Gardens in the Dunes

Part Eight

AT FIRST she had difficulty understanding the language her baby spoke to her from the womb, but then she recognized the Sand Lizard words pronounced in baby talk. She had not heard the Sand Lizard language spoken for a long time, except in dreams. To hear the baby, Sister Salt had to wait until early morning before dawn, after the night shift quit but before the day crews started. She lay as still as she could, holding her breath, and if the baby was awake and turning restlessly, then she could hear it talk — how its voice reached her ears was a mystery. She did not tell Maytha or Vedna because they were likely to blame the voice on witches.

Sister Salt talked to the baby whenever it kicked and moved inside her; she told the little Sand Lizard about their home and the gardens in the dunes where she and Indigo used to play games. There it was peaceful at night with no drunks or fights to send men falling against the tents. She could feel her baby’s impatience grow more urgent.

The baby did not like the noise and the dust. The place was not safe. No place is safe, she told the baby. The baby wanted her to leave at once for the old gardens. How could she leave without Indigo? Indigo was still a child.

“But she is not your baby like I am. You don’t breathe for her. You breathe for me!”

Most days he was so busy, Candy did not come to her tent until after midnight, and even then he was only taking a break — the gambling tents were full of players, and sales of beer and barbecued meat were nonstop. She did not see as much of Maytha and Vedna after she quit the laundry. The pregnancy caused her to sleep more, and the twins got busier as more workers arrived to finish the dam. Maytha and Vedna knew Sister Salt wanted company, but usually by the time they bathed in the laundry tent after work (to take advantage of the clean warm water), their “dates” arrived before they had a chance to visit her.

Sundays were days of rest — not because Maytha or Vedna were Christians but because preachers and missionaries descended on the construction camp for Sunday services and scared off their dates. So the three of them decided Sundays would be their day together; after they ate, they talked and laughed as they took turns combing and braiding new satin ribbons into their hair. They were best friends now, and the twins teased each other saying they wished Sister Salt were their twin, not the other.

The camp was a dump, Maytha said, and Vedna and Sister Salt had to agree with her; all the noise and dust drifted to their tents. They were getting tired of sex along the river week after week with the same sweaty workers who never changed what they did; sex with these men was boring and tedious. Luckily the twins had saved almost enough money to retire forever before they died of boredom here.

“It’s so bad Vedna’s started to read the Bible! All the sexy parts in the Old Testament!” The three of them laughed together. Vedna reminded them about the weird stories too — those were even better than the sex. Chariots of fire! Beasts with seven heads!

The Bible was the only book Vedna could find to practice her reading. They had gone to school and learned to read when they lived in Winslow with their father. Their Chemehuevi clanspeople were troubled because their father wasn’t Chemehuevi; he had been from Laguna Pueblo, working on the railroad, and was already married with children when he met their mother. Still, he took them in after their mother died, but kept them away from Laguna in Winslow. Their father was killed in a railroad accident when they were thirteen, old enough to go back to their mother’s people on their own. Only one old auntie, their grandmother’s sister, welcomed them inside, and poor thing, she didn’t have much — a tiny stone house on the dry floodplain of tumbleweeds and river gravel south of Needles. The government took away her farmland on the river to lease out to white men. Maytha and Vedna liked to say they had only two living relatives in Arizona — their old auntie and Sister Salt!

Later Sister had to lie down because her back ached from the baby’s constant turning. Candy looked in on her and was concerned about her discomfort; he didn’t want anything to harm his first child! His huge hands gently closed around both of her hands, and he kissed the top of her head. He was sorry he was so busy; he could see something was wrong. Nothing was wrong; she was only listening to the baby. Candy exhaled and glanced down at her belly; he had to take Wylie the evening receipts. He wanted to know how the baby could talk, how she could hear it when it was so tiny, but questions would have to wait until he got back.

Wylie was waiting at his counting table in his tent; when he saw Candy at the door, he mopped the sweat from his face and adjusted the lantern to give off more light. Wylie had finished off the pumpkin pie Candy baked the day before; the pie pan and a fork and a few crumbs were pushed to one side. The night was hot without a breeze, and Wylie wore only a nightshirt, which barely covered his private parts; Candy glanced into the adjoining tent where Wylie slept but didn’t see any women in his bed.

