9. Intertribal

"What is this?" Edward asks as he lifts something large and feather-covered from the box Seth had packed in the trunk. "And are those . . . CDs? Not exactly what I'd expect to see on a traditional dancer."

"But I'm not a traditional dancer," Seth says. "I'm a fancy dancer."

Edward appears puzzled by that. "I thought it was all traditional?" He could probably read the distinction out of Seth's head, but Jasper thinks Edward has been trying to respect the privacy of others more of late -- one of the good changes Bella has wrought in him. Now he looks out over the gym floor below and the cleared area that Leah called the dance arbor. Four large drums sit at the corners, for the four directions, she'd told them. They are big enough for several men to sit around, and look like kettle drums to Jasper's eye except not made of metal. The men in their folding chairs aren't dressed up like the dancers; most wear jeans and t-shirts. Jasper has never been to a pow-wow before so it's all new and strange to him. He, Edward, Leah and Seth sit halfway up the bleachers in the college gymnasium hosting the event, helping Seth don his outfit. There are lots of other people there, but they keep their distance. This is a local affair, and Jasper can't believe they drove all the way from Washington State to attend a pow-wow in Arlington, Texas. Surely there was something closer?

"There are lots of kinds of dances," Leah says now, her voice a little prim as she helps Seth fit on yet another piece of the elaborate outfit. It is made of supple buckskin decorated in blue and gold, red and green with beads of all sizes, bells, feathers and other stitching Jasper can't even identify. "And yeah, those are CDs. They work really well for the bustle center and catch the light. Indians are pretty adaptive, you know."

"Surviving cultures usually are," Jasper observes. "They adapt or they collapse."

"Why, thank you," Leah says, grinning.

Jasper's eyebrow goes up. He'd been speaking in general, not specifically to compliment Indians, but he's amused and nods. Even two weeks ago, Leah would've gone off at length about broken treaties and native survival, but now she can make a dry joke and Jasper can acknowledge it, and neither is angry.

Unlike Seth, Leah doesn't wear anything elaborate, just old jeans and a t-shirt with a symbol that looks like a U.S. Interstate sign that reads, 'Inter-Tribal, American Indian 49.' It's Seth who will compete. "Seth's the talented one in the family," Leah says now. "Dad was a traditional dancer, but Seth learned fancy dancing from Sam." Her voice is steady as she says the name but Jasper can see the dark reds and blues of inner anger braided with sorrow. It's softer when Sam isn't present. She tries, Jasper thinks, but it's hard to be happy for someone else when one is alone and didn't used to be.

Edward is holding one of the big bustles made of feathers and ribbons and pony beads, trying to help Leah get it on Seth's back, but seems to be obstructing more than helping. Neither Leah nor Seth tell him to sit down and watch like Jasper. Edward likes playing "big brother." Physically, he's the youngest of the Cullens, even if chronologically, he's older than Emmett or Rosalie. They all call him little brother anyway. Edward wants to be "older" to someone, and even a werewolf will do.

When Seth is fully decked out, he explains all the pieces for Edward and Jasper. It seems that half of it once belonged to his father, including the bottom bustle which is comprised of real eagle feathers. Seth lets Leah finish his paint, then turns to Edward. "Wanna walk around with me?" Edward shrugs by way of agreement and follows him down the bleachers, out and about the stalls selling everything from jewelry and shirts to shawls and belts. Jasper covers a smile and Leah shakes her head.

"Where is he going? He doesn't like to shop at these things, and we don't know anybody here."

"There are pretty girls here," Jasper drawls. He knows his accent is back in force. It's been growing the closer they've come to Texas.

Leah frowns. "He's not likely to see any of them again."

"Sometimes that's better," Jasper points out. "And speaking of pretty girls, those boys over there are looking at you, darlin'."

