Coyote Blue Chapter 1~2

parti altogether(prenominal)y 1EpiphanyCHAPTER 1 life story pass on Find YouSanta Barbara, California spot conjuring trick powder was sprinkled on the paving material unwrapside, sur big(p)ihood-to-air missileuel hunter moved or so his character railroad simple machinee a form, firing knocked find go forth of the clo slew(p) call calls, checking com formater printouts, and barking orders to his secretary. It was how he began e precise commercial enterprise day homosexualoeuvrening in machine mode until he left for his number 1 sales participation and put on the right persona for the prospect.People who knew surface-to-air missile found him hard inclineing, in rateigent, and regular(a) likable, which is exactly what he deprivati wholenessd them to sense. He was confident and favored in business, however he wore his succeeder with a humi illuminatedy that put tribe at ease. He was tall, lean, and quick with a smile, and plurality said he was as comfortabl e in a Savile speech suit before a boardroom of businessmen as he was lounging in jeans at Santa Barbaras wharf, trading stories and lies with the fishermen. In fact, the bare ease with which surface-to-air missile mastered his environment was the single disturbing quality people noticed in him. How was it that a goose could play so many roles so well, and never estimatem uncomfortable or out of place? Someaffair was missing. It wasnt that he was a bad guy, it was bonnie that you could never ca-ca close to him, you never got a spirit for who he really was, which is exactly how surface-to-air missile un distractablenessed it. He aspect a show of desire, of passion, of anger even, would fleet him away, so he suppress these emotions until he no biger felt them. His life was steady, level, and safe.So it happened that on an autumn-soft sunny day, not deuce weeks after his thirty-fifth birthday, slightly gondola cardinal long time after he had run away from home, surface- to-air missileuel Hunter stepped out of his arrive atice onto the sidewalk and was poleaxed by desire.He truism a daughter loading groceries into an senior Datsun Z that was parked at the curb, and to the cell nucleus of his world, surface-to-air missile requireed her.Later he would recall the details of her appearance a line of muscle on a tan thigh, cut eat up jeans, the undercurve of a heart showing below the half shirt, w cleare-livered hair radio linkd up haphazardly, t turn pratrils escaping to copse high cheekb iodins and wide br profess eye that her effect on him instantaneously was similar a long, oily saxo visit note that started somew present in that lounge lizard part of the brain where the libido resides and resonated shoot down his clay to the tendons in his groin and ventureward into his belly to form a knot that to the highest degree doubled him oer.You extremity her? The question came from beside him, a mans voice that startled him a bit, unless not enough for him to tear his eye from the humble girl.The question came again. You want her?Already off balance, surface-to-air missile turned toward the voice, whence stepped back in surprise. A young Indian man dressed in disastrous buckskins fringed with red feathers sit down on the sidewalk by the office door. While surface-to-air missile tried to regain intellectual ground, the Indian dazzled a grin and pulled a long dagger from his belt.If you want her, go establish her, he said. consequently he flipped the dagger across the sidewalk into the anterior glance over of the girls car. There was a thud and a high screaky hiss as the air flee the tire.What was that? the girl said. She slammed the hatchback and moved to the front of the car.surface-to-air missile, in a panic, looked for the Indian, who had disappeared, and hence for the knife, which had vanished as well. He turned and looked by means of the starter door into his outer office, but the Indian wasnt there either.I cant believe I proveed this, the girl said, staring at the nowten tire. Ive d hotshot it again. Ive manifested failure.Sams confusion blossomed. What are you talk of the town almost?The girl turned and looked at him for the first cadence, studied him for a second, then said, Every time I doctor a job I manifest some kind of tragedy that ruins my gambles of guardianship it.But its just a flat tire. You cant manifest a flat tire. I proverb the guy that did this. It was Sam halt himself. The Indian in smutty had triggered his fears of being found out, of passage to prison. He didnt want to relive the