Jenny Cussler's Last Stand (32 page)

“Jenny, this is my dad, Richard Hastings. Dad, this is Jenny Cussler. She works at the VA in Boise.”

“Custer?” Richard Hastings raised both eyebrows.

Clint laughed. “You heard me, Dad. Cussler, not Custer. We’ve all done that to her.”

Clint felt Jenny tug at her hand as if to pull it away, but he kept it in a firm but gentle grasp. He wasn’t going to let her run from this. Family was unavoidable.

Richard smiled and nodded toward Jenny, who stood uncertainly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jenny. How are you enjoying camp?”

“It’s wonderful, just wonderful,” she answered. “I’m looking forward to the powwow. I’ve never been to one.”

Clint felt her give a last weak, futile tug at his hand, but he resisted her urging to pull away. He saw his father’s eyes drop to their joined hands, but his father’s expression did not change. Now, had his mother seen them... He knew her large dark eyes would have expressed her disapproval, though she would not have said anything to Jenny.

“I think you will enjoy it. Clint here is quite the drummer.”

Clint felt Jenny’s hand squeeze his, and he swore he would sing and drum his heart out to please her.

“So, who’s up here this year? I haven’t been up here in a long time,” his father asked.

“Well, you know, the usual. Sam Two Dogs, Gary, George, John Glover, Auntie Sara, Auntie Sis...”

His father nodded. “Yep, sounds like the usual crowd. I think I’ll go visit with some of them.”

“I have to go, as well,” Jenny said firmly. Clint released her hand. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Hastings.”

“Call me Richard,” he said. “Nice to meet you, too. I’m sure I’ll see you later at the powwow. Maybe you’ll save a dance for me?”

Clint saw Jenny’s eyes widen. “Don’t worry, Jenny. We’re not dancing around bonfires and stuff. Other than fancy dancing, Indian dancing is a bit more like a shuffling line dance.” He tried to give her a reassuring grin, though he couldn’t ignore the pang he felt at her discomfiture. What would it take for her to become comfortable with his culture? Would she ever? His heart rolled over, and he swallowed hard. Would it have been better if he were tall, blonde, Nordic, blue-eyed? An image of Steve came to mind.

“I’ll give it a try,” Jenny said as she turned to leave.

“Excuse me just a minute, Dad. I’ll be right back.” Clint took a few steps away with Jenny.

“I’ll see you later, Jenny Cussler,” he said pointedly. “From the look in your eyes, I’m thankful that you drove up here with other people and can’t just take off in the government car.” He tried to smile but felt it waver. He reached for her hand again. “I know that was a shock to meet my dad, but he’s okay, right? Normal guy. Not too scary.”

“No, he seems great,” Jenny responded with a genuine smile as she looked over at him patiently waiting nearby. “He’s waiting for you.”

Clint looked over and nodded. “I know, but I just had to make sure you weren’t going to take off on me just yet. You look a bit overwhelmed.”

“I wouldn’t run away from you, Clint. Not without telling you.” Jenny’s lips curved in an affectionate smile. “I am a bit overwhelmed, but everything’s okay. I’m definitely going to stick around to watch you sing and drum. I’ll see you later,” she said as she gave his hand a final squeeze and turned to walk away.

Clint watched her for a moment before turning back to his father.

“So, that’s the way of it,” his father said as he followed Jenny’s retreating back. “Is it serious?” he asked. He put an arm around Clint’s shoulder as they turned to walk toward Clint’s cabin.

“Yup,” Clint drawled in a low voice. He threw a quick assessing look at his father. “Pretty serious for me.”

His father nodded. “How about her?”

Clint shook his head. “I don’t know. I mean, I know how she feels about me, but I don’t know how she feels about my being Indian.”

“Ouch,” his father said.

“Yeah,” Clint returned. “Mom would have hated this.” He searched his father’s face for a response.

“Yeah, I think she would have,” his father responded. He gave Clint’s shoulder a squeeze. “But bless her heart, she’s not here, and you don’t have to worry about that. I’ve got no problems with it. I just want you to be happy, son.”

“I know, Dad. Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“What are you going to do? You said she lives in Boise?”

Clint shook his head. “I don’t really know. I just know I can’t bear to say goodbye to her tomorrow. I just can’t.”

