“Hey Cy,”
“Thomas!” Cy shouted the greeting like he always did. “What brings you here?”
“Well, I had some questions about Native American beliefs and I was hoping you could help me.”
“What do you want to know? Not your ‘Indian Name’ or some such bullshit I hope. Last white guy asked me for that ended up with the name ‘walks with shit-filled pants’.” Cy laughed and grinned.
Cy was like the oldest 12 year-old boy Thomas had ever met. They’d been on good terms most of his life and the family even let him hunt on their land, in exchange for him ploughing the snow off of their driveway once in awhile.
“I want to know about Coyote.”
“The animal? There’s plenty you can find on coyotes, why have you seen one around?” This was an important question, because Coyotes can be a danger to pets and livestock.
“No, not coyotes, Coyote. I want to know about Coyote, I had a dream about him yesterday.”
“Huh, really? Pretty strange him appearing to a pale face like you there.” That was Cy’s sense of humor alright. Make light of the terrible history of White People and Native Americans with corny dad jokes.
“Pale face, really?”
“Well, you are. You look like you haven’t gotten enough sun lately. Anyway, yeah, stop by later on and I’ll tell you what I know. I got to go, big client.”
“Okay, later Cy.”
“Later.”
