From Here to Paternity

wouldn’t have otherwise. We didn’t earn them. We got them simply by being Indian.“
    “Yeah, but haven’t you ever seen what happens when our young people go into a store? Security people turn out in droves, just on the assumption that because we’re Indians we’re going to steal something.“
    “Thomas, nowadays that happens when any teenager goes into a store.“
    Having scored this point, she stuck her tongue out at him and grinned.
    Thomas looked at Mel and shrugged. “Women,“ he said. “I’ll never be able to outtalk one.“
    “Oh, Thomas, Thomas, Thomas,“ Linda groaned. “Can’t you hear yourself? You’re just as prejudiced as any white. But against a sex instead of a race.“
    “Linda, it was a joke !“ Thomas protested.
    “So is the tomahawk chop at football games.“
    “No, that’s different. That’s—“
    “Excuse me!“ Jane said. “I didn’t mean to start a fight.“
    “Fight?“ Thomas and Linda said in unison, then laughed at each other.
    “This isn’t a fight,“ Linda went on. “This is a pleasant chat. We rent the V.F.W. hall and sell tickets when we really have a fight. Anyway, there’s one thing we do agree on in all this. Little Feather.“
    “Who is that?“ Jane asked. “The woman I saw with HawkHunter in the native costume?“
    “Costume is right,“ Linda said. “She’s his wife and she’s a bitch.“
    At this Thomas nodded. “A professional Indian.“
    Jane smiled. “What does that mean?“
    Linda explained. “She’s the daughter of a woman who may or may not be one-quarter Indian and a Vietnam vet, also part Indian, who came home and went quietly crazy someplace in the mountains in California. Little Feather, whose real name is something like Sally Jones, grew up one of those malcontents who had to find somebody to blame for everything that was wrong with her life, so she latched onto being an Indian. All that silly feathers-and-beads getup, the medicine woman mystique. She’s just a fraud. And I suspect she makes good money on it along the way. That suede outfit wasn’t cheap, and she drives a BMW. Even if it’s only a rental, it still costs big bucks.“
    “You know a lot about her,“ Jane said.
    “My cousin Gloria went to school in California with Little Feather’s cousin.“
    A group of customers entered the room and Thomas Whitewing leaped to his feet to go back into waiter mode. “We need to walk off dessert, Jane,“ Mel said. “We’ll see you around, Linda.“
    As they left the dining room, Mel took Jane’s arm and said, “You amaze me. You’re the only person I know who can get so completely involved in gossiping about people you don’t even know.“
    “Oh, Mel,“ she said sorrowfully. “Someday I’ll have to explain to you the difference between common gossip and research into the human condition. There’s a fine distinction.“
    “Sure there is,“ he said.

Chapter 19

    Sunday morning, Jane got up early and prowled around the silent cabin from window to window, watching it snow heavily. She put her boots on and threw a blanket over her nightgown and robe to let Willard out. He didn’t enjoy the frigid, blowing snow any more than she did, and they both decided the best plan was to go back to bed. Willard dropped right off, but Jane couldn’t get back to sleep. Too many naps, she decided.
    Or too many murders on her mind.
    After forty-five minutes, she got up again and made herself some hot cocoa. Pulling a chair and an ottoman nearer the glass doors, she settled down with her cocoa and watched the now-diminishing snow. The white cat popped its head up over the railing of the deck. Jane looked around quickly and discovered that Willard hadn’t followed her. If he saw the cat and went haywire, he’d wake everybody. The cat sat preening and washing, glancing at Jane every now and then as if for admiration.
    “I wonder what you know,“ Jane said out loud. “If only you could talk.“
    So much for Shelley’s assurances that once they’d organized their thinking, the subconscious could be counted on to sort it all out and supply an answer.
    Jane was more confused now than she had been last night. Far from having any glimmer of a solution, she felt mired in unrelated facts, opinions, and information.
    Still, she had a weird sense that there was a light on behind a door somewhere in her brain. In the madman’s worn .
    She smiled to herself at the recollection. Once, in college, she’d had a rather strange English