Apologize for the time between this chapter and the last. I've been busy with other matters. Thank you to my readers/reviewers and their valuable feedback. Please note, all guest reviews will be deleted and I am still not receiving any notifications.
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Tuesday morning of the following week, Ross rode up before daylight. I was tucking my work shirt in my dungarees when Joe pushed open my bedroom door.
"You know how to knock?" I snapped.
"Afraid I'll catch you grabbing something with your hand in your pants?" Joe asked, grinning. I had a crude comeback forming in my mind, but Joe was too young for it. Besides, it wasn't worth the energy. I hadn't slept well, had been awake for a few hours listening to the clock tick away all the seconds I should have been sleeping, and my head was heavy, my eyes hot. "Ross is outside. Wants to see you." Joe stood there a moment, waiting. "I think he might wanta apologize, least he seems that way."
"I'll be out in a minute." Joe left and I sat down on my unmade bed, picking up a boot. I wondered if Ross knew Delphine had spent Sunday night on the Ponderosa. Did he also know about the door and how I'd paid for it and hung it? If Ross had been to visit Dell yesterday, he would have noticed the new door and seen the old one at the end of the road waiting for Roger Dilcey, the junk man to pick it up. Dilcey would drive through the streets and collect anything people put out that couldn't be burned. He would haul everything off to his shack and if someone needed anything and didn't have the money or the desire to pay a store or catalogue price, they could visit Dilcey and find what they needed and pay a few pennies. It was enough to keep Dilcey in rotgut whiskey but that was about all as he wore people's discarded clothes and his shack was patched with what he could find.
Ross was standing and holding his horse's reins, examining them as if they were of great interest but he looked up when I opened the front door.
"What brings you out this early?" I walked over. I had no idea whether Ross would curse me and tell me to stay the hell away from Dell, or make amends for his behavior at Sunday dinner. Fortunately, it was the latter.
"Adam," he said, shyly ducking his head, "I'm sorry for what I said Sunday and for making you take Dell home. No guest in anyone's house should behave that way; I shamed my mother's memory. Dell wasn't too pleased with me and I was none too proud of myself. I apologized to her last night and I'm lucky she's so forgiving. I hope you'll accept my apology too."
"Accepted," I said. Ross put out his hand and we shook and he smiled that huge, warm smile and it seemed like the world righted itself.
"Oh, one more thing," Ross said. "I appreciate you putting that new door on Dell's house. I saw what happened to the last one, how a deer tried kickin' it in. I can't imagine that happening but it obviously did and I want to pay you for helping out. How much was the door?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few silver coins.
My first instinct was to decline payment, to say that the money wasn't an issue to me as it was the least I could do for a friend, but instead, I said, "$1.50 and $1.00 for my expertise in hanging it. I'm a bona fide architect now and all my talent and education went into hanging that door."
Ross laughed. I smiled. He picked out three silver dollars and handed them to me. "The extra 4 bits are to help pay for a frame for that piece of fancy paper that states you can now hammer a nail and charge three times more than anyone else for doing it." We laughed again and I rolled the coins in my hand before dropping them in my pocket.
"My first legitimate payment. How about a cup of coffee, boy? It's the least I can offer my first employer." We were on good terms with one another again, comfortable in each other's company.
We sat at the table, drinking coffee, talking about deer and conjecturing whether it had been a young buck or a doe that had damaged Delphine's door when my father came down. He and Ross exchanged stilted pleasantries; my father forgives but not easily. He took his seat at the head and Hoss came down the stairs with his deliberate, heavy step, still yawning and his hair uncombed and unruly. The coffee carafe was passed about among the four of us and then Joe came in, slamming the front door behind him. My father roared, "How many times have I told you not to slam the door?" not actually expecting an answer, and sent Joe to wash his hands. Joe protested that all the bacon would be gone by the time he was finished while Hop Sing came out with a platter of fried slices and another one piled high with scrambled eggs.
Ross stood and excused himself, said he had better be going, hadn't meant to interrupt our breakfast. I wanted to invite him to stay but my father beat me to it.
