child did not ask about this. It made sense to her. She was going to ask Coyote why she slept at night and waked in the day like humans, instead of the other way round like coyotes, but when she framed the question in her mind she saw at once that night is when you sleep and day when you're awake; that made sense too. But one question she did ask, one hot day when they were lying around slapping fleas.
"I don't understand why you all look like people," she said.
"We are people."
"I mean, people like me, humans."
"Resemblance is in the eye," Coyote said. "How is that lousy eye, by the way?"
"It's fine. But -- like you wear clothes -- and live in houses -- with fires and stuff -- "
"That's what you think... If that loudmouth Jay hadn't horned in, I could have done a really good job."
The child was quite used to Coyote's disinclination to stick to any one subject, and to her boasting. Coyote was like a lot of kids she knew, in some respects. Not in others.
"You mean what I'm seeing isn't true? Isn't real -- like on TV, or something? "
"No," Coyote said. "Hey, that's a tick on your collar." She reached over, flicked the tick off, picked it up on one finger, bit it, and spat out the bits.
"Yecch!" the child said. "So?"
"So, to me you're basically greyish yellow and run on four legs. To that lot -- " she waved disdainfully at the warren of little houses next down the hill -- "you hop around twitching your nose all the time. To Hawk, you're
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an egg, or maybe getting pinfeathers. See? It just depends on how you look at things. There are only two kinds of people."
"Humans and animals?"
"No. The kind of people who say, There are two kinds of people' and the kind of people who don't" Coyote cracked up, pounding her thigh and yelling with delight at her joke. The child didn't get it, and waited.
"OK," Coyote said. "There's the first people, and then the others. That's the two kinds."
"The first people are — ?" "Us, the animals... and things. All the old ones. You know. And you pups, kids, fledglings. All first people."
"And the -- others?"
"Them," Coyote said. "You know. The others. The new people. The ones who came." Her fine, hard face had gone serious, rather formidable. She glanced directly, as she seldom did, at the child, a brief gold sharpness. "We were here," she said. "We were always here. We are always here. Where we are is here. But it's their country now. They're running it... Shit, even I did better!"
The child pondered and offered a word she had used to hear a good deal: "They're illegal immigrants."
"Illegal!" Coyote said, mocking, sneering. "Illegal is a sick bird.
What the fuck's illegal mean? You want a code of justice from a coyote? Grow up, kid!"
"I don't want to."
"You don't want to grow up?"
"IH be the other kind if I do."
"Yeah. So," Coyote said, and shrugged. "That's life." She got up and went around the house, and the child heard her pissing in the back yard.
A lot of things were hard to take about Coyote as a mother. When her boyfriends came to visit, the child learned to go stay with Chipmunk or the Rabbits for the
Won't You Come Out TonightA 33
night, because Coyote and her friend wouldn't even wait to get on the bed but would start doing that right on the floor or even out in the yard. A couple of times Coyote came back late from hunting with a friend, and the child had to lie up against the wall in the same bed and hear and feel them doing that right next to her. It was something like fighting and something like dancing, with a beat to it, and she didn't mind too much except that it made it hard to stay asleep.
Once she woke up and one of Coyote's friends was stroking her stomach in a creepy way. She didn't know what to do, but Coyote woke up and realized what he was doing bit him hard, and kicked him out of bed. He spent the night on the floor, and apologized next morning -- "Aw, hell, Ki, I forgot the kid was there, I thought it was you -- "
Coyote, unappeased, yelled, "You think I don't got any standards? You think I'd let some coyote rape a kid in my bed?" She kicked him out of the house, and grumbled about him all day. But a while later he spent the night again, and he and Coyote did that three or four times.
Another thing that was embarrassing was the way Coyote peed anywhere, taking her pants down in public. But most people here didn't seem to care. The thing that worried the child most, maybe, was when Coyote did number two anywhere and then turned around and talked to it That seemed so awful. As if Coyote was -- the way she often seemed, but really wasn't -- crazy.
The child gathered up all the old dry turds from around the house one day while Coyote was having a nap, and buried them in a sandy place near where she and Bobcat and some of the other people generally went and did and buried their number twos.
Coyote woke up, came lounging out of Bide-A-Wee, rubbing her hands through her thick, fair, greyish hair and yawning, looked all around once with those narrow eyes,
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and said, "Hey! Where are they?" Then she shouted, "Where are you?
Where are you?"
And a faint, muffled chorus came from over in the sandy draw, "Mommy! Mommy! We're here! "
Coyote trotted over, squatted down, raked out every turd, and talked with them for a long time. When she came back she said nothing, but the child, redfaced and heart pounding, said, "I'm sorry I did that"
"It's just easier when they're all around close by," Coyote said, washing her hands (despite the filth of her house, she kept herself quite clean, in her own fashion.)
"I kept stepping on them," the child said, trying to justify her deed.
"Poor little shits," said Coyote, practicing dance-steps.
"Coyote," the child said timidly. "Did you ever have any children? I mean real pups? "
"Did I? Did I have children? Litters! That one that tried feeling you up, you know? that was my son. Pick of the litter... Listen, Gal. Have daughters. When you have anything, have daughters. At least they clear out"
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The child thought of herself as Gal, but also sometimes as Myra. So far as she knew, she was the only person in town who had two names. She had to think about that, and about what Coyote had said about the two kinds of people; she had to think about where she belonged. Some persons in town made it clear that as far as they were concerned she didn't and never would belong there. Hawk's furious stare burned through her; the Skunk children made audible remarks about what she smelled like. And though White-foot and Chipmunk and their families were kind, it was the generosity of big families, where one more or less simply
Won't You Come Out TbnightA.35
doesn't count If one of them, or Cottontail, or Jackrabbit, had come upon her in the desert lying lost and half-blind, would they have stayed with her, like Coyote? That was Coyote's craziness, what they called her craziness. She wasn't afraid. She went between the two kinds of people, she crossed over. Buck and Doe and their beautiful children weren't really afraid, because they lived so constantly in danger. The Rattler
