Coyote Whisperer

The Nagual moves around the edge of the fire, keen eyes piercing... burning... searching until they lock on Lou, then they cut to me and I feel my skin blossom in goosebumps. The Nagual steps slowly up to Lou, as though Lou is not aware. He glows... to me, like he did in the desert so long ago. His spirit guide steps into the light of his aura and sits, content and comfortable.

There is communication with the Nagual. Neither he nor Lou talk, but you can see the words between them like heat waves off the dancing flames. I am envious, curious... a lonely wanderer in this world, confined by the light of this flame and infinite thought. As I watch Lou's Nagual, all around me fades to the black of space and there is just the firelight, the Chief, and me. He looks my way and I am bound to his stare, unable to look away or blink the disbelief from my eyes.

"You are a Warrior" He says to me, lips not moving, eyes locked on me like a hawk and his prey.
"You have lived many times on this Earth. You have fought for justice, for those who have been wronged by powerful forces, for innocence robbed and love sacrificed for greed and material things."

I feel myself nodding, acknowledging this sacred communication. Then I hear him tell me to close my eyes. I don't know that they are open, but he does. I make the effort to close my them... like a heaving portcullis in a castle keep my eyes close one at a time and I listen to the voice that speaks to me.

"I am here as I have been here, before and after, today... yesterday, and tomorrow."

There is silence and I feel a presence that has not been with me moments ago. I keep my eyes closed, afraid to open them... to see what might be before me.

"Open your eyes."

Oh shit, I knew this would happen. I slowly open my eyes. The blackness is breached by a sliver of light. This light gathers before me, taking form and size until I am looking at a small white rabbit. My brow rises as I look at this bunny, crouched and unmoving before me. The voice I have heard all this time emits from its little pink lips and I am told that this is my spirit guide and that it has been with me for all time. I have died many deaths, most heroic and in battle... some as an unsuspecting bystander. But in all of my former lives I have had a constant, unwaivering dedication to those close to me.

A pipe is passed to me and when I touch it I am back at the fire and all are here with me. I hit the pipe and look over at Lou. He smiles back knowingly, the Nagual by his side like a faithful pup. My bunny is nowhere in sight, but I can hear him.

When I look toward the Chief I see my spirit guide in his lap like a content. He is surrounded by animals; the Nagual, my rabbit, a hawk, a smaller... might be a fox, a big, black spotted lizard, and a tortoise. There is a communion of sorts between the animals and the chief. My guide no longer speaks to me, but seems to speak collectivley with the rest of the animals through the chief.

He chants, continuing in a low hum until a Apache song emits in a stepping rhythm. The warriors stand, as do we and all of us begin around the fire and the chief. Our feet move and within seconds the unbroken group of warriors around this ceremonial fire are in step, moving with a single voice. The night goes on, our minds speak to the chief, our bodies move with the cadence of age old ritual. We loose ourselves in this, give ourselves to it.

With the dawn of a new day, we greet the sun still in the grips of the peyote, but now using the trailing effects to stimulate us, like a powerful brew. We watch as the warriors prepare for their journey and the women break camp. As all of this happens around us, we realize that we better be ready to roll in the next ten minutes.

We gather at the wagon. The boys have the gun bolted to the back of the buckboard, the mount moves a hundred and eighty degrees. We load the weapon and ready clips for quick loading. Andy and Chris will take gun duty. Mike will take the reigns on the wagon... should be an easier ride for him. There are extra rifles and rounds at the ready in the back of the buckboard. Lou, myself, and Ollie will ride alongside, the boys horses in tow. We all have extra rifles lashed to our scabboards for a quick change up. Guns are loaded and checked... but not a word is spoken. The ceremony is still with us... with me. I feel no urge to speak, but feel communication taking place. If you calm the voices in your head, you can hear direction, you can hear the chief... his words pressing you forward. Like an ant in a vast colony, we feel the words that drive us.

