Tecumseh

By Tidia & MOG, May 2006

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Chapter 7/18

A steady flow of water poured from the garden hose in Dean’s hand to the soil surrounding the trees and shrubs he had planted. His gaze became caught up in the hypnotic stream and his mind drifted as he envisioned life energy flowing from the hose to the roots of the young plants.

“You planting pin oak over there, or peyote?” Frankie’s voice pulled Dean from his daze. “You’re looking kinda stoned.”

Dean smiled. “Just weak with hunger. I worked through lunch, ya know.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The older man held up a brown grocery bag. “I brought over some steaks to grill.”

“You’re a good man, Frankie.” Dean leaned forward and let water from the hose trickle down the back of his neck and through his hair before giving his hands a cursory wash. He let his vision wander to his surroundings and the juxtaposition of colorful wild flowers and dry landscape. His eyes locked on to a bit of movement and Dean’s eyes widened slightly.

“Damn, you guys have some big-ass mice out here.”

Frankie looked puzzled. “What?”

“There.” Dean pointed to where he’d seen a gentle-faced rodent up on its haunches, standing almost a foot tall. “Oh. Well….it’s gone now. But it was just over there. Kinda grayish. Big.” He held his hands apart to indicate the size.

Frankie stared at him for a few seconds. “You’ve been in the sun too long.”

He walked past Dean and noticed a figure standing at one of the clinic windows. “The nurse is happy to have you here.” As he passed the spigot, he turned the hose faucet off and headed up the side walkway that ran to the back of the trailer.

Dean wound up the hose. “She still looking at my ass from the window?”

“Oh, yeah. You finished?”

Dean nodded.

“Come with me through the back. Her husband should be by any minute to pick her up, and he’s the jealous type.”

In the backyard...

Dean slouched in a lawn chair behind the clinic, watching Uncle Frankie inspect the dry apple wood chips that burned under the grate of the gas grill. The older man whistled softly as he unpacked the steaks and placed them on the grill.

Dean’s eyebrows rose in an appreciative expression. “Are those porterhouse?”

Frankie smiled mischievously. “I know people.”

Dean grinned and shook his head. “Hey, you still mixing up that fire water?”

Frankie slipped a hand to his inside jacket pocket and retrieved a leather-wrapped flask. “I’m experimenting with citrus flavors.” He unscrewed the lid and sprinkled the steaks with homebrewed gin. The droplets hit the drip pan under the grating and flames flared up. He seemed satisfied with the flavor additive and took a small drink before passing it to Dean to taste.

“You can’t tell,” concluded Dean.

Uncle Frankie sighed, took the flask back and sipped again. “You just don’t have a sensitive pallet.”

“He still can’t hold his liquor?” Dean asked, gesturing to the trailer.

“Ben? God, no. Either gets mouthy, or all maudlin when he drinks - downright depressing. ‘Thank you for raising me Uncle Frankie’, like the only reason I did it was just for his gratitude. . .”

He turned the steaks over with a fork before closing the lid on the grill. “So, do you want to know how I knew I would see you again?”

Dean stretched out his legs. “Hey, you called it before – it’s the doctor thing. I attract danger and women; hell, I attract dangerous women. It’s no big stretch to say I’ll need stitching at some point.”

“You’re just like me.” Uncle Frankie took a seat in a chair next to Dean and mimicked the younger man’s position.

Dean pulled up the sleeve of his flannel shirt and placed the bare skin next to Frankie’s to show the color contrast. “Not seeing it so much there, Frankie.”

“You’ve got a brother and you would do anything to protect him - like me and my brother -like Tecumseh and Tenskwatawa.”

Dean looked confused for a second. “Tecu-? Oh yeah, I remember you telling me about them last time. You said were descended from them, right?”

Frankie nodded. “Blood, spirit, life…it’s all connected, all intertwined.”

“Now who’s gettin’ maudlin?” Dean replied, shaking his head. “I’m not seeing the dots.”

