Cowboys and Indians

"I'm through with this shit." Chris uses his hat to dish up the water from the brook and he dumps it over his head.

"No shit... " I tell him, "You can keep this cowboy and Indian bullshit."

Mike nods, "They got nothin' good to eat, or cook for that matter." He looks over his shoulder at the deer they are skinning. "They don't spice a darn thing here, and there is sage and rosemary, heck I even saw some cumin back at that river by their first camp."

"Jesus, Mike, who are you, Julia fucking Child?" Chris hasn't been on the receiving end of any of Mike's cooking except at Orlis' Keep, and that wasn't shit.

"Oh yeah, she's a good one."

"What the... "
"I'd listen to him, Chris, he can make a gopher taste like filet mignon." I tell him.

Mike smiles wide, "Ya think? I don't know about that one, but I betcha I can make it taste better then those squaws over there."

Chris stands and puts his hat on his head while it is half full of water. It washes the sweat and sand off of the top half of the tattered shirt he is wearing.
"Why don't you go over there and show them how it's done."
Mike nods a couple of times and then slowly makes his way over. On the way he picks off pieces of plants and herbs, twisting them in his fingers. The ones he wants he keeps in his left hand, the others get discarded after he sniffs them.

"I hope they have salt. Everything here needs salt."
"You don't need salt, Nancy, that shit'll kill you." Lou says as he walks back from his horse. He has a small hide pouch in his hand.
My eyes go wide, "that... that's just wrong." I find a dry spot and plop down, "You can say that to me after all of this?"
"Sissy."
"Sissy?"
"You heard me."
"Let's just get back home. Next trip we let the "scientists" go and we hang back. I have had enough of this trailer park Disneyland bullshit."

"You're living history, Jake. No one has done what we have done."
"There's a reason for that... it sucks."
Lou shakes his head. "So you got nothing from this whole experience."
"I got shot... twice, thank you very much. And blown up... twice."
"What about the peyote ceremony, your guide... you found your spirit guide."
I hear myself tisk in Andy's absence, "A bunny, a god damn bunny."

"Andy got the shaft on that one." Chris chuckles.
"You guys have to look at the experience in as a whole, not these little pieces you are picking at."

Lou stops talking long enough to light the Walker he has rolled while we were complaining. After a long draw he holds it in his hand and doesn't pass it on.
"Hey, Bogart... "
"This shit is for warriors."
We stand in silence. He eventually hands it over.

A long draw it is passed. Eventually we are all holding and letting out our hits in procession. The silence is golden. We pass it once more for good measure. Everything looks better through red eyes. Before long we are all smiles and getting hungry.

Mike is busy over at the fire. The squaws had looked at him funny at first, but when he let them in on some of the spices and herbs he had collected on the walk over they let him near the meat. They pulled a couple of deer hide pouches up and he opened them each, giving a sniff. He dipped a finger and put it on the tip of his tongue... his eyes light up.

"Must be spicy hot?" I say, nudging Lou.
"I sure as hell hope so. The grub here is as dull as dishwater."

Chris emits a sound like a badger in a burlap sack. Luckily it comes from his stomach and not out of an orafice.

"Jesus, Chris."
"I'm fucking starving."
"We all are. It's just you that sounds like a fucking farm animal."
"Fuck you."
"No, fuck... "
"Both of you shut the fuck up, you're ruining my buzz."

Lou gets to his feet and takes a short walk with a destination in mind. When he returns he has a boda bag with cool water and a third of a bottle of whiskey. I reach for the water and take a draw.
"Sissy." Lou takes a gulp of whiskey.
"Give it to me." I grab the bottle and take a pull. It burns going down. "I would kill for a shot of Maker's Mark right now."

"I could go for that." Chris says, reaching for the bottle.
"I hope you have a vivid imagination."
He takes a gulp and winces. "Let's get back to the boat and leave this shit in the history books."

Lou pulls a second Walker from behind his ear and we all continue to put on a stretch and wait for dinner.

