Deception on All Accounts Page 4

  While at Chilocco, Eli made friends with two Ponca boys. He followed them to a few local powwows, where he learned to dance. A Ponca man had just created a new flamboyant dance called the Fancy War Dance and it caught his attention. It turned out to be quite an experience for Eli when he discovered he could turn the heads of the young Indian girls when he danced—especially the fancy dance. So, he spent his summers traveling the powwow circuit with his Ponca friends and honing his skills, finally winning prizes and earning the nickname of Dancer. After he graduated and served a tour in the army, he returned home to Delaware County to raise horses and live a simple life off the land, next door to his brother.

  Now at the age of sixty-three and no longer interested in impressing the ladies, Eli occasionally attended social powwows with his wife. When they did, he proved he could still dance a few songs with the best of them. He spent the rest of his time with his horses, fishing, or playing bingo.

  “Uncle,” said Sadie. “What brings you out on a Friday night? Isn't it about time for you to be heading toward the bingo hall?”

  Eli grinned, revealing his sparse, yellow teeth. His eyes, though slightly clouded, still sparkled when he saw his niece.

  “Do you need a ride to bingo?” she asked. “I'll be glad to take you.”

  “No, no ride.”

  Eli placed his sweat-stained hat back on his head as they entered the barn. He removed Joe's saddle while Sadie filled a two-pound, red coffee can with oats and dumped them into Joe's feed tub.

  “Heard about the stickup.” Eli's statement sounded matter-of-fact.

  Sadie picked up a currycomb and ran it down Joe's wide chest and over his strong shoulders.

  “Want some wild onions to take to Aunt Mary? I have more than enough.” Sadie pointed to her saddlebags.

  “No, no onions.”

  Sonny lay in the shadows and patiently watched Sadie brush Joe. Eli kneeled and silently stroked the wolf-dog's head.

  “Saw you come home early and ride out on Joe,” said Eli. “Saw you were okay.”

  “You know I can see it as clearly as if it were yesterday,” said Sadie. “You know, the way Grandma would bend at her waist, knees locked in place, pulling dead grass and leaves away with her hands…”

  Sadie stopped brushing Joe long enough to demonstrate how her grandmother dug wild onions. Sonny's ears came to attention. He wrinkled his forehead and cocked his head to one side at Sadie's theatrics.

  “‘Don't be greedy,’ she'd say,” continued Sadie. “Then she'd say, ‘Be sure and leave enough to reseed the patch.’”

  “Came to tell you about the yonega,” said Eli, as he pursed his lips and then added, “asgaya.” Eli unconsciously sprinkled his speech with Cherokee words out of habit.

  “White man?” she asked. “What white man?” Sadie stopped brushing Joe and turned toward her uncle, a puzzled look on her face.

  “Before you came home today, I was checking on one of my mares, walking the fence line up by the pond…the upper pasture. I can see your place real good from up there, you know.”

  “Yes, yes I know.” Sadie frowned. “Who was it?”

  “The boy you married. The one with all the trouble.”

  Sadie's shoulders slumped. Michael? Oh, God, please don't let him be talking about Michael She placed Joe's grooming brush on a nearby shelf and dumped the onions out of the saddlebags. “Do you remember how she used to wash them on the rocks in the creek?” she asked.

  Eli leaned against the wall of the barn, crossed his arms, and slowly shook his head.

  “Then we'd come home,” she continued, “and she'd take a milk bucket and turn it over so I could reach the sink and then she'd let me finish cleaning them. Then she'd fry those onions up with some bacon and eggs. Why, I thought that was the best eating ever was. And then Mother would get so pissed off because the whole house smelled like wild onions.” Sadie smiled. “And then Grandma would lean back in her chair and just laugh.”

  “Bird was a good brother,” said Eli. “And when he died, I promised him I'd watch out for you.”

  Can't be…surely to God it can't be…he's in jail…

  “That boy's bad medicine,” said Eli, shaking his head.

  Sadie picked up some of the onions with her hand. “Sure you don't want to come inside?”

  “No, no. Got to go.” Eli winked at Sadie.

