Witchy Woman

This hobo's bindle is more easily sorted if you read these for context. Suit yourselves. I appreciate your patronage. More so if you would take time to leave a comment. No need to tase me however. I've shown you what I'm working with.

My sincere thanks to the editor, sitting on high, surveying the wreckage and re-aligning the dominoes.

Enough frivolity. On with the show.

One of These Nights

A Peaceful Easy Feeling

Raven hair and ruby lips

Sparks fly from her fingertips

Echoed voices in the night

She's a restless spirit on an endless flight

Woo-hoo witchy woman

See how high she flies

Woo-hoo witchy woman

She's got the moon in her eye

Pete was on the roof of Aunty Nez' hogan, installing solar panels for supplying lights for it's interior. The oil lamps just weren't providing enough light for her to work her loom. Her eyes weren't what they used to be.

Enola stood in the back doorway of the house She called Pete to come have some lunch. She then stuck her head in her Aunty"s hogan and said, "Shimá (mother) come have something to eat."

Inside, in the kitchen was slight pandemonium. Two young boys, twins Ben and Jerry made laps around the table. Enola shooed them to go wash their hands before sitting down. She finished making making chicken salad out of last night's meal. She added chopped celery and walnuts and a handful of raisins. The boys chowed down on PB&J.

Aiyana ignored the disharmony for the most part. The boys kicked their chair legs in a spastic rhythm. Enola looked like her nerves were stretched taut. Pete caught the drift.

"I think I'll take Fred's drift boat upriver and float back to the Interstate," he said. "I could use a couple of swabbies. Maybe catch some catfish for dinner. Any takers?"

The boys' eyes lit up.

"Ben and I will go." said Jerry.

"Cool beans," said Pete. "I'll bring my.22 pistol. "Catch some chukkar coming to water.

It's the only bar in town."

Now he was talking. The boys were ready to go.

"Right after you finish your lunch." he said.

The two slumped in their chairs.

Pete began singing, slightly off key.

I'm Popeye the sailor man

I live in a garbage can

I eat all the worms

but spit out the germs

I'm Popeye the sailor man.

The boys started giggling. Enola rolled her eyes. Pete continued.

"I have a wooden leg

I drink whiskey by the keg

I like to go swimmin'

With bowlegged women

And swim between their..."

"That's enough." interrupted Enola. "Get some gone."

"One thing." said Pete. "Can we borrow your truck?"

"Be my guest." she answered.

Pete gave her a kiss and a squeeze and headed out to his shed. He gathered some essentials and loaded them into the bed of his girlfriend's truck. He made sure the boys had hats and a gallon of water and they headed for Fred D Funk's.

Fred was out, messing around in his garage. Pete and the brothers approached and he said, "Gentlemen. This is a surprise. What is going on?"

"Meet my associates, the Hard Flint Boys. We'd like to take a float on the river. Can we borrow your boat?"

"Only if you take me along." Was the reply.

"That's a deal, banana peel," said Pete. "We want to try catching a fat channel cat for supper."

"Give me a minute to collect my rigs." said Fred.

He gathered four labeless plastic bleach jugs, spare hooks and a spindle of nylon twine string. He slung a canvas tackle bag over his shoulder then added a fiberglass pole with a hook, like a fireplace end iron.

"What are those for?" asked Jerry.

"Those are fishing robots. One for each of us. All we have to do is keep an eye on them."

The boys looked thoroughly confused.

"We need some good bait. Do either of you fine fellows have a hamster we can use?"

"No!" they both declared.

"Pity. They work best. Let's go see what Ray has to offer then."

They hooked the drift boat to Fred's rear bumper and Pete followed them to the alley behind Ray's. Pete went inside to ask permission to dive Ray's dumpster. He came out and lifted the lid and the smell stopped him in his tracks. Stale beer, spoiled meat and veggies and mystery aromas smacked him right between the eyes.

Pete held his breath and scanned the surface. When he didn't see what he was looking for, he started digging with Fred's poker. Ah! He uncovered several dozen shrimp. He gingerly gathered them up in a small plastic bucket and let them sit in the sun. A convenience store was the source of two dozen juicy Nightcrawlers and beef jerky. They were set.

They left Enola's truck parked and locked upriver from the I-70 bridge and continued about 5 miles upstream, unloaded the boat and supplies and cast off, leaving civilization and their troubles ashore.

