From Here to Paternity

They found the little boys in the game room, which was unfortunate in a way because they'd almost run out of money and Jane had to give them some more; then she and Mel went to the formal dining room, which was nearly empty.

'Is it too late to just have coffee and dessert?' Jane asked the maitre d'.

'Not at all,' he assured them, leading the way to the Cigar Room, where the same young man who had been there the night before was manning the dessert cart. Linda Moose foot was the only other customer, and she'd been talking with him when they entered.

'Dance refugees?' she greeted them. She looked a bit tousled herself and Jane thought she remembered seeing Linda fleetingly at the dance. Apparently off-duty employees were welcome to attend, which made Jane like Tenny and Joanna even more.

'Will you join us?' Mel said.

'Sure.'

They talked for a while about the dance, Linda's schooling, and the resort. The young man with the dessert cart sat down and joined them as well. It turned out he was Thomas Whitewing, Linda's fiance. When they'd finished their dessert, he offered Mel a cigar from a wooden box stamped with the resort's logo, which Mel declined.

'I'd sure like a cigarette,' Jane said. 'Do you have any, Thomas? I bought a pack, but I've lost it somewhere.'

'We don't sell them here, but I've got some. Take a couple,' he said, pulling a nearly full pack from his back pocket.

'Don't buy another gift-shop pack,' Linda said. 'I'll pick up some at the general store for you in the morning. They're only forty-five cents a pack.'

'You're kidding! How can that be?'

Linda smiled. 'One of the benefits of being an Indian. The general store is on the tribe's land. Reservation.' When Jane still looked blank, she said, 'It's federal land. All reservations are. So we're not subject to state laws and taxation. Cheap cigarettes and no sales tax or property tax. Want just a pack or a carton?'

'A carton is tempting, but it's against my own rules to own more than one full pack at a time. I'm quitting, you see,' she added nobly.

'She's been quitting for as long as I've known her,' Mel added.

'I haven't seen HawkHunter around tonight,' Jane said. 'He wasn't hurt seriously in the fight, was he?' She hadn't even realized she was wondering about him until she heard herself inquiring. He must have been quietly batting around in her subconscious for some time.

Linda and her fiance exchanged quick looks; then Linda said, 'Thomas and I don't quite agree about HawkHunter and Little Feather.'

'Oh?' Jane said invitingly.

'I don't much like him. Thomas does.'

'Not unreservedly,' Thomas put in. 'But he is putting some fire and spunk into the tribe.'

'And I think 'fire and spunk' just mean discontent,' Linda said. 'And no, to answer your question, Mrs. Jeffry, HawkHunter's not seriously hurt. But he's refusing to have anything done about replacing his tooth. He's carrying on about that gap in his mouth as if every white man in Colorado had suddenly descended on him at once and pulled out all his teeth with pliers, just because he's an Indian. It's a badge. Proof of prejudice against the whole Indian culture. Blah, blah, blah.'

Thomas smiled at her dotingly. 'Aw, come on, Linda, it wasn't that bad.'

'But, Thomas, it was! And it was stupid. Pete Andrews no more represents all whites than you or I represent all Indians. And HawkHunter had no business bothering him a few hours after his uncle was discovered murdered. Anybody would have been upset in that situation and lashed out in some way at a person who annoyed them. It was rude and disrespectful of HawkHunter.'

Thomas nodded. 'Maybe so. Yeah, you're right about that, but just the same, the tribe's gotten too complacent. Too lazy.'

'Too happy?' Linda asked. 'Except for some of the guests treating us like tourist attractions and staring at us, tell me how you've ever suffered from being an Indian. We both go to good schools on scholarships and grants we wouldn't have otherwise. We didn't earn them. We got them simply by being Indian.'

'Yeah, but haven't you ever seen what happens when our young people go into a store? Security people turn out in droves, just on the assumption that because we're Indians we're going to steal something.'

'Thomas, nowadays that happens when any teenager goes into a store.'

Having scored this point, she stuck her tongue out at him and grinned.

Thomas looked at Mel and shrugged. 'Women,' he said. 'I'll never be able to outtalk one.'

'Oh, Thomas, Thomas, Thomas,' Linda groaned. 'Can't you hear yourself? You're just as prejudiced as any white. But against a sex instead of a race.'

'Linda, it was a joke!' Thomas protested.

'So is the tomahawk chop at football games.'

'No, that's different. That's—'

'Excuse me!' Jane said. 'I didn't mean to start a fight.'

'Fight?' Thomas and Linda said in unison, then laughed at each other.

'This isn't a fight,' Linda went on. 'This is a pleasant chat. We rent the V.F.W. hall and sell tickets when we really have a fight. Anyway, there's one thing we do agree on in all this. Little Feather.'

'Who is that?' Jane asked. 'The woman I saw with HawkHunter in the native costume?'

'Costume is right,' Linda said. 'She's his wife and she's a bitch.'

At this Thomas nodded. 'A professional Indian.'

Jane smiled. 'What does that mean?'

Linda explained. 'She's the daughter of a woman who may or may not be one-quarter Indian and a Vietnam vet, also part Indian, who came home and went quietly crazy someplace in the mountains in California. Little Feather, whose real name is something like Sally Jones, grew up one of those malcontents who had to find somebody to blame for everything that was wrong with her life, so she latched onto being an Indian. All that silly feathers-and-beads getup, the medicine woman mystique. She's just a fraud. And I suspect she makes good money on it along the way. That suede outfit wasn't cheap, and she drives a BMW. Even if it's only a rental, it still costs big bucks.'

'You know a lot about her,' Jane said.

'My cousin Gloria went to school in California with Little Feather's cousin.'

A group of customers entered the room and Thomas Whitewing leaped to his feet to go back into waiter mode. 'We need to walk off dessert, Jane,' Mel said. 'We'll see you around, Linda.'

As they left the dining room, Mel took Jane's arm and said, 'You amaze me. You're the only person I know who can get so completely involved in gossiping about people you don't even know.'

'Oh, Mel,' she said sorrowfully. 'Someday I'll have to explain to you the difference between common gossip and research into the human condition. There's a fine distinction.'

'Sure there is,' he said.

Chapter 19

 

Sunday morning, Jane got up early and prowled around the silent cabin from window to window, watching it snow heavily. She put her boots on and threw a blanket over her nightgown and robe to let Willard out. He didn't enjoy the frigid, blowing snow any more than she did, and they both decided the best plan was to go back to bed. Willard dropped right off, but Jane couldn't get back to sleep. Too many naps, she decided.

Or too many murders on her mind.

After forty-five minutes, she got up again and made herself some hot cocoa. Pulling a chair and an ottoman nearer the glass doors, she settled down with her cocoa and watched the now-diminishing snow. The white cat popped its head up over the railing of the deck. Jane looked around quickly and discovered that Willard hadn't followed her. If he saw the cat and went haywire, he'd wake everybody. The cat sat preening and washing, glancing at Jane every now and then as if for admiration.