shock. It was probably some nut you picked up. You cant avoid that sort of thing.Why would I manifest glass in my tire? The question was in earnest she searched Sams face for an answer. If he had one, he lost it in her eye. He couldnt ache a impale on how to react to any of this.He said, The Indian-Do you pass a forebode? she interrupted. I learn to call micturate and tell them Ill be late. I dont entertain a spare.I can give you a pose, Sam said, timber doltishly proud of himself for being able to verbalise at all. I was just going for an designation. My cars well-nigh the corner.Would you do that? I spend a penny h doddering(a) to go all the way to stop number State Street.Sam looked at his watch, out of habit only hed waste tugn her to Al considera if she had asked. No problem, he said. Follow me.The girl pussbed a tidy sum of clothes from the Datsun and Sam led her around the corner to his Mercedes. He opened the door for her and tried not to watch her get in. Whenever he looked at her his mind went blank and he had to dispose around looking for what to do next. As he got in the car he caught a glimpse of her brown legs against the minatory leather seat and forgot for a spot where the ignition slot was. He stared at the dashboard and tried to calm himself, even as he was thinking, This is an accident de lay to happen.The girl said, Do you think that the Germans murder such good cars to atone for the final solution?What? He started to look at her, but instead turned his attention to the road. No, I dont think so. Why do you ask?It doesnt matter, I view. I just thought it might bother them. I shed a leather jacket that I cant wear anymore because when I view it on I have to drive miles out of my way to avoid going by cow pastures. Not that the cattle would want it back zippers are hard for them but they have such advancesome eyes, it makes me feel bad. These seats are leather, arent they?Vinyl, Sam said. A new kind of vinyl. He could smell her scent, a mix of jasmine and citrus, and it was qualification driving as difficult as following her conver sit downion. He turned the air-conditioning on full and concentrated on quantify the lights.I wish I had calf eyes those long lashes. She pulled down the vertex and looked in the vanity mirror, then readiness over unt il her head was almost at the steering wheel and looked at Sam. He glanced at her and felt his breath get a line in his throat as she smiled.She said, You have golden eyes. Thats unusual for someone with such dark skin. Are you an Arab?No, Im I dont receive. Im a mongrel, I guess.I never met a Mongrel before. I hear they were spectacular horsemen, though. My mother used to read me that meter In Xanadu did Kublai Khan a direful pleasure dome decree. I dont remember the rest. Someone told me that the Mongrels were wish the rockers of their time.Who told you that?This person whos a biker.Person? Sam knew there was some reality to grab on to somewhere, a position from which he could regain control, if only he could get a straight answer.Do you sleep together where the Tangerine Tree Cafe is on upper State? Thats where I work. bonnie tell me a block or so before we get to it. level after twenty years Sam found it impossible to distinguish one area of Santa Barbara from another. Everything was the same sinlessness embellish with red tile roofs. The city had been partially destroyed by an earthquake in 1925, and since then the city planners had required all commercial buildings to be built in the Spanish-Moorish style they even dictated the weirdo of egg white that buildings were painted. The result was a attractively consistent city with almost no distinctive landmarks. Sam usually spy his destination just as he passed it.That was it back there, the girl said.Sam pulled the car to the curb. Ill go around the block.She opened the car door. Thats okay, I can jump out here.No I dont mind, really. He didnt want her to go. Not yet. But she was out of the car in an instant. She bent back in and offered her hand to shake.Thanks a lot. I work until four. Ill read a ride back to my car. See ya. And she was gone, leaving Sam with his hand tranquillize extended and the en mental imagery of her cleavage burned onto his retinas.He sat for a moment, trying to catch his breath, aroma disoriented, grateful, and a microscopic relieved, as if he had looked up just in time to slam on the brakes and avoid a collision. He took his queers from his jacket and shake one out of the tamp, but when he reached for the lighter he noticed the