Coyote Dreams C. E. Murphy

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.Mom says her grandad was Navajo—”“What,” Gary said, “not a Cherokee princess? I thought those came standard these days.”I shot him a look.I actually was part Cherokee, although not through remote ancestors.My father’d grown up in Qualla Boundary and I’d gone to high school there.There were a lot of people there who legitimately could claim Cherokee blood, but most of them weren’t royalty.Mostly it seemed like people from much further away than the Carolinas—or Oklahoma—had managed to land themselves the royal blood.It was like the U.S.version of being descended from Cleopatra.Mark only laughed.The guy was nine kinds of casual.Maybe he did this for a living, like the kid in Six Degrees of Separation.Never mind his health or my peace of mind.It seemed like I shouldn’t trust him.I’d start not trusting him as soon as I was done eating breakfast.I hunched over it again, hoping Gary wouldn’t notice.“Nah.I guess my family came over from England in the early nineteenth century and settled in the southwest during one of the land rushes.Never had a chance to hook up with Cherokee royalty.”“Just Navajo.”“Well, she never said he was royalty.” Mark slid me a wink and a bit of an “Overprotective, isn’t he?” look.I avoided Gary’s eyes and stuffed a too-large piece of omelet into my mouth.“Anyway, whether he was or not, that’s like the total of my familiarity with Indian culture.”“Native American,” Gary said in a tone that sounded remarkably like one I’d employed on him some months earlier, when he’d called me Indian.Mark had the grace to turn red around his jawline and lift his hands in apology.“Native American.Sorry.Maybe you can tell me about it sometime, Joanne.I’d like to hear about it.”So he was good-looking, but he was bonkers.Anybody who was that agreeable about the possibility of magic woowoo stuff in people he’d just met pretty much had to be.I knew I shouldn’t trust him.At least my friends at the police department had gotten mixed up in my séance-thing back in January because they knew me and wanted to help, not because they were buying into a whole big weird world of Other out there.Gary grunted, a small noise that I couldn’t interpret as pleased or displeased, and saved me from responding by saying, “Not now.We got work to do.”“Sure,” Mark said easily.“Some other time.I don’t want to get in the way.”I inhaled a chili bean and started coughing, then washed cough and bean down with a long swig of orange juice.The acidity made my nose sting, and the whole combination made my eyes water, which let me open my eyes all the way.Overall I called it a win and stuffed an entire half slice of toast into my mouth before anybody could expect me to say anything.I didn’t see why I should.Gary and Mark seemed to be getting on just fine.The doorbell rang.My social life was not such that the doorbell rang twice in one week, much less twice in five minutes.I stuck my head out, turtle-like, over my omelet, surprise keeping me in the pose for a few seconds.Then, afraid Gary would dump my food if I left it unguarded, I clutched the plate and went to answer the door.A leggy blond woman and a six-year-old girl stood outside it.The girl noticed neither the bathrobe nor the plate of food I held and squealed, “Ossifer Walker!” before leaping up into my arms with the confidence of a child who’d never been dropped.Chili-cheese omelet went flying over the door, the rug and the girl as I fumbled the plate while catching her.Her mother looked completely dismayed.“I am so sorry.I thought—it was this morning, wasn’t it? Tuesday, nine-fifteen? We were going to have a tour of the station?”“Oh, God.” I juggled the girl around until she was sitting on my hip, and gave her a falsely bright smile that she didn’t seem to see through.“Hi, Ashley.You look nice and healthy.Are you keeping hydrated?”“Yes,” she announced, pleased with knowing the word.“I drink six glasses of water a day.” She held up all ten fingers, demonstratively, and my fakey smile turned into a real grin.“Good for you.Um, Ashley? We’ve got chili all over ourselves.We should probably get cleaned up [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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