Tricked

«
    » Hold up, « I said. » What made you ask yourself that question? I mean, you’ve been around a long time, Coyote, and you could have asked yourself that centuries ago if it was in your nature. What changed your outlook? «
    » Oh. That. « He looked shamefaced and mumbled something about oompa loompas.
    » Pardon me? « I asked.
    » I said Oprah Winfrey , « Coyote growled, his irritation clear. Granuaile’s jaw dropped, and Coyote pointed a finger at her. » Not a word outta you, Miss Druid. « She wisely took a large bite of her pancakes and chewed as if he’d been discussing nothing more than the nice weather outside.
    › It’s okay, Coyote, I secretly find her inspirational as well, ‹ Oberon chimed in. › It’s a shame she’s no longer on the air. I had a dream once where I was in a studio audience full of famous dogs—I was sitting right next to Rin Tin Tin—and she gave all of us our very own cow. » You get a cow, and you get a cow, everyone gets a cow! « And then, to make it sweeter, she gave everybody their own Iron Chef to cook it up. I scored Bobby Flay, and Rin Tin Tin got Cat Cora. The Tramp got Morimoto but he was pissed because he wanted Mario Batali, and I was like, » Tramp, you got a free cow , dawg, you have absolutely nothing to bitch about here, « and he was all, » Look, Oberon, I’ve moved up in the world. I’ve sold a shitload of DVDs and I’ve single-handedly made mutts adorable, so I’m not going to settle for a guy who specializes in fish. I want an Italian who knows his way around a rack of ribs. « Can you believe that guy? Total diva. ‹
    Coyote and I chuckled over this, and Granuaile knew Oberon had said something amusing, but she refrained from asking what it was. She was still trying to keep her amusement over the Oprah revelation from showing on her face.
    Sensing this, perhaps seeing the flicker of a smile at the corners of Granuaile’s mouth, Coyote chose to move on. » Look, Mr. Druid. A long time ago, I fucked things up for people. Brought death to the world, you know, made it permanent. It’s tough to live that down. I’ve always done things to satisfy my own hungers; seems like I’m always hungry, « he said, gesturing to the stack of empty plates in front of him. He paused as the waitress arrived with his four additional orders of sausage and cleared away his dishes. Then he continued, » But I see now there are other hungers than mine to feed. An’ I want to do somethin’ about it. I want to do somethin’ that is one-hunnert percent good. People will look an’ say, where’s the downside? What trick is Coyote playin’ now? But there won’t be any. An’ that’ll be my finest trick of all. «
    Coyote ate his sausage even faster than before, then got up to go to the bathroom and didn’t come back. That meant I got stuck with the bill; I should have seen that one coming. The trickster was waiting for us out in the parking lot with a grin on his face.
    » Took you long enough, « he said. » You ready to go? «
    » Yeah, let’s do this. «
    Coyote called shotgun and was visibly surprised when I moved to the rear door. » She’s driving? «
    » Yeah. It’s my car, « Granuaile said, then arched an eyebrow. » Is there a problem? «
    » Hell, no. «
    » Good. « She beamed at him briefly, then ducked into the driver’s seat.
    › You almost died again, Coyote. Close call, ‹ Oberon said.
    At Coyote’s direction, we drove on 160 northeast toward Kayenta, but before we got there we turned off on a dirt road just on the far side of a massive sandstone wonder called Tyende Mesa. It was rough, dry country, covered in red rocks and infrequent attempts by plant life to make a go of it. The trees were scrub cedars and junipers; there wasn’t the cactus you’d find to the south in the Sonoran Desert. People tend to picture the state of Arizona as all saguaros and rattlesnakes because that’s the sort of postcards they keep seeing, but saguaros don’t grow on the Colorado Plateau. Parts of the plateau are pretty lush with pine, like the southern tip of it known as the Mogollon Rim, but on the reservation the topsoil is shallow and sandy and mostly unable to support large trees, except in the bottoms of old washes.
    The road was extremely rough in places. Discarded tires bore mute testimony to the fact that the thin layer of sand covered sharp rocks. We crossed a one-lane metal bridge that spanned a narrow defile—a flash-flood canyon that