The Pale-Faced Lie: A True Story by David Crow

Author:David Crow [Crow, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sandra Jonas Publishing
Published: 2019-05-07T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 29

WITH EACH PASSING DAY, DAD acted more like a coiled rattlesnake ready to strike anything in his path. During one of our weekend drives to Gallup for groceries, a truck passed us and moved in front of the Rambler too close for Dad’s comfort, so he raced in front of him and slammed on the brakes. The truck nearly crashed into our rear end, missing us by inches. Dad jumped out of the car and pounded on the driver’s side window. “You Navajo punk, get out and fight me like a man.”

Then when we stopped for gas, Dad claimed the attendant overcharged him and threw the money on the ground. “I’ll kick your ass, you son of a bitch,” he yelled, putting up his fists to fight as the attendant walked away.

A couple of weeks later, we had to stop for gas again, this time near where we used to live in Ganado. It was a bright, sunny Saturday, and Dad had rounded up Sam, Sally, and me to go with him to meet one of his BIA friends. He told us they needed to talk over some business in private, so we sat in the car and waited.

When we drove away, Dad noticed that the Rambler was nearly on empty. Bumping along on a narrow pockmarked dirt road, we found a gas station that amounted to a rusted-out trailer with a warped plywood sign that read, “Black Bear Gas Station.”

In front of the trailer, an adult black bear stood in a chicken-wire cage so small he could barely move. The poor animal had matted fur, droopy eyes, and a sagging mouth—a hungry-looking version of the big black bear Dad brought back from his hunting trip years earlier.

Two pumps sat in the dirt several feet from the trailer. A Navajo family in a pickup was already at one of them when we pulled in. Four skinny kids huddled silently in the bed, their faces tired and bored, like they’d been there for hours.

As all of us piled out of the car, the owner—a fat Mexican man not much taller than Shorty John—scurried out of the trailer and stuck the nozzle into the gas tank and scurried back inside. Sally and Sam took off for the wooden outhouses behind the trailer. I walked around the pumps, stretching my legs, and looked over at Dad.

He was staring at the pitiful bear in an almost trancelike way and then jolted awake and in two strides was at the back of the car, rolling down the window, his eyes fixed on the bear. With a loud grunt, he pushed up his sleeves, leaned in, and rummaged through his toolbox. When he straightened up and turned around, I broke into an instant sweat—he had all the signs of what he called pure, unadulterated fury: bugged eyes, throbbing Y vein, and puffed chest. I caught a few mumbled words: “chicken shit,” “son of a bitch,” “dead man.”

He strutted like a prizefighter toward the cage, wire cutters in his hand.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.