In the morning, at the beginning of Mardi Gras day, people in the neighborhoods wait outside the door of the Big Chief. They wait outside the Chief's house to see what his outfit is going to look like this year and where his Indians will march. They wait to see which other tribes show up that day and if the tribes are ever going to meet in the street. They meet to join in the Second Line behind the tribes, to march down the street to whatever brass band, tambourine or drum sets the beat. No one knows where the parade route is going to be, except for the Big Chief and Spy Boy.

But everyone knows that at the end of the day, most of the Black Indian Tribes are going to gather at the corner of Claiborne and Dumaine for the final showdown. That is where you want to be at the end of the day.

It was in that direction that Emmer headed the stolen black Lincoln filled with a duct-taped Raynaldo and three feather clad showgirls. He squeezed the car into alleys and down side streets, trying to shake Dumont and his goons following close behind. The car was increasingly slowed by pedestrians, neighborhood residents, partygoers, and tourists, all heading toward the Mardi Gras Indian showdown.

"Pops said that Rufus was on detail here tonight and if I found you, we were to get ourselves to the Indian gathering." Emmer explained. "We can't keep the police out of it any longer!"

He turned down St. Phillip and drove until he finally reached a street that was blocked off by police barricades and filled with spectators. Dumont's car was also slowed by the foot traffic, but it was obvious that they had reached the end of the car chase. They would have to continue on foot.

"This is where we get out and run!" Emmer said. He glanced at Raynaldo, trussed up and struggling in the back seat. "Stay here," he said with a sarcastic smile.

Once out of the car, Emmer grabbed Eliah's hand and pulled her after him. Cay and Smokey followed close behind. The crowd was a dense, cacophony of sound. People were laughing and dancing and drinking beer on the street. On either side of N. Claiborne, people gathered three to six deep, their attention directed toward a clearing at the center of the street. Nearby, a brass band hung out waiting for a signal to begin playing.

All around, people were in various states of dress, feathers, and general celebration, but the focus of the attention was definitely on the center of the street. Three Big Chiefs stood in standoff, each trying to make the others back down. One was dressed in bright orange feathers, his breastplate a mosaic of beaded patches including two buffalo, a bear rearing on his hind legs, and a deep blue and silver depiction of the night sky. Another Chief held a staff covered with feathers, dried gourds and a painted papier-mâché hawk with eyes made of sparkling, gold glass.

As Emmer pushed a path through the crowd, Cay recognized the voice of the Big Chief of the Marching Arrows Indian singing out a song she had heard at Dash's bar. He wore a full white outfit, dotted with beaded patches of yellow, red and black, the largest of which depicted an arrow piercing a large heart. He held a staff in the shape of a tall arrow. Wound around the shaft were dozens of strands of tiny seed beads in black, red and yellow, forming a waterfall of color.

The three Chiefs took turns strutting their stuff, preening and prancing, styling and profiling. One by one, each Chief turned and swirled and proclaimed he was the realest and the prettiest. It was the final competition of Mardi Gras Day. Flag Boy Against Flag Boy, Spy Boy Against Spy Boy, and now, Big Chief against Big Chief. Cay could see fully dressed Indians carrying banners reading "Red Hawks" and "Hunters of the Flame."

"Watch out!" she heard Emmer shout. She turned and saw that Dumont had almost reached them, with Bubba and Hart right behind. Emmer and Eliah had reached the opening and had pushed into it, about ten yards from the Chiefs' competition arena. Cay decided to draw Dumont away from them by sidestepping into the crowd. She grabbed Smokey's arm to pull her into the crowd. It didn't work. Dumont kept going toward Eliah and Emmer.

"Cay! Cay!" she heard her name called. She looked up to see Samantha and Dinah on the other side of the gathering, Mambozo in their hands. She waved and pointed toward the duo trapped at the center of the crowd.

Dumont pushed his way into the opening and caught Emmer on the back of the head with his pistol, making him fall to the ground. He shoved Eliah down and backed up slowly, pointing the pistol straight at her. "WHERE ARE MY DIAMONDS?" he screamed.

As he backed up, he moved right into the pathway of the Big Chief of the Marching Arrows.

Out of nowhere came a blood curdling scream emitted from a bucking, jumping bundle of sharp sticks and jangling bells. A creature dressed in dark fur wore a skull of a steer on his chest, horns protruding from either side of his body. Upon his face was a mask of big hollow eyes and a mouth twisted into a tormented scream. A huge headdress sat atop his head and his left hand held a stick covered with black feathers and topped with a skull made of black bones and white eye sockets. Feathers emitting from the skull's eye sockets and two sharp horns protruding from either ear.