Wylie kept two sawed-off shotguns on the tent floor by his feet at all times; he rode his big walking horse with the shotguns in scabbards within easy reach. Candy watched him practice firing both guns from the hip at once; the stack of two-by-fours were blown into sawdust and sticks. The job of the site superintendent was to keep the contractors in line and keep the locals out of the way. Friction was bound to develop; the locals and their politicians sorely resented outsiders and federal projects, though they wanted the dams and levees.

Wylie first hired Big Candy to cook for him on a river dredging project in Mississippi. There the locals pulled out survey stakes and the mules had to be guarded around the clock or they’d be blinded or crippled.

After he counted and recounted Candy’s receipts and counted out his share, Wylie liked to open a fresh bottle of brandy and talk. Candy’s job was to listen and to keep a fresh pot of coffee brewed for the brandy. Wylie was generous with his brandy, and some nights, even with the black coffee, Candy caught himself falling asleep. If he noticed, Wylie never complained; he was a strange one all right. But he took to Candy’s cooking at once, and claimed he could detect whether someone was trustworthy after the person had cooked him one meal. Before he hired Candy, he said, he had four good cooks in his life: the cook who was with his parents for sixty years, and three others who cooked for him one after the other. It was annoying that each cook lasted only five years, but not surprising because of the amount of liquor they drank. Why were the best cooks such drunks?

Candy shook his head; he wasn’t a drinker — he preferred to keep busy, making money. Not by stealing the boss’s money — Candy laughed at his own joke.

“Let me cook you a meal so you can decide.”

Wylie gave him the run of his tent kitchen and supplies, but they were miles up the Mississippi River in the middle of nowhere. It had been quite a test of his cooking skills, all right. What did Candy do? He went walking with a shotgun and a knapsack and two hours later returned with all he needed except for brown sugar, cream, and butter, which Wylie, at great expense, kept on hand. Wylie ate the baked pheasant basted in raspberry preserves, the baby peas in butter cream sauce, and told Candy he was hired even before he tasted the thick cream custard sprinkled with caramelized sugar.

How that white man could eat so much and never get fat! Must have been something wrong inside Wylie for him to eat all the time and stay skinny. Candy began to try to fatten him up — it was a challenge; but over the years Wylie never gained a pound. Candy wanted to keep the boss healthy because he paid Candy so well, but more important, he understood fine cooking and showed great appreciation for Candy’s cooking no matter what new concoctions Candy devised.

Until the wee hours of the morning and sometimes until dawn, Wylie did the talking. Generally he talked about food and cooking, and his recollection of the hundred best meals he ever ate. Candy was proud that high on Wylie’s best hundred list were meals cooked by him: deep-fried clam croquettes, venison filets marinated in wild cranberry sauce, baked catfish in wild plums.

Candy thought maybe all the food Wylie ate was the reason Wylie didn’t need more than four hours’ sleep a night. Candy liked to sleep more than that and returned to his own tent for a few hours before he had to cook breakfast for Wylie. Over the years, they had developed an arrangement that gave Candy the business opportunities that someday would finance his own hotel and restaurant in Denver. At the rate they were clearing profits here, they’d both be able to retire after this job, although the big profits brought troubles of their own. Prescott and Needles businessmen who wanted to make money off the construction workers too were angered at the fees charged by Wylie to permit the wagonloads of whiskey and women onto the project site.

Tonight something was up; in addition to the two sawed-off shotguns, Candy saw twelve-gauge shotguns propped in each corner of the tent. Tonight the boss didn’t talk about recipes; there was trouble between the state of California and the Arizona Territory over the diversion of the river to Los Angeles. Arizona farmers below the dam site were outraged to see water diverted to farms in California, and gathered in Yuma to burn down the federal courthouse. Rumors had the California state militia on alert, and the Arizona territorial militia preparing for a possible engagement with the California troops on their borderline, which was the Colorado River. Of course, Wylie knew it was all politics and money; lately he didn’t trust his two white bodyguards; to be rid of them, he sent them to guard the construction equipment day and night.

