Saucer in the Dunes

Part 27 Reservations

Later, after lunch, we pedaled to Ronson's to get Cokes and Moon-pies, then made the long trip out to the reservation on our bikes. The late morning sun beat down on us, and it was so humid that the Cokes only made us more thirsty, and there wasn't a garden hose in sight to offer relief.

We pedaled side by side down the neat gravel road next to the official government sign naming the reservation; only it didn't have a name at all. In fact, it simply read Property of Creek Nation, Hitchiti band Oklahoma.

None of us had ever been on a reservation, even one that wasn't named a reservation and I, for one, didn't know what to expect. Honestly, I half expected to see teepees and campfires like on television. We couldn't have been more surprised and more wrong. As the road turned to the right, the trees opened up, and before us lay a small neighborhood of neat little wood and brick homes. Men were working on unfinished buildings everywhere! The houses looked nothing like anything we had imagined. We stopped our bikes at the edge of the road and looked out over the growing scene in amazement. It was like the Creek were building a little town from the ground up. We had never seen anything like it. We all stood there taking in the sounds of the hammers and saws, the shouting of the men, and the smell of cut wood and tar.

"You're not supposed to be here," a girl suddenly scolded us from nowhere.

We turned to see where the voice came from, and that's when she stepped out from the trees on our right. She was about our age and exactly my height. She had dark brown eyes and long black hair; it was the girl from the library! We were all startled a little.

I wanted to say hello but had a lump in my throat, couldn't say anything, and could barely breathe. She stepped a little closer. She was holding a green and white bow and had a quiver of arrows slung across her back.

"Only Creek can come here," she said coldly, staring straight at us.

"You should leave."

"We want to see the Chief," Jimmy said proudly, looking back at Ronnie and me for approval.

"I wanna see that bow!" Ronnie beamed, stepping off his bike and resting it gently on the ground.

"You can see my bike if you let me see your bow. I won't hurt it," he offered.

The girl silently nodded agreement and handed the bow over to him, then brushed past me to pick up Ronnie's bike.

"Black Beauty," I practically whispered.

She turned and passed me a puzzled look.

"That's the name of his bike; Black Beauty.

She rolled her eyes and continued to Ronnie's bike.

Wow! She was the first Indian girl I had ever seen! And now I was seeing her again! Her hair was pretty. I thought it but couldn't say it, not in front of the guys anyway. She had it pulled back in a long tight braid that swung side to side as she walked.

"Can I see an arrow too?" Ronnie asked softly as he pulled the bowstring a couple of times.

The girl sat on Ronnie's bike, squinted at him, pushed Black Beauty past me like I wasn't even there, and over to him. She pulled a single arrow out of her quiver and handed it over.

"Don't shoot it, though. These few are all I have left."

Ronnie agreed.

I was staring at her, and she saw me. I smiled, but she didn't. She had the darkest eyes I had ever seen in all my twelve years. She looked away and started pedaling the bike around us in circles as Ronnie pretended to shoot the arrow again and again at make-believe targets. Then he aimed it high into the air and drew back the string. This time it slipped, and Ronnie inadvertently sent an arrow whizzing into the air toward a new house. It came down with a thud on the roof of the unfinished house closest to us and stuck straight up in the air. No workmen were there, thank goodness, but that wasn't enough to stop the girl from tearing into him.