And so it came to pass that my brother Charlie and his friend Ed Soares were at Kayenta one evening, along with a couple of truck drivers and a ten-year old boy. Everything went along fine and then after dinner someone suggested a game of poker. Well, of course. What better thing to do on a fine summer evening?
The game was set up and the players assembled, including, to my brother's astonishment, the ten-year old boy. Play started and my brother soon discovered that his prognostication was correct -- he was among experts. Poker is an interesting game. A person's character shows through during the evening. My brother found that all the characters in this game were tough. Nothing showed on anyones's face, least of all the face of the ten-year old boy. The chips did not move quickly from one person to another, but as the evening wore on, my brother noticed a slow, inexorable flow of chips to the ten-year old boy.
I guess the moral is never under-estimate youth, or, never play poker with a ten-year old boy.
In later years, in the nineteen forties and fifties, Martin Vigil of Tesuque was engaged in adding a kitchen to his house. He got the adobe and the straw and mixed them up, and shaped the bricks and set them out to dry, and then stacked them, ready to build. Now he began to build the first wall. Martin had his field to care for and he was extremely active in the Pueblo, and in the All-Pueblo Council. The new kitchen had to come last in importance, and it did. Among his attributes, or faults, I am not sure which, Pop enjoyed teasing people. When he was sure of mutual respect and affection between himself and another, and he could find something inconsequential, he would leap to the attack. Almost every time Pop saw Martin or wrote to him, he would ask about The Kitchen. Are the bricks made yet? How high is the east wall? Has Kate got a stove? When do you cook dinner? Well, Pop's attacks resulted in much banter between the two. I truly believe that both men truly enjoyed the temporary relief from their serious discussions.
Tony Lujan was staying with us. Some days there was not much to do. Mom had meetings, Pop had to work and Tony was left alone.
One day it was suggested that I take Tony down to Bay Meadows Racetracks. Tony and I both thought that was a terrific idea. So down we went.
I had a fool-proof system for betting on the races. I would bet six dollars across the board (one ticket includes two dollars each on first, second and third places). I would bet it on a horse which had a really good name or a jockey who had a really good name. I made sure that I had the bet down before the odds were shown because if I had chosen a horse with high odds against it, I might be frightened out of my system.
Tony would have none of it. After much discussion, it was decided that, as I knew how to place the bets and he knew all about horses, Tony would pick the horses and I would place the bets.
It was quite a thing. Tony had his hair braided in two braids with colored ribbon and he wore a blanket. He went to the place where they came out to the track and watched them go by. I watched his face but there was no indication of anything. After they had all gone by, he turned to me and said, "Number Six". It was some distance to the betting window and so I ran to the window, being careful not to glance at the odds. Then I placed the bet, strickly in accordance with Tony's orders -- six dollars on the nose.
Well, the whole affair was quite unbelievable. Tony picked 7 winners out of the ten races that day. Maybe it was the length of the horse's tail or the shape of its ears. In any case, Tony picked them. My respect for the Indians of America was tremendously increased by this immense and soul-shaking experience.
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