In the City of Shy Hunters

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Authors: Tom Spanbauer
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Charlie 2Moons came riding up on his horse, ayaHuaska.
    I was out back behind the barn, when up the lane, the cottonwoods touching chandelabras across, I saw a boy on a horse.
    The boy’s hair was long and thick and almost to his shoulders; his skin was cinnamon brown. When he got close enough for me to see his eyes, that was it.
    I was wounded by a blow of love.
    Charlie pulled on the reins and ayaHuaska rared up a little. Charlie was big, an Indian; his long black hair was wavy. He was riding bare-back and on the bridle was beadwork.
    Charlie got off his horse.
    Step over the fence! Charlie said. Come meet me! he said.
    I knew because Bobbie’d told me that the fence was an electric fence, so I didn’t step over, didn’t say anything.
    What’s the matter, Charlie said, Cat got your tongue?
    Even back then, the cat got my tongue.
    So then Charlie 2Moons called me a fucking queer and threw a handful of gravel at me, and a piece of gravel got me hard next to my eye and I ran crying to Bobbie.
    By the time Bobbie and I got back to behind the barn, Charlie 2Moons had disappeared. But Bobbie said, Just wait, he’ll be back. So Bobbie and I waited and she was right, and pretty soon Charlie came galloping up the lane, and when he got to us, he pulled on the reins and his horse rared up a little.
    Step over the fence! Charlie said. Come meet me! he said.
    Eat shit and die, Geronimo, Bobbie said, and flipped Charlie the bird.
    Charlie got off his horse and started dancing around making war whoops. He called Bobbie and me fucking tybos , called us fucking ugly greedy pink pig people, told us to get off Indian land, and then yelled at us that the place was haunted, the whole area was haunted because of all the Indian children who had died there, and we’d better get our old roses out of there quick or Tsoavich Big Foot would murder us and eat us alive, starting with the toes and fingers.
    Come over here and say that to my face! Bobbie yelled. Come over here and I’ll tell you a thing or two! So Charlie came over because Charlie was bigger than both Bobbie and me, and Charlie thought since Bobbie was a girl this would be a piece of cake. Charlie jumped over the electric fence, an antelope leaping, and came right at us.
    Bobbie socked Charlie once hard in the face and then kicked him in the balls, and all at once Charlie was kneeling on the ground, holding himself and crying.
    Bobbie took Charlie’s long wavy black hair in a grip and pulled his head back. Charlie looking up, head twisted that way, made me all of asudden sad, his dark eyes rolled back, tears making tracks down his dusty face. Bobbie open-handed Charlie a slap across his face and then again, Bobbie spit in his face—not a lunger, just a spray—and while she held his head back, Bobbie told Charlie 2Moons never to fuck with her or fuck with her little brother ever again and made Charlie promise.
    Say it! Bobbie said.
    I promise I won’t fuck with you or fuck with your little brother ever again, Charlie said.
    Then Bobbie said, I ought to make you pee on that electric fence, you goddamn bully.
    But Bobbie didn’t make Charlie pee on the electric fence, and after that day Bobbie and Charlie and I were best friends. Even though my father hated Charlie, Charlie and Bobbie and I were still the best friends that could ever be.
    But it’s not the truth.
    Bobbie and I were brother and sister.
    Charlie and I were the best friends that could ever be.

CHAPTER
THREE
    T he gods know what’s important, what’s wrong about you. They know everything. If you go out searching for the Holy Grail, they won’t let you find it. So that’s why, when I went out into Manhattan, what I did was not-search for Charlie. I’d crossed over the river of shit and I was in a world of hurt, and I was in Manhattan, in Wolf Swamp, and I just let the fuck-you city fuck me.
    It’s like the killdeer bird Charlie’s Grandfather

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