Down On Rez Road He was walking home after a bad day in town. Reflecting on things, life in general, really. Thinking, about his little family, in their little trailer down on Red Road. What did his woman say before he left for town? "Honey don't go." He wished he had listened to her. He knew she was born an Old and Wise Spirit. But he had to go, he had to. So he had gone, full of hope and plans. He had taken the things he and his woman had made by hand, in the Old Ways. When he got to town he stopped, wondering where he should start. The town had changed since the last time he'd been there. The old road house was gone, burned to the ground by a cousin refused. Nobody had seen the cousin since that time. They didn't know what to make of it, had he left for parts unknown or had the townies gotten to him? They had only heard the stories and would always wonder what had happened to him. He continued to look around and heard a passerby mutter an insult. "Well", he thought, "That is just the way of it. He shifted his load and spotted a new gift shop. So he headed in that direction, hoping. When he entered, the people stared at him, he felt uncomfortable. But he went to the counter and asked "Do you take handmade items on consignment?" His answer was a resounding "No!" He heard a few snickers coming from the others in the store and he left. He went to the General Store, still hoping. Before he could enter the store, the shopkeeper turned the key in the door and put out the closed sign. "Now What?" He asked himself. He remembered that an Elder lived in town and decided to stop for a visit. When he got to the Elder's home, he was welcomed warmly and offered a seat and some lunch. He lost track of time as he listened to this Grandfather's stories. Soon he knew he must leave and try to find a buyer for his wares. He asked the Grandfather if he knew a friendly merchant who might take them or sell them on consignment. But the Grandfather shook his head and suggested that if he had something of value on him he might be able to sell it at the pawnshop on the bad end of town. And so he went in that direction. He was not at all happy about going into that part of town but knew he must. He couldn't come home empty handed; his family was counting on him. When he finally found the shop it was getting dark. He entered the store and took the only thing he had of value to the counterman. The man gave him fifty dollars for it.. Fifty Dollars for his wedding ring, oh man what would he tell his woman? Angry at himself he stopped to buy a few essentials with his paltry sum and headed for Rez Road. By now the `good' town's folk were home having dinner, all but a few of the "good ol boys". He tolerated the alcohol influenced insults. He knew they had been drinking all day and wouldn't have had the guts otherwise. Walking tall, he moved on. Pretending he didn't hear them, he thought about the long walk ahead of him. He felt something hit him in the back and still he walked. He was struck two or three more times, once in the head, but he never flinched. Finally he was out of the town limits. He shifted his load and rubbed his head where the stone had hit him. He felt the blood there and wiped it on his jeans. Finally. he could see the lone highway light that marked the turn to Rez Road. Cutting across the field, he thought of his woman's frybread and smiled to himself. Although he had sold the ring his father had left him, he was beginning to feel better. Rez Road, couple more hours and he'd be home. Once he got far enough away from the highway light, he stopped and sat down for a brief rest. He had a drink of water from his canteen and a bite of his wife's jerky. Ahhhh no one made jerky like she did, dried and seasoned just right. He heard the howl of Coyote in the distance and honored him with an answering howl. Then he picked up his pack and started out again for Home. As he walked he listened to the night sounds, the crickets and the whispers in the wind. Before long he found himself humming along, and then singing along with Nature. He had no idea how loud he was singing, he didn't even realize he'd never heard the song before. But he sang and his heart lifted. Walking and singing, steps lighter than air, he was almost dancing under his burdens. Then he heard a sound he hadn't heard ever in his young life. A distant roar, startled he looked around him, seeing nothing in this darkness he looked up at the sky. It seemed as if the gentle nighttime breeze had changed, it whirled around him and turned him in every direction. Then it calmed and became gentle again, puzzled he was about to continue home when he heard a tiny sound at his feet. Something had hit a stone in this rutted road, so he bent down to see what it was. He had to feel his way around and told himself he was being foolish and would never find a thing in this darkness. "Chaaaaaaa" he thought, "go home you fool!!!" That was when he found it, just as he was feeling most foolish. He got out his lighter to see what he had been gifted by the Whirlwind. It was the ring!!! The ring that meant home and his woman and the father who had left his only tangible gift to his only son! I have no words to express his feelings, I can only tell you that this man was not at all surprised. This man was not at all shocked, he was only humbled by the gift and gave Thanks on the spot. When he got home, his wife was beside herself. His uncle had just left to look for him and his auntie had stayed behind with his little family. The house was in an uproar, but he went back down Rez Road to call out to his uncle that he was safe and home. He had never seen his uncle move so fast across the field of tall grass and sage. As they walked back home to his tiny trailer, his uncle told him that he had heard at the tribal meeting, that the town had been torn in half by a Whirlwind. He told his uncle about what had happened in town and that he had sold the ring his father had gifted to him. Then he pulled the ring off his hand and gave it to his uncle as he told him of his experience. His uncle only shook his head and said "All this time you thought he wasn't lookin after you, init?" John Whirlwind had returned his gift to his son. http://groups.yahoo.com/group/native_american_storytellers/message/9906 Come visit us at. "Keeper of Stories". http://www.newkeeperofstories.com/ or Come visit us. "Native Village" [email protected]