Second Spirit -1- by Melanie Brown

Second Spirit

By

Melanie Brown

Advisor: Lisa Charlene
Copyright © 2024

Part 1

“Where the hell is this place?”

My girlfriend was getting a bit impatient with the drive across New Mexico towards Arizona. For Spring Break this year, instead of following the masses and heading down to Florida, we’d hit a resort. We might make a bunch of money and we’d stay mostly inside and not get sunburned. Instead of going to Las Vegas, we, or maybe it was just me, decided to go to one of the Indian-managed resorts in Arizona. Seemed like a good idea at the time.

I glanced over at Sheila, said girlfriend from college. “It’s not far now. A few more miles. You’ll like this resort. It’s smaller than and not as expensive as some of those other Indian-run resorts.”

She glared at me. “You mean the ones with lots of different types of gambling, booze and swimming pools and activities? Personally, I hoped we’d go to Daytona Beach for Spring Break.”

I laughed. “This resort has all those things too. It’s at a little Hoboken town called Window Rock. There’s sightseeing and touristy stuff there. But the best thing is what they do on Friday nights, which is tonight for those of you keeping score. They have a huge BBQ blowout. Native dances, lots of great BBQ, booze, you name it. Party all night long.”

She gave me a sideways glance. “Daytona Beach has all that, too, I think. So, how do you know about this resort?”

“My parents, actually. I think we came here three years in a row a few years ago when I was a kid. I couldn’t go into the casinos, but I did get to go to the BBQ. I remember the Injun chicks were really hot.” I grinned at Sheila as we blasted down the desert highway.

Rolling her eyes, Sheila said, “Oh. Hot Indian chicks. I can’t wait. Any hot Indian dudes?”

Nodding, I said, “Actually, yes. Exotic native dances. It’s great entertainment.”

Sheila was quiet for a few minutes. Finally, she asked, “So why is it called Window Rock?”

I chuckled. “There’s a mountain formation there with a big hole in it. Honestly, I don’t know what caused it, but there’s some Indian mumbo-jumbo about a giant snake using it for a home.”

“I hate snakes,” said Sheila as she folded her arms.

Getting serious for a moment, I said, “There are rattlesnakes around, so watch your step if we go hiking. But I’d say you’re unlikely to see a giant one.”

We drove on across the desert, heavy metal blasting our ears. I was looking forward to the BBQ blowout tonight. I remember those Indian girls looking pretty exotic. I know that shouldn’t matter as I’m here with my girlfriend. Sheila’s pretty, but she is lacking in the exotic department.

Finally, I pointed it out through the windshield. “Look. See? The sign says Window Rock is five miles ahead. The resort is just outside of the town. After we check-in, we can go into the town for lunch and experience some of the native cuisine.”

Sheila grinned. “Oh, look. They have a Burger King.”

Chuckling, I said, “And there’s that.”

                    *

After checking in to The Desert Oasis and Spa, and then taking a relaxing shower and each having a Whopper from Burger King, Sheila wanted to check out some of the shops lining the street. She got excited as we entered the first store we saw.

Picking up the corner of a blanket, she said, “Isn’t this beautiful? Such an intricate pattern.”

I shrugged. “You know they import all this stuff from Japan, right?”

Standing behind the counter, a guy in a t-shirt and jeans said, “Excuse me, sir, but everything in the store, as well as the other stores, are all handcrafted here on the reservation following Navajo traditions.”

I pointed at the guy behind the counter, who was probably no older than twenty and said, “Sorry, Chief. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

I watched a cute, young Indian girl, maybe fifteen, pulling blankets from a box and restocking some of the shelves. If I had to guess, she was the counter guy’s sister. Must be a family-run business.

Smiling, Sheila held up a necklace. “Isn’t this pretty? I love turquoise. I’m going to get this and a couple of those earrings over there. What kind of Indians are these?”

I shrugged. “We’re on a Navajo reservation, so I assume Navajo?”

Holding the items she wanted to buy, Sheila asked, “Are you going to get anything?”

“Naw. I’m not into trinkets.” I waited for Sheila to buy her stuff.

We didn’t even get as far as the next storefront before a display caught Sheila’s eye. There were several racks of handmade moccasins, and she just had to have a pair. I stood to one side and kept my mouth shut.

The last shop we entered was Indian full of art. One item I had to laugh at. It was a portrait of Elvis done on black velvet. There were nice art items as well. Carvings and such. But to see Indian kitsch was just too much. Embarrassed that I had laughed, Sheila bought a figurine that she said she was going to put on her dresser at home.

As we left the shop, Sheila said, “We can’t take you anywhere.”

Laughing, I said, “If it’d just been anything else besides Elvis!”

She made me carry all her purchases back to our resort room.

                    *

“Come on. I think they’re starting.”

Sheila asked, “Is this a dress-up thing?”

I shook my head. “I’m pretty sure it’s casual. You look great, so let’s go.” We were both in shorts and t-shirts.

In the middle of the grounds of the resort, the management had cleared out a wide circle. In the middle of the circle, they had piled up wood from the area; scrap wood, dried branches, etc. After giving resort guests, as well as folks around the town, time to gather, the guy I’d taken as the resort manager walked out to a podium carrying a microphone. He was dressed in a suit and tie. He announced his name. It was an Indian name so I really didn’t catch it. I turned to Sheila and said, “Why not just use ‘Bob’ or something? Nobody is going to remember it anyway.”