  Sadie followed her uncle to his old pickup.

  “You'll be all right?” he asked. “Mary said you could come stay with us if you wanted.”

  “I'll be fine. I'll take her some onions.”

  Eli climbed into his truck and slammed the door. “I'll keep my eye out for you, Sadie. But, you know you got the best protection ever was in that dog there.”

  “Don't worry, Eli. If we need help, we'll send for Little Wolf.”

  Eli rested his arm in the open window of his truck. “Took Little Wolf down to Tahlequah to Mary's sister, Essie.”

  “No. What if you need him?”

  “Essie needs him worse. She's got him guarding the chicken house. A bunch of teenagers down there been stealing her chickens.”

  “Must be hungry kids.”

  “Hell, no. They're using them in a crazy ritual to get into some college fraternity. Boys need more than a scare from a dog, if you ask me.” He looked at the ground, shook his head, and looked back at Sadie. “But, Little Wolf will take care of Essie just like Sonny will take care of you.” Then he stomped the accelerator, turned the key, and his truck rumbled to life.

  “I know, Eli. Don't worry.”

  Sadie watched until her uncle pulled onto the highway, then made sure the house was locked tight before inviting Sonny to ride in the back of the pickup. She drove behind the house and followed a well-worn path through the pasture to her aunt and uncle's home.

  A black-and-white, paint-horse mare stood in the nearby corral, a gangly colt with identical markings at her side. Sadie slowed to a stop so she could admire the awesome works of the Creator before rolling around the barn to the house.

  Mary Walela stood at the kitchen door, drying her hands on a dish towel, when the blue truck pulled through the gate. Sonny bounced off the tailgate as Sadie parked and waited for the dust to settle. She could see Mary open the screen door and wave. It was nice to know she was always welcome at this house no matter what time of day or night. She would never be ridiculed or talked down to, or asked to explain her actions. But she would always be expected to eat. Sadie let herself in through the kitchen door. The strong aroma in Mary's kitchen assured Sadie that her aunt had been expecting her.

  “‘Siyo,” said Sadie. “I saw Eli a while ago and he didn't say anything about the paint mare having a new baby. When did she have it?”

  Mary turned toward Sadie holding a spatula in midair. “Eli got worried about her a couple of days ago and put her in the barn. Spent most of the night up with her night before last. Little thing showed his face early in the morning, about the same time the sun came up. He's a pretty one, isn't he?”

  “He's beautiful,” said Sadie. “Looks just like his momma. How'd Eli manage that?”

  “Oh, just luck, I reckon.” Mary continued tending her iron skillet. “Used that white stallion, I think.”

  Mary picked up a saucepan from a back burner, using her dish towel as a potholder, and poured a weak-colored liquid into a mug and set it on the table. The distinct smell of sassafras filled the air.

  Sadie laid the onions in the sink, then pulled out one of the wooden chairs from the table and sat down. “Mmm. Where'd you get the sassafras root?” she asked.

  “Eli dug it up and brought it in a while ago. Said you'd need some.”

  “Oh yeah? And why is that?” Sadie took another sip.

  “It's good for what ails you.”

  “Eli think I'm ailing?”

  “Don't argue, just drink it. You're bound to need something to soothe your soul after all that killing going on.”

  Sadie held the warm cup close to her
face. “Brought you some onions,” she said.

  Mary turned around, studied the pile of greens in her sink, and returned her attention to the skillet. One by one, she pulled out sizzling crawdads and piled them in a mound on a plate. Then she handed Sadie a clean dish towel to use as a napkin and slid the plate in front of her.

  “Aunt Mary, why don't you peel these darned things before you cook them? You know the only good part is the tail and I'd much rather you peel them first.”

  “What kind of Cherokee are you?” asked Eli as the screen door slammed behind him. He deposited his straw hat on a nail next to the door and walked to the sink to wash his hands. “Wanting your crawdads peeled,” he teased. “I never heard of the like. You've been working in that bank too long.” Eli pulled out a chair and sat across the table from Sadie.

  Sadie picked at a crawdad, then finally grabbed it by the head and bit off the tail. “Yeah, Eli, you're right. They're trying to civilize me.

