Junior stepped between Thomas and Victor.
“I’ve got enough spoons for all of us, too.”
“I don’t want any,” Thomas said and walked out the door. Chess followed him. Victor took the applesauce and spoons from Junior. Checkers stayed beneath the table, while Samuel sat up, looked around, then fell back to sleep.
“Hey,” Chess said as she caught up to Thomas outside. “What the hell you think you’re doing? You think you’re some kind of tough guy, enit?”
“He can’t do that to people no more,” Thomas said. “I won’t let him. I don’t give a shit what that guitar said. I don’t care.
“Well, call it off,” Chess said. “Let’s kick them out of the band. We don’t need them. We can be a trio. Me, you, and Checkers. We’ll get a new name. We’ll move to a new place. Get the hell away from this reservation. Any reservation.”
The horses screamed.
“What do you think?” Thomas asked. “Should we do that?”
“Yeah, we should.”
Victor swallowed the last bite of applesauce just as Thomas and Chess returned to the house. Junior had crawled beneath the table with Checkers. She pushed and kicked at him, but he still sat under there. He wanted some applesauce.
“I think she’s hurt,” Junior said to Chess, who crawled beneath the table, too.
“Is she okay?” Thomas asked.
“My ass hurts,” Checkers said. She shook as Chess held her.
“She’s completely fucking nuts is what she is,” Victor said.
“Listen,” Thomas said, and the rest of Coyote Springs looked at him. He wanted to tell them about the new plan to kick Junior and Victor out of the band, but he heard a knock on the door.
“Who the hell is that?” Victor asked.
Thomas opened the door to nothing. He looked around. Nobody. He was about to shut the door when he heard a voice.
“Hey,” the voice whispered from inside a bush on the front lawn. “You’re Builds-the-Fire, right?”
“Yeah.”
“The lead singer, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” the voice said. “I have a letter for you.”
The Federal Express guy jumped out of the bush and handed the letter to Thomas. Then he saluted him, jumped off the porch, and ran for his truck. Thomas watched the FedEx truck kick up dust and smoke as it peeled out of the driveway.
“What was that?” Chess asked.
“This,” Thomas said and opened the letter. He read it slowly.
“Well,” Chess said, “what is it?”
“We got an offer to play at this place in Seattle. The Backboard. I guess they saw us play in Ellensburg. They’ll pay us a thousand dollars.”
“No shit!” Victor yelled and started to dance with Junior. They tangoed up and down the floor. Junior picked up a stray feather and stuck it in his teeth.
“It’s our chance,” Thomas said.
“Chance for what?” Chess asked.
“The money. We need the money. Don’t we?”
Chess knew that Coyote Springs needed the money. She needed the money. The forest fire season was nearly over. Nobody hired Flathead Indians on the Spokane Indian Reservation. Two hundred dollars a head. Checkers and Chess would have four hundred together. With Thomas and his share, they would have enough money to dump Victor and Junior.
“What do you think?” Chess asked her sister.
“I ain’t going anywhere with that asshole,” Checkers said. “Besides, how the hell do these people know who we are? They couldn’t have seen us in Ellensburg. That was just last night. I don’t trust them. I don’t trust any of this.”
“We don’t need you,” Victor said. “You can’t sing anyway.
Checkers, Chess, and Junior climbed out from under the table. Victor stepped behind Thomas because Checkers knew how to punch.
“I think we all need to sleep on this,” Chess said. “Jeez, Checkers and I ain’t got any sleep at all. You neither, Thomas.”
“We ain’t got time to sleep on it,” Thomas said. “They want us to be there tomorrow night for sound check.”
“Are you serious?” Serious enough
“Jeez,” Chess asked her sister again, “what do you want to do?”
“I told you. I ain’t going anywhere with that caveman.”
“I’m going,” Victor said.
“Me, too,” Junior said.
“This ain’t enough time to decide anything,” Chess said. “That’s not fair. How could they do that to us?”
“Strangers ask us to sing for them, and they’ll pay us a thousand bucks,” Victor said. “And you think they’re being assholes. We should be grateful.”
“Will you shut up? I’m trying to think.”
“I’m going,” Thomas said. “I have to go.”
Victor whooped. Junior hugged Thomas.
“Checkers,” Chess said, “are you sure you don’t want to go?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay, she’s not going. But she still gets her share of the money.”
“No fucking way,” Victor said.
“Okay,” Thomas said, “we’re a democracy. We’ll take a vote.”
“Not this voting shit again,” Victor said. “Who pays attention to voting in this goddamn country anyway?”
“All those in favor of Checkers getting a full share if she stays home, raise your hand.”
Thomas, Chess, and Checkers voted for full share. Junior abstained. Victor was pissed.
“She stays home,” Thomas said, “and she gets full share.”
Lord, I’m sorry, Chess said to herself. We need the money.
“Well, Jesus,” Victor said, more worried about his share. “So she gets the money. But we got to get packed. We got to get going. Seattle, Seattle.”
The city waited.
Samuel flew. He had dreamed of flying before. But there he was, flying for real. Flying true. Flying four feet above the basketball court. He flew over the Tribal Cops. Over Chief WalksAlong. He switched the ball from left to right hand and back again. He closed his eyes, opened them, shuttered them like a camera taking photos of a historic moment. Samuel laid the ball gently over the rim. Samuel missed the shot.
“Shit,” Samuel yelled as Officer Wilson grabbed the rebound. He was still cussing as WalksAlong received a pass and drove the baseline. Samuel stopped the drive, forced the Chief toward the middle of the court.
“This is game point!” the Chief yelled. “We make it, we win.”
The Chief dribbled once, twice, three times and lifted off the ground. Samuel leapt with him, arms outstretched, watched the ball float just above his fingertips, and still watched as the ball made its lazy way toward the hoop.
Checkers waved goodbye as the blue van pulled onto the reservation highway. She waved at Chess with most of her hand, saved a little for Thomas, and maybe a bit for Junior. She excluded Victor from her wave.
“What are you going to do this weekend?” Chess had asked her sister before she climbed into the van.
“I think I’ll go to church. It’s been a while.”
“Yeah, the Catholic Church is down by the crossroads, enit?”
“Yeah, I’ve walked by it a couple times,” Checkers had said.
Checkers continued to wave goodbye as the blue van rolled out of sight. She walked back into the house, nervous, unsure what to do with her time. Maybe she should sing scales, ready her voice for the Sunday hymns. Father Arnold was the priest down there. She had read his name on the greeting board when she walked by the church. Father Arnold. She wondered about Father Arnold’s favorite song.
“You think Checkers will be all right?” Thomas asked as he drove the van off the reservation.
“She’s a grown woman,” Chess said.
“She makes me groan,” Victor said.
Everybody ignored Victor. In a unanimous vote taken just before they left, Coyote Springs had decided that was the best policy. Even Victor raised his hand for that one.