“That’s pretty serious,” his father said. “Well, you know you have my support. If there’s anything I can do...”

They arrived at the cabins, where Sam Two Dogs and John Glover sat in porch chairs, watching the activities down below.

“Thanks, Dad,” Clint said.

“Hey, Richard Hastings, what are you doing up here?” Sam Two Dogs called out.

“Just came up to see if you guys were still living,” Richard retorted.

“I’m going to get cleaned up. See you in a bit,” Clint said.

****

Jenny grabbed a sweater from her duffel bag in case the night air cooled.

“Well, don’t you look sweet,” Kate said. Both women had showered and dressed for the evening’s festivities. Jenny smoothed her dark brown peasant skirt.

“You don’t think this outfit is too...hokey...too New Mexico artsy?” Jenny asked as she surveyed her knee-high brown boots under the flowing skirt. A white long-sleeved blouse with a belt across the middle completed her ensemble.

“Nah! I think you look cute. I have no idea what powwow dress requirement is.” She chuckled. “I doubt they even have one. They seem pretty laid back around here.” She herself wore a long black cotton skirt, yellow cotton blouse, and sandals. “Are you ready?” she asked. “I’m starved.”

Jenny nodded with anticipation. Her heart quickened at the thought of seeing Clint shine in his element. She hoped she wasn’t just infatuated with him because he was Native American. She remembered his tender smile, the gentle way he touched her, the warmth of his body against hers, his quick sense of humor, the sparkle in his eyes when he looked at her. No, she was definitely in love with Clint, the man.

They walked down to the community area, which was now awash with people, most of them Native American. The common area between the classrooms and the picnic area was ringed with folding chairs to form a large circle. Older Native Americans filled about half the chairs. Jenny could see drums set up at the far end, with several younger Native American men sitting behind them. No one was drumming yet, and she couldn’t see Clint.

Auntie Sis, Sara, and Martha, as well as Sam Two Dogs and John Glover, were among those seated around the large circle. The women wore bright, colorful cotton dresses and moccasins, and they sported ribbons and wraps in their braids.

“So, which one is Clint’s father?” Kate asked.

“Clint’s father? Really? Is he here?” Brad and Tim arrived, appearing freshly showered and dressed in clean shirts and jeans. Jenny realized she hadn’t seen much of them over the week, nor had she really thought of them very much. She really hadn’t thought of much other than Clint.

“Jenny said she met him today.”

“I don’t see him yet,” Jenny said. “Maybe he’s with Clint.”

Children, some in traditional Native American dress and some in jeans, shirts and shorts, ran around the large circle, truly at the center of attention from the elders, who watched them benevolently.

Many families had set up domestic operations on the picnic benches under the awning, women presiding over babies and toddlers while the men chatted amongst themselves.

Folding tables had been set up at the end of the awning nearest the dining hall, and the staff carried food out in an efficient assembly line. Jenny tried to ignore the large barbecue at the far end of the community area.

Seating around the circle had been supplemented by additional logs, and Jenny moved to sit down on one. Kate, Brad and Tim joined her.

“Wow, this place is filling up. I didn’t realize people from down below would come up for the powwow,” Brad said.

“I think there’s a lot we still don’t know,” Kate said as they watched the activities with interest.

Jenny’s gaze continued to search for Clint or his father but couldn’t spot them. Dusk had fallen, and it wasn’t easy to see anything away from the lighted area.

“Okay, folks, can I have your attention?”

Jenny turned to see Gary on a microphone near the drums.

“If anyone here is a veteran, would you please get in line over there by the side of the dining hall? We’re going to begin the powwow with a march honoring our veterans. To welcome them home—no matter how long they’ve been home.”

“Oh, no, really?” Brad and Tim stood up uncertainly. “Do they mean us?”

“Yes, you guys, go.” Kate shoved them. “Go.”

Jenny looked over at the gathering of men and women lining up by the dining hall. She could not see the entire line, as they were hidden by the building, but she saw Sam Two Dogs and John Glover. To her surprise, Auntie Sara was among them.

“I didn’t know Auntie Sara was a veteran.”

“Yeah, Marine Corps, I think,” Kate responded.

Gary walked across and took up a position near the front of the line.

