Picturing that image in my head, I saunter down to where the horse is now being led toward a gate.
“You sure you want to do this, White Boy?” Thom, at least, has a look of concern on his face. Billy’s just grinning widely.
“Said I would, didn’t I?” Without hesitation, as though I’ve been rodeo riding all my life, I take the rope of the halter, then lead the horse the final few steps to the gate. Climbing the rails, Isit on top, then in one smooth movement, lower myself down gently, and quickly have myself on the back of the horse.
A split second’s warning is all I get before the beast takes off, bucking and broncing across the corral. The space isn’t large, obviously not big enough for the mustang’s liking. Aware of horrified exclamations behind me, before I know it we’ve jumped the fence and are galloping out over the reservation.
I’ve no saddle, I’m just using my balance, having nothing to grab but that long mane for support. Tugging on the rope attached to the halter does nothing to slow the speed. There are moments when I can enjoy the rush of air through my hair, interspersed with longer intervals of sheer panic, knowing it’s today I’m going to die.
I tug again, at least I’m turning his head, now we’re heading back the way we came at speeds I’ve never gone, when suddenly the mustang gives an enormous buck. As its rear heels come up over its head I’m heading in the same direction, somersaulting through the air, landing with a crash on my back, knocking the wind out of me.
“You alright?” Billy’s voice seems to come from far away. “Fuck, Thom. Go and get help…”
“I’m fine,” I gasp on the whoosh of air leaving my lungs. “What about the horse?”
Billy puts his arm around me and helps me sit up. He does that thing all Navajo do, instead of pointing with his finger, he pouts his lips and I follow the direction he turns his face in. The fucking horse is grazing only a few yards away. At least it’s not galloping across the plains with a rope that could get trapped around its feet.
Surprisingly Billy puts out his fist, I bump it with mine. “You can ride, White Boy.”
Thom’s shaking his head. “Lost the bet. Didn’t even think you had the nerve to get on.”
I know I’ll feel the bruises later, but for now I’m grateful to be alive. For a moment, I thought I was dead.
I might not have broken the horse, but that day caused the first crack in the defences I’d put up between me and those I eventually came to see as my brethren. It also resulted in a warming of them to me.Something in common.Perhaps the ‘white’ boy wasn’t so useless after all. Soon after I began kicking a football around with them, then was selected for the team.
As winter turned into spring, spring to summer and autumn came around once again, I began to feel this was my place. I even started to call it home.
Again I stop the bike, this time turning off the engine and dismounting, heading for the place I lived when I first arrived. A now neglected hogan, left for the elements to eventually destroy. I stand near, but don’t go in through that door, which, like in all hogans, opens to the east to get the morning sun and good blessings. Inside is where twelve years ago, just two years after I’d arrived, my grandfather died, taking his last peaceful breath after a severe stroke had left him incapacitated. A merciful ending, as he wouldn’t have wanted to live like that. In the way of my people, the hogan, having been a place of death, was vacated and thereafter left empty, now regarded as cursed or haunted.
After his death, my mother and grandmother moved closer to Window Rock, a new hogan built by myself and my uncles with the modern convenience of electricity. The small city is where I attended high school.
After paying respects to the memory of my grandfather, I return to my bike and head towards my mother’s home. As I pull up outside, and switch off my engine, I sniff the air, smelling the unmistakable aroma of mutton and fried bread coming from inside. My taste buds salivate in expectation, my lips curve remembering when I lived here I’d longed instead for a Big Macand fries. I dismount, take a step, then am stopped by a vibration.
At least we’re in the vicinity of a cell tower now.“Yeah, Drummer. What’s up?” I wave to my mom, who hearing my bike has appeared, indicating I’ll be there in a moment.
“You know how long you’re going to be gone?” Prez’s voice booms in my ear.
“Jeez, Prez. I’ve just arrived. Not even said hello to my mom yet.” My mom, who’s not waited, and currently has her arms encircling my waist.
“Got things going on.” I frown, not wanting to have to go back straight away.
“You need me?” I’m not surprised. Shit always seems to land on the club. Satan’s Devils attract it like shit does flies.
“Nah. You’re okay. Just need some info for now. Got a new club settin’ up in our area. Chaos Riders. Check ’em out, will you?”
“Sure thing, Prez.” I make a mental note to do just that. I’ll need to find somewhere I can pick up wi-fi. “Anything else?”
“Not for now.”
At last I’m putting my phone away, and swinging my mom around in my arms.Home.
Chapter 7
Mariana
I don’t know what magic Tse has done to my car, but the next day it seems to run better than it has done in months. The engine turns over and catches straight away. Maybe my luck is turning.
I’ve just dropped Drew off at school, and now am making my way to the college where I’m getting close to completing my second year of studying for my associate’s degree in Nursing. The one thing my mom did impress on me was making the most of the advantages living in the US gave me, and at the top of that list was education. Though it’s been a struggle, supporting Drew and myself, and it’s hard balancing the coursework with the jobs that I do, I’m determined to become qualified and do a worthwhile job, giving something back to my country. Drew’s offered that after his birthday, he’ll get a part-time job too. That should help. Eventually my plan is to work and hopefully complete my four-year degree after I’ve got a couple of years’ experience under my belt.Almost there.Just another few months and I’ll have my first qualification.