This creature was Wild Man. It was his role in the tribe was to protect the Big Chief at any cost, terrorizing, screaming and tormenting folks to make room for the tribe. His job was to clear out traffic, defend against other tribes and scare away anyone who was getting too close to the expensive and heavy suit of the chief. That included any arrogant sons-of-a-bitches of the New Orleans Sons of the Confederacy who were waving guns in the air.

Wild Man descended upon Dumont with the scream of a demon recently released from hell and ready to feed on human flesh, He moved in closed and poked Dumont with his stick.

Dumont's eyes widened in terror. "Police!" LaTourne started yelling. "Someone call the police!"

Dumont pointed his pistol over his head and sent a shot into the night. The crowd panicked and started to scatter. Wild Man showed no fear. Like lightning, he swung his stick at LaTourne's arm. He hit his wrist and Dumont's pistol flew out of his hand, sliding across the street and landing on the feet of Rufus, who had heard the fuss and had moved over to the clearing.

Rufus picked up the gun, then pulled his own revolver our of his police holster. "Hold it right there, LaTourne. You are under arrest."

Dumont grabbed his heart, and breathed heavily as he held out his hand to ward off Wild Man.. "Officer! You should arrest this monster for terrorizing good people like myself. I was only defending myself. You have a dozen witnesses." He waved his hand at the crowd.

"Yeah, right!" Rufus said, moving in and grabbing both of Dumont's hands to cuff him. "Dumont LaTourne, you are under arrest for creating a public nuisance and discharging a firearm in a crowd. And generally being an asshole in the nighttime. That will put you in the drunk tank for the rest of Carnival.

He motioned over two uniform cops. "Take this yahoo down to Central Booking. In the morning, we'll charge him with the murder of Frank Montana and two counts of kidnapping."

Cay pushed her way into the opening and went to help Eliah pull up Emmer from the ground. Emmer was rubbing the back of his head.

Rufus shouted at his uniformed cops. "And get some medical help here for these two!"

"You okay?" Rufus directed his concern toward Cay.

She nodded. "There were two other goons, guys named Bubba and Hart. I think they got away."

Smokey spoke up at Cay's side.."Not to worry. In the confusion, Bubba slipped me his phone number and asked me to call him before he slipped away in the crowd. He's not very bright, is he?"

Eliah was holding Emmer up, her arm around his waist. The headdress sat askew on her head.

Rufus reached over and straightened it out. He placed his hands on either side of her face.

"You look so much like your father," was all he could say before they were interrupted by a deep male voice at the center of the opening. Everyone looked over in the direction of the singing.

"Well, I'll be damned," Rufus said.

It was Mr. Jonathan joining the Big Chiefs' Competition. He was resplendent in a modest coat of feathers of black and red, and a headdress standing two feet on his head, flowing down his back. He had only one patch at the center of his chest. It was a simple beaded yellow magnolia, with a touch of pink at the center. He carried a standard, a flag, bearing the same Yellow Mag symbol bound to a staff wrapped in black and yellow velvet, with short yellow feathers forming a small fountain of color at the top. His throaty blues voice added a rough, harsh quality to his singing but it was loud and clear, his voice quieting the crowd. He tapped a tambourine against the flag staff in a strong rhythmic beat accompanying his song.

"Big Chief Gone! Magnolia Nation!"
"Big Chief Gone! Wild Creation!"

Mr. Jonathon was singing both call and response. He turned around and proudly showed off his new suit, which was humble and plain in light of the creations that had gone on display before him. Most people in the crowd had heard about the death of Frank Montana, but few thought the Yellow Magnolias would ever march again. A few folks laughed at the sight of a man alone, without a tribe, entering this mightiest of Mardi Gras competition. Some called out to him, joshing him for his bravado.

"Hey, brother. You left your tribe somewhere on Bourbon Street!"

"I think you are looking for the Rex parade, old man!"

"Don't quit your day job!"

Then another figure came out of the crowd and stood next to Mr. Jonathon. Cay recognized the bright yellow wings and vest that she examined in Frank Montana's apartment.

"Pops!" she heard Emmer cry out. Pops Jackson from the bodega had added a headdress of a different color to Mo's outfit. He carried a drum in one hand, and banged it in rhythm with a brightly colored drumstick. Pops picked up the response line as he joined Mr. Jonathon at the center of the crowd.

"Gotta Carry On! Magnolia Nation!"
"Gotta Carry On! Wild Creation!"

"Fire in the belly! Magnolia Nation!"
"Smoke in the hole! Wild Creation!"

Emmer grabbed Eliah by the hand. "Come on! We got to join them."