“My brother enlisted for Vietnam, and I went with him - to protect him, because my grandfather always said that I needed to take care of Bill. . .” He paused to look up at the back screen door as it swung outward and Ben appeared.

The corners of the young doctor’s mouth turned down slightly. “Hey…he has high cholesterol. He’s not supposed to be eating red meat.” Ben turned sideways as Sam came up behind him and squeezed past.

Frankie looked at his nephew with a contemplative expression. “Come on now, Ben, haven’t you ever just looked at a cow and thought - ‘mmmm, steak’?” The glare he received didn’t faze him at all. “No? Oh well, more for me.” He rose and went back to man his station at the grill.

“I want steak.” Sam croaked, lowering himself into the recently-vacated chair.

“I think at least the patient should listen to me,” said Ben, as he walked down the steps to join them. “Sorry, you get soup.” He moved to his uncle and reached a hand into the man’s inside jacket pocket in order to remove the flask. “No drinking, either.”

Uncle Frankie sighed. “Steaks are done…unless you’ve sucked all the life out of them too.”

Inside Ben's Trailer. . .

In between bites of steak and swallows of beer, the conversation flowed. Ben cut off another piece of the porterhouse on his plate. “So what story are you working on?”

Dean was caught off-guard by the question as he was adding a heaping spoonful of mashed potatoes to his plate. He shot a glance at his brother, who immediately picked up the thread.

“A Native American legend, as a matter of fact,” answered Sam. “Ghosts and mysterious happenings are always a guaranteed sell. This one originated in Illinois in the late 1600’s, but even into this decade there’ve been unexplained sightings and the disappearance of livestock. A Jesuit priest that was traveling the Mississippi originally detailed stories and a cliff drawing of a dragon-like creature. The Illini called it the Storm-bird. It was also called ‘The Bird that Devoured Men’.”

Frankie cut in with a shrug. “Yeah, yeah, The Piasa Bird – complete line of bullshit. Can’t believe you’re falling for that stuff. Might as well do a story about somebody building houses on cursed Indian land. You should write about me,” he suggested, while chewing, “or Tecumseh, but I would make the better story since I’m alive. I’ve experienced things that would turn you whiter than you already are.”

Dean laughed. “Frankie, you are a legend in your own mind.”

Sam couldn’t prevent the smile that curved his lips. He placed his spoon down after finishing his second bowl of Campbell’s Chicken Noodle Soup. It curbed his hunger well enough, but it didn’t keep him from wishing it was steak as he eyed the remaining piece of meat on the platter in the middle of the table.

Frankie’s expression grew lively. “Hey, you should check out the Wheelock Mission.”

Ben shook his head and closed his eyes briefly. “Oh no.”

“What?” Dean asked, his curiosity was piqued. “What’s the Wheelock Mission?”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” mumbled Ben.

Uncle Frankie ignored his nephew. “It’s about 30 minutes from here, closer to town. A friend of mine is trying to restore it to make it a Bed and Breakfast. But she’s been having some stuff going on there, gotten worse in the last few weeks.”

“Stuff?” queried Sam.

“Yeah, right up your alley – ‘ghosts and mysterious happenings’. I have to go into town tomorrow anyway, you can drop me off. I’ll show you where it is.”

Dean looked at Ben. “So why the ‘oh no’?”

“You’ll meet Scarlett soon enough, my friend.”

Frankie pointed a finger at his nephew. “Benjamin Wasabogoa Metis, you’re talking about the woman who could have been your aunt.”

Ben was in mid-sip of his beer and barely kept the liquid from spewing out of his mouth. “That’s a good one!” He looked at Dean and Sam. “They’re a textbook love/hate relationship. Half the time they’re like a couple of moon calves, next thing ya know she’s throwing pottery at him.”

“She only did that once.”

“Only because it was all she had handy. Just about cleared out her entire shop before he made it to the sidewalk.”

