Thursday

CHAPTER 2

 

Wisps of vapor burned off of low vegetation along the pavement’s edge as the early morning sun warmed the cold asphalt. Will drank coffee from his Thermos cup while seated next to Hank, who drove the narrow two lane highway at 70 miles per hour in his old pickup truck. Hank mumbled, “Dad’s teaching Angela and Leah stuff.” 

Will sat quietly waiting for Hank to continue but he didn’t. He just watched the road intently as he drove.  Will slowly asked, “What sort of stuff, Hank?”

Hank was startled. “What?”

“What sorts of things is Old Wolf teaching Angela and Leah?”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Uh huh.” The two men again sat silent for a minute before Will again pressed. “What is Old Wolf teaching them?”

“All kinds of stuff, I guess. Angela seems to know a lot about some stuff, as much as I know, anyway. She talks to me about things like I should know what she’s saying. Sometimes, though, I don’t.” Hank often pulled subjects out of the air. He spoke continuations of his thoughts. “She asked me the other day about Osiahapahnu--said she thought he had something to do with Tap Neh Apahnu, and asked me if I could fill in the blanks. She said Dad told her that stuff.”

            “Tap Knee A-who?”  Will’s aspect was that of restrained mirth. He would often make fun of things that he didn’t understand, employing his sense of subtle, dry humor. He had long battled with himself trying to stop being such an uninformed cynic, but it often crept out before he was able to stop himself. Looking at Hank with an affected solemn expression, he spoke, “Yeah, she talks to me about that stuff too, says I contracted Pahnu somehow.”  

            Hank remained composed, not willing to fall prey to his friend’s setup. He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then he took the bait. “Contracted? You mean like a disease?”

“Yeah, something like that. I think it’s an Indian thing, some sort of Indian spiritual stuff, right?”

“You don’t make any sense, Will.”

“Well, whatever. I got it. Angela says so,” answered Will with self-assurance. He waited, hoping Hank would engage him farther. When the silence began to undo his timing, he again pressed. “What is it?”

“What is what?”

“Pahnu or whatever, what is it?”

“Thought you said Angela told you.”

“She said I had it, didn’t say what it was.” Will again reached for Hank’s Thermos bottle. He poured coffee into Hank’s old dirty coffee cup that rested on the dashboard, and then topped off his own. He lifted Hanks cup and nudged his friend’s arm.

Hank took the cup and took a sip. “Thanks.”

“Well?” said Will after another brief silence.

“Well what? I said thanks.”

“Not that, Pocahontas. Pahnu--what is it?”

“Oh I see the coffee was a bribe?” said Hank. “Might not be enough. What else you got?”

“I s’pose I maybe could give you a little kiss, maybe. But that would make me sort of a whore wouldn’t it?” The situation was more comfortable now that Hank was playing along.

              Hank glared. “You don’t want to do that, Will.” His eyes narrowed to slits. “You wouldn’t like it.” He sipped his coffee, and then continued, “Pahnu?” Again he looked at Will, weighing his response and considering the consequences of delivery, “She thinks you have a guardian guide or spiritual power from Tap Neh Apahnu.”

“What?”

              “Pahnu, dummy, you asked about Pahnu. Tap Neh Apahnu is like . . . like God, I guess.” English definition was failing him. He hadn’t spoken of Tap Neh Apahnu to anyone but his father, Old Wolf and certain older members of his tribe years ago. He lapsed into the tongue of his childhood and mumbled, “Da`bai makua.” He sat quietly for a moment, trying to think of how to explain to Will.

Will was aware of his friend’s seriousness and became worried that if he pressed Hank again, or joked at the wrong instant, he might not get the information he wanted. But after a minute, he couldn’t help himself. “Don’t really know what that is either, Hank, what you just said there.” Will’s voice was low, and he spoke slowly.

“OK, Will, it’s like this.” Hank cleared his throat. “A long time ago, there were some young men who went off on their own. The tribe did not send them, they just left. When they returned, they claimed to have seen things.” Again there was silence. Hank seemed to be deep in thought.

“What things, Hank? Am I playing twenty questions here? Why can’t you just tell me?” insisted Will.

“Thought I was.” Being ordered to explain irritated Hank.

              Will realized that he had to back off or Hank would stop talking altogether. “I'm sorry, Hank.”

Hank smiled with a hint of satisfaction and continued, “Some stuff they said made certain important members of the tribe angry. These young men claimed to have experienced Puha together. They all told the same story. The tribe decided that they should be banished. These men went to live up on Marble Mountain with their women, on the flats off the trail up there.

“In the season when the tribe returned from the south, they always expected these men to be gone or dead, but they lived up there just fine, year round. Dad says their Puha brought game through the winters. Sometimes people would go up to them to learn the things they had seen, but people always went up in secret, not wanting nobody to know what they were doin’.”

“Did they write that stuff on the rocks up there?” asked Will.