Sheila frowned at me. “Shhh.” There was a frail-looking elderly Indian woman sitting across from us who also frowned at me. Well, excuuuuse me!

The resort manager waved his arm in a wide arc and said, “Welcome everyone to our Friday night BBQ. Before we start serving, I have a few announcements.” He proceeded to introduce the tribal and clan leaders present. Thankfully, there were only a couple. He introduced the dancers, the drummer and a couple of flute players. They were all wearing exotic, feathered costumes.

I whispered to Sheila, “Who cares, right? Nobody’s going to remember who these jokers are.” I didn’t think I said anything very loud, but I got a few looks from around the room.

The manager pointed at the same old squaw sitting in a small group who had frowned at me. He introduced her with some unpronounceable name and said she was the medicine woman of the local tribe.

Sheila leaned over and whispered to me, “What exactly is a medicine woman? Or man even?”

I thought I’d lowered my voice, but I still got looks when I said, “She’s like a witch doctor. It’s something pagan cultures like to do. Instead of drugs, she cures you using the same seven secret herbs and spices the Colonel uses.” I grinned, thinking I had said something clever.

The medicine woman took a moment to frown at me again as she walked up to the bonfire. Playing up to the tourists, she chanted a prayer in both Navajo and English. It was thankfully short, blessing the Great Spirit for the bounty set before us.

“I’m getting hungry,” I whispered to Sheila.

Then, several resort staff, dressed in native attire, pulled the sheets from the waiting buffet. “Finally!” I exclaimed looking at the bounty of BBQ on the tables.

One of the dancers who was standing next to me as I stood up to get in the buffet line said something while giving me the stink eye.

I turned to him and said, “Did you say something, Chief?”

A female dancer, who was damned cute, touched his arm and shook her head. The guy ignored her and stepped up to me and said, “You disrespected the medicine woman during her prayer along with our tribal elders.”

I just looked at the young, shirtless dancer a moment. I said, “Sorry, Chief. No disrespect intended. I’m actually a vulture for culture. But I’m also hungry.” He kept frowning at me. “I’ll try to do better, okay?”

Sheila took my hand and growled, “Don’t start a fight, doofus. Did you see the muscles on that guy?”

I laughed. “We drop heap big wampum on these clowns. They won’t do anything to hurt that.”

We got in line with the other guests at the buffet. It smelled wonderful. Instead of letting customers load up their own plates, they had staff putting things on our plates for us. Well, you could always come back for seconds.

After the food was served and we had all settled back to eat, the entertainment portion started. The drummer banged on his drum, and the flute players played their flutes. The dancers were excellent, and the girl dancers were fun to watch.

I leaned over to Sheila and said, “Pretty good, huh? Not exactly the Beatles, but it’s a great primitive rhythm.”

About mid-way, I was really feeling the beats and started slapping my palm to my mouth and saying, “woo woo woo woo…”

The manager came up to me and leaned over to my ear, “Sir, can you stop doing that? You’re annoying the other guests.”

I nodded. “Sorry, Chief. I’ll stop.” I held up my glass and laughed, “It’s the fire water talking.” The congregation of tribal elders all frowned at me.

Pointing, I whispered to Sheila, “See that old squaw over there? She’s been frowning at me all evening.”

Sheila folded her arms across her chest and huffed. “I don’t blame her the way you keep making a fool out of yourself.  It’s a wonder we don’t get tossed out.”

“Nah. All they care about is the heap-big wampum we’re dropping on the place.” I drained my beer and set the glass down.

Pointing around the room, Sheila said, “Nobody else is acting like you.”

I laughed and held up my empty glass. “It must be the fire water.”

Our waiter returned to our table and before he said anything, I held up the palm of my hand and said, “How.” He just stared at me, looking bored. I put my hand down and said, “Sorry, Chief.”

The waiter stood there a moment, looking annoyed that he had to talk to me and then asked, “Can I get you anything else?”

I held up my empty beer glass and said, “Sure, Chief. I could use a refill.” He took my glass and returned a minute later will a full one.

There was a lull in the dancing, and the group of elderly Indians got up from their seats in the corner and started to leave. The old squaw walked directly to me, despite one of the men shaking their head and whispering something.

Stepping right up to me, she said, “While we get our share of rude tourists, you have to be the worst we’ve had in a while. You really need to be respectful or face the consequences.”

I laughed. “Or what?” I took another slug of my beer.

The old woman scowled at me. “So be it.”

Our waiter said, “Time for you to leave. You have insulted our medicine woman.”

I took Sheila’s hand and said, “Fine. This has gotten boring anyway. We’re checking out in the morning.” Pulling Sheila’s hand, I stormed out.

When we got back to our room, Sheila threw her purse at me. “You asshole! I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life! I’m going to take the bus back  home in the morning!”

“Can I help it if Indians don’t have a sense of humor?”

Pointing at the other bed in the room, Sheila said, “Oh, go fuck yourself. You sleep over there!”

“But babe…” She rolled over.

                    *

I awoke to both a headache and a scream from Sheila. Pointing at me, she yelled, “Who are you? And where’s Jack? Is this a joke?”

Frowning, I said, “I’m Jack, you stupid bitch.”

Shaking, Sheila said, “Get out! I’m calling the police.”

That’s when long strands of black hair fell across my face. The t-shirt I went to bed in seemed too big. I looked at the large mirror in the room.

I froze. Where my reflection should have been was a very pretty twelve-year-old Navajo girl.

End of Part 1