Tomorrow's the Pow Wow!

 

I posted my first story, Hell Out West on Twitter 0n November 23, 2007, and I've been writing ever since.  

I’ve written hundreds of stories and everyone has been a step forward. 

Nothing makes me happier than reading the lions of literary history— the greats from Plato to Sherman Alexie. 

Writers and born not made, and every one of them has his or her own style. 

I was a big talker in College and spent a lot of time in the downtown taverns. 

By junior year I realized there was something, somewhere, I needed and the university scene wasn’t it, so I packed my Polara wagon for a trip out west.

Somewhere between Topeka and Junction City on I-70, I pull my over and pick up a hitchhiker, an Indian gal headed out west who says, 

O-Si-Yo friend, I'm Magnolia,

I'm Henry,

there's a Pow Wow at Pineridge Reservation this weekend, let's go handsome,

show me the way, Pocahontas.  

She pulls a map from her beaded leather bag,

drive to North Plate, turn right, and head north on Old Highway 83, 

I know Old 83, are you hungry Geronimo? 

You bet,  

20 clicks up 83 they pull off and park in front of Hannah's Corners. Inside, a waitress wearing a gold sweatshirt that reads, 

Viva Las Vegas,

takes their order, 

have you looked over the menu, sweetie? Magnolia giggles saying, 

 

My lover and I will share, we'll have dollar cakes, scrambled eggs, chicken fried steak with gravy, hash browns, and a pot of coffee, 

you bet, let me go place your order, Henry smiles saying, 

lovers? 

 you must feel the vibes, Henry, 

I do, I do.

Eat hearty because the skins on Pindridge just eat fry bread. 

You mean donuts? 

not quite but close, dog,

dog? 

You're  Sweeting Dog. 

Henry pays the bill and they walk outside, then gases up the Polara. Magnolia sits in the driver's seat and asks.

can you teach me to drive?

Sure, how old are you? 

28, 

he gets in and tells her, 

pull out of the station onto the road, start off slowly, just use your right foot on the pedals, now put the car in drive. 

As they drive on Old 83, Henry laughs, 

you've driven before, haven't you? 

How'd you guess? I don't have a license, do you think the cops will stop us? 

Just keep one eye on the speedometer and the other on the road.

By sundown they reach the South Dakota border where Magnolia continues west on 18, turning right on a gravel road.

At the end of the road a Buck on horseback signals for her to stop, she looks up and asks, 

where's Crow Dog?

Drive a few clicks passed Pinky’s Grill, and look for a shiny Airstream trailer.

She drives a bit and then parks the wagon under a Mesquite tree.

Magnolia and Henry walk to Pinky’s for supplies, bologna, fry bread, donuts, and beer which they place in a styrofoam cooler on ice. She reminds him,  

silence is golden my Indian Buck, 

oh, it's "my" now? 

Yeah, just behave. 

They set up camp near Crow Dogs' trailer, then for luck field strip an American Spirit cigarette, tossing the tobacco into the wind.

Leonard’s wife steps out of the trailer and walks to Magnolia,  putting her arm around her, 

we've converted an old school bus into a camper, you and the white boy can stay there if you like.

Crow Dog walks outside wrapped in a blanket, approaches Magnolia, and says,

you’re a Cree from Wisconsin, you’re Painted Red Horse’s daughter, tomorrows the Paw Wow, get some rest. 

They walk through a field of discarded beer cans, and doused campfires to the school bus, inside, there’s a loft bedroom made of pallets. 

Ready for bed they shower in a plastic shower stall outside.

Dripping wet they wrap up in Indian blankets and go to their new home, the school bus.

After getting comfortable in the loft they light Sage incense and candles. Then Magnolia lights a joint, and they sit cross-legged on the mattress, puffing, passing the joint back and forth, Henry says softly,  

Tomorrow’s the Pow Wow.