The Blue Between the Clouds Page 7

  Anyway, Two Moons’ father rode into town on a skinny horse with Two Moons on the back. He came to meet with the city council. His wide-brimmed hat was covered with dust, but his face, his face was so stern, and yet he reached up and pulled Two Moons down with one arm and held him against his chest like a baby before puttin’ him on the ground. Then Red Eagle walked into the courthouse to meet with the council and the mayor. They were in there for a long time. Folks outside were disgusted like. They said Red Eagle had come to ask for a handout for his people. But that’s not why he was there. I mean, he could’ve used one. His people were starvin’ to death. But he didn’t ask for one. Pa was on the city council that year, and late that night he told us what Red Eagle had asked for. You see, Red Eagle was a proud man—he didn’t feel entitled to anything that he didn’t earn. He knew the Depression was on and that the whole town was sufferin’. He had a way to help the town and his own people at the same time.

  Red Eagle had seeds but no water. His land had all dried up, and he hadn’t had a decent crop for a couple of seasons. He wanted to plant corn and vegetables in town, where there was water. He wanted to plant enough for his people and the townsfolk, too. You see, most men worked in the mine six days a week. Some of the women had gardens, but most people just plain didn’t have enough to eat. Red Eagle’s crops would feed everyone through the winter. His people would tend the gardens on our land, then we’d split the harvest.

  Well, the council thought it was about the only way to make it through the winter, so Red Eagle and his people planted. There were gardens everywhere, even behind the courthouse. The harvest was good that year. Early in the fall, when the harvest first started, I helped Pa set up tables on Main Street. We piled up corn, potatoes, and all sorts of vegetables I’d never heard of. Ma said it was like Thanksgivin’. For the next month, there was always fresh vegetables in the square.

  I thought about that, sittin’ in the sweat lodge. I thought about Red Eagle. I hardly knew him, but I missed him. He died the next winter. A few years later, Two Moons wandered into school and we’d been like brothers ever since. Two Moons. I thought about his name. He only talked about it once. It was the day I met him, that day his father rode into town. We sat on the courthouse steps together. “My name is Matt,” I said. “That must be your pa.”

  Two Moons nodded. “I’m called Two Moons.”

  “That’s an odd name,” I said. “Why do they call you that?”

  “Father says the earth is broken in half. Two tribes, the white man and the Indian. He says one day I will live under both moons.”

  I didn’t think much of it then, sittin’ there on them steps, wonderin’ what our pas were talkin’ about. But it came to me in that sweat lodge. Two moons. Two lives. Two Moons was livin’ in a white man’s world, but he was Indian. He had to make sense of both. His name probably helped him keep it all straight. I looked over at him and realized I was ready for a new name. I stood up.

  “I’m ready,” I said to Two Moons.

  He stood and we got dressed and went back to the hogan. Gray Horse was there along with a woman. She wore lots of turquoise and held three eagle feathers in her hand. The four of us sat in a circle around the sand painting. The hogan was filled with smoke from the smoldering cedar beads. Gray Horse chanted while the woman stared at me. She asked Two Moons questions in Navajo, but never took her eyes off me. Then she started to chant. She went on for quite some time, then stood and walked out of the hogan and waited, starin’ at the clouds. There was a storm gatherin’ itself. Huge gray clouds crashed into each other and the wind started up. The woman turned to me, stroked my face with the feathers.

  “Blue Between Clouds,” she said, and pressed her hands to my eyes. Then she turned and walked away. It started to rain.

  “What does it mean?” I said to Two Moons.

  “That is your name,” he said.

  “Blue Between Clouds?” I said. “What does that mean?”

  “When the storms come,” said Two Moons, “there is always the hope that they will bring enough water for the crops, but pass before it floods. You are named after that hope.”

  11

  AIN’T NOTHIN’ LIKE FLYIN’

  About a week later, Two Moons and me were sittin’ on the floor of our bedroom. The moon was full, but it was cloudy out, kind of spooky like. I was wearin’ Pa’s flight cap from the war. I figured he didn’t need it anymore. Sometimes I hated him for never wantin’ to fly again. It made me mad to think about him down in the mine, swingin’ a pick, never seein’ the clouds.