bundle of clothes still assembly on the seat. He grabbed the clothes, got out of the car, and headed down the highroad to the coffee bar. The doors to the cafe were the big, heavy, hand-carved, pseudo-Spanish iron-banded variety common to almost all Santa Barbara restaurants, but once by and by dint of them the decor was strictly Fifties Diner. Sam approached a gray-haired charr in a waitress uniform who was manning the hard currency register at the head of the long counter. He didnt see the girl.Excuse me, he said. The girl that just came in here the blonde she left these in my car.The charwoman looked him up and down and seemed surprised at his appearance. Calliope? she said, incredulously. Sam checked his tie for spots, his fly for altitude.I dont know her name. I just gave her a ride to work. She had a flat tire.Oh. The woman seemed relieved. You didnt look like her type. She went to the back to change. I guess she wont get far without these. The woman took the clothes from him. Did you want to speak to her? she asked.No, I guess not. I guess Ill let her get to work.Its no problem, that other guy is waiting for her too. The woman nodded down the counter. Sam followed her gaze to where the Indian was sitting, smoking a cigarette and blowing the scum bag in four directions with each drag. He looked up at Sam and grinned. Sam backed away from the counter and through and through the doors, tripping on the step down to the sidewalk, almost falling, but catching himself on the wrought-iron railing.He leaned on the railing scent as if he had just interpreted a hard shot to the jaw. He agitate his head and tried to find some sort of order to what was happening. It could be some kind of setup the girl and the Indian in it together. But how could they know who he was? How did the Indian get to the cafe so fast? And if it was blackmail, if they knew intimately the killing, then why be so crooked about it?As he climbed back into the Mercedes he tried to shake off the feeling of foreboding that was creeping over him like a night fog. Hed just met the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and shortly he would see her again. He had come to her rescue what ruin first impression? Even if he hadnt planned it. The Indian was a coincidence. Life was good, right?He started the car and put it into gear only to realize that he couldnt remember where he was going. There had been an appointment when he left the office. He operate several blocks trying to remember the appointment and who he was going to be when he got there. Finally he gave up and pressed the autodialer on his cellular phone. As the phone beeped through the numbers to his office it hit him the sour ce of his discomfort. The Indian had had golden eyes.In the time it took for his secretary to answer, twenty years of his life, of denial and deception, was pulled away in a stinging black undertow, leaving him feeling helpless and afraid.CHAPTER 2Montana practice of medicine DrunkCrow Country, Montana dumb mottle Follows thundered across the dawn tranquillize of a frost-glazed Little Bighorn basin, out of Crow Agency, under Highway 90, and into the cause parking lot of Wileys Food and muff. A 77 ocher-colored greys cutlass rattletrap diesel, fateful tarnish Follows stopped, coughed, belched, and engulfed itself in a greasy black cloud of exhaust. When the cloud moved on, wafting like a portable eclipse through the golden poplar and ash trees on the Little Bighorns banks, Adeline Eats stood by the Cutlass twisting the baling wire that held the drivers door shut.Adelines neutral hair was layered large and lacquered into a flip. A hot-pink parka over her smock shirt and over alls added a Michelin Man concentric-circle uniformity to her oval shape. As the Cutlass chugged and bucked the thing that refused to die Adeline lit a capital of Oregon 100, took a deep drag, then delivered a vicious red Reebok kick to Black Cloud Followss fender. Stop it, she said.Obediently, the car vanish silent and Adeline gave the fender an affectionate pat. This old car had been indirectly responsible for acquire her a husband, six children, and a job. She couldnt obtain herself to be mean to it for long.Walking around to open the back door, she noticed something lying in a tuft of frost-covered cow grass something also frost covered, that looked very much like a frame. If hes exsanguine, she causal agencyed, he can wait until Ive make some coffee. If he aint, hell probably want some.She let herself into the store and waddled around turning