Smokey grabbed Cay's pink feather fan as she ran past her to join her brother and Eliah. "Hope you don't mind!"

They took their place with the tiny tribe. Emmer took the flag from Mr. Jonathon so the Mag leader could play the tambourine with both hands. Smokey waved the pink fan over her head. Cay could see from where she stood that there were tears in Eliah's eyes. She stood tall and proud, her daddy's headdress looking tattered and torn and so very fine atop her Indian princess head. She started singing and clapping, joining Pops in the refrain of the Yellow Magnolia song she remembered her father singing during her childhood.

"Fly high with the eagle! Magnolia Nation!"
"Crawl with the snake! Wild Creation!"

"Dance with the panther! Magnolia Nation!"
"Rattle and shake! Wild Creation!"

From the crowd came yet another figure amidst a loud clanking rhythm. Mambozo, who could barely be seen pushing his way through the ankles and knees in the crowd, came out singing in his high chicken tenor and banging away on his cowbell. A small Indian headdress, made of a spray of bright yellow feathers and a single peacock feather reaching high into the air sat atop his head. A single bright, red jewel shone from the headband. He wore a tiny vest made of yellow, orange and red beads and feathers. Cay looked to where Dinah and Samantha had been. She could see Mary Dan now and all three women were cheering him on, obviously loving the miniature creation that the Krewe du Couture had sewn for their tiny Cuban friend. Mambozo started singing like a natural Indian. The crowd went wild at the sight of him and suddenly ridicule turned into solidarity.

"Say Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!"
"Say Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!"

Everyone was joining in on the Hey! Hey! Hey! Refrain. Nearby, the Claiborne Wide Step Brass Band picked up the beat of the Hey!Hey! Hey! response on their bass drum . The trumpets, trombone and clarinets fumbled a bit until they found the right key.

Cay observed the reaction of the Big Chief of the Marching Arrows. At first, he shook his head in anger. But Cay noticed that as he watched Eliah sing, his reaction softened noticeably. He walked directly over to Mr. Jonathon and shook his staff at him menacingly. The singing stopped. The band stopped. The crowd silenced. Mambozo stopped playing the cowbell.

Big Chief got right into Mr. Jonathon's face, who met him glare for glare. Seconds of silence passed as the two men stared each other down. Then Big Chief begrudged the tiniest of smiles. "I'm gonna let you pass, old man, since you have nothing to offer but this rag tag pitiful sight of an Indian Nation. But next year, blood, I'm gonna make you humbah to me. Next year! You're mine!" He shook his staff to make his point.

Mr. Jonathon nodded as if to accept the challenge. "Ain't gonna make me humba, brother, now or never, gonna never kneel down. Yellow Magnolias own this side of town."

Next to her, Cay heard Rufus give a big belly laugh. "Heh, heh, heh. We sure ain't the prettiest Indians here today, but I think Mo would still be proud of JoJo today." Leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Got to go, boo. Enjoy the rest of the parade."

Mr. Jonathon hit his tambourine twice and sang out mournfully again, this time to the urban sky above him..

"Big Chief Gone!"

The crowd sang out. "Magnolia Nation!"

He hit the tambourine twice again.

"Gotta Carry On!"

Again, the crowd responded. "Wild Creation!"

The Wide Stepping Brass Band picked up the tune again and pulled into place right behind the small pod of Yellow Magnolia Indians.

"Let's take this down the street, Indians." The trombone player sang out. The whole group started walking down the street toward Esplanade. Observers from the sidelines poured into the street and formed a dancing, jiving, rhythmic Second Line. The Krewe du Couture women took their place near Mambozo, and Samantha took the festive chicken into her arms so he wouldn't get stepped on by an enthusiastic dancer.

No one gave Cay a second glance, standing there with her glittered and spangled outfit, and she almost felt a little wistful until she felt herself being scooped up by her elbows and pulled toward the parade.

It was Marcy and Zydee Bob Beaux, dressed in matching top hats, feathers and walking canes covered in sequins and beads.

"Whew, Cayenne McKenzie Del Roi!" Marcy said, looking over Cay's outfit that was compliments of the Dirty Martini. "Now that's what I'm talking about when I say Mardi Gras! We walked over with the Arrows, but this party looks more fun!"

Beaux handed her his tambourine. "Here, chere. Can't Second-Line it without something to play. Laissez les bons temps rouler!" He then started chanting along with the crowd. "Magnolia Nation! Wild Creation!"

Cay shook the instrument a few times, and then caught the forlorn look that Marcy was giving her. "Here, girlfriend," she said, handing it over. "Why don't you show me how it's done?"