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I want you to play guitar.”“You play guitar?” I asked hopefully.“She plays bass and piano too,” Suzi replied.“Not as well as you,” Kia retorted, “And Suzi plays violin.”“I’d like to learn,” I said, “Could you teach me?”“I guess--”“Music would be great!” Connie beamed, “Can anyone else play? Are we going to make Renee sing?”“I suck at the drums,” Marin boasted.“I can’t sing in front of everyone!” Renee muttered.“There isn’t a piano in there.” Andrea shook her head.“Something fun, Kia,” Suzi gestured.“That just leaves Dean,” Xiomara watched Kia walk across the room to pick out the guitars. There were four in there. All acoustic and identical. Kia looked back to me as she thumbed the strings. They sounded clearer than I remember hearing anything. Suzi’s toes over mine brought me back to the table.“Do I have to decide on that now?” Suzi asked the room.“I don’t see why,” Connie laughed.“But--” I looked around. Xiomara stroked my ear she seemed unhappy with Suzi holding off. Pat laid down. Broken Horn hugged and kissed each daughter. “They are in your hands now. I return to the tribe. The mothers will watch the ritual. I go to claim my horses and celebrate with my sons.”With that, he left, and my father directed us to enter the door. Inside, wool blankets covered the dirt floor, a wooden table contained a bowl and drinking horns, and a small fire burned in the center of the room. My mother, Shaking Bear, stirred the coals of the dying fire. The low light was desirable, given the anticipated rite. My mother smiled at me but said nothing. Her pride-filled eyes gave all the approval I needed. She had always been my protector.We all sat on the blankets as my father sang a song and beat his feet around the room. The room was a spartan affair. Like me, I doubted either mother had been in the hut before, but there wasn’t much to the holy hut. It was the ceremony that was impressive. After another song that praised our ancestors my father stopped. My mother put some ingredients.
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