She glares at him, not at the boys, one of whom wears an outfit similar to Seth's, although to Jasper's eye they all look the same and vastly different at once, colors and patterns as bright and varied as parrots. The other two boy wear t-shirts and cowboy hats but their long hair says they're native. Only one is anywhere near as dark as Leah. But looking around, he finds it hard to be certain who's Indian and who isn't. There are dancers with black hair and brown, dirty blond and even red. Some have brown skin, some pale tan, and a few appear to be black. There's one stately woman with graying dreads and dark teak skin wearing a beaded tiara and a bright dress. He's seen a lot who look Mexican, and at least one boy at one of the drums has features Jasper would have thought Korean before Indian. "There are a lot of different kinds of Indians," he says, offhand.

Leah shoots him an amused glance. "Well, there are more than 500 tribes in North America alone, never mind South and Central."

He smiles. "I didn't mean different tribes, although I suppose that too. I just meant that I'm used to seeing Indians who look Indian."

"What do you think an Indian looks like?" she asks, curious and half-laughing. "Irene Bedard?"

"Who's Irene Bedard?"

She grins. "Pocahontas."

"Pocahontas?"

"Her voice was Disney's Pocahontas, and they drew the character based on her. She's a pretty well-recognized native actress, by face if not by name, so when people think 'Indian' they're usually thinking Irene Bedard or Adam Beach or Graham Greene because that's the Hollywood native A-list."

Jasper chuckles. 'Well actually, I was thinking of people who look like you and Seth. When I was young -- before -- most Indians did."

She shakes her head. "You're talking about a long time ago, Old Man. I'm a full blood. A lot of the rez Quileute are, but we're getting rarer all the time. And some of us aren't full. Paul didn't get his green eyes from his mom." She's thoughtful a moment. "I expect that's why he's got such a temper -- he feels on the outside. I understand that as the only girl in the pack, even if I'm not a mixed blood. But being one isn't easy, especially not when you live on the rez and most of your friends are 'bloods."

Jasper chews this over. "What did the tribe think of Jacob's interest in Bella then?"

Her smile is tight. "Some weren't happy." He wonders if she's one of them. "But Bella's dad, Charlie -- he's been friends with Billy forever. He practically grew up on the rez himself, even knows a few of our words and has been invited to things outsiders usually don't participate in. So Bella's a special case. Some -- like Billy himself -- would be happy to see Jacob marry her, unite their families. And Billy's an Elder, so he's got some authority. But some wouldn't be. They think the son of an Elder oughta marry red. Others, well, it's hard to find a good red boy. Who's left for us if they all go for white girls? Our tribe's small enough as it is."

Jasper nods. Leah betrayed herself with the 'us.' He both understands and does not, empathizes and is distressed. In a post-reservation world, Indians are a fragmented people struggling to live with the fragments. "You think natives should only marry natives?" he asks. He keeps the query level, not accusatory.

"No," her answer is quick, and she looks down at her hands. "Not really. If Bella really loved Jacob . . . well, like I said, Charlie's practically one of us anyway. Being Indian isn't just about blood, Old Man -- and Bella's not just some white chick he brought home. She's Charlie's daughter. But it's . . . it's how she uses him." Leah blushes and he can smell her blood close to the skin; he moves subtly away -- not because he fears biting her, but because her flush accentuates the scent of werewolf. "I know she's going to be your sister-in-law," Leah continues, "and I know Edward loves her, or thinks he does -- but I don't like how she treats Jacob. That's got nothing to do with the color of her skin except maybe how she takes things for granted because she can. She just assumes he'll be there if she needs him."

Jasper nods and waits for her to continue. He's learned to wait, with Leah. Native politeness pauses to see if the other is really finished speaking; he likes it. But right now, he's also subtly feeling her out, trying to decide if her hostility towards Bella is simple protectiveness or jealousy-driven -- he thinks she might be interested in Jacob herself -- or something else entirely.

After a pause to think, she continues, "I suppose it's . . . well, if I say I don't like Bella, that sounds petty and selfish. But if I say I wish Jacob would marry native, that's pride."