  “Or kill you, one or the other,” Eli added.

  “Here, now,” interrupted Mary. “We'll have no talk about that at the table.” She sat a bowl of brown beans in the middle of the table and then poured a cup of coffee for Eli.

  He spooned himself a helping of beans, picked up several crawdads, and piled them onto his plate next to a hunk of cornbread. Then he spilled some coffee into his saucer to cool.

  “They will never succeed,” said Sadie, “civilize nor kill.” She got up and walked to the window to check on Sonny. She could see him patiently waiting near the back steps. “I better go. This has been a long day. Just wanted to bring these onions to you.”

  “No need to run off.” Eli raised the saucer to his lips and sipped coffee. Then he set the saucer down and sloshed more coffee into it. “Say,” he said, “have you been in that Wal-Mart store lately? They got the biggest danged crawdads I ever saw. And they're alive. Got them in a big tank of water.”

  Sadie laughed at her uncle's tease and played along. “Uncle Eli, those are called lobsters, not crawdads.”

  Eli grinned. “Look like big crawdads to me.”

  Mary stood at the kitchen sink cleaning the tender onions. “If you'll wait just a minute, I'll fix these up for you.”

  “No, really. I'm bushed and I've got plenty more where those came from.”

  Mary opened the refrigerator and took out a bowl of brown eggs. “Here, honey, you need some eggs?”

  Sadie never turned down gifts of food from her aunt. “I always need eggs,” she said. “Especially brown eggs. They taste better than the white ones, you know.”

  “Well, I don't know about that.” Mary opened a drawer and pulled out a couple of blue, plastic Wal-Mart sacks, placed a loaf of home-baked bread in the bottom of one, and carefully laid the eggs in the other. “Here, be careful with these eggs until you get home. It'll give you something to eat with your onions.”

  Sadie took the food, thanked her aunt, and then kissed her on the cheek. “Let me know next time you're going to be midwife to a horse and I'll help.”

  Eli laughed and Mary waved as Sadie headed toward the truck for the short drive home.

  It was dark when she parked the truck next to the Chevy. Sonny jumped out, marked the corner of the porch, and waited for Sadie to let him in. She placed the fresh bread and eggs on the table, then locked the kitchen door behind them.

  “This day had better end soon,” Sadie spoke aloud as if Sonny could understand. “I don't think I can take much more.”

  Sadie placed several slices of bacon in her own iron skillet and started cleaning the onions in the sink. As soon as the bacon finished frying, she poured off the grease, saving just the right amount of drippings to cook the onions and the eggs together. Then she savored an indulgence she seldom allowed. Although wild onions were a traditional Cherokee dish, she usually ate them only at church gatherings or special wild onion dinners offered in the community. Tonight was different. The smell of onions flourished throughout the house and Sonny's nose twitched in anticipation. She always saved the last bite for him.

  Sadie searched the refrigerator and on a bottom shelf found a forgotten bottle of Budweiser. The cold beer tasted good and she chuckled to herself at the thought of her mother and how aggravated she would be if she were there. She lifted the beer bottle in the air and stuck out her chin. “Here's to a smelly kitchen, Mother. Kiss my ass.”

  After she ate all she could, she placed her plate on the floor. Sonny quickly licked the plate clean of every last tidbit before checking the floor to see if any got away.

  Leaving the dishes for later, she crawled into bed and held a pillow tight to her chest, her body exhausted, her mind racing. The day began to recycle. Maybe she could have done something different, she thought. Feelings of guilt for entering the bank alone flooded her soul. Then the sounds of the day, the robber's voice and the blast of his gun, echoed in her ears. She forced her thoughts to shift. Maybe Eli was wrong about seeing Michael.

  Sadie had not seen him in over fifteen years. During that time, she had managed to erase a six-month period of her life from existence. Suddenly, a cold shiver ran up her spine and she sat straight up in bed. Desperately, she searched her memory for the sound of Michael's voice, tried to visualize his stature, wondering what he might look like after years of incarceration.

  After a few minutes, she lay back down. No, she thought, I'm becoming hysterical. I've got to relax. And with that thought, she began to think about Michael.

