Indian Summer
 
By: Backwoods Boy
(© 2020 by the author)
Edited by: Brayon

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

bboy@tickiestories.us

Chapter 1
Brothers

"Where are you going, Buddy?" Mom shouted as I went out the back door.

"Up the creek," I hollered back.

"Don't get into any trouble," was her response, as expected.

"Of course not," I replied dutifully, as always.

The year was 1967, and I'd recently passed my fifteenth birthday. I'd spent the first fourteen years of my life in an urban setting. Since real and imagined city evils were at the top of Mom's "trouble" category, I hadn't been allowed to go more than a block from home except for school. All that changed for the better when we moved to the country a month after my fourteenth birthday. I had complete freedom to explore the creek and the woods simply because Mom didn't understand how many ways one could get into trouble out there.

"And don't come home with any tall tales about Indians making you their blood-brother!"

I grinned to myself and pretended I hadn't heard her. Yeah, my excitement and imagination had run wild at first about what I thought I saw in the woods and what I wished would happen. Sometimes I still thought I saw figures slipping away into the forest, but I'd stopped telling her about it.

Dressed in loose cutoff Levis and sneakers, I ran to the creek and began my journey upstream, jumping from rock to rock and occasionally wading through a pool. The warm sun on my bare back gave way to the cool shade of the woods.

I glanced up at a deer and her twin fawns standing quietly in the woods. She'd seen me before and wasn't concerned. I'd seen many animals along the creek during the previous summer, including a mountain lion that Mom didn't know about. So far, I hadn't seen a human animal.

I smiled as I ran my hand over my Mohawk haircut. Dad had easily been convinced to give me the haircut. Mom wasn't so happy about it. I loved it. I'd never seen a blond, blue-eyed Indian, but that didn't discourage me from wanting to be one.

The canyon narrowed as I continued upstream. At the deeper pools, I paused to watch the trout I'd tried unsuccessfully to spear with a sharp stick. Wading in, I splashed the cool refreshing water on my face.

About a half-mile upstream, the canyon opened up into a small clearing where the creek flowed through a mountain meadow. In my Indian fantasy, this was my sacred place where I could be one with nature.

Entering the clearing, I kicked off my sneakers and stood on a rock overlooking my favorite swimming hole, listening to the gurgling sound of the water and the wind in the trees. A raven overhead called to its mate.

Unbuttoning my shorts, I released my raging boner. As a late bloomer, my pubic hair had only recently developed. I was proud of the treasure trail growing up towards my navel. The pole that jutted upward had been fully functional for about a year, and I made good use of it in the only way I knew how.

I spit on my hand and stood with the sun warming my back as I gently stroked myself. Edging wasn't in my vocabulary yet, since frequency was more important than duration. I knew I could do it as often as I wanted to. It didn't take long before the sounds of the creek and the wind in the trees slowly faded away as the intense sensation between my legs spread throughout my body. Silently, I shot a load into the pool. As always, the trout quickly cleaned up the evidence.

I was thinking about another session when I looked around. Finding that I wasn't alone, I quickly rinsed the jizz off my hands and buttoned up my shorts. Lying in the grass about twenty feet away, watching me with a mischievous grin, was a friend from school. Benny was seventeen, and his dark skin, black hair, and dark brown eyes revealed his American Indian heritage. Shirtless, barefoot, and wearing a pair of camouflage cargo shorts, his rock-hard body matched his status as a state champion wrestler. He had a Mohawk haircut which looked exactly like my blond one. To be honest, I'd shamelessly copied his hair style.

Lying beside Benny, dressed in loose frayed cargo shorts, was his younger brother, Tocho. At fourteen, Tocho had been in the eighth grade the year before, so as a high school freshman, I knew him mostly from talking with him at Benny's wrestling matches. Named after his spirit guide, the mountain lion, Tocho was a smaller image of Benny except that his hair was coarse and shaggy and covered his ears.