“She’s an artist?” asked Sam.

“That month she was,” replied Ben. “The woman has had more business ventures than husbands. A steady flow of alimony checks is how she funds all the bizarre endeavors.”

Frankie cut in, “Bizarre is a pretty strong word-”

“Two words, Uncle Frankie….chinchilla ranch.”

“Now, the only reason that didn’t work is because of what a good spirit she is.”

“Good spirit?” laughed Ben. “She’s got no sense! Who opens a Bed and Breakfast in the middle of nowhere? There’s nothing here. No bodies of water or attractions, we’re not next to a major freeway - deserted islands see more tourism than this county.”

“Chinchilla ranch?” Dean asked. “I’ve heard of ‘em, but can’t say that I’ve ever seen one.”

The two beers that Ben had over dinner had freed up his inhibitions quite well and he started in before Frankie could shush him. “Scarlett heard or read somewhere that raising chinchillas was a sure moneymaker, without much initial investment.”

Sam winced as he envisioned the outcome. “She didn’t have luck keeping them alive?”

“Just the opposite - the things thrived! Bred like rabbits. Problem was, she didn’t investigate far enough to realize people raise them for their fur. She thought people wanted them for pets. After she found out she couldn’t just shear them like sheep, she was a wreck.”

Dean shook his head. “Does she still have them?”

“No, she let them go! That’s right – set free in the wild. As of 11 months ago, the chinchilla population increased by nearly 800 overnight. She told people they chewed through the wire cages and escaped.”

Dean looked at Frankie. “Almost his aunt, huh?”

The older man shrugged. “She has her moments.”

Ben spoke again. “So yeah, guys, you wanna do a story on the strange and unusual – go visit Scarlett.”

Sam looked at Ben. “And where do the beliefs of a man of science like you lie when it comes to the strange and unusual?”

“Me? I’m proud of my culture and heritage,” answered Ben. “I wouldn’t be here at this clinic doing what I do otherwise. It’s a way to help my people. The rest, the stuff about mystics and visiting the spirit realm…I dunno, maybe.” He took a long draw on his beer.

Frankie waved a hand, dismissing his nephew’s skepticism. “Pfff, you believed well enough when you were little,” he said. He relaxed back into his chair and rubbed his stomach with happy satisfaction from the meal.

Dean took a swig of his beer, as if to gain courage to ask his question. “Speaking of what you do here…we kinda need to re-stock our first aid kit. . .”

“I’ll give you what I can spare.” Ben got up to put his plate in the sink. “My girlfriend is a pharmaceutical rep, she sends a lot of freebies my way.”

“Thanks, man, I appreciate it.”

“That sounded like it hurt to say,” observed Uncle Frankie as he handed his plate and Sam’s bowl to his nephew.

“Are you kidding? That was like Mister Rogers sincere…” Sam said, grinning mischievously. “You should hear what he tells women.”

“Hey, those are trade secrets, Sammy.” Dean pointed his fork menacingly at his brother.

“Oh please.” Sam placed a hand over his rib, mimicking Dean. “ ‘God must have taken out one of my ribs and given it to you - we were meant to be together.”

“We were in the Bible belt, man, besides - it worked.” Dean picked up what remained on the table and placed it on the counter.

“You need help.” Ben stated. He moved the dishware into the sink to rinse it before washing.

“I have to remember that,” Frankie said with a nod. It was quite apparent that he liked the pick-up line.

Dean saw the flask on the counter and twisted it open to take a swig before handing it back to Ben’s uncle while the doctor’s back was turned. “You’re gonna have to pay royalties, Frankie - it’s copy written.”

Frankie tucked the flask in his coat and patted the pocket. “I’ll come by tomorrow morning. We’ll head into town.”

“Excellent idea,” Ben raised his voice over the rush of water from the faucet. “Maybe then my nurse will be able to pay attention to what’s going on inside the clinic.”

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