  Well, Emmett had worked on the plane all that week. He dropped the engine in, bolted on the propeller, welded a few pieces here and there, and strung new cable from the control stick to the left rudder. But still, he had no carburetor. The plane just wouldn’t fly without one.

  We had to think of some other way to get Two Moons out. He just couldn’t go live with his sister. It killed us inside to think about it. Two Moons the slave, fetchin’ water, choppin’ wood. No fishin’. No friends. We took this old lump of chalk and were drawin’ a map on the floorboards. We drew Salt Creek and the hills around it, the flats above that, and the mountains on the east. We weren’t sure how to get to Canada. Two Moons had never been that far. I had been to Green River once but couldn’t remember it. We knew we had to get as far as Green River, then on into Colorado before headin’ north. That’s about as much geography as we knew. What was important, though, was that we decided to run away. It wouldn’t be easy, for Two Moons, I mean. See, I could always come back, but Two Moons never could. Maybe that was it, the one thing that bothered me that night. We were usin’ the plane to get away from someplace, not to go anywhere. You know how you look forward to where you’re goin’. It makes the trip worth it. But Two Moons and me, well, we were just runnin’. I didn’t like it, but I would do it for him. Anything was better than seein’ Two Moons slave around the house for his sister.

  You see, the judge had come by that mornin’ and said Claudine would be by to pick up Two Moons the next day. Seems she was goin’ to Montana for a big Salvation Army meetin’. She’d take Two Moons as far as Helena, then put him on a bus to Bozeman. We couldn’t bear the thought.

  We finished most of the map and were tryin’ to figure out where to get a carburetor, when a strange feelin’ came over us. Not scary, but we both felt like someone was standin’ beside us. No one was there, of course, not that I could see, anyway.

  “The medicine man,” Two Moons said. “He’s here.”

  Before I could ask where, Two Moons was climbin’ out the window. I followed him and we ran to the barn, where we had moved the plane. We smelled the smoke of the burnin’ cedar beads and we knew Gray Horse must be drivin’ out the bad spirits. Slowly we opened the door and peeked in. Gray Horse was movin’ slowly, kind of dancin’ with a bag of smoldering cedar beads. There were also small pots of beads in each corner. The whole barn was filled with smoke. Gray Horse touched the plane with the bag and started to chant softly. He stroked the wings and arched his back. He placed both hands on the propeller and brushed them quickly away like he was throwin’ a wounded bird into the sky. Then he looked at us for a long time. He brushed our faces with an eagle feather. He circled around us with the smoky bag. We stood as still as we could, but the smoke made us cough. Then the medicine man looked to the heavens and let a small piece of gold fall out of his hand. We stared at the small, shiny knot of gold lyin’ there in the straw. When we looked up, Gray Horse was gone.

  “The gold is like a piece of the sun,” Two Moons said. “It is a gift to the gods if we need their help in the sky.”

  We stood for a long time starin’ at the plane. Then Two Moons put the gold in a small bag and placed it under the seat.

  When we came out of the barn, Emmett was there. He was wearin’ his pajamas with his boots and flight cap. He looked about like he was checkin’ the wind, or waitin’ for someone to land.

  “Emmett,” I said. “We need a carburetor
.”

  Emmett looked at me and gave me the thumbs-up. Then he walked off a bit and sat down in the field. Me and Two Moons followed him. He was starin’ at the sky. The clouds began to clear and we could see the stars.

  “Emmett,” I said. “We need to make the plane fly.”

  Emmett didn’t answer.

  “He’s onto another dream,” Two Moons said.

  “The plane, Emmett. The plane,” I pleaded. But it was no use. He stared at the sky and didn’t answer me. Then he walked away, not back to his truck, but east through the field.

  “You’re just like everybody else!” I yelled to Emmett. “You’re not crazy, you’re scared. You’re afraid to fly!”

  Two Moons just stood silent beside me.

  “We ain’t never gonna get this plane in the air,” I said to Two Moons.

