Rudy Ramos, star of Geronimo, Life on the Reservation, a live traveling show. See him this spring on Kevin Costner’s TV series, Yellowstone, now in production.
Happy Thanksgiving Eve. From my research file: I’ve read that Apache women could run so fast they could chase down a wild turkey. Then, they’d tuck the still gobbling bird under their arm and walk to the post to sell it to the soldiers. The first time it happened, the soldiers thought it might be stolen. But no, the women really were that fast.
The Apache women were hard workers. After their arrival on the reservation, they quickly learned the soldiers would pay for turkeys, firewood, and grass for their horses that the women gathered on the prairie.
They spent the money they made in the trading post. Things that were common to white women were luxuries to them. Geronimo commented that, each time they went to the trading post, they came back a little less Apache and a little more like white women. It made him sad, but he understood.
This year, I might try turkey hunting, Apache style. I can see a crow out in my pasture–maybe I’ll practice with him…
I caught him! (:
Oh! he got away! ):
This is the kind of thing writers do when
they’re waiting for a download…(:
Janelle Meraz Hooper is the playwright for Geronimo, Life on the Reservation. She’s a multi-genre indie-writer. See her books and stories here:
Custer and His Naked Ladies
A modern-day Western
Amazon and other Internet bookstores
Paperback and Kindle
an excerpt
Janelle Meraz Hooper
1. Dumped
Glory was on her way to join her husband on a NOAA research vessel when she tried to call him to say she was running late. That was when she discovered he wasn’t on the ship; without telling her, he’d pulled out of the offshore project days before. With that failed phone call, all of her recent, uncomfortable inklings fell into place. Her marriage was over. He just hadn’t gotten around to telling her yet.
That was how she ended up at Sea-Tac Airport, halfway between Seattle and Tacoma, with her hair in braids, wearing a pink Where’s the Powwow? sweatshirt. She carried only her wallet, a camera, and a faded blue gym bag. The bag was filled with the same kinds of clothes she was wearing, a few books, and a photo of her husband. The photo—frame and all—she chucked into a trash barrel outside the airport. She would have liked to toss it out of the airplane, but she was pretty sure it would make the stewards cranky if she opened the emergency exit at 35,000 feet.
Her original destination, the research vessel, was scheduled to drop anchor over the undersea volcanoes off the coast of Washington State. The scientists on the ship were to study the marine life that thrived in the hot water that spewed out of the craters.
After the research trip, she and her husband, Rick, were to take a much-needed vacation to Mexico and reconnect. They hadn’t had any identifiable problems, but her husband had been moody and refused to talk about it. Glory had hoped he would open up after a few days rest on a hot sandy beach with a Margarita in his hand. Rick hadn’t been in favor of the vacation, but Glory had insisted. Finally, he had thrown up his hands and given up.
Before the research trip, he had convinced her to put all of their things in storage because they didn’t know if they’d be back in Seattle when the project was over. There was no use, he’d said, in paying rent while they were gone.
It made sense.
Sort of.
But why hadn’t she been suspicious when he’d insisted on putting all of his things into separate marked boxes? How dumb was she? The dirty rat! And what would she have done on the research ship without him for three weeks? Her specialty was in freshwater turtles; there would be no real work for her there. No paycheck. He was the specialist in coastal underwater volcanoes. He belonged there. She would have been nothing more than a guest with no way off the boat. Her cheeks burned at the embarrassment she felt. What was he thinking?
Her new destination was her mother’s in Oklahoma. Getting a last minute ticket was expensive, and Glory was thankful for her credit cards. No one ever went to Oklahoma unless they had to, and airline tickets to the Sooner State were never a bargain. Glory handed the woman at the check-in counter her credit card and mumbled a quote from a rich friend, “All it takes is money.” The woman briefly looked up, then, expressionless, continued adding up the full fare charges on her keyboard.
On her way to the airplane boarding area, over and over, Glory thought, this isn’t the way normal, educated people get divorced.
I’ve been dumped!
With no explanation.
No discussion.
www.JanelleMerazHooper.com
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