Luther Whitehorse

Tony Mercelli was flanked by his brothers Alphonse and Marcus as they filed off the private Lear hey at Sky Harbor Airport In Phoenix.  Dressed in pin striped suits and sunglasses, the trio appeared like high rollers, movers and shakers ready to seize the town by a haboob.  Baboons were sand storms that were more frequent during the monsoons.  

Known as Tony Mercy by his brothers and close associates, Tony was here to check out the Fort McDowell Casino out near Fountain Hills that was located on the Pima Indian Reservation. With an army of business lawyers, Tony was here to powwow with the owner of the casino for a possible merger with the Mercelli Family back on Long Island.  None of the brothers had been to Arizona before.  Tony stepped outside the terminal to have a quick smoke.  The oppressive triple digit temperature outside the terminal nearly knocked him out, but he endured the smoke break before meeting his limousine.  Alphonse joined him.

"It is hot." He grumbled as he took a puff.

"You ain't kidding." Alphonse affirmed his brother’s dissatisfaction with a low grumble.

"Can't wait to sign the papers and get out of this frying pan of a city, eh?" Tony adjusted his sunglasses as he felt the sweat drip down his face.  

"Wanna a paper?" Alphonse asked, standing by a dispenser.

"No need.  As soon as we sign on the bottom line, the sooner we can be on our way."  He dropped his cigarette and stepped on it with his Italian leather shoes. 

"Is this the limo, Tone?" Alphonse asked, sniffing his cigarette in a nearby ashtray.

"Getcha ya brother." Tony demanded. Alphonse obeyed in an instant.  Soon the three brothers were seated in the air conditioned limousine.  Tony removed a bottle of Korbel Champagne from the mini-refrigerator and popped the cork. As he held the bottle tightly to keep the champagne from bubbling over the bottle rim, he poured two glasses full. Each brother took a glass as he poured a third glass for himself.  After filling the third glass, Tony made a toast, "To successful outcomes  for  the Mercy Brothers.”

This was their business iconic moniker since Tony used his iron fist tactics to build his empire. Known for his ruthless strong arm stratagem to achieve his personal and professional goals, his tactics were legendary in Atlantic City. Never afraid to employ his ruthless methods on his rivals, most potential investors found his indiscriminate use of muscle reassuring.  No one seemed to object at least, even if some of the cogs disappeared in the agreements that took place in some out of the way Italian restaurant. Tony emphasized to his brothers that those in opposition must be disposed of or they will find a way to do it to you. It was all simple Machiavellian technique that had been successfully practiced faithfully since the Sixteenth Century. 

The rest of the ride was uneventful as they finished the entire bottle.  Marcus was only a year or so past legal drinking age.  His face was bright red.  He could not stop laughing as he felt the warm buzz of the champagne tickle his insides and the hilarity as  big brother Tony continued gesturing wildly about some of the family's recent business dealings.  

"One day, mark my words, we will rule the world just like Caesar." He raised his nearly empty glass and slapped his brothers on their backs.

Early that morning, at sunrise Luther Whitehorse was in the canyon near Roosevelt Lake with his brother Greg.  The lake was A marvel of western engineering so that A place without water was able to collect enough to support A major population, but Luther and Greg were stalking wild horses that grazed on the steep canyon wall.

"That dappled one would fetch a good price." Greg pointed to the horse on the floor of the canyon, "We have the nets staked out near there.  It would be an easy snare."

"That horse is a yearling." Luther shook his head and Peered through his binoculars, "I was hoping to get that mustang."

"Are you willing to make an open field dash, brother?" Greg Raised the rifle stock to his cheek.

“Sure.” He let the binoculars dangle around his neck.

“He is a beaut.” Greg whistled. 

"I'll get the ponies." Luther came to his feet and walked toward his Ford pick up truck with the trailer and a hitch. Luther had lived his entire life on the reservation.  Graduating from the reservation mission school, life out here came natural to him.  Capturing wild horses was something his father had taught him as a boy and he taught his brother. 

Luther took over training his brother Greg after his father’s car accident. The police report said he was intoxicated, but Luther had a hard time swallowing that story.  All he knew was his father never got the chance to complete the lesson.

He opened the trailer gate and led the two saddled horses down the ramp.  Grabbing the reins of the second horse, Luther got in the saddle of the first horse and rode them both up to where his brother was waiting.  

Greg mounted the horse mid-stride and together they rode into the box canyon. Two horses were spooked when they saw the brothers riding up over the rim of the canyon waving their hats and whooping like wild animals.  The horses began to run, but they ran right into the nets becoming entangled in the ropes. Try as they might, they were unable to get free.

