The Eagle Catcher Read Online Free PDF

and I’m gonna fill in as chairman till we elect somebody permanent.” The councilman strode toward the line of pickups. Father John looked after him a moment before starting down the driveway. He stopped at each group, shaking hands, patting the men on the back in a half-hearted attempt at encouragement. Nobody said anything, and Father John felt the same helplessness and sadness that he knew was gripping them.
    Just as he mounted the steps to the concrete stoop in front of Harvey’s bi-level house, Charlie’s pickup roared out into the middle of Little Wind River Bottom Road trailing a cloud of exhaust and sounding like an eighteen-wheeler pushing eighty. Suddenly it veered across the road just as an oncoming automobile topped the rise. Father John grabbed the metal railing on the stoop and braced himself for a head-on collision. Miraculously the pickup swerved back into its own lane just as the car passed.
    Father John let out a long breath and glanced back at the driveway. The Indians stood riveted in place, staring at the road. Finally one of the men turned and caught his eye. “What’s that fool Charlie thinkin’ of?” the Indian shouted. “He’s gonna get hisself killed one of these days if he ain’t careful.”

4
    F ATHER JOHN RAPPED on the metal screen door. The front door stood open into the shadows of the entryway, and he could see people moving about on the landing at the top of the stairs. Their voices sounded like rain skittering over the roof. After a moment Rita came down the stairs and out of the shadows.
    â€œI been hopin’ you’d get here,” she said, holding the screen door for him with one hand while dabbing a tissue at her eyes with the other. Her long black hair swung about her shoulders like a nun’s veil. She wore faded blue jeans and an orange blouse that hung below her waist and tugged at her hips, giving her a squared-off look. Her face had a blotched puffiness about it, but her eyes were the dusky gray of dawn. It struck him that she was probably not many years away from having been beautiful.
    â€œI’m terribly sorry about Harvey,” he said, stepping into the small entry and waiting for his eyes to adjust from the bright sunlight outdoors. There was a hollow ring to the words that hung in the air between them. He wished he could think of something to say that might console her.
    â€œYou were a good friend to my brother,” Rita said, still dabbing at her eyes. “He trusted you.”
    He’d always hoped Harvey trusted him, but he had never taken it for granted. Arapahos didn’t trust whites easily. He tossed his cowboy hat on the bench behind the door and followed Rita’s broad figure up the half flight of green carpeted stairs, grateful for the little miracles. Here he was, hoping to console Harvey’s family, and Rita had said something that consoled him.
    Odors of the beef stew and percolating coffee drifted out of the arched doorway to the kitchen just off the landing. Several Arapaho women buzzed about, stirring a pot on the stove and shuffling casserole dishes, plastic food containers, loaves of bread, and bags of hamburger buns around on the counters. The green carpeting trailed down a long hallway to one side of the landing and spread across the living room on the other side.
    Rita turned and planted herself in the kitchen doorway. “After you seen Mother,” she said, nodding toward the living room, “there’s something important I wanna talk to you about.” Then, “What’s the matter?”
    Father John shook his head. That’s what Harvey had said the last time he’d spoken with him. “There’s something important I wanna talk over.” He wondered if what Rita had to tell him was related to whatever had been bothering Harvey. It would have to wait.
    He took in the living room at a glance. Five grandmothers occupied the sofa and two upholstered