Fred and Pete made quick work of rigging. They cut 4 ft pieces of twine and knotted a hook on one end, the other was tied around the jug handle. A nice piece of stink bait was impaled and the whole assembly was cast overboard to float alongside their boat. Repeated three more times and they were all fishing.

"Robots on duty." said Fred. "Steady as she goes, men."

It was 10 minutes until the boys were bored stiff. Jerry wanted to sample the worms.

"Pace yourselves lads. We have a long float ahead." said Pete.

"I'm hungry." said Ben.

Pete pulled some jerky from his vest and said, "Gnaw on this, Bucky beavers. Pick a jug and keep track of it."

About that time one of the jugs disappeared from the surface, leaving concentric rings expanding toward the boat.

"Attention boys and girls," said Fred. "We have a winner."

"What do we do now?" asked Jerry.

"Watch and see how long he stays under. It will tell you how big it is."

It popped to the surface in less than a minute.

Fred said, "He's just a little guy."

He poled the boat in the general direction and snagged the jug out of the river. A sleek dark fish about a foot long writhed on the end of the line.

Fred said, "His fins have spikes and he will try to stick me with them. It hurts like sin. Make sure your hands are behind them and get a good grip. They're slippery."

He pinned the creature to the bottom of the boat and extracted the hook with a pair of pliers, the tossed it back in the river.

"Hey." both boys said at once.

"We can only keep so many," Pete said. "He needs more time to grow. We need to make them count."

Another jug submerged and this time it stayed under. As the crew approached to retrieve it, it popped up and disappeared again.

"Now we're talking."

Finally it remained on top of the water. They let the boys grab the jug and when the fish neared the boat, it began thrashing, spraying water on both young fishermen. It was a channel cat, about 18 inches long and 5 lbs.

"Nice work, men." said Fred. "Carry on."

This one they put on a stringer and let it trail behind the boat.

The afternoon rolled on as the boys continued to bring fish to the boat. They studied the latest capture. Beady little eyes, wide horizontal gasping mouth, slick leathery skin.

"Catfish don't see very well. They hunt by smell. The stinkier the better."

"We should use Jerry's feet. They smell like old cheese sometime." said Ben.

That brought on a round of scuffling.

"At ease, gentlemen. Were ambush fishing. Use silence to our advantage."

There was a lull in the action and the boys drowsed as they continued to drift lazily downstream.

One of the jugs slowly moved against the current. It took a moment for the significance to register. Pete manned the oars and followed it. As he caught up to it, Fred cautiously reached out to grab the jug handle, it submerged and did not resurface.

This was no guppy.

They weren't quite sure what to do next, so they collected the other jugs and beached the boat. It became a waiting game.

"Want to squeeze off a few rounds with the pistol?" Pete asked. Oh, hell yeah.

Pete brought out a.22 H&R revolver 9 shot and checked it's status.

He said, "This is a useful tool, but it can be deadly if not used correctly. There are rules you must not break. Ever! I would die if one of you shot the other, or anyone else. Swear to me you won't break them."

They swore.

"First rule. Treat every firearm as if its loaded. Never point at anything you don't want to shoot.

Next. Know your target and what's behind it. If you have to guess, don't shoot.

Keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to fire.

Show me I made a good decision by thinking you're old enough to get started. Never, and I mean MEVER touch this firearm without me present. Swear it." He said.

The pair were sober as judges.

Pete handed the pistol to Jerry and said, "Your hands are small. Hold the grip with one hand and hold around that wrist with the other hand. Just like that. Keep your finger off the trigger. I won't tell you again now.

Ok. See that little notch on the back? Yeah, that. That's the rear sight. There's a fin on the top end of the barrel. That's the front sight. Fill the notch in the back with the fin in the front. Put both on your target."

"What should I shoot?" He asked.

"Pick a spot on the other bank. Don't shoot over it. Ready?"

Pete thumbed the hammer back. "Ready to fire. Find your target and squeeze the trigger."

A sharp report, a slight recoil followed and a hole appeared in the mud. Jerry grinned from ear to ear.

"Just right. Try it again. This time cock it yourself and aim for the same spot."

Jerry emptied the cylinder. Ben was next up. Same routine. Same results.

Pete reloaded and said,"Plug your ears." He fired off nine rounds in a steady rhythm. One hole only appeared cross river. Fred followed suit.

"The rest is just practice." he said, then added, "Are your ears ringing?"

They nodded.