"Got 'em." Luther pointed.  They rode up to where the two horses had given up fighting against the ropes.  Using a harness Luther had draped over the neck of his horse, they slipped the harnesses over the horses' heads.  The hard work was done.  Greg would return his horse to the trailer and then bring his own Ford truck with a hitch and trailer that would be used for the captured horses.

"Don't you have a meeting with some big shots from New York City?" Greg marched the wild horses into the trailer.

"In about an hour." He shrugged before dismounting.  

"Cutting it close, aren't you?" Greg latched the doors on the doors of his trailer.

"They are the ones interested in running the casino." He got into his truck behind the wheel.

" I can't believe you are dealing with the white folks again after their poor showing in recent history." Greg laughed as he got into his truck. 

Mission accomplished.  They roared through Superior a few minutes later. It took about fifty minutes to reach the casino on a nearly deserted two lane road.

Pulling into the Fort McDowell Casino parking lot, Luther saw the limousine was already in the park there.  Luther paused for a moment, his Jeans and shirt smelled of horse and his boots were covered in various detritus that gave off a very musky scent.  It was not the way he wished to present himself, but there was no time to clean up.  

He was not even sure he'd take their deal.  The casino provided funds to poor native families food and shelter.  Selling the multibillion dollar gold mine seemed like a desperate move, but banking the money could offer a sizable return.  He just wasn't keen on bringing their style of graft and crime from the opposite coast into the reservation proper.

But the fact that the casino was in danger of going belly up.  His financial advisor, Vernon Gibbs showed Luther the board excel charts.  Even though he was not computer savvy, he could clearly see the casino was headed on a spiraling downward slope to bankruptcy. Luther had also heard in the gossip wind that Mr. Gibbs was up to his neck in embezzled funds. It didn't make sense, but the more he sat in his office, the louder the rumors got.

"Greg, get Harmon to help you with the horses." Luther opened his office.

"Aye, aye." Greg gave his brother a quick, yet sarcastic salute.

Entering his spacious office with the wall was decorated with authentic native art from dream catchers to fired clay pottery from Zuni style etchings.  There were pictures in frames that spoke of better days next to professional certificates, some presented by the governor.  

All of it was meaningless to him now. This was a good time to sell the casino before it became obvious the casino was losing revenue.  Most of the other nations on the west coast were discovering what a boon it was to open a casino.

"Mr. Whitehorse, there are gentlemen here to talk to." The intercom buzzed with the voice of Tammy Manyfeathers, Luther's office manager. 

"Send them in." He said as he pressed the "speak" button.

Releasing the button, Luther reckoned the Rubicon had been crossed.  The door opened  as three impeccably dressed men entered his office.  In the center of his spacious office, there was a table with four chairs.   

Tony was the first to take a seat at the table.  His brother Alphonse was next and finally Marcus took a seat as Luther removed the unsigned proposal from his file cabinet.  He placed it in the middle of the table and then sat in the empty chair..

"Alright chief, let's get down to brass tacks" Tony had a smirk etched In his face.

"I would appreciate it if you would not call me chief.  I am not the chief, I am just a Pima.  I would be grateful if you would refer to me as Luther." His voice was steady and firm, but there was not a hint of anger as he spoke.  

Tony's smile began to fade.  He glanced at his brothers who were already vigorously tapping on their cell phones.  He fought the urge to slap the phones right out of their hands, but instead, he glared at Luther, searching for a clue of what he might be  thinking.  He was unable to find any clue.

The awkward silence continued for what seemed like an hour when actually it was just a few minutes.

"You came all this way to speak to me, but nothing is being said."  Luther did not seem to be bothered by the silence in the least. 

"What I have to say is in that contract." Tony waved his hand over the document.

"I see." Luther picked up the paper. "I have read it many times and it reminds me of the treaties my ancestors signed.  Seldom do the words in these treaties favor the interests of my people."

"What are ya talkin' about?" Tony's agitation rose to the surface at that moment.  "The terms are quite equitable.  The compensation we are offering is generous."

Alphonse nodded, even though he did not look up as he continued to play with his phone.

"Fort McDowell has great meaning to our people." Luther leaned back in his chair, "It was here they matched us across the arid desert without water or food.  The children and elders were the first to die.  If someone fell behind, the soldiers would bayonet them." He paused, but he could see Tony Mercy had none, "We built that casino under congressional approval in 1967 when this land was put under sovereign jurisdiction of my people. We had many powwows and councils to decide what we were going to do.  A few of our members spoke of the oasis in Nevada at A place called Las Vegas.  The council leaders went to that place, my father included and saw for themselves.  They talked about it for many months until they decided that we would build one of our own.  And that's what they did.  Right away the revenue fed, clothed, and sheltered our people."