Candy never thought those bodyguards were worth a damn anyway. What Wylie needed were some good dogs. Bodyguards could be bribed and bought off; good dogs would lay down their lives. Dogs could sniff out assassins and these Arizona bushwhackers a mile away. He didn’t want anything to happen to Wylie. Candy wrote “dogs” on the top of his list of items to get the next time he went to Yuma.

Big Candy had never been friends with a white man before — only Indians and Mexicans and a few Asians. But he liked Wylie at once as he watched him eat the first meal Candy cooked for him. He liked the way Wylie’s eyes widened when he saw a special dish or dessert on the table; out here in the middle of nowhere, Candy was hard pressed to find even the most basic ingredients, but on other job sites in populated areas Candy took pride in finding local delicacies — fresh berries, mushrooms, or fresh oysters or clams. In hot weather Candy packed blocks of ice in sawdust under layers of damp burlap to surprise Wylie with thick sweet cream for butter and ice cream. For fifteen years now, they’d worked together, and their happiest times were the special meals — succulent rich delicacies Candy served him at the remote locations, construction sites miles from civilization, as they were here. So far here, Candy surprised Wylie with ice cream in June — he later joked it took a one-ton wagon of ice blocks from Prescott to make one big bowl of lemon ice cream. The lemons were off trees in Yuma, and the heavy sweet cream was from a Mormon farmer in Needles.

To show his continued appreciation for Candy’s cooking, Wylie didn’t hesitate to let Candy make beer and run dice games and cards on the side; now they both were ready to retire after this project. Wylie was going to Long Beach to live a gentleman’s life and he wanted Candy to come along — he only had to cook one fancy meal a week, and he could bring the Indian girl; Wylie didn’t care as long as Candy was there to cook.

Candy only smiled and shook his head; before he went to Denver, he’d come to Los Angeles to help Wylie find a cook far better than he was. Candy’s dream was to own a hotel and restaurant in Denver near the Rocky Mountains, which he’d only seen in paintings and photographs.

As soon as it was daylight, Wylie wanted Candy to find a hiding place — somewhere down along the riverbank — and rebury the floor safe. If there was trouble, the first place looters would look was under the floor of the tent. Wylie wouldn’t put any deed past the Prescott businessmen or the army, and Candy had to agree; during Candy’s hitch with the army he had seen drunken troops turn to looters while their officers looked on.

Wylie was philosophical about the changes: they’d done very well here and already had the money they needed to retire. If the state militias clashed at the dam site and the army got involved, Wylie would continue to oversee the actual construction, but his control over the premises and his licenses to conduct business would be taken over by the military. After that, the outlook for Candy’s casino and brewery was not good; the military men were bound to favor the Arizona businessman with political connections in Washington.

Candy told Sister Salt one evening after he cooked eggs and bacon for her they might not be here on the river for as long he first thought. He told her what Wylie said about the water feud and the troops taking over. He wanted to make their baby strong and happy, and though they did not discuss it, he knew their baby complained about the place and the food. Once the troops took over, he and she would go straight to California to the Indian school in Riverside and track down her little sister that way. Otherwise, they might wait in Parker forever before any letters ever came back from Washington.

Sister Salt was lying down that evening when Maytha and Vedna surprised her; they had big grins on their faces because they’d just counted it all up and realized they’d made all the money they needed to buy land. Very soon they’d leave this noisy dump for good! They invited her to come with them — they weren’t going right away — in a month or two. Think about it. After they went back to their tent, her eyes filled with tears.

I am the only one who will wait for you, dear little Indigo, she whispered that night before she went to sleep. Now both the baby and its father wanted to leave, and the twins were going too!

In mid-July the rains came and the weather began to cool off. Rumors flew around the construction site, but there were no signs of the state militia or the federal troops. Cooler weather made Sister Salt restless; she began to dream about the old gardens, where Mama and Indigo were planting red amaranth and speckled yellow beans.

