The Red Bird All-Indian Traveling Band by Frances Washburn

Author:Frances Washburn [Washburn, Frances]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780816598823
Publisher: University of Arizona Press

Clayton struck up a more piano-bar version of their opening riff, stepped up to the mike, and said…

Sissy wondered if he would give the band's full name.

“…the Red Bird All-Indian Traveling Band. I'm Clayton Red Bird and…”

Nobody seemed to notice. She took her bow in turn, waited for the intro to the first song, and sang not Hank Williams but Barbra Streisand, knowing her voice wasn't anywhere up to that and hating it, but the tourist crowd loved it.

At the break, Clayton said, “See, I picked the right songs, didn't I?”

“You did all right, Clayton,” Sissy said, looking around the room. The crowd didn't have the enthusiasm that a crowd at the Longhorn Bar in Scenic had, but then there hadn't been fights and beer bottles flying past her head either. She saw a familiar face over in the darkest corner beyond the bar, looked again, looked away.

“What's the matter?” Clayton asked.

Sissy didn't answer but lifted her chin toward the back table. Gordon Charbonneau and Loretta sat so close you couldn't push a piece of paper between them. Gordon had his head down as he leaned toward Loretta who was whispering in his ear. Or kissing his ear. He lifted his head and laughed, white teeth showing. Loretta had a little smile.

“All I need now is for the FBI and the feed salesman to show up,” Sissy said.

“Who's the feed salesman?” Clayton asked.

When the gig was over, Sissy walked past Gordon and Loretta on her way out. Loretta smiled and said hi with a lift of her chin that said more than words could have done. Sissy nodded.

Sonny rode home with Melvin, Sissy with Clayton who begged her to drive. She took the wheel while Clayton got into the backseat, wedging himself in among the equipment pieces, but he didn't sleep for the first half hour.

“I don't know why you keep chasing after Gordon Charbonneau. He's no good. A decent man, now, he would ask you to go someplace, you know, take you out to dinner. Maybe a movie or something. Go to your house and meet your parents. Where's he been these last few years? You know, he's got a kid somewhere. People say he shacked up with a White woman back east and has a daughter. What kind of a man is that for a woman like you? You need someone dependable, stable. What's he done since he got back? Nothing. Mooches off his family up there around Porcupine, drinks on the weekends.”

Sissy heard him but didn't answer. Clayton was right. Clayton was an asshole, but he was right. What was she doing? She wanted to get out of this place, go somewhere and be somebody, so why was she dangling herself after some guy who wasn't going to get her anything but a lot of misery in the same old place she'd been all her life? She ought to save up her money and go. Go where? Somewhere, some place, not here. She was tired. Physically tired tonight, tired of this place, tired of it all.

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