You
got that?"
"Sure."
"Well, you can pay my cousin directly, but
you're on your own after that."
"Thanks, officer."
"You're welcome. By the way, what kind of music
you play?"
"All kinds. The blues, mostly."
"Well, good luck."
The
cop started to walk away, but stopped, turned back.
"Hey," he said, "who's the lead
singer?"
Thomas raised his hand and smiled. The cop smiled
back, put his sunglasses on, climbed into his cruiser, and left with
a wave.
"Who the hell was that masked man?" Chess
asked.
"I don't know," junior said. "But if I
find any silver bullets laying around here, l'm going to pass out."
* * *
From The Ellensburg
Tri-Weekly :
Indian Musicians Play More Than Drums
An all-Indian rock band from the Spokane Indian
Reservation played for the cowboys in Toadstools
Tavern last Saturday night, and nobody was injured.
Seriously, the band named Coyote Springs was very
professional and played their music with passion
and pride.
"They knew what they was doing,"
said Toadstools
owner Ernie Lively.
"I was kind of nervous about hiring
Indians and all,"
Lively added. "Worried
they might not show up or
maybe they'd stir
up trouble."
On the contrary, Coyote Springs served up a
healthy
dish of country music, spiced it with
a little bit of rock,
and even threw in a few
old blues tunes for dessert.
"I think the highlight of the night was
when those
Indians sang ‘Mommas, Don't Let
Your Babies Grow
Up to Be Cowboys.' Everybody
sang along with
that one," Lively said.
* * *
The blue van, repaired by an honest mechanic in
Ellensburg and a few stories that Thomas whispered into the engine,
traveled down the mostly empty freeway toward home. Coyote Springs
rode in a silence interrupted only by the sudden rush of a passing
truck or a name whispered by one of those sleeping. Thomas drove the
van, and Chess kept him awake. Checkers, Junior, and Victor slept.
"Why you like freeway driving so much?"
Chess asked. "But don't close your eyes to tell me some story."
"I don't know."
" What do you think?"
" There's a lot of songs out here, I guess. I can
hear them."
"You want me to turn on the radio?" Chess
asked.
" Yeah, but keep it low. We don't want to wake
the van up."
" They all need a lot of beauty sleep, enit?"
Chess turned on the radio. The Black Lodge Singers
still drummed away in the cassette player, but she popped that tape
out and searched for a radio station. She twisted the tuner back and
forth through a short history of American music until she happened
upon Hank Williams.
Hank Williams is a goddamned Spokane Indian! Samuel
Builds-the-Fire shouted in Thomas's memory. Thomas smiled because so
many people visited him in memories.
" Ya-hey," Thomas said. "Leave it
there."
Chess played with the radio until Hank sang true and
clear. Coyote Springs and Hank Williams continued down the freeway,
past a lonely hitchhiker who heard the music through the open
windows. The blue van swept by so quickly all he heard were a few
isolated notes. But he heard enough to make everything weigh a little
more, his shoes, his backpack, his dreams.
The music rose past the hitchhiker up into the sky,
banged into the Big Dipper, and bounced off the bright moon. That's
exactly what happened. The music howled back into the blue van, kept
howling until Coyote Springs became echoes. That's exactly what
happened.
"Thomas," Chess said and wanted to explain
what she heard.
"I know," he said, wide awake, and slowly
drove them all the way back home.
4
Father and Farther
Sometimes, father, you and I
Are like a three-legged horse
Who
can't get across the finish line
No matter
how hard he tries and tries and tries
And
sometimes, father, you and I
Are
like a warrior
Who can only paint half of his
face
While the other half cries and cries and
cries
chorus:
Now can I
ask you, father
If
you know how much farther we need to go?
And
can I ask you, father
If you know how much
farther we have to go?
Father
got that?"
"Sure."
"Well, you can pay my cousin directly, but
you're on your own after that."
"Thanks, officer."
"You're welcome. By the way, what kind of music
you play?"
"All kinds. The blues, mostly."
"Well, good luck."
The
cop started to walk away, but stopped, turned back.
"Hey," he said, "who's the lead
singer?"
Thomas raised his hand and smiled. The cop smiled
back, put his sunglasses on, climbed into his cruiser, and left with
a wave.
"Who the hell was that masked man?" Chess
asked.
"I don't know," junior said. "But if I
find any silver bullets laying around here, l'm going to pass out."
* * *
From The Ellensburg
Tri-Weekly :
Indian Musicians Play More Than Drums
An all-Indian rock band from the Spokane Indian
Reservation played for the cowboys in Toadstools
Tavern last Saturday night, and nobody was injured.
Seriously, the band named Coyote Springs was very
professional and played their music with passion
and pride.
"They knew what they was doing,"
said Toadstools
owner Ernie Lively.
"I was kind of nervous about hiring
Indians and all,"
Lively added. "Worried
they might not show up or
maybe they'd stir
up trouble."
On the contrary, Coyote Springs served up a
healthy
dish of country music, spiced it with
a little bit of rock,
and even threw in a few
old blues tunes for dessert.
"I think the highlight of the night was
when those
Indians sang ‘Mommas, Don't Let
Your Babies Grow
Up to Be Cowboys.' Everybody
sang along with
that one," Lively said.
* * *
The blue van, repaired by an honest mechanic in
Ellensburg and a few stories that Thomas whispered into the engine,
traveled down the mostly empty freeway toward home. Coyote Springs
rode in a silence interrupted only by the sudden rush of a passing
truck or a name whispered by one of those sleeping. Thomas drove the
van, and Chess kept him awake. Checkers, Junior, and Victor slept.
"Why you like freeway driving so much?"
Chess asked. "But don't close your eyes to tell me some story."
"I don't know."
" What do you think?"
" There's a lot of songs out here, I guess. I can
hear them."
"You want me to turn on the radio?" Chess
asked.
" Yeah, but keep it low. We don't want to wake
the van up."
" They all need a lot of beauty sleep, enit?"
Chess turned on the radio. The Black Lodge Singers
still drummed away in the cassette player, but she popped that tape
out and searched for a radio station. She twisted the tuner back and
forth through a short history of American music until she happened
upon Hank Williams.
Hank Williams is a goddamned Spokane Indian! Samuel
Builds-the-Fire shouted in Thomas's memory. Thomas smiled because so
many people visited him in memories.
" Ya-hey," Thomas said. "Leave it
there."
Chess played with the radio until Hank sang true and
clear. Coyote Springs and Hank Williams continued down the freeway,
past a lonely hitchhiker who heard the music through the open
windows. The blue van swept by so quickly all he heard were a few
isolated notes. But he heard enough to make everything weigh a little
more, his shoes, his backpack, his dreams.
The music rose past the hitchhiker up into the sky,
banged into the Big Dipper, and bounced off the bright moon. That's
exactly what happened. The music howled back into the blue van, kept
howling until Coyote Springs became echoes. That's exactly what
happened.
"Thomas," Chess said and wanted to explain
what she heard.
"I know," he said, wide awake, and slowly
drove them all the way back home.
4
Father and Farther
Sometimes, father, you and I
Are like a three-legged horse
Who
can't get across the finish line
No matter
how hard he tries and tries and tries
And
sometimes, father, you and I
Are
like a warrior
Who can only paint half of his
face
While the other half cries and cries and
cries
chorus:
Now can I
ask you, father
If
you know how much farther we need to go?
And
can I ask you, father
If you know how much
farther we have to go?
Father
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