mayhem. Instantly, I knew they were up to no good.
Reverend Silver Wolf ran out of the church, his silver braids flying, his Panama hat sliding off of his head. His face was splotched with a bashful blush. In Shoshone, he spoke back to the shaman; hushed and peaceful at first, but louder and louder, louder still, until finally, both old men were yelling at one another. The couple who had just married stood together in consternation, the lovely bride in carnation pink huddling behind her husband.
"Hahaha, they're really going at it!" said Zeke Owns Forty. He was kind enough to explain for me: "The shaman thinks he should perform weddings, not the preacher. He's calling it 'a betrayal to the true way.' "
A sizable crowd had amassed around the church. I saw Reuben Takes Flight with his daughter in his arms, staring blankly; and the identical spook fish eyes of my grandmother's friends that meant nothing short of disapproval.
"He should punch him," said William Sleeping Fox, in a vague, half-conscious kind of voice. "Either one of them. It would be fun."
Small wonder that he and Rafael had been left back for brawling.
The daily feuds continued well into the month. "Don't worry," Stuart Stout told me. "They go through this routine every year." Without fail, the shaman stood outside the church everyday and accosted the couples passing through its doors. Some of them, skittish, ran away. Others, won over by his arguments, followed him out to the badlands for a more traditional wedding. Others still argued right back, providing some seriously impressive cacophony. I'd never known church to be such a place of chaos.
I left the church with Granny on Sunday morning, and sure enough, Shaman Quick was still standing outside. He squinted his eyes at me in a shrewd glare. He was the sort of guy a rattlesnake had reason to fear.
I'd barely taken a step down the dirt road when the shaman stopped me with a raised hand.
Who do you know who is ill? he signed.
Granny looked on, baffled. To be honest, I felt just as confused.
Do you mean Mr. Takes Flight? I signed back. I'd thought everyone on the reservation knew about that. On the other hand, Shaman Quick spent most of his time in the canyons.
"What is going on here?" Granny asked impatiently.
The shaman said something to Granny in Shoshone. Granny tutted with dissatisfaction.
"Well, then," Granny told me, "you had better lead the way."
Lead the way to what? I looked between the two of them and hoped my bewilderment was apparent. Both Granny and the shaman stared at me unhelpfully. I assumed the shaman wanted to see Mr. Takes Flight. Feeling a bit silly, I started the walk to the hospital.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Takes Flight were bemused at our unannounced visit. We exchanged brief pleasantries before the shaman interrupted abruptly. The shaman held his hands above Mr. Takes Flight's bed and spoke to him in Shoshone. I didn't know what he was saying, but it sounded almost like a rebuke. Aubrey showed up in the middle of the visit and gaped. I wanted badly to ask him what was going on, but didn't think it proper to interrupt.
"He said, 'Go home,' " Aubrey told me later. " 'This hospital won't help you, and you'll die with the same wretched heart you were born with.' "
I couldn't believe the shaman would say something so cruel.
Aubrey was withdrawn and morose at dinner that night. The At Dawn twins played the double-skin drum, but he didn't dance. I sat with him and rubbed his back while he glumly sipped orange juice through a straw. Rafael came over and tried to make light conversation. He probably shouldn't have. Small talk was far from his area of expertise.
The music stopped. I looked around to see what was the matter.
Shaman Quick carried a large, square mirror over to the bonfire. Several men rose from their seats
Reverend Silver Wolf ran out of the church, his silver braids flying, his Panama hat sliding off of his head. His face was splotched with a bashful blush. In Shoshone, he spoke back to the shaman; hushed and peaceful at first, but louder and louder, louder still, until finally, both old men were yelling at one another. The couple who had just married stood together in consternation, the lovely bride in carnation pink huddling behind her husband.
"Hahaha, they're really going at it!" said Zeke Owns Forty. He was kind enough to explain for me: "The shaman thinks he should perform weddings, not the preacher. He's calling it 'a betrayal to the true way.' "
A sizable crowd had amassed around the church. I saw Reuben Takes Flight with his daughter in his arms, staring blankly; and the identical spook fish eyes of my grandmother's friends that meant nothing short of disapproval.
"He should punch him," said William Sleeping Fox, in a vague, half-conscious kind of voice. "Either one of them. It would be fun."
Small wonder that he and Rafael had been left back for brawling.
The daily feuds continued well into the month. "Don't worry," Stuart Stout told me. "They go through this routine every year." Without fail, the shaman stood outside the church everyday and accosted the couples passing through its doors. Some of them, skittish, ran away. Others, won over by his arguments, followed him out to the badlands for a more traditional wedding. Others still argued right back, providing some seriously impressive cacophony. I'd never known church to be such a place of chaos.
I left the church with Granny on Sunday morning, and sure enough, Shaman Quick was still standing outside. He squinted his eyes at me in a shrewd glare. He was the sort of guy a rattlesnake had reason to fear.
I'd barely taken a step down the dirt road when the shaman stopped me with a raised hand.
Who do you know who is ill? he signed.
Granny looked on, baffled. To be honest, I felt just as confused.
Do you mean Mr. Takes Flight? I signed back. I'd thought everyone on the reservation knew about that. On the other hand, Shaman Quick spent most of his time in the canyons.
"What is going on here?" Granny asked impatiently.
The shaman said something to Granny in Shoshone. Granny tutted with dissatisfaction.
"Well, then," Granny told me, "you had better lead the way."
Lead the way to what? I looked between the two of them and hoped my bewilderment was apparent. Both Granny and the shaman stared at me unhelpfully. I assumed the shaman wanted to see Mr. Takes Flight. Feeling a bit silly, I started the walk to the hospital.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Takes Flight were bemused at our unannounced visit. We exchanged brief pleasantries before the shaman interrupted abruptly. The shaman held his hands above Mr. Takes Flight's bed and spoke to him in Shoshone. I didn't know what he was saying, but it sounded almost like a rebuke. Aubrey showed up in the middle of the visit and gaped. I wanted badly to ask him what was going on, but didn't think it proper to interrupt.
"He said, 'Go home,' " Aubrey told me later. " 'This hospital won't help you, and you'll die with the same wretched heart you were born with.' "
I couldn't believe the shaman would say something so cruel.
Aubrey was withdrawn and morose at dinner that night. The At Dawn twins played the double-skin drum, but he didn't dance. I sat with him and rubbed his back while he glumly sipped orange juice through a straw. Rafael came over and tried to make light conversation. He probably shouldn't have. Small talk was far from his area of expertise.
The music stopped. I looked around to see what was the matter.
Shaman Quick carried a large, square mirror over to the bonfire. Several men rose from their seats
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