Anyway, I had looked forward to this a long time, and, having come this far, I wasn't going to let a misspelled sign stop me.
I drove over the cow guard, my heart bumping as hard as the car. Strangely enough, the character of the land inside the reservation didn't change; it was the same as it was everywhere else, dry, flat until it began to roll up toward the mountains, covered with bristly bushes and a few stunted trees.
A peculiar lump beside the road far ahead turned out to be a fat brown woman sitting huddled inside a soiled shawl. An Indian! In her native habitat! I put on the brake, rolled down the window and called, "Want a ride?"
My temerity amazed me. This would be something interesting to tell people about, though. I was glad I had followed my impulse to stop, because if I had taken time to think it over I would probably never have done it.
The woman's bright dark eyes slid over me and the car in amazement. Afraid that this exotic prize would escape me, I pushed open the car door on her side and smiled invitingly.
After a moment of contemplation, she wrapped the dingy shawl about her broad shoulders more tightly against the wind, struggled to her feet and lumbered toward the car. She sat beside me, her thighs under the cheap cotton dress spreading so that the car seat between me and the right hand door was completely smothered in soft fat flesh. I lowered the window on my side before I started the car.
I glanced at the Indian woman as I pressed on the starter. Her face was round and greasy. Her eyes were like shiny black buttons, and her straight black hair was stringy. Her full, untinted lips did not move in response to my smile.
The road, which deteriorated rapidly from pavement to dirt once I was inside the reservation, led past occasional brown shacks that seemed made of weary old boards leaning against each other for support. A few of the houses, though, were made of stone, and fairly attractive. No doubt the chief and his relatives lived in these ... if the Indians still had chiefs. I recalled what the laundry truck driver had said about the Indians--that those who wanted to collect money from the government had to live on the reservation in order to be entitled to it, and that those who were willing to forfeit their right to the money could live away from the reservation and engage in any type of work they chose.
Livestock of various kinds and sizes meandered about most of the dwelling places. Some of the horses were beautiful, graceful brown creatures with jet black manes and tails that tossed in the wind. There were squat, heavy set cattle with broad heads and broad bodies. Except for the fact that they each displayed a few unmistakable signs of femininity, I would have sworn that they were all bulls.
"You live around here?" I asked, with a circling sweep of my hand, turning toward my obese passenger.