Benny was my hero and role model because he was a genuine American Indian as well as being on the wrestling team. I'd asked him a lot of questions about his culture. Although he seemed amused by my interest and enthusiasm, he was very considerate about satisfying my curiosity. He and Tocho had taken me to a ceremonial dance once, and it had been the highlight of my life.

"Hey, Tonto, feeding the fish, I see," Benny observed with a twinkle in his eyes. "Giving back to nature is a good thing."

The nickname was a private one Benny gave me after I got the Mohawk haircut. I liked it, coming from him, even though it implied I was a Hollywood Indian.

He motioned for me to join them. "Come over here and be sociable. We gotta get to know each other better."

The two of them moved apart, giving me room to drop down between them on their blanket. My face was red with embarrassment.

"There's no need to be ashamed, Buddy. We all jerk off from time to time. It's perfectly natural, and out here in the woods is the best place to enjoy yourself that way." He rubbed my Mohawk playfully. "By the way, I like that you got a haircut like mine."

"I was afraid you'd laugh, but it was important to me."

"I didn't laugh. I understood completely. It's a symbol of your interest in our culture and your desire to have the same closeness to nature we do." He gave me a teasing smile. "Or maybe it's because you like me."

My mouth got ahead of my brain. "Actually, it's all of that. But I do like you a lot."

Now I was blushing again. I glanced over at Tocho, who was watching in silent amusement. Tocho tended to be the quiet kind, not bashful, but as if his mind were somewhere else on more important things.

Benny lightly stroked my chest. "I like you too, Buddy. You're a sincere and sensitive guy. And that dark all-over tan almost makes you look like the Indian you wanna be. But we gotta do something about your blond hair and blue eyes."

A shiver ran up my spine from the touch, and my boner started to come back to life. It seemed that when Benny was around, I always had a boner, and I didn't quite understand why.

I grinned at him. "I wish it were that easy."

The three deer I'd seen earlier wandered into the clearing, browsing on leaves and grass. The doe looked at us and then went back to eating.

"I see those deer often," I observed.

"Do they ever run away?" Benny asked.

"Nope. They don't seem to be bothered by me."

"That's because you're connected with nature. I saw that in you long ago. You belong here with them, and they know it."

"I guess the mountain lion I saw must have known that, too. He looked at me for several long seconds before disappearing into the woods."

Benny looked at Tocho, and a silent communication passed between them.

"The fact that you saw a mountain lion is meaningful. The Ghost Cat doesn't reveal himself to everyone. And it's more significant that he didn't disappear immediately. Were you scared?"

"Nope. He seemed to be trying to tell me something."

"That's interesting. Remember that. It may be important later."

The doe and her fawns wandered back into the woods to browse elsewhere. We sat in silence for a couple of minutes, watching a pair of dragonflies flashing in the sunlight.

Benny ran his hand over my Mohawk again. "From what you told me and what I've seen, you're more of an Indian than you realize." He stood up. "I gotta go, but before I do, I'm gonna give you a new nickname. The name means 'lost white brother'. You're now part of our family, Pahana."

I looked up at him with tears in my eyes. "You don't know how much that means to me."

Benny smiled. "I know more about what it means to you than you do right now, but we'll talk about that another time. Right now, I gotta go, but Tocho is gonna hang around and go swimming."

I wiped the tears away and looked at Tocho. "Is it okay if I join you?"

Tocho smiled at me. "I'd like that, Pahana. Maybe I can show you some things that would interest you."

************

Removing our shorts and tossing them to one side, Tocho and I waded into the cold water. With a grin, Tocho splashed freezing cold water on me. I dove under the water and tackled him, pulling him under with me. We wrestled around playfully, our hands tentatively exploring each other's bodies as we enjoyed our adolescent fun. The water was far too cold to tolerate for more than a minute or two, but in spite of that, we both had boners when we came out.

We stood there grinning at each other, both wanting to continue the game. Tocho began to stroke his pole, so I did too. I'd never seen another guy do what I did all the time, and it excited me in new ways. We looked into each other's eyes and grinned, and the challenge was on.