  “It will fly,” Two Moons said. “The medicine man blessed it.”

  “Ain’t nobody can make a plane fly without a carburetor,” I said.

  All that night I kept thinkin’ about what the judge said about Two Moons belongin’ with his own people, and yet Two Moons not wantin’ to go. Not that he wanted to stay with us, he just wanted to go his own way. He wanted to leave his tribe, run with us for a bit, and return to either when he pleased. But all this fuss over his life was cagin’ him in like he was some kind of animal. I had dreams about it all that night. The judge was tryin’ to take Two Moons away and kept gettin’ stung by hornets. Big steel traps everywhere, Little Crow howlin’ like a wolf, and Esther screamin’ like the house was on fire.

  I woke up in the middle of the dream and I was standin’ on my bed. I looked over at Two Moons and the dream faded away. His eyes were wide open.

  “How was your journey?” he said.

  “I don’t like dreams like that,” I said.

  He laughed. “I just had one too,” he said. “I dreamed I was drownin’ in the San Juan.”

  “Was I there?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he said. “You had this boat you were tryin’ to throw in the river and it kept sinkin’.”

  We sat for a moment then, lookin’ out into the night.

  “Look,” I said. “This is our last night. We ought to do somethin’, somethin’ we can be remembered for. They’ll be here for you tomorrow. We can’t just sleep through the night like nothin’s happenin’.”

  “Tomorrow we’ll fly out of here,” Two Moons said.

  “Fine,” I said, not believing him. “But tonight let’s do somethin’ they’ll never forget.”

  Two Moons smiled then. He liked leavin’ his mark as much as I did. When Dillan McCormick stole his books and threw them in a mud hole, Two Moons didn’t do nothin’ right at first. But that night he went out to the woods and trapped four skunks and put ’em in Dillan’s bedroom. Then, just to make it a little more excitin’, he threw Dillan’s hound dog in the room. You could hear the ruckus from miles around. And poor Dillan, he was shoutin’ at the top of his lungs. I could hear him all the way to our place. I sat up in bed and laughed. Dillan stunk to high heaven for months.

  Anyway, I knew Two Moons was up to it. We just had to think of somethin’ good.

  “How’s about we give the judge a little goin’ away present?” I said.

  “That’d be nice,” Two Moons said.

  We climbed out the window and made our way to the barn. We wanted to be with the plane while we planned somethin’ for the judge. When we saw the plane, we couldn’t believe it. Esther had made a long banner out of a piece of canvas. It was tied to the tail of the plane and stretched across the barn and tacked on the wall. GOOD-BYE, TWO MOONS, it said. I LOVE YOU.

  It made us both kind of sad to think about it.

  I stared at the sign for a while. Maybe there’s hope for Esther, I thought to myself.

  “We’re still gonna be brothers,” Two Moons said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “We’ll always be brothers.”

  “You know,” I went on. “It ain’t right that you’re goin’; we both know that. It ain’t ever right for one person to tell another person how to live. If we were both men, maybe it would be different.”

  “Maybe,” Two Moons said.

  “Well, not much we can do now,” I said. “Except, maybe give the judge somethin’ to remember us by.”

  “Seems to me the thing to do,” Two Moons said.

  We lit out for the judge’s place then, not really knowin’ what we were gonna do. When we got there, everything was dark. We snuck around to the back where the judge’s bedroom was.

  “Don’t you think it’s about time the ol’ judge saw a ghost?” I said to Two Moons.

  “It’s probably been awhile,” Two Moons said.

  We found some bed sheets on the line behind the shed. Two Moons climbed in through the kitchen window and looked for somethin’ scary. There wasn’t nothin’ but cans and food. Then Two Moons found the flour. He poured some in the bellows he found by the stove and sprayed my face. In the moonlight, I turned a pale blue. We put the bed sheets on a broom stick, and then we stuck our heads out the sides like a two-headed ghost. Then we walked quietly into the judge’s bedroom.