"Well, thank you, sir, but I ate before I left my place."
Hop Sing frowned, placing the platters down. "Mistah Ross not like Hop Sing's cooking?"
"No, no, I like it fine," Ross said, helpless to defend himself against such an accusation. He looked pleadingly to me but I just shrugged and reached for the bacon. Hoss had already slid half the contents on his plate.
"If you like food, then eat! You eat!" Hop Sing insisted, poking the air in Ross' direction. "More food coming! Toasted bread, quince jam, fried apples. Mistah Ross sit and eat! Too skinny!" My father and I exchanged looks of amusement.
"Yes, sir, Hop Sing. Yes, sir. You don't have to tell me twice!" And Ross sat back down. He practically whispered to me across the table, "No wonder none of you are married. Hop Sing's worse than a wife!" My father, Hoss, and I laughed. And Joe had been right; there was no bacon left when he joined the table.
~ 0 ~
I walked Ross out. I was going to head out to the west pasture and check the stock and also clear out a creek that had become clogged with debris. It seemed a panther might have been taking down a few of the young steer and I was hoping to get it. I paused as Ross checked the cinch before mounting up.
"Adam, since you're going to be standing up for me, I'd like you to join me in a sweat. I need to do one before marrying Dell."
"A sweat? When?" I wasn't sure I wanted to do it. It was an Indian ritual and I didn't know if I was up to it. My stomach tightened.
"Next Friday. I'll have the lodge ready by then, been collecting proper, pliable branches and digging up mother stones. Orson and Nate'll be in town so we won't have anyone to disturb us. It'll be overnight or just a few hours; since you're not used to that sort of thing, you can leave when you want."
In some way, the sweat made sense. I guess Ross wanted to "purify" himself, his spirit, as he would put it for Delphine and their wedding and since I was participating, it made sense he felt I should go through a cleansing process as well. But Ross was only half Indian. Was it that important to him? But who was I to ask or judge? I was anxious about the idea, not really knowing what to expect but Ross had offered me a way out and as long as I could leave when I chose, the idea was acceptable. "Yes, Ross. I'd be proud to join you."
He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Thank you, Adam. Thank you. Just come on out next Friday before dark. And eat light that day but drink a lot of water." I nodded in acknowledgement and Ross mounted up and grinned at me. "And prepare to meet yourself."
Ross rode off and I stood watching him. So, I was going to meet myself in the sweat lodge. I hoped I liked who I met because if I didn't, well, I didn't know what I'd do about it.
~ 0 ~
"So, you tell me the morning of," my father said. He was angry and held his fork with a fist.
"Pa, I don't need your permission. I didn't have to tell you at all, just not come home." I sipped at my coffee, my third cup.
"Adam! I know you think that now…" He looked about the table at Hoss and Joe who were staring at him. My father was livid, not simply annoyed as when Joe slammed the door or put his boots on the table. Hoss, who rarely provoked my father to such anger, looked shaken. "Joe, it's time you leave for school. And don't get in trouble these last two weeks, understand?"
"Yes, sir," Joe said, wiping his mouth before he placed his napkin on the table and left, grabbing his books in their strap off the table and being careful not to slam the door; our father was already in a bad mood thanks to me.
"Hoss," my father said, "go ride partway with him, make sure he makes it all the way there and doesn't stop at the fishing lake."
"Yes sir," Hoss said, shooting me a sympathetic look, and soon it was just my father and me. Even Hop Sing knew better and stayed in the kitchen but there was no clattering of pans or clinking of dishes. That would have interfered with his hearing us as I was sure he was standing just inside the entryway.
"Pa, before you start in…."
"Adam, you have no idea what a sweat lodge is like. And why you'd even want to take part in one is something I can't understand. If you want to sweat, there's a lot of hot work to be done around here."
"Ross asked me to participate since I'm standing up for him. I suppose it's part of the prenuptial ceremony, you know, preparing himself for a new life, to rid himself of any…" My voice drifted off.
"Any what? You really don't know anything about it, do you?"