In this tribe, when a warrior returns from battle his comfort is paramount. All around us the warriors are catered to by their families and members of the tribe. We sit, our backs against the burm that preceeds the river bank, whiskey eyes and walker vision. We are comfortable enough to doze off... and we do.

Night has fallen, but the darkness is lit with a large fire that has come to life before us. We are yards away but the heat warms us. It has been going for some time now. There are red hot coals at its base. There is venison being tended on the other side of the fire. The smell of it is enough to get us all to our feet in anticipation.

"I guess they aren't too worried about any more troops attacking." Chris gestures to the fire, the light of which is probably visible for many miles.
"Superstision Mountains 'er just that." A slur of a voice reports.

The four of us turn to see Seedling standing with an old metal plate with several large tasting pieces of deer meat. Over his shoulder is a boda bag, its contents most likely responsible for the silly smile and rubbery lipped responses.

"This here deer meat is the best I done tasted that ain't city bought." He holds the plate at arms length and we all take a piece.

It is tender and tasty. There is a hint of whiskey, black pepper, salt, and a couple of other spices that I am not sure of. The secret is revealed as we watch Mike a couple of the squaws take a portion of the meat that is hanging over a bed of coals and bring it down to a make-shift table. The portions are then rubbed down with spices then wrapped in burlap that has been soaking in Red Eye. They then bury the tightly wrapped, bourbon soaked meat in the coals and let it sit there for a while.

"Well I'll be damned."
"That guy could make a piece of formica taste like sirloin."
Seedling sets the empty plate down and takes a draw off of the boda bag. He winces just slightly and then passes it to me.

"What is it?"
"That there is my own recipe. Make it from cactus."
I take a draw and almost throw it back up. It tastes pretty vile, like it turned some days back.

"How much of this have you had to drink?"
"Not much, maybe half the bag. Gives you a helluva headache come mornin', but for now it's some fun."

The Chief asks us to sit with him for the feast. Before we eat there is a commotion and half the warriors leap to their feet, weapons in hand. They are at the head of the trail from whence we came and I fear that there may be more cavalry on our tails. There is a call from the darkness.

"That there is your giant friend... that Aztec fella."
"Ollie?"
"I reckon, he and that buttoned up fella as well."

Sure enough, Andy and Ollie ride into camp. Ollie has the Clarok slung over his back like a turtle shell, the lip of it tucked into the back of his saddle, the rest tied with rope over his chest.

"Didn't expect to see you boys until tomorrow." Chris tells them.
"The Keep wasn't too far way. Nothing there but death and this salad bowl. So we snagged it and headed back." Andy looks at the fire, "You can see the light from this fire for ten miles."

Ollie takes a deep breath and lets it out, then says something in Mother tongue.
"That would be Mike's version of venison."

I take a couple of pieces from Seedling's tray and hand it on up to them. They devour them in seconds... savoring the taste and wanting more.

Once they have dismounted we are all seated with the Chief and the Warriors that had fought so bravely. A small ceremony takes place and the six of us are "branded" if you will with the symbol of the hawk, we are told, and it means that we are one with the warriors... protectors of the tribe. It is not a red hot brand, but a tattoo of sorts that is under the skin. No ink is visible, but the skin is interlaced with whatever medium they use to create the image. It is no more than a shape of bumps that represents the shape of the hawk.

After the feast there is a ceremonial dance and we see the young women assembled for the first time. They dance for us, for their tribe. The beating of the drums is quite entrancing.

Lou gets up and sits down next to Seedling who has been quite active since the first time we saw him here at camp. They have words, Lou taking Seed's arm at one point before letting go. There seems to be a consensus before he rises and comes back to us.

"So?"
"So he has bags of the shit."
"Bags of shit?" Andy smirks.
"You know what I mean, bags of the gold we need. He had already been mining up here before he realized it was on sacred land."

We digest this fact for a moment.
"So... we can go home?"
"Any time we want to. Just have to liquify it and get it to harden in the Clarok."
"No... no shit." I am awestruck.
"Kind of like Dorothy and her ruby slippers."
"Sissy."
I look at Lou and smile, "Dominicans for dinner tomorrow?"
"You're on."