"That's because it's hard on the ears. If you shoot a lot or often, you should wear earplugs or muffs. Ok? Nice work, men."

The rite had an immediate and profound effect. The brother's demeanor had changed.

They bided their time by playing mental gymnastics. What's your favorite movie? Who's your favorite athlete? If you could be anyone you choose, who would it be?

Pete reckoned he would be a fighter pilot. It would be cool to rip through the sky, he thought. Fred chose astronaut. Riding a rocket would be like nothing else.

Ben chose a superhero. Jerry wholeheartedly agreed.

"Then we could beat Denis Olsen." they said.

"Hold on. Who's Denis Olsen?" asked Pete.

"One of the neighbors. He's mean. He called us wagon burners."

Pete thought on that one.

"You certainly could be, but think it through. Does could be mean should be? What comes next? My guess is somebody's going to jail."

"Like our Mom?" they said.

That caught the men off guard, but Pete said, "We can talk about that too, but first I want to talk about actions and consequences. It's like shooting. Once you fire a bullet, there's no calling it back. It's done, good or bad. It's a rare thing when there's no time to think about that."

"When you said you wanted to be a superhero I wasn't surprised. You're already underway. You've both got a strong heart. You just need direction. If you start burning wagons, all that would be lost. Is that what you really want?"

The boys were quiet for a minute, and said, 'He picks on us all the time."

"He heard that somewhere, probably from someone not too smart. He's wrong. He has no clue where you came from. Would you like to know? Your ancestors have been here a long time. Maybe the longest."

"What's an ancestor?"

"Everyone has parents. A mom and dad. You do. Your mom and dad did, so did theirs, all the way back to cave days. Yours were some of the toughest. The bravest. The smartest. Don't let anyone tell you different.

They were some of the first people on this continent. They called themselves Diné. It means it means 'the People'. They came from another part of the world when much of the earth was covered in ice. They didn't have cars or even horses. They walked."

"Everything they had they made for themselves. Their food, clothes, shelter. Everything. They hunted big hairy elephants called Mammoths. Their weapons were sticks and stones. They fought cave bears and saber-tooth lions. They loved their families and protected them.

They were good hunters and strong warriors. Tough and smart. As the ice melted, the animals got faster, so they made faster weapons. They had one called an atlatl, that cast a dart much further than a man could throw, and then the bow and arrow. Each generation got a little smarter. That's where you came from.

Now it's your turn. You want to burn wagons? Or be superheroes? The Hard Flint Boys."

"Who were they?" They asked.

"Heroes. They fought monsters. Saved the Diné. Aunty Nez could tell you."

"She's old."

"She's wise."

"She doesn't like us."

"You're rowdy. She likes peace. I bet she could tell you a lot about your history. She could teach you to speak Navajo. That's not easy to learn. She'd have to really like you to do that. You'd have to help her and treat her with respect."

"That's the thing about the Diné. Women rule the roost. Especially a woman's mother. Aunty Nez. I think she actually speaks some English, she just doesn't like to. Address her as Hosteen. She'll like that."

Pete looked at the time. It had been over an hour since they had last seen the jug.

"I think our quarry has escaped. What do you think?" He asked.

"I think you're right."agreed Fred. "It's getting late."

"Regulators. Mount up!"

They resumed their journey down river, telling outrageous tales.

"I heard catfish never stop growing. Like alligators," said Fred.

"Me too. Divers inspecting the outlet drain at the Flaming Gorge dam saw some that were so big, they were afraid of being eaten. They won't go back down there."

They were drifting along when Fred spied his fishing rig nestled among a tangle of tree roots along the riverbank. He and Pete looked at each other.

"I want my jug back," Fred said.

They tied off on the opposite side of the river, emptied their pockets and stripped down to their skivvies. They cautioned the Boys to stay in the boat. They eased across the waist deep water, clothes in hand. Fred held a folding knife in his teeth like a pirate. They quietly worked their way closer, muddying the water as they neared. When they reached the stationary jug, Pete reached gingerly down the string and gently felt around.

"She's in there. Backed into a hole. Pack something around my arm."

Fred took their shhirts and pants and encircled Pete's arm and the hole. Once the fish had no avenue of escape, Pete grappled for a lower jaw. When he had a firm grip, he said, "Bring the boat."

When all was in order, Pete unpacked his arm. The Boys were glued to the rail,

Pete said, "She's going to flop for a while. Don't let her stick you now."