"Not much. There weren't many Indians at college. But it'll be a new experience for me. Ross said I'll meet myself."
"Meet yourself," my father shook his head in disgust. He tried to pour himself more coffee but only a bit came out of the now-empty carafe. "Damn it all!" He slammed the carafe back on the table. He sat still for a few seconds and then, after calming himself, he continued. "Adam, it's all just Indian mumbo-jumbo! A sweat lodge is just hot! That's all it is! Just hot as hell! You're not an Indian, Adam! Even Ross isn't full Indian! There's no shaman, no medicine man, no one to conduct a proper ritual and if it's not done properly, if the right prayers aren't said…. The whole thing is ridiculous!"
"Maybe only being half-Indian is why it's so important to Ross." Now I was the angry one. "That he wants to share the experience with me means a lot. I'm going to go, Pa, and you can stamp your feet and try to order me not to but I'm a grown man and can make theses decisions for myself." I stood up and tossed my napkin on the table. "I'm going into Carson City to buy some tobacco leaves. A little gift for Ross and the sweat lodge."
And while I buckled on my gun belt and slapped on my hat, my father remained sitting silently at the table. But while I was heading to the barn, I heard the front door open; he had followed me out.
"Adam, wait a moment." He looked about to see if anyone else was around, watching or listening, but all the hands were off on the property. "Be careful during the sweat. Don't smoke any of that rabbit tobacco or some of those other grasses or flowers or…they can have a strange effect, especially when you're sweating that way and…. Adam, sometimes…things like this, ceremonies and such, should only be handled by an experienced…by a shaman."
"A shaman? Pa, you're making more out of this than it is. Stop worrying. I'll be fine. And I'll be careful. I didn't get this old being careless."
"Old. Adam, you don't know old. I just pray one day you will." My father turned and somberly walked back to the house. I stared after him. I wondered if it was simply his love for me that caused his worry, or was it that I was pulling away from his protection and he didn't like it? I had to make my own decisions whether he approved of them or not but he had raised some doubts with me and maybe that was what he wanted to do all along.
~ 0 ~
There was a tobacconist shop in Carson City. The owner, Thomas Carter, hand-rolled cigars from a variety of leaves of one's own choosing. I walked in the shop and was met with a meddling of scents, all the odors of tobaccos from various parts of the world blended. I told him I wanted to purchase some loose tobacco leaves. "Wouldn't you rather have some chew instead or some rolling tobacco?" he asked. "I have some cheroots; they're not too expensive."
"No. I just want a bundle of tobacco leaves." He asked me if I had any particular type of leaf in mind; the price varied greatly depending on the source and the part of the plant. "Just give me middle of the road quality—not the best but not the cheapest either." He went into the back and returned with some leaves on a piece of brown butcher paper which he placed on the counter before me.
"These come from North Carolina. They aren't from the central part of the plant, would be more expensive if they were, but you can see the color is dark and even, and feel the texture." He rubbed a leaf between his thumb and first two fingers. I admitted I didn't know much about tobacco other than enjoying a good cigar on occasion and that the leaves looked fine to me; there was no visible insect damage. He told me leaves like that were chopped up for chew. Mr. Carter stacked the leaves, wrapped them in the paper and tied the bundle with twine but before I left, I thought of my father.
"Give me a tin of good pipe tobacco," I said looking at the shelf with the multi-colored tins, some having images of far-off places. "That tin of Irish Aromatic."
Carter approved of my choice but since the place wasn't bustling, he may have just wanted to make a good sale; the tin was $3.00 alone and the whole purchase ran me five. I did wonder if Carter had sold me the worst tobacco leaves and charged me for the best, but I was ignorant and knew far better than to pretend I knew what I was talking about. Sometimes we just have to trust others.
My father accepted my peace offering, but before I left for Ross', he held me back. "Adam, I wish you wouldn't do this."
"Pa, you sound as if I'm going to rob a bank or something. It's just a sweat lodge."
"And what do you know about a sweat lodge?"
