“Bang!” A single shot rang out, one bullet hit the dirt sending a mini-mushroom cloud of dust into the air about fifty feet away from me. “Bang,” The sound echoes off the mountains and returns. I stop, frozen, the world around me seems to stand still. Looking at everyone, their faces are blank with strange contorted expressions. Manny and his sons scramble to my side of the van and take cover. Not knowing what else to do, each of us stoops down to hide.
Steve is mad. “What was that, Dad?”
Manny shrugs, “It came from up on that ridge. I guess it’s one of the old timers letting us know we are being watched. Guess he sent us a warning shot, doesn’t like strangers poking around.”
Steve sarcastically replies, “A warning shot?”
“Yeah, you know, fishing on the reserve is for Indians only,” Manny answers.
“Dad you know John didn’t fish, he just came along to watch us have fun,” Steve reasons.
Manny replies, “I know that. But the old timer doesn’t know that. I’ll talk to him. Next time no shooting.”
Steve sighs, “Ok Dad, but I wish you’d have talked to him before we went fishing.”
Manny and Steve look at each other and chuckle. We all laugh, although it is a nervous giggle from me as we jump in the van and drive away.
Down the road is a general store where we can get something to eat. It’s the only store around for twenty miles. We arrive after a short ride over a pothole-riddled side road.
The general store is also the gas station, hardware, feed, grocery, and liquor store, as well as the U.S. post office. Most of us get egg sandwiches and milk or coffee at the counter.
Something is weird here. It’s only 11:00 AM and there are two boys drinking beer. I don’t know what the drinking age is here, but they are definitely not old enough. They look like they could be in middle school.
Neewa runs through the store looking around for something to eat. Animals, especially dogs, are treated differently out here. They are allowed to run through stores and people don’t mind, they even like it. Already she is being petted by the cook and welcomed into the kitchen. She disappears, no doubt they have both made new friends.
At the other end of the store is one of the local ranchers getting supplies. He is about five feet tall, cowboy boots, and frail looking. He’s wearing an old straw hat, beat up jeans, and a snap button plaid shirt. Sticking out of his shirt pocket is a bag of chewing tobacco. Smiling, he reveals a total of three teeth in his entire mouth. I look at his face, old, wrinkled, and unshaven for weeks. He guzzles down the rest of his beer and tosses the crushed can into the trash.
I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. Two other girls in the store don’t like him either, I can tell. Instead of walking past him, they circle around him, staying far away.
He wheezes, “George Spahn’s my name and my ranch is the Spahn Ranch.” He grins wickedly at us with an evil beam in his eye. “Come on out to my ranch, we’re having a big party tonight, it’s out that a way. I have lots of friends out there staying with me and they like to party.”
Dad nods, “Thanks but we are leaving for home in a few minutes.”
I tell Dad, “That guy gives me the creeps.”
Dad agrees whispering, “I don’t like him either and I wouldn’t trust him, he’s evil. That’s the kind of party people never come back from.”
Neewa walks slowly between him and me and growls.
“Good doggy, ha-ha.” He turns and walks to the warehouse supply counter to finish buying his provisions.
After saying our farewells on the front steps of the general store, we get in the van and drive away waving and yelling, “see ya, see ya, see you guys.”
The dirt road and surrounding desert seem kinder, more peaceful. Dad isn’t as nervous as he was on the way here. Although, I’m sure he’s concerned about the dirt road and the possibility of it being obliterated by a single dust storm.
We drive for a few hours as the sun starts to set and the desert sky begins to change colors. Sunset in the desert is the most beautiful time of the day. A wide array of cloud formations and spectacular hues highlight the horizon. The pinks and yellows change with each passing minute, trying to out do the shades of blue and purple. No two sunsets are ever the same in the desert and the next one is always better than the one before.
“How much longer till we reach the paved road?” I ask.
Dad replies, “Any minute now. We should be on the pavement before it gets dark.”
Jackie, Neewa, and I are falling asleep. Neewa puts her head on my leg. Her cold, wet nose shines against my pant. She is tired from all the exploring today, resting so close to me, I can feel her heart beating.
A thud jars me awake. I look ahead where the headlights shine. We’ve reached the pavement. The tires begin to hum as they glide over the silky blacktop signaling our arrival back in civilization. Everyone lets out a collective sigh of relief.
“I’m going back to sleep, wake me when we get home,” I mumble.
Dad drives into the night for hours as we sleep. Then without warning we hit a bump, we’ve turned into our backyard.
“I call shower first,” I yell.
Frustrated, Jackie bellows, “Christina you always call shower first, you can’t do that.”
“Yes I can, and I did,” I declare.
We’re home, boy am I glad to be home. I never thought I’d say that about this old place. I’m exhausted and that shower sounds better and better. It’s going to feel so good. Then I’m going to sleep. Well maybe not right to sleep, I might read for a little while, I want to finish my book.
“Good night, Dad, love you.”
“Good night, Christina, Jackie, love you.”
“Love you, Dad,” Jackie says.
“Good night, Neewa.”