Chapter One
They say it happened long ago that the whole world was
covered with water. I'itoi -- Elder Brother -- was
floating around in the basket which he had made. After a
time, Great Spirit came out of his basket and looked
around. Everything was still covered with water, so I'itoi
made himself larger and larger until shuhthagi -- the
water -- reached only to his knees.
Then, while I'itoi was walking around in the water, he
heard someone call. At first he paid no attention, but
when the call came the fourth time, Elder Brother went to
see who was shouting. And so I'itoi found Jeweth Mahka i --
Earth Medicine Man -- rejoicing because he was the first
one to come out of the water.
Elder Brother said, "This is not true." He explained that
he himself was first, but Jeweth Mahkai was stubborn and
insisted that he was first.
Now I'itoi and Earth Medicine Man, as they were talking,
were standing in the south. They started toward the west.
As they were going through the water -- because there was
as yet very little land -- they heard someone else
shouting.
Ban -- Coyote --was the one who was making all the noise.
I'itoi went toward the sound, but Elder Brother went one
way, and Ban went another. And so they passed each other.
Coyote was shouting that he was the very first one out of
the water and that he was all alone in the world.
I'itoi called to Ban, and at last they came together.
Elder Brother explained to Coyote that he was not the
first. And then the three -- Great Spirit, Earth Medicine
Man, and Coyote -- started north together. As they went
over the mud, I'itoi saw some very small tracks.
Elder Brother said, "There must be somebody else around."
Then they heard another voice calling. It was Bitokoi --
Big Black Beetle -- which the Mil-gahn, the Whites, call
stinkbug. Bitokoi told I'itoi that he was the very first
to come out of the water. I'itoi did not even bother to
answer him.
And then the four -- Elder Brother, Earth Medicine Man,
Coyote, and Big Black Beetle -- went on together toward
the east because, as you remember, nawoj, my friend, all
things in nature go in fours.
JUNE 1996
Dolores Lanita Walker's slender brown legs glistened with
sweat as she pumped the mountain bike along the narrow
strip of pavement that led from her parents' house in
Gates Pass to the Arizona Sonora Desert Museum several
miles away. Lani wasn't due at her job at the concession
stand until 9 A.M., but by going in early she had talked
her way into being allowed to help with some of the other
duties.
About a mile or so from the entrance, she came upon the
artist with his Subaru wagon parked off on the side of the
road. He had been there every morning for a week now,
standing in front of an easel or sitting on a folding
chair, pad in hand, sketching away as she came whizzing
past with her long hair flying out behind her like a fine
black cape. In the intervening days they had grown
accustomed to seeing one another.
The man had been the first to wave, but now she did,
too. "How's it going?" he had asked her each morning after
the first one or two.
"Fine," she'd answer, pumping hard to gain speed before
the next little lump of hill.
"Come back when you can stay longer," he'd call after her.
Lani would grin and nod and keep going.
This morning, though, he waved her down. "Got a minute?"
he asked.
She pulled off the shoulder of the road. "Is something the
matter?" she asked.
"No. I just wanted to show you something." He opened a
sketch pad and held it up so Lani could see it. The
picture took her breath away. It was a vivid color-pencil
drawing of her, riding through the sunlight with the long
early-morning shadows stretching out before her and with
her hair floating on air behind her.
"That's very good," she said. "It really does look like
me."
The man smiled. "It is you," he said. "But then, I've had
plenty of time to practice."
Lani stood for a moment studying the picture. Her parents'
twentieth wedding anniversary was coming up soon, in less
than a week. Instinctively she knew that this picture,
framed, would make the perfect anniversary present for
them.
"How much would it cost to buy something like this?" she
asked, wondering how far her first paycheck from the
museum would stretch.
"It's not for sale," the man said.
Lani looked away, masking her disappointment with downcast
eyes. "But I might consider trading for it," he added a
moment later.
Lani brightened instantly. "Trading?" she asked. "Really?"
But then disappointment settled in again. She was sixteen
years old. What would she have to trade that this man
might want?
"You're an Indian, aren't you?" he asked. Shyly, Lani
nodded. "But you live here. In Tucson, I mean. Not on a
reservation. "
Lani nodded again. It didn't seem necessary to explain to
this man that she was adopted and that her parents were
Anglos. It was none of his business.
"I've tried going out to the reservation to paint several
times," he told her, "but the people seem to be really
suspicious. If you'd consider posing for me, just for half
an hour or so some morning, I'd give you this one for
free."
"For free? Really?"
"Sure."
Lani didn't have to think very long. "When would you like
to do it?" she asked.
"Tomorrow morning?"
"That would work," Lani said, "but I'd have to come by
about half an hour earlier than this, otherwise I'll be
late for work."
The man nodded. "That's fine," he said. "I'll be here. And
could I ask a favor?"
Lani, getting back on her bike, paused and gave him a
questioning look. "What's that?"
"Could you wear something that's sort of...well, you
know" -- he shrugged uncomfortably --"something that looks
Indian...