"It could also be called racism." And it's probably ironic for a Confederate soldier to be pointing that out to a colored, but he's struggled for a long time with his own racism and only learned to get past it once he acknowledged he had it. A paradox, but still true. "It's okay to be petty and selfish sometimes, Leah. We all are."

"You're not." It sounds almost accusatory, but also a little admiring.

He laughs. "Oh, yes I am. When Edward first met Bella and started acting cloudy-headed all the time, I just wished he'd bite her and get it over with -- whether to change her or to eat her, I didn't much care. He was endangering us, risking our exposure. I didn't like Bella either, although I also didn't dislike her. I just saw her as a complication."

"Like we saw your family. You complicated everything when you came back -- so many of you."

He nods and holds her eyes with his. "I'm sorry. My people seem to have a habit of doing that to your people." He doesn't mean vampires and werewolves.

She tilts her head. "You mean it," she says, and he can feel her surprise. It is white and gold.

"Of course I do," he says. "I know being sorry doesn't fix anything, and words are just words, but I am sorry."

Her smile is brilliant. "True words aren't 'just' anything, Jasper Whitlock. They have power." He doesn't miss that she uses his real name. Abruptly, she stands, hands thrust into her pockets. "Enough seriousness. Let's go see what my brother and yours are up to, ennit?"

He stands with her, but eyes all their stuff. "Should we just leave this . . . ?"

She points to the blanket she'd earlier laid on the bleachers. "Nobody will bother it. They'll know this seat's taken."

"But Seth's costume -- "

She laughs. "Regalia, Old Man! It's regalia, not a costume! And nobody's gonna touch it. Come on."

By the time they catch up to Seth and Edward, Edward has already purchased jewelry for Bella, Rosalie and Esme, and a (fake) bearclaw necklace for Emmett. "I figured I'd leave Alice to you," he tells Jasper. "But I don't know what to get Carlisle."

"How about a pipe?" Seth suggests. Leah just stares at her brother as if she can't believe he said that. He drops his chin, looking mulish. "Well, Carlisle made the treaty, and enforces it, and he's a healer, too, even if it's white medicine." Leah still stares. "It doesn't have to be ceremonial!"

Jasper glances at Edward, who is frowning, apparently following what they're thinking, not just what they're saying or the irritation Leah is feeling, and Seth's embarrassment. "Maybe it wouldn't be a good idea -- " Edward starts, but abruptly Leah waves a hand.

"No, go ahead. Seth . . . has a point. Carlisle made the treaty and he's kept his word."

None of them add, 'So far' -- or mention Bella. If Edward turns Bella, it will break the treaty. Even if they go away to turn her, and by her own choice, Jasper isn't sure that'll matter. He remembers what Leah said a minute ago about true words having power. Breaking true words went beyond mere legalities -- jots and tiddles. He wonders if they can renegotiate the treaty or make an exception since this will be Bella's choice? If true words are true because of spirit, then they convey meaning not literalism, and shouldn't be imprisoned by those jots and tiddles. Jasper thinks his family will be breaking the treaty if they take Bella away to change her in order not to break the treaty. Better to violate the letter of it in order to maintain its spirit by not avoiding it. It is, he thinks, complicated. But most true things are.

"Buying Dr. Fang a souvenir pipe," Leah says now, "isn't the same thing as making him a pipe carrier. It's not like he's gonna smoke it."

'Dr. Fang'? Jasper suppresses amusement, wondering if Carlisle's heard that one yet. But now he understands her reluctance. Before his reading, he wouldn't have, but to bear a ceremonial pipe is an honoring, one that has to be granted. It's understandable if the wolves would be reluctant to grant it to Carlisle, even now.

Edward looks at her a minute more, then nods, as if satisfied. "Okay, if you don't think it would be . . . offensive."

"Not for this," she says, then her smile turns sly. "Besides, you'll be supporting a native artist. Get the red pipestone. I like it better than black."