Coyote - part one
very weathered, very old face of an Indian. He was wearing a red and brown striped, long sleeve shirt, quite faded from the sun. A red scarf was wrapped around his neck. His belt buckle was a large bear claw carved in turquoise and laid in a big silver oval. His black pants were a little baggy and he was wearing scuffed black motorcycle boots with large silver side buckles. Patchouli oil scented the air around him. His loose white hair spilled down to his shoulders. In spite of the heat he looked cool and unaffected.
“It’s okay friend. I don’t mean ta give ya a heart attack.” he said as he grabbed my free left hand and shook it.
“Scared the bejeezus out of me.” I said.
“Old Indian trick.” he said, “Sorry.”
I could tell that he was trying to keep from laughing.
“My name is David Yellow Hat” His voice was like a loud whisper.
“You’re not wearing a hat” I said
“You white guys are damn quick” he said and then moved a little bit to the right so I wouldn’t have to squint into the sun while looking at him. His face was the color of old cordovan leather. He was a bit stooped but otherwise seemed fit. I could see no flab at all on his frame.
"Okay." I said. "My name is Dal Neitzel."
"What?" His voice was soft and airy...reassuring.
"Dal Neitzel.” I repeated.
"What the heck kinda name is that?" He seemed surprised at my name. Was he expecting someone else? Black eyes searched my own looking for lord knows what.
"What's it mean?” he asked
"I don't know.” I said.
"You white guys!" he said. "So what are ya lookin for with your fancy walkin stick?"