sexual partners over his life, or that he named every young person a granddaughter or grandson. I, for example, was a ‘granddaughter’ of his – even though there was no blood relationship. Personally, I think it was a combination of both theories. He was everybody’s grandfather spiritually, and he was undoubtedly a virile young Medicine Man in his younger days, which may have accounted for the biological component. It really didn’t matter.

When Rock, Bear, and I got to Wild Mustang’s place there was a buckskin horse tied to the rail – no saddle, and only a very loose, bitless bridle. There was a change inside: there were now two recliners facing the leather couch, instead of just the one. The two recliners held two old Navajo men: Wild Mustang and Tall Feather. I noticed a small blue lizard sitting on top of the TV. It was so still that, at first glance, one might have thought it was a statue. When I came in, it turned its head to look at me for a long second, then went back to looking at Wild Mustang.

Tall Feather likewise turned to look at me, then said something in Navajo. By now, I understood enough Navajo to understand that he said, “White Owl is here. I’ll be back later.”

He got a “Arrunhg” from the old Medicine Man.

Tall Feather said, “It is a good day, today.” He nodded to me, and then toward Wild Mustang.

Tall Feather slowly walked to the buckskin tied to the rail outside, untied the reins from the rail that looked as old and worn as the old man, and slung himself to the back of the horse. He patted the buckskin and said in Navajo, “Home, Buster.” Without any sign from the rider, Buster backed away from the rail and turned to walk down the road. He broke into a ground-eating lope and the two looked like one animal going down the road. Then the horse broke right and headed off to the north.

I turned back in time to see Dove come out of the kitchen with a pitcher of lemonade and three glasses. “Hi, Rock.” She smiled and for the first time, I wondered at the relationship between the two. He got up to take the glasses from her and placed them on the table at the side of the couch. Then he gave Dove a big hug.

“Good to see you again, little bird,” he said to her.

“And you, Painted Rock. Hi, Lexi. Hi, Sun Bear. Granddad? Do you want some more lemonade?”

“Arrugh,” was the only reply. She filled his mug, and I heard the ice clink.

“Can I get you anything?”

He waved his hand. That apparently meant ‘no.’ She put the pitcher near our glasses, and went back to her place at the long conference table that was sometimes used as a dining table. Dove was now an attractive mature woman. She never married, having devoted her life to her ‘granddad,’ the Medicine Man.

I turned my attention to the old man in the recliner, and touched his mind. He mumbled at me, and I picked up his meaning only by my link to his mind.

“Yes,” I answered out loud, “I’m here with your grandson, Painted Rock. Do you remember when we met at the smokehouse and you had him dress in just a loin cloth. I think you were trying to make a match, even then.”

I patched my mental talk over to Bear and Rock, so they could follow along.

“Grumph na?” Which I translated from his mind as ‘It worked, didn’t it?’

He mumbled a longer sentence. ‘You will do well as caretaker for all the People. But you must make changes.’

“I will, grandfather. I will, if I can.”

There was a long pause, and I saw the Gecko on the TV shift it’s gaze to me.

‘No,’ thought the Medicine Man, ‘you must.’

Then his memories lapsed into a negotiation with Governor George W. P. Hunt, a man who was elected to four terms as governor – NOT continuously. The negotiations took place in 1932, and Wild Mustang was on the team headed by Tribal Chief Red Cloud, his older brother. They were negotiating with old man Hunt, in an election year. They wanted to get the women of the tribe eligible to vote, and they wielded the big club, in Arizona, of the Navajo vote in the 1930s.

I hope they won this time, too.

We stayed around and had some veggies and ranch dip – a poor excuse for elevenses but what can you do? Then one at a time Bear, then I, and finally Rock went over, gave the old man a hug and said good bye. This time, I knew it was a final good bye.