on whom.”
“Whom
?” Lewis squinted at this, the grammar confusing him.
“Here.” Ray handed the package to him. “Fred needs a ride.”
“Eh, no …” He dropped the load, and it thumped on the beach. “I not take ‘im.”
“Well, don’t look at me.” Ray asked Billy Bob, “Got a quarter?”
He began fidgeting, reaching into the tight pants pockets before he remembered that he was wearing Lewis’s clothes. Giving up, he went over to his pack and hunched to rummage through the zippered pouches.
“We’ll flip to see who gets the honor.”
“Honor?” Lewis wondered, obviously confused. When it finally dawned on him what Ray was referring to, he cursed. “
Honor
…? Don’t want Fred.”
Billy Bob returned with a dime. “How’s this?”
“Fine.” Ray flung it into the air. “Heads or tails?”
Shaking his head, Lewis said, “Don’t want Fred. Aiyaa! Not gonna take ‘im.”
Ray gave the coin back to Billy Bob. “Wimp.”
Lewis returned fire, in Inupiaq.
“Watch it,” Ray warned. “And don’t even think of bringing my mother into this.”
Lewis did, eyes sparkling.
“What’d he say?” Billy Bob asked.
“Loosely translated, the woman who gave birth to me was a whale.”
“Bowhead,” Lewis specified, almost gleefully.
“And yer gonna take that?” the cowboy asked, eyes wide.
“Guess I have to,” Ray answered with a shrug. “Lewis is mentally impaired … you know, not right in the head. His brain was frozen when he was little. He was so homely as a baby, that his mother tried to get rid of him, dropped him into a seal hole on an ice floe. But the seals threw him back, said his ugly mug was scaring off the fish.”
Lewis’s crooked, stained grin grew, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Eh … so dat’s how you want it.”
“No,” Ray said, shaking his head. He could tell what Lewis was thinking. “Let’s get going,” he urged. “Gotta get to those caribou.”
“Gotta be doo-el,” Lewis announced in an ominous tone. “Loser wins Fred.”
“Lewis, I don’t want to duel.”
“What kind of duel?” Billy Bob asked. “Ya mean with guns and all?”
“Song doo-el. Old Tradition,” Lewis told him, his village English becoming even more stilted. His language skills always seemed to deteriorate when he discussed “Eskimo” subjects. “To settle ah-gu-ment. Old ones used to sing—try best each other.”
“To humiliate each other,” Ray explained. “Nobody does it anymore.”
“Sure. In da villages. Proves who da best man is, who can put down udder guy.”
“Sounds kinda fun,” Billy Bob said. “A little like put-downs.”
“Exactly like put-downs,” Ray said. “Except you sing them. It’s ridiculous.”
“Aiiyaa …” Lewis said, throwing up his hands. “You carry Fred.”
Ray gazed down at the shirt-covered lump. “Okay …” He groaned. “Who starts?”
Lewis thumped Billy Bob in the chest. “You be judge. Listen, see who best is.”
Billy Bob opened his mouth to object, and probably to ask for more information, but Lewis was already chanting. He hummed, sang out indistinct words, and uttered Inupiaq for two minutes, closing his performance with an evil snicker.
“I didn’t catch a single thang ya said.”
Ray rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t much. He called me a half-breed mouse.”
“Shrew,” Lewis interjected. “Half shrew, half beaver.” He burst out laughing, as if this were the worst of insults. “And I say father Haida. Mother Tlingit. Parts of totem pole.”
Billy Bob pursed his lips, assessing the quality of the insult. “Yer turn, Ray.”
“This is stupid,” he muttered, struggling to think of something to sing. In the duel, at least in Lewis’s version, nothing was off-limits. Though Ray’s parents were long dead, they were fair game in this tried-and-true contest.
“Okay … how’s this?” Ray launched into a lyrical story about Lewis’s misguided guide service, using the melody of “Louis,
Marie Piper
Jennette Green
Stephanie Graham
Sam Lang
E. L. Todd
Keri Arthur
Medora Sale
Christian Warren Freed
Tim Curran
Charles Bukowski