A rhythmic drumming sound began, and men’s and women’s voices began to sing in a language she did not understand. So much was going on that Jenny couldn’t decide which way to look. A scan of the Native American men drumming revealed that Clint was not among them. Several Native American women stood near the drums, singing along with the men.

Jenny swung her head toward the line of veterans as they began to move in pairs to the sound of the drums and singing. She could hear the sound of bells but couldn’t tell where they were coming from...a sound like tambourines but not quite.

Gary and Sam Johnston led the way, carrying the American flag and the Yakama flag. They marched not as Jenny had seen military march but with short steps accented by a rhythmic dipping of their bodies as they moved.

“I think I’m going to cry,” Kate said.

Jenny, struggling with the same strong emotions, wiped at her blurred eyes.

“Oh, my word, look at him!” Kate exclaimed. “He’s magnificent!”

Jenny stared in awe at the tall, slender, elderly Native American man who came after Gary and Sam in resplendent ceremonial dress complete with a full headdress of feathers. His long legs were encased in breeches covered by a bright and colorful skirt. He wore white embroidered moccasins and a long white cotton blouse underneath a breast plate of a material that looked like bones. He carried a long sash or belt of some kind that chimed with the sound of bells to his every step.

“That’s Clint’s father,” Jenny whispered in awe.

At last, Clint appeared, and Jenny thought her heart would explode with pride. He wore a bright white cotton shirt which shone against his dark skin, and a breast plate similar to his father’s and equally impressive. He wore a smaller but similarly magnificent version of his father’s headdress. Dark breeches embroidered with a light sticking covered his long legs, and he danced in highly decorated moccasins. A brightly embroidered skirt of sorts was draped around his waist and hung to his knees. He carried a staff from which hung ribbons, feathers, and bells.

He seemed so utterly glorious and foreign to her at the moment that her head spun. The sight of him in full regalia, coupled with the drumming, singing, and bells, robbed her of breath.

She felt herself completely transported from everything she had ever known, as if she were being carried away into the vortex of a tornado, and she bit her lip to try to ground herself—to remember her home, her apartment, anything remotely familiar. The comforting images of her daughter’s and granddaughter’s faces appeared. Becky and Lily would have been equally mesmerized.

“Wow, Jenny, he’s just as impressive as his dad.”

Jenny agreed but could not speak as she watched the dancers.

The veterans marched into the enclosure, circling the common area twice as they rhythmically shuffled to the singing and drumming. Brad and Tim did their best to copy the steps of their fellow dancers, but they lacked the relaxed grace of the Native Americans. Nevertheless, they seemed to be as entranced with the march/dance as Jenny and Kate were.

The drumming stopped abruptly. Most of the dancers dispersed to various seats, and Brad and Tim stood uncertainly for a moment, as if they wanted to continue.

Clint appeared to be scanning the common area, and Jenny knew he was looking for her. While any sane woman in love would have jumped up and yelled, “Yoohoo, over here,” Jenny shrank as if to become invisible. Clint spotted her, and with a broad smile, he strode in her direction, feathers fluttering, bells ringing, and the fringe of his skirt swaying against his knees. His father walked over to the chairs on the opposite side to sit with Sam, John Glover and several other elders.

“You look beautiful,” Clint said as he reached for Jenny’s hand to bring her to her feet.

“So do you, Clint,” Kate said as she surveyed him with admiring eyes.

Jenny could only stare at the breastplate on his chest and study the intricacy of the piece. He seemed so utterly foreign to her, and she wondered if she would ever grow comfortable with his culture, with his way of life.

“Thanks, Kate,” Clint replied. Brad and Tim showed up at Kate’s side, appearing to be in awe of Clint in his ceremonial regalia, while showing Kate the steps they learned.

Clint lowered his voice so that only Jenny could hear. “And you, Jenny? What did you think? You’re not looking at me,” he said. “Too much?”

Jenny looked up to meet his eyes, though she was distracted by the headpiece. He caught her gaze and reached up to touch the ornate headdress.

“From my grandfather on my mother’s side. These garments are handed down for generations.”

As she continued to stare, he gave her hand a squeeze. “I don’t wear it to bed, woman.” Clint’s lips curved, and his eyes sparkled in the light of the campfire. Jenny warmed under his gaze.