With that, he extracted the whopper with one smooth pull, over the side and into the boat. Ben and Jerry scrambled for clearance, eyes wide with excitement, nearly falling overboard. Fred and Pete had to laugh.

"Look out! She's coming after you!" Fred chuckled.

The crew redressed and resumed their float. They had enough fish for the time being.

"Blue cat. She was nesting."

It was a mature fish, two feet wide at the head, almost four feet long. The Boys were in awe. They thought Pete and Fred could walk on water.

"How did you do that?" They wanted to know.

"That's called noodlin. It takes practice. When you get bigger, I'll show you. Right now you might end up as dinner." He laughed.

"I knew an old fella, he was 80, deaf and almost blind. He wore bib overall and tucked his pants legs in his boots. When he caught a fish he would put it in his bibs so he didn't have to make so many trips to shore. When his pants were full, he would climb up the bank and pull his pants legs up and all these fish would come sliding out. It was funny to watch him. His name was Polychoke Kopp. He caught a LOT of fish."

They drifted until the Interstate bridge was in sight. They banked the boat and located Enola's Toyota, then fetched Fred's rig and reloaded his boat. They had collected a mess of catfish.

When the crew stopped at Fred's house, he was given his pick of the litter, so he took enough for dinner, plus some for the freezer.

"Thankee, Spanky.' said Pete. "Ben and Jerry learned a few things today."

"My pleasure, sunken treasure. What are you going to do with the big 'un?"

"I'm not sure. It's way more than I need. Maybe I'll go see if Ray needs a catch of the day."

"Deal." He turned to the Boys, "You hornets learn anything?"

They both nodded their heads.

"Cool beans. We'll have you living off the land in no time. It was a pleasure fishing with you today."

Pete and the Boys made it home shortly before six o'clock. The Boys were getting fidgety.

Pete said, "Let's check in with bosses. Remember your manners. Start with Hosteen Nez,"

It didn't take the women long to notice a difference in the Boys. They didn't mention anything, afraid of breaking whatever spell had been cast. Pete gave Enola a short kiss on the cheek.

"Why are your clothes damp?" She asked. "You smell like a crawdad."

"We fished hand to fin for a while. Come see what we caught." Pete said.

Enola was impressed. Aiyana was nonplussed.

"Do you feel like eating fish tonight? There's enough for dinner."

"I'll say. That sounds good. Will you Boys see if there are any tomatoes and zucchini ripe in the garden?"

Their response was swift and immediate. Enola was impressed. "What did you say to them?" She asked.

"They got in a little big boy action. They want to be superheroes." Said Pete. "Do you think Aunty might be willing to teach them a little about their heritage? They wanted to know about the Hard Flint Boys. It's really not my area,"

"I'll ask her, sure."

"I'll filet these fish and take the blue cat to Ray and see if he will swap for some pork chops or something. I won't be long."

Pete put a fresh edge on his filet knife and made short work of his catch. He ended up with a dozen slabs of white, firm, mild tasting meat. More than enough to feed them all. He put the excess in the deep freeze.

He headed for Ray's Tavern and walked in his kitchen. The best way to describe the scene was of organized chaos. Several pots large and small steamed and simmered with fragrant aromas, herbs and spice. Multicolored vegetables were in various stages of slice and dice.

He asked Ray, who was busy with the evening's dinner prep if he would be interested in the catch of the day. He was, so Pete produced his prize. Ray made an appreciative whistle.

"How much?" was the question.

"We can negotiate. Barter. I doesn't get any fresher."

"Ok, hard bargainer. I need to ask you a favor. I need to have some tests done. It will take a while. Could I get you to look after Walt for a bit? He really seems to like you. He comes with a 50 lb bag of Kibbles and Bits."

Pete considered taking on another mouth to feed. A big one.

He said, "Ok."

Pete left with a pork loin, ten pounds of burger and one Cane Corso.

He walked into his own kitchen as the table was being set.

Walter and Aiyana's eyes met for the first time. Neither moved a muscle as unspoken questions were asked and answered. Walter walked over to her and sat at her feet., "Well there's that,". Pete said.

.They sat down to a meal of blackened catfish, stir-fried zucchini and sugar snap peas. Juicy sliced tomatoes filled the bill. The Boys balked at the crusty fish.

"It's burned." they said.

"Try it please. You might just like it. Enola worked hard to fix it for us. It's not polite to holler before you're hurt."