Читать книгу The Terrible Twos - Ishmael Reed - Страница 17

“Well, where is he?” the huge gruff one said. He was a big mountainous man who gave off a fishy odor. “We ain’t got all day.”

“He should be arriving any minute,” said Jerry, the Forest Ranger. “He’ll explain what’s going on. He knows them. He’s part of them.” The big man and three other Gussucks began loading their shotguns and putting on their bullet-proof vests.

“He’d better explain it good, because we’ve just about run out of patience. Downtown turning over cars and things. This thing has to come to a quick conclusion. I aim to get me some red meat tonight.” The other Gussucks laughed. The door opened and in breezed Flinch Savvage, the half-breed native liaison. He wore dark green woolen socks, galoshes, and hooded coat. He removed the coat; underneath he wore gray slacks, plaid jacket, and black turtleneck sweater. He smelled like pine, was freshly shaved, and talked like Richard Burton. The Gussucks looked him up and down.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I came as quickly as I heard.”

“Things look bad. The old chief won’t let anybody get near that tree and Washington is calling up here for it. They’ve sent these men to remove the old chief. Maybe you can explain to the old chief. Maybe you can tell him that these men mean business. They’ve got shotguns. It’s going to get worse. Today the Indians ran up and down the streets, dragging every Gussuck driver they could get their hands on from his car. One man was stomped to death.”

“Captain, you have to realize that these people embrace beliefs that are alien to your western ideas. They haven’t had the advantages of a good education.” The Gussucks exchanged glances; they smirked.

“Look, sonny, you’d better get that injun away from that tree before we get to him. The First Lady wants that tree. She’s very finicky and always gets her way. They sent me to get that tree and I’m not leaving until I get that tree.”

“Very well, I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise anything.”

“It’s up to you. They know your language. They’ll listen to you.”

Flinch Savvage put on his coat, left the office, and began his snowy trek into the woods, until he came upon the old medicine man. He was covered with snow. Even the hair above his eyes held snow. He was looking straight ahead. Flinch Savvage approached him and squatted.

“Look, Chief, the Gussucks are preparing to move in here to arrest you. Why don’t you give it up? Why do you want to make it so hard on yourself? The young people in town are shooting up the place. They’re going to bring in some real troopers. There’s going to be bloodshed.

“If you move away, everything will end peacefully. Just quit now; you have nothing to gain from this.”

“The tree is alive,” the old man said.

“That tree is not alive. It’s not a person. It’s only a dead piece of wood. O, why am I trying to tell you. Why didn’t I stay at Cambridge?”

Flinch Savvage rose and headed back towards the Forest Ranger’s office. He entered.

“Well?” the captain asked.

“I can’t do anything. It’s going to be very hard to persuade them to abandon their traditions. There’s nothing I can do.”

“I knew we were wasting time. Let’s move, men.” The captain and his men went out into the cold. They headed for the spruce tree and the old tradition-bearer.