“Dad thinks so, yeah. They held to their strange story, the things that the beings of their Puha had told them. A small number of my people have kept the story. My dad is about the last one who knows it. The story is about two medicines struggling for control over people. It’s why Dad has worked all his life to buy that land around the lake. He wanted to keep the sacred ground. The tribe don’t care at all about it.”

“Hank, what’s Puha?”

              “No one disputes that, just what these men said about it. My people go on vision quests as boys and come back as men after receiving Puha in vision; it might be a bear, a wolf or anything, even a bird. Puha becomes your companion throughout your life. You never hunt your Puha for food, but it helps you hunt and brings game to you.

“How about you Hank, you got a Puha?”

“It’s none of your business, Will.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s just a personal thing, Will, that’s all I meant.” Hank took a sip of coffee, and then continued, “These young men claimed that their Puha was a bear, a big grizzly standing quietly on all fours. It’s a good thing that the bear was not standing on its hind legs, dancing. That’s a bad thing. And they said men were there with the bear and these men talked to them. They told them, ‘Beware of others who are coming.’ They said to not be fooled, because they would be untrue.

“Then later, when white men came preaching to us and making us speak English, it sounded to some a lot like the old stories of these men from long ago, except the god in Christianity was angry with my people. At least in the old stories of Pahnu, Tap Neh Apahnu wasn’t mad at us, so most of my people didn’t listen to missionaries much. And the ones who knew the story of these men on Marble Mountain figured the white men were the ones coming, like they had said.”

              Hank’s voice lowered. Will leaned closer to hear. “Knowledge comes from the teachings of the old men. It is understood because we are blood. I mean, understanding comes easy through our generations.” Hank sipped more coffee. “The old ones teach but it is like we really already knew it when we first hear it. My father is the last of the old men who knows these stories. I know some, but they are mostly lost now. It’s funny that Old Wolf tells Angela about them. I doubt she understands so well. Daiboo’,” said Hank with an indignant tone, “there’s no . . . Tsuqupe` deesua-,” Again he fell silent. He looked at Will as if Will should know what he had just said and would be in agreement. Will just shrugged his shoulders and looked confused.

Hank didn’t wait for him to ask. “Tsuqupe` deesua--old men. White men don’t have any teachers. You have old men, but no one listens to them. And it doesn’t matter anyway because they don’t know anything. Now we are becoming like you. Our old men and old women still tell us, but no one listens to them. We have become like you.” Hank relaxed his grip on the steering wheel. He hadn't realized how tense he had become trying to explain things to his friend.

“OK Will, it’s like this: Tap Neh Apahnu watches. People don’t mind if Tap Neh Apahnu watches because they don’t give him any thought really. So they don’t find ‘im because they don’t look, no one asks. He’s there but no one knows it and no one cares. Tap Neh Apahnu grants wisdom, power and protection to them that searches for it. To them that feels a need.

“So, you see, you probably don’t have Pahnu. Did you ever have a vision? No, you didn’t. Did Pahnu come to you in a dream? No. You have never gone on a vision quest and you don’t even understand Puha. Angela just felt sorry for you. She was tryin’ to be nice, I think, saying you have Pahnu like that. I think it is funny how she knows, though. Dad is telling her and little Leah about things that no one believes anymore.”

“Except your tribe. Right?”

“No, my people don’t believe it neither. Mostly no one has ever heard of it except the old people who say it’s bad and wrong. It's considered untrue even today, maybe especially today. No one ever talks about it.”

              Hank's truck radio was turned on but it wasn't tuned to a station. It emitted a low level white noise that was all but drowned out by the whine of the truck tires and the breeze whistling steadily through the truck’s worn window seals. After several minutes of deep deliberation, trying to get his mind around the things that Hank had just told him, Will shrugged dismissively and said, “You don’t really believe all that stuff, do you, Hank?”

“Will, you are a prejudiced man. Don’t even ask me nothin’ no more. Why do I bother with you?” Hank looked out the side window, hurt, a disgusted, angry expression on his face.

“Because you love me,” Will spoke softly.

“No, I don’t.” Hank shook his head deliberately, looking quickly at Will.

Will was painfully aware that he had again offended his friend, and kidding around wasn’t going to help the situation. “I didn’t mean it, Hank; I’m sorry.”

“Yes, you did too. You’re not sorry,” said Hank quietly.

Will looked at Hank sheepishly and cautiously asked, “Can I ask you something else?”

“No, don’t ask me nothin’ no more.”

Will ignored the statement. He needed to understand what was being taught to his wife and daughter. “Leah was talking about protectors yesterday when they came home from Old Wolf’s cabin.”

Hank looked at Will incredulously. “Protectors?”

“Yeah, protectors. Leah said Old Wolf told her she had a protector, sort of like a guardian angel, Indian style.”

              Hank was thoughtful as he shook his head in resigned futility. “Will, I just told you. That’s Pahnu. You think it’s all ridiculous anyway, so why are you asking me about it?” Hank’s better judgment was screaming for him to keep silent, to not be drawn in again, but he couldn't stop. “OK, Will, look here: Dad thinks that this Osiahapahnu that Angela dreams about is real. He thinks when Angela dreams, Osiahapahnu comes and gives her answers to things that are important for her. That’s Pahnu. It's these people who come and talk with us. The animal we see in vision quest is Puha. Got it?”