I stammered a bit before I said, "It's a purification process, sweating out…poisons."
"Poisons?" My father sounded skeptical. "Poisons? What poisons do you have? You don't drink or overeat. You rarely even smoke."
"Okay, Pa, what do you know about a sweat lodge that makes you so against it?" I was ready for another wild tale like his one about the petroglyphs and the Paiute ceremony and the evil creatures crouching in the dark.
"It's not what I know about them, Adam, it's what I don't know."
"Oh, now that makes sense," I said, shaking my head.
"I just…you know you hit your head inside that cave, knocked yourself out. You never could say what ran into you."
"It was more than likely nothing except a bat that caused me to step back or some racoon or…Pa, I just tripped myself up and fell. I'm sure that's all that happened. And I'm not going inside the cave so don't worry." That I meant; I wanted to avoid the cave.
"Is that a promise?" He stared at me as he did when I was a child and he suspected me of lying over something.
"This is the silliest…yes, Pa," I said steadily, "It's a promise. I'll be home sometime tomorrow." I scooped up my hat. And as I walked out to my horse, my father stood on the porch and called out that if I wasn't home tomorrow before dark, he was riding out to get me.
~ 0 ~
The sweat lodge wasn't what I expected; I thought that it would be more in line with a tipi with its opening to let smoke escape. But this structure was low, round, and covered with animal skins and blankets, just about anything Ross could find that would serve the purpose. It sat to the side of the house, halfway to the cave. A deep fire pit was outside, smoke rising from it, and a stack of wood and stones were at the ready. I walked over to the pit and saw stones sitting on top of it. An iron fry pan was sitting on the ground. I dismounted and Ross came out of the house and seeing me, he smiled.
"Adam! Wasn't sure you'd show." Ross stood shirtless, only wearing a pair of dungarees. He was barefoot. I remembered his bare feet that morning with the bits of grass stuck to them but pushed it from my mind.
"So, this is it?" I asked, surveying the ersatz sweat lodge. My father would have no worries about this structure.
Ross glanced over at it. "I don't have any buffalo hides or near enough skins so I made do with some added blankets and even used my jacket on one spot. Gotta make do with what you have.
"It's interesting looking, all right—a little like a patchwork quilt."
"If I had one of those, I'd have used it as well!" We laughed and I remembered my gift.
"Oh, I brought you this—hope you can use it. It's a wedding present from the best man" I unbuckled a saddlebag and pulled out the package and handed it to him.
Ross held it to his nose and then smiling again, he popped the twine and unwrapped the paper to reveal the tobacco leaves. "Thanks, Adam. You bet we can both use it. I have sweet grass and some lemon grass for the fire but we can burn some tobacco now too."
"You mean we don't smoke the stuff? I asked for good quality leaves." I remembered what my father had said about avoiding herbs but Ross had said something a few years ago about sweet grass, something about their cleansing ability.
"Oh, yeah. We're sharing a pipe, or what I carved as a pipe, but some tobacco in the fire is an offering to our ancestors and to the heavens; the smoke carries it upward along with our prayers. There's a hole in the center ground of the lodge where we'll put the hot stones—that pan's to carry more in when they cool off some."
I suddenly wanted to walk away from the whole thing but called myself a coward. It was just a sweat lodge, that's all and what kind if coward was I to be afraid of it? So, I took a deep breath. "Well, when do we start?"
"You eat lightly today?" he asked.
"Breakfast and a sandwich when I got home from Carson City."
"Well, put away your horse, strip off your clothes and join me inside. But keep the horse blanket; you'll need it to sit on." He held up the tobacco. "I'll have some chopped and ready for the pipe." Ross turned and went back to the house. I looked about and contemplated the empty bunkhouse and the cave that sat with its gaping maw as if patiently waiting for someone to enter. It may just as well, as far as I was concerned, have written above it, 'Abandon all hope, all ye who enter here,' the words over the entrance to hell. I shivered as a cool breeze blew across my neck.
"C'mon, Scout. Let's get you settled in for the night." And I led him to the barn.
