coffee pot and gave Gorman a sideways glance. "What'd you shoot at?"
"Nothing," he said. "Shadows."
"Gorman the great hunter," she mocked, "bring some shadow-meat with you next time, I'll make you a shadow-breakfast."
Gorman ignored the insufferable woman's jibe. "I'm in bad trouble. Big Ouray was a twelve-thousand dollar registered Hereford. And he's only half paid for. I needed him to build up my herd, start selling registered animals instead of hamburger meat." He thumped his fist on his chest. "Can't take much more of this." His voice took on a pitiful tone. "I'm an old man, not goin' to be in this world many more winters." He glanced at his daughter to see if she understood the gravity of his pronouncement, then turned to watch Daisy putter about the small kitchen. "I expect my heart will just stop thumpin' some dark night. It runs in my family. You know my third cousin… Sally Bitter Horse who lives with her mother over at Hondo Fork?"
Daisy was devoting most of her attention to a mixing bowl. She added a cup of buttermilk, two large gobs of lard, and a pinch of salt to the dough. "Sure. Sally works in the high school over there."
"Mrs. Bitter Horse," Benita said, "teaches mathematics and music."
"Well Sally," Gorman continued, "the way I heard it, she was learnin' them kids some 'rithmatic, when she had an attack from one of them cor-uh… corollaries and she damn near died from it."
Benita sighed. "She had a
coronary
, Daddy."
He glanced at his daughter, wondering why she was repeating what he had just said. Maybe she was getting a little bit deaf, like her mother had been. He turned toward Benita and spoke a little bit louder: "And I could have me one of them corollaries myself. An' then," he pointed at her with the pipe stem, "you'd be a orrifun." This image brought a tear to his eye.
Benita leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "Daddy's complained about his heart for twenty years. But the physician at the clinic says he's in good condition for his age."
Gorman grunted. "Hmmmpf. Blue-eyed
matukach
from Robe Island." He sucked hard on the pipe. "What's he know?"
"You better go by the tribal police station," Daisy said. "See my nephew, tell him about the dead animal." She added another gob of lard to the dough. "He's in charge of the whole outfit while Chief Severo's away, and," Daisy added with quiet pride, "Charlie Moon always takes good care of family."
Benita nodded vigorously; her bright expression made it clear that she considered this a very sensible suggestion.
"After I call on the vet, I'll talk to your nephew the big-shot policeman," Gorman said.
The old woman turned away from her work to squint at her cousin. "Ain't it a little late to call the animal doctor?"
"Doctor Schaid is required to examine the carcass," Benita said, "before he fills out the insurance forms." She had already explained this to her father.
Daisy found her rolling pin; she pressed the dough onto a polished maple board until it was no thicker than her thumb. "So. You got insurance on that bull?" She was surprised that Gorman had demonstrated such foresight.
He drank the last of the coffee and belched. "Sure. Bein' a rancher is a perfession just like any other perfession." Benita had badgered him into buying the insurance.
"Since you give 'em all names, I thought maybe they was your pets." Daisy grinned and Gorman kept a poker face. "Who you got insurance with?" He ducked his head and she knew. "Not Arlo Nightbird…"
Gorman avoided her sharp eyes. "He's the cheapest."
Daisy winked at the girl. "You know what the
matukach
say: 'you get what you pay for.' Anyway, you're the stingiest man I ever knew, except for my second husband." She hurriedly crossed herself. "God rest his pitiful soul."
Benita chimed in. "Father never throws anything away. My history professor, she says that people who grew up during the Great Depression—"
"What's done is finished," Gorman interrupted. "I don't need no lecher from either one of
"Nothing," he said. "Shadows."
"Gorman the great hunter," she mocked, "bring some shadow-meat with you next time, I'll make you a shadow-breakfast."
Gorman ignored the insufferable woman's jibe. "I'm in bad trouble. Big Ouray was a twelve-thousand dollar registered Hereford. And he's only half paid for. I needed him to build up my herd, start selling registered animals instead of hamburger meat." He thumped his fist on his chest. "Can't take much more of this." His voice took on a pitiful tone. "I'm an old man, not goin' to be in this world many more winters." He glanced at his daughter to see if she understood the gravity of his pronouncement, then turned to watch Daisy putter about the small kitchen. "I expect my heart will just stop thumpin' some dark night. It runs in my family. You know my third cousin… Sally Bitter Horse who lives with her mother over at Hondo Fork?"
Daisy was devoting most of her attention to a mixing bowl. She added a cup of buttermilk, two large gobs of lard, and a pinch of salt to the dough. "Sure. Sally works in the high school over there."
"Mrs. Bitter Horse," Benita said, "teaches mathematics and music."
"Well Sally," Gorman continued, "the way I heard it, she was learnin' them kids some 'rithmatic, when she had an attack from one of them cor-uh… corollaries and she damn near died from it."
Benita sighed. "She had a
coronary
, Daddy."
He glanced at his daughter, wondering why she was repeating what he had just said. Maybe she was getting a little bit deaf, like her mother had been. He turned toward Benita and spoke a little bit louder: "And I could have me one of them corollaries myself. An' then," he pointed at her with the pipe stem, "you'd be a orrifun." This image brought a tear to his eye.
Benita leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "Daddy's complained about his heart for twenty years. But the physician at the clinic says he's in good condition for his age."
Gorman grunted. "Hmmmpf. Blue-eyed
matukach
from Robe Island." He sucked hard on the pipe. "What's he know?"
"You better go by the tribal police station," Daisy said. "See my nephew, tell him about the dead animal." She added another gob of lard to the dough. "He's in charge of the whole outfit while Chief Severo's away, and," Daisy added with quiet pride, "Charlie Moon always takes good care of family."
Benita nodded vigorously; her bright expression made it clear that she considered this a very sensible suggestion.
"After I call on the vet, I'll talk to your nephew the big-shot policeman," Gorman said.
The old woman turned away from her work to squint at her cousin. "Ain't it a little late to call the animal doctor?"
"Doctor Schaid is required to examine the carcass," Benita said, "before he fills out the insurance forms." She had already explained this to her father.
Daisy found her rolling pin; she pressed the dough onto a polished maple board until it was no thicker than her thumb. "So. You got insurance on that bull?" She was surprised that Gorman had demonstrated such foresight.
He drank the last of the coffee and belched. "Sure. Bein' a rancher is a perfession just like any other perfession." Benita had badgered him into buying the insurance.
"Since you give 'em all names, I thought maybe they was your pets." Daisy grinned and Gorman kept a poker face. "Who you got insurance with?" He ducked his head and she knew. "Not Arlo Nightbird…"
Gorman avoided her sharp eyes. "He's the cheapest."
Daisy winked at the girl. "You know what the
matukach
say: 'you get what you pay for.' Anyway, you're the stingiest man I ever knew, except for my second husband." She hurriedly crossed herself. "God rest his pitiful soul."
Benita chimed in. "Father never throws anything away. My history professor, she says that people who grew up during the Great Depression—"
"What's done is finished," Gorman interrupted. "I don't need no lecher from either one of
Similar Books