  She had been only sixteen, working at the soda fountain, when she first met Michael. He drove into town in his fancy blue-and-white Ford truck with Texas plates and parked next to the Hilltop Drug Store. By the time he walked up the sidewalk, opened the worn screen door, and stepped inside in his tight Wrangler's and black T-shirt, every young girl in town had her eye on him. He placed his shiny boot on the soda fountain foot rail, pushed his cowboy hat back on his head, and ordered a cherry limeade from a young, starry-eyed Sadie. He ordered cherry limeades until she ran out of limes, then switched to Pepsi.

  When Sadie's mother saw her get out of Michael's truck and walk up the lane toward the house, the arguing and yelling never stopped until two years later when Sadie ran off in that same truck, only to return home a week later, wearing a thin golden wedding band.

  The small ceremony took place at the Benton County courthouse, just over the Arkansas border. Sadie, barely eighteen, held a handful of fresh daffodils Michael had picked for her from the courthouse flower bed. Do you, Sadie Sehoya Walela, take Michael Jonathan Mills to be your.…Do you, Michael…

  And then her mother's words, seared into her very being, came out of nowhere. Well, I guess you proved one thing, didn't you? Sadie tried to push her mother's words away. You proved you really are a blanket ass…

  Sadie had walked away from her mother and into a nightmare, which ended six months later with a dead man and Michael on his way to the state prison in McAlester. And now, she thought, the nightmare had returned.

  The wind banged a tree limb against the window. Sadie got up from her bed and walked into the dark kitchen, still filled with the aroma of wild onions. Curious, Sonny followed as she methodically moved from room to room checking the locks on every door and window.

  “Sonny, come.”

  Sonny followed Sadie back into the bedroom and curled up on the floor next to her bed. She fell asleep, her hand resting lightly on his back.

  Chapter 4

  Donnie Tenkiller watched through the front plate-glass window as Sadie pulled up to the curbless sidewalk in front of the Eucha General Store. Then he poured a fresh cup of black coffee into a large white Styrofoam cup and placed it on the counter next to a jar of coffee creamer. The cowbell tied to the front door jangled as Sadie swept into the empty store.

  “Oh, you've got coffee for me,” said Sadie. “You're a sweetheart, Donnie.”

  Donnie grinned as Sadie stirred lots of sugar and powdered cream into the coffee before raising the cup to her lips and blowing across t
he top of the steaming liquid. A strand of shiny black hair fell across her cheek, unleashed from the colorful, beaded barrette. She smoothed the straggler against her head with the palm of her hand.

  “Donnie? When's some sweet, young thing going to snap you up so you can have coffee ready for her every morning?”

  Donnie laughed and Sadie returned the cup to the counter, freeing her hands so she could collect her Monday-morning goodies.

  “I heard about the robbery, Sadie.”

  Donnie's statement was laced with both compassion and morbid curiosity. The young Indian wanted to hear what had happened, but was too polite to ask for a personal account. Now with her back to the counter, Sadie pretended not to hear his comment.

  For the last few months Donnie had been working the early shift at the store when Sadie made her daily stop there. His physical appearance belied his true age, barely out of his teen years, and Sadie got the feeling he was secretly offering his heart to her on a regular basis. He seemed to enjoy their early-morning conversations while she stood at the counter injecting her body with caffeine before making the twenty-five-minute drive to Sycamore Springs.

  While she drank coffee and talked, she darted through the tiny store picking up first one thing and then another, none of which looked like items befitting a woman like Sadie. This morning it was three ready-to-open cans of beanie-weenies, a small jar of crunchy peanut butter, a loaf of bread, and a large bag of potato chips.

  Sadie placed the items on the counter and returned to her cup of energy. She blew across the top of the cup, took another drink, and put it back down on the counter.

  “Say, Donnie, you haven't seen any strangers around here lately, have you?”

  Donnie tilted his head while he thought, his face showing surprise at Sadie's interest in the local gossip. “Old man Johnson has a new girlfriend. She stayed in the truck while he came in to buy a six-pack a couple of weeks ago.”