Remo took it away from him, chipping a front tooth with the bottle mouth.
"Hey! You got no call—"
Remo gave the bottle a casual flip, and it climbed thirty feet into the clear air, spun in place like a pin-wheel and dropped down.
The Indian had a good eye. He snagged it before it could crash against a rock. But when he felt its heft, he knew it was empty. He held it up to his eye to be sure, and nothing came spilling out. Not one solitary drop.
"Hey! How'd you do that?"
"You saw every move I made," Remo said coolly.
"Sure. But tequila don't evaporate into thin air. It's not in its nature."
"Is that you making that goldurn racket, Gus Jong?" rumbled Sunny Joe Roam from the surrounding darkness.
He was coming down the trail like an angry soft-footed bear.
Gus Jong cracked a crooked grin. "Hey, Sunny Joe. Your little apple slice here has got himself some slick ways."
"Don't you call my son no apple, you drunken redskin."
"I ain't drunk. Hell, I hardly got started."
"You're flat done drinking for the night. Now, mosey on your way."
Gus Jong stumbled back to his hogan under the watchful eyes of Remo and Sunny Joe Roam.
"You gotta excuse ol' Gus," Sunny Joe rumbled. "Ain't really his fault."
"Not how I see it," said Remo.
"That's fine for you. But my braves look down the trail and all they see is their graves and no one to mourn them or carry on their ways. It takes them by the throat sometimes."
"I know the story. No girl babies have been born in years. But who's stopping them from finding wives in the city?"
"Lot of things. Pride. Stubbornness. Knowing they don't fit in white society. And the Navajo and Hopi won't accept them into their tribes. They're plumb at a dead end and they hardly got started on life yet."
"Nobody ever found their future at the bottom of a bottle."
Just then a sprinkling of what felt like cool rain pattered down to pock the dust at their feet.
"Funny. That don't feel like rain," Sunny Joe grunted.
"It's tequila."
Sunny Joe looked dubious.
"It's not as heavy as glass," said Remo, starting for his hogan.
Sunny Joe loped after him. "Why the long face?" he asked.
"Had a dream about my mother."
"Your mother was a good woman. Gone over thirty years now, and I still miss her something powerful."
"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her."
"That could be taken in two ways, you know."
"I mean if she hadn't come to me, I wouldn't have found you."
"In these parts we call that a vision quest. You had a vision quest, Remo."
Remo stopped. "Does that mean I really didn't meet her?"
"Damned if I know what it means. I spent a lot of time in cities. Don't much hold with ghosts or spooks. But you showed me a drawing that was your mother's face down to the last eyelash and that sad kinda droop of her eyes. Whatever you saw, it wore your mother's face."
"I wish I had known her."
"Well, there's nothing lost by wishing. Not much gained either."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"The old chief's been gone most of a day now."
"I know where to find Chiun."
"Maybe. But he's the other reason you're standing here right now, Remo."
"Maybe."
"Were I you, I wouldn't have let him go off like that."
"You don't know Chiun. Sometimes we have to go our separate ways for a while. It'll work out."
"You ask me, he seemed powerful sad to leave you behind."
Remo slanted him a glance. "Chiun said that?"
"No, but it was written all over the map of his face. You didn't notice?"
"No."
"Not much of a face-reader are you, son?"
"Chiun's always saying I have bad nunchi for his kibun. That means I'm a lousy reader of his moods."