Free Living the Dream by Annie Dalton Page B

up!” Cody said abruptly. We had to stop a couple more times before we reached the next official gas station, where she stumbled to the washroom, looking absolutely white.
    While she was gone, Aunt Evalina checked in her battered plastic wallet. “The good news is we can afford to fill up with gas another couple of times,” she announced. “The bad news is if we want to eat, we’ll have to sleep in the truck.”
    Around ten o’clock that evening they stopped off at a Spanish-style roadside Diner. The aunts ordered tacos. Cody leaned back with her eyes closed, sipping her iced water. Then everyone catnapped in the truck until first light.
    Next day Aunt Jeannie took over the driving. The pick-up was in serious trouble by this time, speeds over 30 mph made the engine rattle like it was full of loose nails. When clouds of steam started curling out from under the bonnet, they were finally forced to pull off the road.
    Aunt Evalina said someone would have to walk to the next town and find a mechanic. Aunt Bonita said something v. rude in Navajo and demanded to be let out of the truck. She stalked stiffly around the steaming truck as vehicles whizzed past, dangerously close. She began to chant loudly in Navajo.
    Cody was cringing at the looks from passing motorists. “What’s she doing?”
    “She’s blessing the truck,” Aunt Jeannie explained.
    “Or scaring it!” Aunt Evalina let out a snicker of laughter. “That old bootface sure scares the hell outa me!”
    As she chanted, Cody’s aunt took several pinches of something from a small leather pouch, sprinkling them carefully around the truck. I noticed her carefully sprinkle in all four directions: north, south, east and west. Finally she touched her pinched fingertips to her crown, then to her lips. Then, slightly out of breath, she got back in the truck.
    “Start her up!” she commanded.
    Cody’s eyes widened in amazement as the truck roared into life. “It stopped steaming! You didn’t even put in water!”
    “Should get us home,” said Aunt Bonita casually. “Jim Yellowbird can fix her when we get back.”
    “What’s that stuff in the pouch - like, magic dust ?”
    Cody couldn’t admit it even to herself, but she was totally spooked.
    “Pollen,” said Aunt Bonita, lighting a new ciggie.
    “You fixed a truck with pollen?”
    “I can’t fix nothin’,” Aunt Bonita said calmly. “I BLESSED the truck and the Holy People graciously decided to help us out.”
    “The Holy People? Who are they?” Cody looked like she’d fallen into Looking Glass Land.
    “They created our world,” Aunt Jeannie explained in the matter-of-fact tone she’d used when Aunt Bonita was blessing the truck. I hadn’t heard of the Holy People either until that moment, but I knew they were real. I’d felt a shimmery hum of power building around the truck as Aunt Bonita asked for their help.
    I’m a total newbie when it comes to identifying the different hierarchies of divine beings; angels, archangels, saints, gods and goddesses, that’s as far as I feel confident. But the Holy People’s vibes seemed oddly similar to Ambriel’s. I wondered if they were like, distant Navajo cousins to Creation angels?
    Thanks to the combined efforts of Aunt Bonita and the Holy People, the truck drove like a dream for the rest of the journey.
    As we zoomed across the border of New Mexico into the state of Arizona, Aunt Bonita suddenly cleared her throat. “We’ll soon be arriving in Dinetah.”
    Cody looked baffled. “I thought we were going to Navajoland.”
    “Dinetah means the land of the Dine,” Aunt Evalina explained. “Dine is another name for the Navajo. It just means ‘people’.”
    “Young people nowadays just call it the Rez,” Aunt Jeannie said, beaming.
    Aunt Bonita frowned, not appreciating her younger sisters’ interruptions. “When we get to the reservation, Cody, some things are going to seem strange to you,” she went on grimly. “Try not to judge us. Act