These Are Good Indians Richard Osborn Hood (bio) Somewhere in the lush hot fields of August are born the first snows of October, November at the latest. Soft cold crystals falling, piling on to the unfinished works of man, bringing calamity. If a house has an incomplete roof, openings in the walls, openings in the sheathing, snow drifts in, settles, gets heavy and wet. Then mold, warp, expansion, seepage, freeze and thaw, freeze and thaw, the forces that split boulders. In no time, a floor pops up, walls twist, pipes leak, ice penetrates a joint, part of a roof shears off. Nature reclaims the materials. In these mountains, a house begun but not closed in, exposed to one winter, becomes a ruin. And in the spring, you may as well just tear it down and start over, if you've still got the money and the will. Most of them don't. They sell at a loss and go elsewhere. There was one such ruin, a hulk, abandoned but still standing, off a road near our site up in the Village. It was said that the owner of the hulk was in a southern desert, not responding to inquiries. ________ "No," I said to the phone, "No wedding." "No wedding," I repeated, for emphasis, and punched off the call. "The point is, no wedding party," I explained to my foreman. "What's the problem?" he asked. "Where those guys are from, they have a saying that at a wedding party, if nobody died, if nobody got killed, it probably wasn't a good party." ________ Our owner's name was Mark. I discouraged referring to him as The Mark. Mark was standing in the driveway beside a delivery of logs and windows, and with Mark was the building inspector. It was the inspector's first visit, his introduction. Mark took charge, all dense and restrained, like he'd been called upon to show a cathedral to a shepherd. He told the inspector I was the general contractor, and led us all to the drawings, such as they were. Then he extended a hand toward the house. "The builders are Navajo," Mark explained. "Navajo." He turned to face the structure taking shape. "Master builders. Deep in sacred traditions, believe me. They design as they go. They place each log in harmony with the elements—wind, fire, water, earth. It has been a privilege to see them work. They are giving [End Page 150] the house a soul. Native spirit, the spirit of this place. The four directions—north, south, east, west. The essence of this property …" And so forth, and there were the four directions, for anybody who needed to know. My foreman left us, went out back to foreman some things. They laughed back there. I wished I could have a laugh break. I tuned in abruptly again when I heard Mark say to the inspector, "and we hope you won't be narrow-minded in your interpretations of the codes and regulations. For this house, you have to be flexible. We've got something special here, something unique. "Now look, I'm the kind of person that is very sensitive to my environment. I could not live in a standard house, the same as every other house. It's mindless conformity, quite frankly, herd mentality, and I just could not tolerate it. "This house is going to be different. There's going to be a lot of interest, it's going to attract some attention. I think we're going to see that it will be published. I have publishers who are interested, they're calling me every day. One called me just yesterday." The building inspector was listening carefully and his eyes were opening up very wide. Mark continued talking: "And I don't want a rigid, bureaucratic attitude on your part to drag the project down. You have to work with us, be a team player. Then we're going to get a result we can all feel good about. Don't you think?" To his big eyes, the inspector added a big smile, like the smile of the killer when he knows who he...
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