The baby was big enough to be seen in her belly, so she only had sex with Big Candy now; otherwise the baby’s features might resemble other men’s. The cloth of her smock shifted just a bit as the baby kicked and turned; the baby wanted her to eat Sand Lizard food, not all this animal grease and cooked food. Big Candy wanted a big strong son and insisted she eat plenty of meat, and each night he brought back big platters of leftovers — beef rib roasts and stuffed pork loins and bowls piled high with orange yams and stewed okra. But now the odor of meat and its grease made her nauseous; she ate the okra and yams but pushed the meat aside.

Why should I talk to you when you don’t feed me the food I need? The baby turned and turned but didn’t speak again; the baby worried her and she decided to confide in Maytha and Vedna. But when she went by the laundry, the washtubs were turned upside down and the fires were out, and the twins were nowhere to be found. They must have found a ride going north and went to visit their old auntie, who was ailing.

She wished she’d gone with them; now they joked all the time about escaping that place; the earth of the dam towered above them in a sinister hump, they all agreed. The trampled earth of the dam site looked all the same, just as each day’s work around Big Candy’s casino tent and brewery took on a sameness. The construction workers who preferred to drink beer and gamble at Big Candy’s down along the river became regular customers. The men made the same remarks each time they saw Sister Salt — why had she stopped taking them to the willows to roll around on the sand? Why didn’t she come inside the casino tent to bring them luck with the dice? She learned to avoid the casino tent and so did Maytha and Vedna because the drunk gamblers who lost often turned nasty and blamed the women for spoiling their luck.

It wasn’t too hot yet; a walk would do her good. She left behind the river for the sandy hills above to gather wild greens. The construction noises receded as she walked, so she kept going until she no longer heard anything but the wind and the meadowlarks in the rice grass. She had not planned to walk so far without her gourd canteen, but her legs kept going, and the farther she went the better she felt; even the baby stopped turning so much.

A distance up a dry wash she found a coyote melon vine snaking through the rice grass and thistles. At the first sweet taste of melon, she was overwhelmed by memories of the sweet yellow melons they shared the last autumn they were all together. The salt of her tears made her cheeks itch. They had been so happy together that sunny afternoon a few months before the crows and then the dancers came. That last afternoon, the melon’s sugar juice stuck their fingers together and they squealed with delight as they pulled them apart.

She ate one melon and then another like a starving person until her hands and even strands of her hair were sticky; her stomach felt too full and unsettled. She sat with her arms across her belly protectively and waited for the cramp to pass. Grandma always warned them not to eat too much too fast! The baby must like this Sand Lizard food because it didn’t complain. She lay back on the fine sand to take a rest. The sky here was pure endless turquoise, and the air here smelled so clean, unmarred by the dust and smoke of the construction. The sun was moving lower in the sky but she didn’t want to turn back yet.

What else was there growing wild in this sandy wash, ready to eat? She walked a distance farther up the wash and sure enough she found a stand of sunflowers, many still in bloom but others gone to seed. Her stomach felt uncomfortably full but at the same time she felt so hungry she crammed handfuls of dry seeds into her mouth, hulls and all. Ummmm! The flavor in her mouth was so rich and delightful she swallowed despite how full her stomach felt. She couldn’t spit them out and waste them!

A short distance beyond the sunflowers she spotted the bright red fruit of a chile pepper plant; once someone must have had a garden here, and a few seeds replanted themselves just as they did at the old gardens. Oh how she wished she were there!

She ate the sweet hot peppers one after the other, as if they might take her home if she ate enough of them. The heat of the peppers in her stomach eased the odd heaviness she felt; she knew she really should start back to the river before it got any hotter than it was. But all the food in her stomach made her feel heavy and sleepy; the heat was already strong, so she decided to take a nap in the shade of a big boulder and start back when the sun went down and it cooled off.

She slept longer than she intended; the shadows were already long and the sun about to set. If she wasn’t back by dark, Big Candy and the twins might worry. She walked only the distance back down the wash, past the melon plant, when another cramp tightened around her belly and back until she knelt in the sand, doubled over from the pain.