  Two Moons sprayed the flour above my head in a cloud while I swayed back and forth like a ghost with long arms. Then Two Moons started to howl. Quiet at first, then louder and louder. The judge stirred and looked at us with one eye. Then he sat straight up in bed like he’d seen, well, a ghost. We walked slowly to the foot of his bed. The poor judge was shakin’ like a leaf in the wind. Then we walked slowly out of the room. Two Moons stayed behind me where the judge couldn’t see him. The judge rubbed his eyes, then he held his pillow up over his face. We couldn’t stand it then and started to laugh.

  “Wh-wh-who is that?” the judge stammered.

  We turned and ran. The judge struggled out of his bed like a bloated cow and stubbed his toe on the nightstand. We heard him yelp, but by then we were out the window and down the road. We must’ve run for a mile before we stopped and started to laugh.

  We laughed a good long time and walked slowly home. We sat down in the barn and laughed even more. That poor ol’ judge thought it was his day of reckoning. Well, we must’ve been pretty tuckered, because I don’t remember much else about that night. We must’ve fallen asleep right there in the barn. The next thing I know Ma is callin’ us from the porch. I jumped up to get a look and almost ran right into Claudine.

  “Oh, there you are, Matt,” she said. “You look a little pale, boy—you get enough sleep last night?”

  I realized then I still had flour on my face.

  “Oh, I guess not, ma’am. Two Moons leavin’ and all.”

  “Well, that’s why I’m here,” she said. “Have you seen the boy?”

  “He’s just finishin’ up some chores, ma’am. I’ll go get him.”

  I ran to the barn to wake up Two Moons, but he was already awake. He was standin’ by the plane.

  “Claudine is here for you, Two Moons,” I said.

  “I know,” Two Moons said. “Open the barn doors so we can fly out of here.”

  “So we can what?” I said.

  “The doors, Matt, the doors!”

  I opened the doors while Two Moons poured gas in the plane’s gas tank.

  “Two Moons,” I said. “We ain’t flyin’ nowhere.”

  But Two Moons didn’t listen to me. He primed the engine with gas and started crankin’ on the propeller.

  “Two Moons,” I said. “It ain’t goin’ to work.”

  Two Moons kept crankin’. My mother was callin’ us. Pa came out of the house without a shirt on and called too. He could see us in the barn.

  “Two Moons,” I said. “This plane needs a—”

  Just then the engine turned over and roared.

  “Carburetor!” I yelled.

  “Get in!” Two Moons shouted above the engine noise.

  I jumped in and throttled the engine. Two Moons jumped in behind me and I pulled back as far as I could on the stick. The plan
e taxied out of the barn and into the field. The banner was still tied to the tail and dragged behind us. Ma and Pa came runnin’. They couldn’t believe their eyes. We were roarin’ across the field in an airplane!

  “Give it more gas!” Two Moons shouted.

  I pulled back on the throttle, and looked down at the stick and pedals. One of the pedals was stuck, so I reached down and pulled it up. When I sat back up, we were in the air. Now I couldn’t believe it. I pushed the stick forward and almost crashed us into the ground. Two Moons grabbed me and pulled the stick back. We rose into the air like a giant bird. I pushed the stick to the right, eased off the left pedal, and put my foot on the right. Slowly we turned in a big circle. I could see my parents on the ground below, I could see all the way to the mountains, past the mine to the clouds. We were flyin’!

  Two Moons let out a yell and threw his arms into the sky. We were bouncin’ all over the place like we were in the river again. We rode on the currents of air, floatin’, divin’. We turned around and headed toward town. We screamed over Main Street with the banner flappin’ behind us. People waved and cheered. It was the best good-bye party you’ve ever seen.

  I pulled up on the stick and we cruised over the mountains toward Salt Creek. I turned to Two Moons.

  “Ain’t nothin’ like flyin’,” I said.

  “Beats fallin’,” he said.

  We laughed and laughed. And then it happened. Just after clearin’ the peaks and headin’ down, we heard a tearing sound. We looked behind us and saw part of the tail give way. It put us into a cockeyed wobble. I could hardly control the plane. Then part of the front wing gave way and we headed down.