He said he didn’t know anything about Mai Kim. Mendoza and Baranski grabbed me, but I held on to Teaberry and told him he was a liar and that if he didn’t tell me everything I wanted to know, I was going to strangle him with his own intestines. Teaberry said something, but it wasn’t particularly what I wanted to hear, so I threw him into the fence.
Mendoza wrapped his arms around my head and Baranski grabbed my knees, but I was still able to get Teaberry as he tried to scramble away. I fell on him, and the fence collapsed.
Teaberry said that Hollywood Hoang was the one who had set him up, and that for a nominal fee of ten bucks Mai Kim had taken the captain to a sandbag bunker between Gate 055 and Hotel California, where they had had sex, which had been invigorating without being overly lengthy. Then he walked her back to Gate 055, where they parted company. Teaberry said she went toward the Boy-Howdy Beau-Coups Good Times Lounge at about 1:00 A.M. and that that was the last time he’d seen her. The security detail at the gate could vouch for his story.
I let go of him, and Mendoza and Baranski let go of me.
“What’s the story on Eli?”
He sighed and pulled the seat belt out from his chest with a thumb. “Blooding the medicine . . .” He released the belt and turned his head but continued watching the road.
I vaguely knew about most of the Cheyenne talismans. “The medicine arrows?”
He took a deep breath. “There are three.”
“Arrows? ”
“Talismans; the Medicine Arrows, the Sacred Cap, and the Autumn Count are all Cheyenne. I am not sure about the Crow.”
“Autumn Count. Is that the one you mentioned in Philadelphia? ”
“Yes. The
These were things that Henry Standing Bear did not take lightly, so I drove silently, waiting for the rest of the explanation. The jaw muscles in his face tightened, but he said nothing, the dark of his eyes reflecting the glare from the windshield. “My half-brother, Lee, has seen it....”
I was curious, not only about the artifact but also about Lee, whom he rarely mentioned. I knew he had just seen him on his way back from Philadelphia, but I hesitated on the personal front, familiar with the frontier between red and white, where there was no pink. “What about the Sacred Cap?”
He seemed pleased to leave the subject of the Autumn Count and Lee. “Matriarchal in nature, the
“And the arrows? ”
His eyes lowered and stared at the space in the floorboards between us. “Four stone-headed arrows wrapped in a coyote skin. I was a small child and brought by my father to a lodge where they were revealed to me; I remember that my mother waited outside and was not allowed to look upon them. Periodically they are renewed with fresh sinew and feathers. They are kept, like the other items, by an individual who holds the office for life or until it is voluntarily relinquished.”
“So, let me guess, the White Buffalo were keepers of the arrows? ”
“No, the keeper of the arrows must be full-blood, and to my knowledge the arrows are with the Southern Cheyenne in Oklahoma.”
“What about the Sacred Cap?”
He breathed a short laugh. “The cap is adorned with a Crow scalp; it is unlikely that it would be entrusted to a Crow warrior.” His face stiffened, and I knew he was thinking of his brother Lee. “The Autumn Count’s location is unknown, so the medicine that Eli spoke of must be the medicine bundle that was found with Virgil.”
“The one he had around his neck?”
“Yes.” He stood. “It would appear that Eli feels his father’s actions have tainted his stewardship of a holy item.”
“Hence
His face was still. “Eli has no doubt that his father has committed these acts.”
I sighed. “That’s unfortunate.”
“Yes.”
I thought about the photograph of the boy. “So, Eli is Virgil’s son.”
“Yes.”
I thought about the pink plastic wallet. “What about the rest of the family, the woman and the girl?”
“Sandra and Mara, both dead.”
“How?”
The trials of his people wore heavily on the broad shoulders, but he spoke without emotion. “Head-on with a drunk driver. They died in January of ’71.”
“And Eli survived?”
“I understand there were behavioral problems even then, and he was shuttled off to foster homes. He now has his own gallery over in Hot Springs, South Dakota; Native abstracts, but things are difficult.” I nodded and, after a moment, he turned to watch me. “What?”
I took a deep breath and set the cruise control at ninety. “So blooding the medicine is like a curse?”
The Cheyenne Nation frowned. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
I felt my face tighten. “Well, it appears to be holding.”