She thought it was only diarrhea until she saw the gouts of dark blood glisten on the sand between her feet. How strange that the blood’s color was identical to the dark red edge of the sky at sundown. All this blood! How much more blood did she have before she died, and the baby died too? She crawled to clean sand and lay on her side with her knees drawn to her belly; the blood felt warm and thick between her thighs and then it happened: she could not stop her body from contracting and pushed to relieve herself, then realized something else had happened, some part of herself had been expelled. She could feel it pulsate but it beat faster than her heartbeat and she knew it was the baby Sand Lizard, born too soon.

Twilight was fading into darkness as she gathered up the wet bundle still connected to her own body. She smelled blood as she cradled the dark sticky mass in her arms before she bit through the cord that connected them. He was a tiny shrunken old man who refused to stop sucking his own hand long enough to open his eyes. She tore her skirt and gently wrapped him, not too tightly, around and around until she’d made a cocoon with only a small opening above his face to keep him warm. She was still bleeding, and the cramping did not stop, and she thought, My Sand Lizard grandfather has come to take me home.

The sand remained warm after darkness came, and she curled around the little black grandfather, who preferred his own fist to the nipples of her breasts. She did not lose consciousness, but she was so weak she felt the pull of the earth bring her to the ground, and she thought, So this is how we return to Mother Earth. She was happy to return because she missed Grandma Fleet so much.

Toward morning the desert cooled off and she woke shivering in the darkness; the stars were bigger and brighter late at night when they thought no one was watching them. She looked overhead; the stars were closer and bigger now; how they flashed in arcs traveling from place to place. Though she shivered, still she took care not to move her arms or shift the bundle in her arms; she did not look down because she did not want to know if he was alive or dead. Was the bundle warm, or cold? It was so small she couldn’t be sure; carefully she pushed herself deeper into layers of sand that were still warm. Oh how soothing the warm sand was on her belly and the base of her spine! How sweet sleep was — let me sleep forever.

At dawn she woke to a black dog gently licking her face. If the dog’s motion had not been so gentle and slow, she might have feared an attack. The bundle was secure in any case because she slept curled around it to keep it warm. During the night she woke but could not be sure if he moved or if she had only dreamed he moved. She was still bleeding, though much less than the night before; the afterbirth was in the sand nearby, untouched by the dog. A good sign. The dog had a fat stomach, but seemed crippled; it hobbled backward wagging its tail as she raised up. Did something move in the bundle? She still couldn’t bring herself to look. Too bad she hadn’t brought a canteen, because she was really thirsty. She wondered if Big Candy came to her tent last night and was looking for her. Maytha and Vedna probably wouldn’t get back from Needles until tomorrow.

The dog stood a short distance away watching her face and the bundle in her arms curiously. When they lived in Needles, she and Indigo used to beg for a puppy, but Grandma Fleet said dogs eat too much meat.

Now the sun rose above the horizon but with a partial mask of thin clouds. Her left arm was stiff from holding the bundle and she tried to shift it a bit without disturbing it — if she bumped it and it didn’t move, then she’d know he was dead. Just then she was aware of a strange sensation — an odd tingling — and when she touched herself with her right hand, her breasts were swollen and leaked warm milk through the cloth of her blouse. The dog’s ears pricked up at the bundle, and when she first looked down, she thought she saw a spider, then she realized it was a tiny black hand reaching out of the bundle.

He was still alive! Now she had to look, but she dreaded to see the poor little thing breathe his last. Yes, she whispered to him, it was her fault he was born too soon, for eating too much greasy white-colored food. She whispered to him as she gently pulled open the bundle to look. Now both little black hands were waving at her angrily and she laughed with relief at how briskly they punched the air. He smelled breast milk and wanted some right now. As she fumbled with her blouse to bring out a breast, he began a high-pitched cry sounding like a river heron; the longer it took for her to push back the cloth wrapped around him, the louder the heron’s cries became. His little wrinkled face was contorted in anger — his eyes squeezed shut and mouth gulping like a fish; in her haste to get the breast and nipple to his mouth, milk squirted on his forehead and for an instant he stopped wiggling and opened his eyes in surprise and she saw he was a tough customer who wouldn’t die anytime soon.