"Great story, chief." Tony put some emphasis on his last word, "But we want you to sign this and we will be on our way." 

Again there was silence.

"I will not sign this." Luther shook his head slowly.

"Why not?" Tony stood up, "You said over the phone your casino was losing money.  We can partner up and fix that. You said it was A good idea."      

"I have changed my mind after many council meetings.  Listening to my people and hearing the voices of my ancestors speak to me in the wind, I know that signing this would justify all the injustice done to my people." Luther did not let Tony's superior posture intimidate him.

"Listen to me, old man, we had a deal." He fumed, "I've got lawyers ready to file A lawsuit."

"This is not a deal.” He shook his head.

“Are you out of your mind, chief?” His real anger was now on display.  This was the type of anger he exhibited just before he had someone killed.  He pounded his fist on the table sending the unsigned contract airborne. “Now you listen to me, Chief.  I did not come all the way to this godforsaken place just to have you flip me off.  I will see this casino burn to the ground. I will teach you to disrespect me, Tony Mercelli.”

“Before I call the authorities to have you removed from my land, reconsider what you are telling me.” Luther stood up to look Tony eye to eye.  There was a slow burn in Luther’s eyes that made Tony turn his head. “Now get back in your car and go back to where you came from.” 

“This ain’t over, chief.” Tony was panting. 

“If war is what you want to make, so be it.” Luther smiled at him. His smile incensed Tony. 

“Al, Marcus, let’s go.” He panted.  Alphonse and Marcus looked at each other, perplexed as to what had gone wrong. "We are leaving." 

"So soon?" Alphonse shrugged.  Luther opened the door.

"We are not welcome here." He said with a certain abruptness as he marched out the door followed by his confused brothers.

Tony was fuming when the elevator opened at the main gambling room where the bells and whistles signaled a winner at the rows of slot machines. 

"Hey Tone, looks like the action is hot and heavy." Alphone rubbed his hands together. "Whadda say we play a little black jack."

Tony stopped dead in his tracks.  Nodding his head, he said, "Sure."

Tony knew that his brother counted cards and his average take was A few thousand, but if they stayed and played extra, they could clean the place out.  

"That will teach that stupid Injun who is boss." He snickered as the three of them made their way to the table. A woman dressed in a white shirt and black tie was dealing cards from a shoe.  Marcus paid for a stack of chips on the company expense account.  She put a new deck into the device as Marcus put the chips on the green felt.

Something about her bothered Tony, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.  He ran his fingers around his lips as he studied the young woman.  She was definitely a member of the tribe with her dark olive skin and the long black hair she had tied in back.  She wore several pieces of silver and turquoise jewelry.  One of her pieces, a necklace, had something disturbing in the design.  The design resembled eyes. The eyes seemed to be watching him and his brothers.  The eyes moved.  That was it.  That is what made him uneasy as the shoe dealt each of the players a pair of cards.

"Check out that necklace she's wearing." Tony elbowed Alphonse.

"Pretty awesome, ain't it?" He chuckled after looking at it.

"It's creepy." Tony sniffed.

"Suppose." He was counting cards and could not be bothered by Tony's obsessive suspicion of her accessories.

"Tony, it's me, Maury." The voice of his former associate echoed inside his head. "Remember when you and the boys decided it was time for me to go?"

"Tony, Margaret here."

Tony froze.

"What was it you put in my vodka that did me in so you could go off to Acapulco?"

Snow began to fall.

"I must be losing my marbles." He went to nudge Alphonse, but to his horror his brother was made of plastic.  So was Marcus. So were the rest of the customers.  The only ones still moving were the dealer and him. 

"You thought you could threaten me into signing your contract, but my magic is more powerful than you can imagine." It was Luther's voice she was using. "The world inside a snow globe can be quite tranquil and quite contained compared to the one you came from."

"What have you done to me?" It would be the last words he would ever say.

Greg put the plastic snow globe on his brother's desk.  Delighted, Luther picked up the snow globe and gave it a vigorous shake.  A smile came to his face as he watched the snow fall on the people at the black jack table. 

"I don't know why this thing gives me so much pleasure." He shook it again.

"To each his own, I suppose." Greg shrugged as he walked out of his brother's office.  

He watches to make sure his brother is gone before speaking directly to the snow globe with the frozen figures inside.  

This Tony Mercelli was a fool to think that violence was stronger than a shaman’s magic that comes from the Great Spirit. 

Luther stands and looks out his window.  The parking lot is full which means the casino is filled with customers hoping that luck is on their side today.

"I must pay Vernon Gibbs a visit later today." He gave the snow globe another hardy shake. .