Whenever he returned from his endless searches, Luke brought his daughters little gifts: ribbons, scraps of material, buttons, pages torn from magazines, even food, candy bars, and bottles of Pepsi. One time, he brought the sisters each a Pepsi from Missoula. Chess and Checkers buried those soft drinks in a snowbank so they would be cold, cold. Luke sat at his piano then and played for the first time since the baby died. The sisters ran inside and sang with him. They sang for a long time.
“Where are those Pepsis?” Luke asked his daughters.
“Outside,” Chess said and knew they were in trouble. The three rushed outside to the snowbank and discovered the Pepsis had exploded from the cold. The snow was stained brown with Pepsi. Luke grabbed Checkers by the arm and shook her violently.
“Goddamn it,” he shouted, “you’ve wasted it all!”
He shook her harder, then let her go and ran away. The sisters fell to their knees in the snow and wept.
“I’m sorry,” Checkers said. “The Pepsi’s gone. It’s all my fault.”
“No, it’s not,” Chess said, scooped up a handful of Pepsi-stained snow, and held it in front of her sister. “Not everything’s your fault.”
“What?” Checkers asked.
“Look,” Chess said. The snow was saturated with Pepsi. Chess bit off a mouthful, tasted the cold, sweet, and dark. Checkers buried both hands in the snowbank, away from the broken glass, and shoved handful after handful of snow into her mouth. The sisters drank that snow and Pepsi until their hands and mouths were sticky and frozen. Soon, they went into the house to build a fire and wait for their father’s return. Checkers and Chess lay down together by the stove and held onto each other. They held on.
As he slept in the Warm Waters’ house, Thomas dreamed about television and hunger. In his dream, he sat, all hungry and lonely, in his house and wanted more. He turned on his little black-and-white television to watch white people live. White people owned everything: food, houses, clothes, children. Television constantly reminded Thomas of all he never owned.
For hours, Thomas searched the television for evidence of Indians, clicked the remote control until his hands ached. Once on channel four, he watched three cowboys string telegraph wire across the Great Plains until confronted by the entire Sioux Nation, all on horseback.
We come in friendship, the cowboys said to the Indians.
In Thomas’s dream, the Indians argued among themselves, whooped like Indians always do in movies and dreams, waved their bows and arrows wildly. Three Indian warriors dismounted and grabbed hold of the telegraph wire.
We come in friendship, the cowboys said, cranked the generator, and electrocuted the three Indians. Those three Indians danced crazily, unable to release the wire, and the rest of the Sioux Nation rode off in a superstitious panic.
In his dream, Thomas watched it all happen on his television until he suddenly returned to the summer when Victor and Junior killed snakes by draping them over an electric fence.
Watch this, Victor said as he dropped a foot-long water snake onto the fence. Thomas nearly choked on the smell.
The electric fence belonged to a white family that had homesteaded on the reservation a hundred years ago and never left. All the Spokanes liked them because the white family owned a huge herd of cattle and gave away free beef. The homesteaders built the fence to keep the cows away from the forests, but the cows ignored the pine trees anyway. The fence burned on and on.
Victor and Junior draped a hundred snakes over the fence that summer and dragged Thomas there once or twice a week.
Come on, Victor said to Thomas and put him in yet another headlock. You’re coming with us.
Ya-hey, Junior said. Don’t you think he’s had enough?
I’ll tell you when he’s had enough, Victor said.
Victor and Junior carried Thomas to the fence, where they kept a rattlesnake in a plastic barrel.
Look, Victor said, and Thomas saw the snake.
Where’d you get that? he asked, frightened.
From your momma’s panties, Victor said.
Thomas strained against Victor and Junior, but they pushed him down and held his face close to the barrel.
Grab the fence, Victor said. Or grab the snake.
No, Thomas said.
Wait a second, Junior said, scared as Thomas.
Fence or snake, Victor said.
Thomas looked down at the rattler, which remained still. No sound, no rattles shaking. Then he reached out as if to grab the fence but grabbed the rattlesnake instead and threw it at Victor.
Oh, shit, shit, shit, Victor said and jumped away from the dead snake.
Junior and Thomas laughed.
You think that’s funny? Victor asked as he picked up the rattler. You think that’s funny?
Yeah, Junior and Thomas said.
Victor shoved the snake in Thomas’s face while Junior jumped back.
Eat this, Victor said and pushed the snake against Thomas’s mouth. Thomas tripped, fell to the ground, and Victor shoved that snake at him until the game grew old.
Jesus, Junior said. He’s had enough.
Victor draped the dead snake across the electric fence. It danced and danced, fell off the wire, squirmed its way back to life, and started to rattle.
Oh, shit, Victor said and ran away. Junior and Thomas ran after him, kept running. Soon, in his dream, Victor and Junior ran into a large empty room. Thomas followed them. The three picked up musical instruments and started to practice.
You know, Thomas said between songs. I hope we don’t make it.
Make what? Junior asked.
Make it big. Have a hit song and all that, Thomas said.
Why the hell not? Victor asked.
I don’t know. Maybe we don’t deserve it. Maybe we should have something better in mind. Maybe something bad is going to happen to us if we don’t have something better on our minds.
Like what? Victor asked.
Well, Thomas said, what if we get rich and eat too much? We’ll all get fat and disgusting.
Shit, Victor said. I’m not Elvis.
Ya-hey, Junior said, did you know Elvis was a cavalry scout in a previous life?
In his dream, Thomas strummed the guitar and pleaded with Victor.
Really, Thomas said. I’m scared to be famous.
Well, Junior said, I think we should worry about learning to play our instruments better first.
Yeah, Victor said. And we don’t have nothing to worry about if we keep you as the lead singer anyway.
Yeah, Junior said. And besides, the only famous Indians are dead chiefs and long-distance runners.
In his dream, Thomas looked at his bandmates. He wondered what they really felt. He wondered what those snakes felt on the electric fence. Thomas held his guitar closely and felt its power, then noticed that he was holding Robert Johnson’s guitar. In the dream, he hit a chord, felt a sharp pain in his wrists, but the music tasted like good food.