Tocho came first, firing multiple jets of sperm at me. Before he was done I returned the favor. We stood there laughing at our antics before jumping back into the pool to wash off.

Lying down side by side on the blanket to dry, we watched a pair of ravens playing in the air currents. Tocho reached out and took my hand.
"That was fun!"

I squeezed his hand. "Yeah, it was. I've never done anything like that before."

He smiled knowingly. "You'll probably be saying that again before long."

I lay there for a while wondering what he meant. Maybe he'd tell me more later.

Tocho changed the subject. "I've seen you in the woods from time to time. I don't think you've seen me though."

I looked at him thoughtfully. "I think maybe I have seen you. Sometimes I have glimpses of someone slipping away into the forest. Usually when I'm down by the creek, but sometimes when I'm lying on my towel here."

Tocho looked a little embarrassed, and then grinned. "Your eyes and ears are better than I thought. Maybe we can make you into a real Indian yet."

Tocho changed the subject again. "I've also seen you trying to spear fish in the creek. Spears won't work for small fish in streams. I have another method. Let me show you how I catch trout in the creek."

Putting on our shorts, we walked upstream a short distance to a large pool. Tocho pulled a shiny white object out of his pocket.

"This is a bone fishing lure that my grandfather gave me. There's a hook on the end. It doesn't have a barb, which makes fishing more difficult, but also more interesting. It's used without any bait. In the old days, the fishing line would have been made out of some fiber growing in the area. That isn't available, so I use modern fishing line. Let me show you how it's done. Sit here on the bank and watch, because we don't wanna let the fish know we're here."

Tocho carefully approached the pool by way of a large rock. Lying on the rock, he lowered his lure into the pool. With small movements of the lure, he waited.

Tocho had infinite patience. It was ten minutes before he got a nibble. When the ten-inch trout had the hook in its mouth, he flipped it onto the bank with one smooth movement. With his pocket knife, he cut a forked willow branch to use as a stringer.

Tocho handed me the lure. "Okay, now you try it."

I duplicated Tocho's approach to the pool as closely as possible. Then I lowered the hook into the water and watched. I could see fish swimming around in the pool. Occasionally one would show some interest, but not enough to find out if it was looking at food.

Tocho had some advice. "Lower the lure closer to the bottom of the pool."

In a couple of minutes, I got a bite, but I reacted too quickly and the fish got away.

"Let's move to the next pool," Tocho advised. "When a fish bites, watch carefully to make sure it really has taken the hook."

About fifty feet farther up the creek, Tocho identified another pool to try and the rock to try it from. I carefully positioned myself. Lowering the hook to the general level where I could see the fish, I watched as several looked and moved on. Then a larger fish nibbled. I waited. It nibbled again, and then took the hook. With the same smooth movement I'd observed, I flipped the fish onto the bank, too close to the water. Tocho quickly grabbed it before it could escape.

Tocho grinned happily. "This is a beauty. It's more than twelve inches long. For this creek, that's a big one. Now let's move on and see if we can get two more. That'll be enough for dinner."

Tocho got lucky and quickly landed one at the next pool, nearly as big as mine. Then he let me try again. It took me a half hour and three missed opportunities before I captured another one. This time, I flipped it farther up onto the bank.

"Should we go to your house or mine to cook them?" Tocho asked.

A sly grin spread over my face. Mom was about to get a dose of reality.

"Mine, and I'll tell you why. I've been telling Mom about seeing Indians in the woods and becoming their blood-brother. Yeah, I made some of it up, but now I know I didn't make it all up. And I now have a real Indian brother. So let's go to my house and see what Mom has to say about the fish my imaginary brother and I caught using a primitive Indian tool. Dad will be very interested in the lure, too."

Tocho laughed. "Okay, I like your idea. Do you want me to call you Buddy or Pahana?"