“Yeah, but how does she contact him? The Pahnu, I mean? Do you shake rattles and do a dance or something?” Again Will’s comment was cutting, but there was a quality of desperation in his tone. It surprised him and he shrank, hoping Hank hadn’t caught it.

Hank had caught it, and he looked at Will with amused understanding. “Well now,” Hank smiled. He had the upper hand again. “It’s simple enough; even little Leah understands it. Maybe she will explain it to you so you can, too. Maybe if she explains real slow.”

                                                            .

              Will chuckled and shook his head. It seemed to him that only days had passed instead of decades since he and his best friend had had this conversation on their way to work that day long ago.

            “What’s so funny, old man?” said Angela. “It’s a good thing we live up here. The way you’re always talking and giggling to yourself, most people would have put you away a long time ago.” She closed her eyes and spoke tiredly. “So you’d just better be good to me. You never know when I might come to my senses about you.”

Will answered quietly. “I just was thinking. That’s all, Anj. Remembering when Hank first told me about Tap Neh Apahnu.”

Angela opened her eyes and looked at her husband. “That was a long time ago, Will.” She fell silent for a minute, and then gently, she probed, “It took you a long time to believe. Do you still talk to him?”

Will raised his eyebrows. A touch of red came to his cheeks. This subject was the only one that made Will feel shy around his wife. It was deeply personal for him. He deflected, “Do you, Anj?”

“Yes,” she whispered, “and Osiahapahnu still comes to me when I dream.”

Will smiled and nodded approvingly.

The gas lamp on the kitchen wall of the Banner cabin burned dimly. Long shadows mixed with soft yellow light danced in the living area of the open main floor. When the light flickered the shadows contracted, then, just as suddenly stretched to exaggerated length. In the corner of the room, behind smoky glass, fire crackled in a woodstove, providing accompaniment to the shadow dance and penetrating warmth that can only come from wood heat. A thin haze hung in the upper atmosphere of the high room’s log structure. The bedroom loft extended halfway into the vaulted area, directly above the position of Angela’s daybed. Snaps of pitch exploding in the stove sent fragrant pine perfume into the living area.

                Full daylight would reveal a complete view of Marble Lake from the kitchen's east window. The west wall, consisting mostly of modestly draperied glass, held two center panels which egressed to a large pine deck. Beyond the deck was a meadow of tall grass. To the north of this meadow was forest, and beyond the grasses to the west of the cabin, the terrain was dotted with boulders and patches of sage. The ground sloped up from this point and formed the ridge that semi-circled the lake valley.

Will Banner smiled at his wife Angela, stroking her hair as she lay on the daybed in the great room. He sat next to her on a stool. “Doc Sally would have you feeling fit in no time, Anj, if you’d just let me take you to town.”

              Angela reaffirmed her intention to persevere, free of medical assistance. “I don’t want to go into Big Knife, Will. If you put me in St. Michael’s, they’ll never let me out. I’ll die there. That’s what old people do in hospitals--die. Do you really believe they’d allow you to bring me back up here home? They’d probably stick me in that god forsaken old folks’ center they’ve got down there.” She narrowed her eyes, boring into her husband’s. “Are you wantin' rid of me?”

Will’s attention had drifted. He stared at the large family portrait that hung on the south wall of the great room in a rough pine frame. The photo, taken twenty-three years earlier, revealed a dark haired version of himself sporting gray temples. He was leaning forward to lessen his height as he smiled for the camera from over his wife’s right shoulder. Angela, posed sitting sideways, her head turned toward the photographer, smiled her closed-lipped smile, and seventeen year old Leah sat directly in front of and below her mother, beaming. The photo was taken the last year that Leah had lived at the lake.

“Hey, where’d you go? Are you listening to me?” demanded Angela.  

              Will trembled a single, subtle jerk. He looked down at Angela, as if just discovering her lying there. His eyes refocused and he was back. “Huh?”

“What did I just say?”

“You said you think you’re pregnant.”

“Will!” she said, looking away and feigning exasperation.

“No doctor? How about a medicine man?” Will became animated. “I know the best in all Big Knife Valley. I could send up smoke signals to Hank. Hank, the Medicine Man.” Will’s face expressed pride. Staring into the distance, he slowly enunciated the last words, left eyebrow raised.

“You’d probably get it wrong and send up ‘spank the medicine man’ and I’d have to explain to Hank that you aren’t stupid really, just no good at spelling with smoke.” Angela’s mouth turned up at the right corner, smiling as she spoke softly.

“Yes, that's true,” said Will, his gaze again fixed on something distant, his face frozen in a pleased expression.

Angela laughed. “What are you talking about?” She closed her eyes slowly. “Will, honey, my eyes are so hot. I wonder if Hank has something for dry eyes.”

Will chuckled quietly, “Hank.”