Within the half hour we watch as the warriors lead the tribe out of camp, a slow but steady and purposeful pace. We take up the rear, our heads on a swivel. Even though we are looking at the remains of the camp, we feel on edge... ready for a fight.

The warriors lead us through the small hills and valleys, keeping out of sight of any well traveled path. I feel that this shelter from the coming storm is only a temporary thing. This movement of the tribe is a seasonal thing, a traditional thing. One that can be expected... anticipated.

We ride in silence for a while. Then Mike breaks the calm.
"My spirit guide, it's a lizard... a talking lizard. You boys have anything like that happen to you?
"Mi guía del espíritu es un halcón." Ollie says.
"Ollie's is a hawk." Chris offers the translation, "Mine is the fox." He adds.
"Mine is a rabbit." I tell them.
Lou smiles as he pulls a fresh cigar from his vest, "Mine is the coyote... the Nagual."

There is silence. Andy refuses to take possession of his spirit guide.
"Hey, Andy... what is your spirit guide?" I ask him.
"Yeah, Andy, which was yours?" Mike asks, as though he doesn't know the answer. Maybe he doesn't, I don't know.
"Right, Andy, we haven't heard from you." Lou adds between puffs, "What is it, man, a mountain lion? The mighty buffalo?"

There is silence for a beat.
"Andy?" Mike asks.
"Fuck you guys."
"ANDY, don't be upset. A tortoise is a... a... well it's got an armored shell." Mike tells him.
"Kind of like a shirt buttoned all the way to the top, right Andy."
"Like I said, fuck you."

The sun rises in the sky and continues until we begin to melt in the light of midday.
Lou and Ollie ride up to the warriors near the front of the column. We watch as they try to converse with them. Seedling is there, ambling along on the back of Ole' Bess. I assume he is helping with translation, but I don't see his arms or hands moving... a must when he is communicating.

After a minute or two, they slowly make they're way back to the end of the column to our position.

"We are going to cross the Salinas near a village called Coco Marikopa. Should be across in a couple of hours. Then it is probably midnight until they make camp at their sacred spot in the mountains."

"No shit. Since when did you start speaking Apache?" I ask him.
"I didn't have to. The Nagual translates."
"Is that what Seedling is going by these days?"

We ride for what seems forever. The sun beats down on us and we realize that in our peyote haze we didn't bring any water from the river... not that we had anything to put it in. Even before the thought has taken root, a squaw on a pony rides up with several boda bags made from hide, bulging with water. She leaves one with the three of us on horseback, and one on the wagon. We all realize that this may be our only ration until we get to the Salinas, so we gulp it sparingly.

Some time down the trail, when the sweat is stinging our eyes and our horses seem to have lost the spring in their step, we see him. A lone rider, or at least we hope, off to the east. He remains long enough to assess our number and our bearing, and then disappears.

"Did you see that?" At this point I feel the need to question what I believe is reality. Even though I have sweat out several gallons I can still feel the effects of last night's ceremony.

"Yep. Probably a tracker for the infantry. They know the habits of these folks... know where to find them and when. They are not compliant with the wishes of the government to put them on the reservation. From what the chief tells me, they have helped Geronimo more than once... and would do it again in a heartbeat."

"Thee Geronimo?"
"No, Geronimo Jones. He has a barber shop in Prescott."
"Now... fuck you, Lou, and the coyote you rode in on."

A few hours after noon, as the sun crawls, we get a call from the wagon behind us. The three of us stop our horses and turn to face them. Andy is gesturing to the the vastness to our east. There is a cloud of dust, dirt, and sand boiling along about ten miles away. It has to be infantry, a lot of them, make that much of a mark on the desert. We watch for a moment, each of us gauging distance, time, and numbers.

"Here they come." Lou says, looking up at the sky for a moment, then back at the trail.

There is commotion in front of us as well. We have reached the Salinas River and the column has stopped for refreshment and replenishment. They don't know of the danger behind us. We have to warn them.