Cowboy and Indian

 

 

 

 

Montreal   1956

The boy from England got off the plane wearing his red cowboy hat. 

I'm not sure about the cowboy hat or where he got it but my brother had one just like it. All little boys had red cowboy hats back then. 

It was a very hot day in early August and as he came out of the plane and started down the steps a blast of heat rose from the tarmac and smacked him in the face. Then it engulfed his skinny body. 

The boy was thirteen. A freckle faced redhead with a big crooked grin and pale blue eyes. He had never been to America before (though this was Canada) but he had heard about the long winters. Not so much about the sweltering summers. As he looked around at the flat landscape devoid of tall trees or flowering bushes, he wondered what kind of place he had landed in. Where was the great lake he had read about in the poem by Longfellow? 

By the shores of Gitchigumi

By the shining big sea water

Stood the wigwam of Nokomis

Daughter of the Moon Nokomis 

As he passed through customs (escorted by a unuformed soldier who appeared out of nowhere in the arrivals area) he wondered about the mysterious woman in the photo he carried in his wallet. Would she be there to greet him outside? Would there be wigwams? 

At the far end of the hall, a plate glass door glided open onto a sidewalk where a long black limousine stood parked and waiting.

The boy slipped into the seat beside a white haired gentleman with metal rimmed glasses. Then he leaned forward and shook hands with the tall lady in the seat opposite with graying dark hair tied back in a bun at her neck. At first he didn't recognize her.

Beside her sat a boy and a girl. The boy was darkhaired like his mother, and wore a suit with short pants. The girl, a green eyed blonde, was taller than her twin and had on a white dress with tiny blue flowers. She smiled at the English lad in drab green trousers and checkered shirt. She had never seen a boy like him before.

The older man spoke with a definite Scottish brogue. The motherly woman opposite also had an accent -- which sounded French. 

It was early afternoon as they drove along treelined streets and onto a wide boulevard lined with dull brick houses dating from the war.  Passing churches and old stone convents, one-story banks, a Texaco station. The cars over here were long, low-slung and wide unlike the ones in England -- and the streets looked deserted and barren as if recently carved out of farmland. Electrical wires crisscrossed the sky everywhere one looked. 

The limousine was a Ford six seater with plenty of leg room, much more comfortable than the plane. The boy was tempted to doze off, but in no time they were in the middle of downtown. The limo headed uphill and turned in at the entrance to what looked like a gigantic mansion or castle hidden behind trees on the slope of a mountain, and stopped at the steps leading up to a massive wooden door carved with roses. 

They all piled out onto the driveway and climbed the front steps: the doctor, the boy and the twins followed by their mother 

Inside the entrance was a desk with a guard. The doctor led the boy down the long hallway, while the mother stood and spoke to the guard who motioned to the children and shook his head. She was not allowed to attend the children's party - she would have to come back later. 

She stood behind in the doorway as hand in hand the boy and girl tiptoed down the long hallway hung with portraits of great men of science. 

The boy from England found himself in a large room filled with all sorts of children, some even looking like the red Indians in his books at home. Some bigger boys his own age were gathered round the punch bowl, as little ones ran around giggling and screaming. There were men in white coats with clipboards directing games and taking notes. There was a girl with a leg brace stretched out on a table. Other children stared at her silently before going back to their games. 

In one corner doctors were setting up an activity called "Jack in the Box". 

A large cardboard box was placed at the centre and a little boy was lowered inside. He was given a sharp sword and told to defend himself from anyone who might attack the box. 

Children gathered around to watch what happened next. 

One of the native children was handed a rubber sword and told to throw himself at the box with all his might. 

The boy from England wandered away and joined the doctor at the punch bowl who was handing out plastic cups filled with pink liquid to the smaller children. 

He heard a commotion and screams coming from the far side of the room, and decided to investigate. The little girl from the limousine was sitting on the floor all by herself and she was sobbing. There was blood on her hand. 

Looking up at the boy she started to sob harder. 

"I want to go home," she said. 

"You can't go home. Your mum asked me to look after you til she comes back." 

He helped her up by her other hand and they started to dance. Soon he was leaping in the air like a madman with the greeneyed girl staring up at him, laughing and crying. 

When the mother arrived hours later  most of the children had already left or fallen asleep. It was nighttime and both her children were sound asleep in a corner next to the boy from England who stood up to greet her, rubbing his eyes. Together they dragged and carried the two little ones down the steps and into the waiting taxi. 

First stop: the airport. The boy waved to the mother as he walked to the Departures gate with the uniformed man. He had promised to write. 

Back in England he started telling his friends about his plans to move to America as soon as he was grown up.