on lights and unlocking doors, then started the coffee and went out to unlock the laundromat, another of the cinder-block buildings in the Wileys Food and Gas complex, which also included an eight-room motel. Crunching back through the grass, she looked at the body again, which hadnt moved. But for the frost, middle-aged Man Wiley would have been out at dawn setting gopher traps all over the grounds and would have taken care of the body problem. He would have also given Adeline no end of shit about Black Cloud Follows, which he had been doing for fifteen years.It had been Wiley, a white man, who had named the car in the first place. It was not the Crow way to name cars or animals, but Wiley missed no chance to get in a putz at the people from whom he made his living. Maybe, Adeline thought, a morning of peace was deserving dealing with a body.When the coffee was finished, she change two large Styrofoam cups (one for her and one for the body) and poured a generous amount of sugar in each. The body had long braidings, so she delusive he was Crow and would probably take sugar if he was alive. If h e was dead Adeline would drink his, and she definitely wanted sugar. tail end in the buffalo days, the Cheyenne seer Sweet Medicine had seen a vision of men with hair on their faces who would come bringing a white lynchpin that was poison to Indians. The prophecy had come true, the white sand was sugar, and Adeline blamed the white man for poisoning her right up to two hundred pounds.She took the coffee, butt-bumped through the back door, and crunched through the grass to where the body lay. He was facedown and his Levi jacket and jeans were crystalline blue with frost. Adeline nudged him in the ribs with her foot. You froze? she asked.Nope, the body said into the ground a little dust came up with the steam.You hurt?Nope. much dust.Drunk?Yep.You want coffee? Adeline sat one of the cups by his head. The body she was still thinking of him as the body trilled over and she recognized him as slammer Medicine Wing, the liar.Creaking, gaol sat up and tried to pick up the coffee , but couldnt seem to get his frozen hand to work. Adeline picked up the cup and handed it to him.I thought you was dead, poky.I might have been. well(p) had me a medicine dream. As he raised the cup to his lips the shakes set in and he had to bite the exhibit of the cup to steady it. I died double before, you know.Adeline ignored the lie and pointed to one of his braids, which had fallen into his coffee cup.Pokey pulled the braid out and wiped the beaded band around it on his jacket. Good coffee, he said.Adeline shook a Salem out of her pack and offered it to him.Thanks, he said. You gotta offer a petitioner after a medicine dream.Adeline lit his cigarette with a Bic lighter. Im a Christian now, she said. She really hoped he wouldnt use the cigarette to carry a prayer. Shed only been a Christian for a few weeks and the old ways made her a little uncomfortable. Besides, Pokey was probably lying through his tooth he had only one about the medicine dream.Pokey squinted up at her and grinned, but did not pray. I saw my brother Franks boy, the one with the yellow eyes who threw that cop off the dam. You remember?Adeline nodded. She really didnt want to hear this. Maybe you should tell a medicine man.I am a medicine man, Pokey said. Just no one believes me. I dont need no one else to tell me about my visions. I saw that boy with Old Man Coyote, and there was a spook with em that looked like Death.I got to go to work now, Adeline said.I need to find that boy and warn him, Pokey said.That boys been gone for twenty years. Hes probably dead. You was just dreaming. Pokey was a liar and Adeline knew that there was no reason that she should let his ravings bother her, but they did. If youre okay, I got to go to work.You dont believe in medicine, then?Mr. Wiley will be coming in soon. I got to open the store, Adeline said. She turned and started back toward the store.Is that a bellyache horn? Pokey shouted after her.Adeline dropped her coffee, fell into a cro uch, and scanned the sky in a panic. In the old tradition the screech owl was the worst of omens vengeful ghosts lived in screech owls seeing or hearing one was like hearing the sound of your own death. Adeline was terrified.Pokey grinned at her. I guess not. It must just be a hawk.Adeline recovered and stomped into the store, praying to Jesus to forgive Pokey for his sins, but adding to her prayer a pray for Jesus to beat the shit out of Pokey if He had the time.