I considered that briefly. "Go with Pahana. And then watch Mom's face when I explain it. And do you wanna cook the fish yourself?"

"If your mom will let me. There's nothing special about the way I do it, but I'm used to doing it at home."

************

Tocho and I took the path through the woods. It was early enough that Mom would not have started dinner yet.

I was working on a plan. "Let's go talk with Mom first, and then clean the fish. And let me carry the fish."

I walked into the kitchen with Tocho following. "Hey, Mom, look at what my friend and I caught. Can he cook them for dinner for us?"

Mom looked at the fish, then at me, then at Tocho.

Introductions were in order. "This is my friend Tocho. I know him from school. Tocho, this is my mother."

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am," Tocho said politely.

"I'm glad to meet you too, Tocho," Mom replied.

A dozen different struggles were going on in Mom's mind. She bought some time by sending us out to clean the fish. When we came back, she had it sorted out.

"Buddy, will you please get shirts for both of you?"

I complied, and Tocho and I put the shirts on.

"Tocho, what will you need to cook the fish?"

"A frying pan, flour, cornmeal, a couple eggs, salt and pepper, and oil. And maybe some dried basil."

"Fine, I'll get that together for you. And the fish will go well with the salad I made."

I watched closely while Tocho cooked the trout. I wanted to know how to do it, too. Mom watched from a distance. It was clear that Tocho was familiar with working in the kitchen.

At dinner, Dad had some questions.

"Where did you catch the trout?"

"Up the creek about a half mile," I replied.

"What did you catch them with?"

Tocho pulled his lure out of his pocket and handed it to Dad.

Dad looked at the lure with amazement. "This is an American Indian bone lure!"

Tocho took over. "My grandfather gave it to me."

"And who caught the fish?"

"We each caught two. I taught Pahana how to use it. Oh, sorry, I mean Buddy. That other is a name my brother gave him."

"What does Pahana mean?"

"Lost white brother. My brother gave Buddy that name because we both feel like he's our brother."

I watched Mom, waiting for her to have a stroke.

"I'm asking too many questions. The fish are absolutely delicious. Thanks for cooking them for us and for showing Buddy how to use that magnificent lure. I hope he appreciates the opportunity you gave him."

"I know he does. He's very interested in American Indian culture, and Benny and I enjoy teaching him about things."

Mom struggled to maintain her composure. The "tall tales" were becoming reality before her very eyes. She redirected the conversation to a reality she understood.

"There's apple pie for dessert."

We enjoyed the pie in silence. I think Dad was reflecting on what a good friend I'd found, and Mom was trying to adjust to the fact that there were Indians out there in the woods.

"It's getting late," Dad observed. "Would you like to spend the night with Buddy? Would that be okay with you, Dear?" he asked Mom as an afterthought. I suspected he would catch hell later for not asking her first.

"Tocho, will it be okay with your mother?" Mom asked. "You can call her if you want to."

"She won't mind at all. And my brother knows where I am."

"I'll clean up the dishes, Mom," I offered, giving her the final shock of the evening.

While I rinsed the dishes and put them into the dishwasher, my parents became better acquainted with Tocho.

************

Tocho and I went downstairs. I showed him my bedroom and fixed him up with towels in the bathroom. Then we played ping pong in the family room until it was time to take showers and go to bed.

Neither of us had worn underwear during the day. I normally wore it at night, but Tocho crawled into bed naked, as if that were normal for him. I wanted to be like my new brother. I turned out the lights and crawled into bed naked beside him.

"The whole evening couldn't have worked out better if we'd rehearsed it. Pretending to accidentally call me Pahana was brilliant."

Tocho grinned. "Your imaginary friends have become real."

"And I have an Indian brother who has parental approval. Even for an overnight stay. The fish was really good, by the way. You have a lot of different talents."

Tocho grinned mischievously at me. "More than you can imagine."

I dozed off, wondering what other talents he might have to share.

To be continued...

Posted: 09/04/2020