Cayote

She looked into the mirror and found that her face did not have any tattooing on it and she was relieved by that. It was early morning and the sun had just crested the top of the mountains and she decided to return to her original quest and at least show up at the law office in town and let them laugh at her for being a day late. She drove down the track that led to the dirt road that led to the highway. When she got to the highway, she adjusted the rear view mirror and discovered her spare tire in the back of the truck. Puzzled, she put the truck in park and looked at the front right tire and discovered that it was still in place and no where near flat. She rechecked her arms and the tattoos were still there so she hadn’t imagined it yet, it was a surreal almost dreamlike drive into town to the law office.

She was happy that she had chosen dark colored pantyhose when she left the previous day so that the tattoo’s on her legs would be well hidden. Once inside the law office she was put into a room and asked to wait while one of the partners read her resume. She settled in with a cup of coffee and began to rehearse to herself answers to any questions that might arise so as not to be thrown off guard. After all, she was a women in a man’s world and she was an Indian women in a white man’s world.

After an hour, a man entered the room and she turned to stand before him. He was just like the old medicine man but younger by forty years. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to mid arm and she noticed that he sported tattoos. Once he removed his eyes from reading her resume and placed them on hers he froze.

Both of them stood there for many moments, not speaking. They both had the same feeling of awe and recognition yet were unable to communicate. Finally she asked him if he had any relatives living around Eagle Point.

“Not any more,” he answered, “but my grandfather, a medicine man used to live up in the hills there and I still use his sweat lodge every now and then.” The man’s name was Wilson and he was obviously of Indian decent.

“I feel as if I know him,” she answered.

“Somehow, I feel as if I know you,” he answered. He drank in her dark brown eyes and without looking away he said, “I bet you have your arms tattooed with flowers and on vines.”

This startled her and she just rolled up her sleeves and showed him. He nodded and sat heavily into a chair. “Grandfather died when I was twenty two years old. Before he died he taught me how to sing and heal. One night, he gave me a healing ceremony that changed my life. The next day, he died. His spirit is still wondering the desert and I feel him next to me as I walk. Last night, I relieved the ceremony in a dream, and I watched him put these tattoos all over my body and then I watched him put them on you. It is Grandfather’s wish that you should be here.”

One year later, after passing the bar, she was second seat on a class action suit against the federal government on behalf of the Navajo tribe for treaty violations. She was newly married to a man with a lot of tattoos, just like her and the both of them, had one tattoo that was in the same place; a phoenix rising from the ashes extending from the nape of the neck to the crack of the ass. Grandfather always said that the Navajo Nation will rise once again and be powerful. The tattoo’s are for strength and protection against powerful evil and will serve them like armor against their adversaries.