His mouth was so tiny her nipple filled it entirely but he did not choke or cough as he sucked ravenously. He gave out angry cries as she shifted him to the other breast, which was soaking them both in milk. She was so relieved he was alive she began to cry softly. His vigorous sucking stopped briefly, and she saw a black shining eye open for an instant to see what was wrong. “I’m just so happy,” she said in Sand Lizard language. “I was afraid you were dead.”

The black dog was lying close by, and watched patiently. Each time she felt his nursing diminish, she started to get up, but instantly he woke and began to suck so strongly she sank back down on the sand again. She managed to scrape away enough sand with one foot to properly bury the afterbirth without disturbing him. Encouraged by that success with him in her arms, she was able to urinate, then crawled a distance away to clean sand. She was so thirsty. She’d never go for a walk without a canteen again — not even in cool weather! Good thing she was only a few miles from the river. For a moment she wondered why Big Candy didn’t come looking for her — maybe Wylie sent him to Prescott; the twins probably wouldn’t get back from Needles until the next day.

Finally she managed to stand up without disturbing him — he slept with her nipple in his mouth — and she began to walk back down the sandy wash the way she’d come. The black dog led the way, stopping from time to time to look back to see if she was still coming. She had not gone far when the dog suddenly stopped as it approached a bend in the arroyo. The hair on the dog’s back stood straight up and Sister Salt froze in her tracks; but then the dog’s tail began to wag wildly and it gave a bark and ran fast on its crooked legs around the bend in the wash.

“There you are!” a woman’s voice shouted in Spanish, and before Sister Salt could decide whether to hide or not, a strange sight met her; around the corner came a small dark woman surrounded by a pack of black dogs. The woman seemed as shocked to see her as she was; for an instant Sister Salt thought the dog woman was about to turn and run.

All the dogs began to bark but the woman shushed them; they obeyed at once and sank to their bellies; it was then Sister Salt noticed each of the other dogs wore a burlap pack over its shoulders and back. “They won’t harm you,” the woman said in Spanish, but when Sister Salt didn’t reply, the woman repeated the words in English. Sister Salt nodded but didn’t move; she felt him let go of her nipple and begin to squirm in his bundle; he wanted the other breast.

The woman watched as she shifted him to the other side. She wasn’t much older than herself. The woman looked at the torn bloody skirt, then at the bundle in Sister Salt’s arms, and she looked around to see if there was anyone else.

“Do you need help?” the woman asked in English. Sister Salt got a good look at her then and saw a dark purple scar from the middle of her forehead down the bridge of her nose to her chin.

“Please, some water,” Sister Salt answered. The woman turned to the dogs, who wagged their tails but obediently remained on their bellies. From the nearest dog’s pack she took out a plump canvas water bag that felt deliciously damp and cool in Sister Salt’s hands; water never tasted so good! She could have made it back to the river without water, but that might have also caused her milk to dry up, and she didn’t want to take that risk.

While Sister Salt drank, the woman gazed around them with vigilance, but more than once the woman looked back toward the south, the direction she’d come from. The woman offered to hold the bundle while she washed up, but Sister Salt declined. The little black grandfather would be furious if she disturbed his nest between her breasts to hand him over to a stranger.

In Yuma, the dog woman heard about a wagon town booming upriver at the new dam, so she brought her dog circus to make some money. Sister Salt nodded. Yes, money was waiting up there for entertainment. The workers would flock to see something new for a change.

She introduced herself as Delena, but just the way she said the name told Sister Salt it was not her real name. Delena asked if she lived there, and Sister nodded. For the first time since the baby was born, she began to take stock of her situation. She could see the dust cloud in the distance above the construction site. Her feelings were hurt because Big Candy didn’t come looking for her. Even if he was really busy, he should have at least sent Juanito out to search for her this morning. If Big Candy didn’t care enough to start a search, she wasn’t sure if she should bother to go back.

Maybe she should ask the dog woman for a water bag and start back to the old gardens now. Even before he was born, the little black grandfather hated the construction noise. He might never tolerate the noise now, and all night the drunks and gamblers laughed and cursed around the tents. She’d have to move her tent downriver away from the noise. She had a difficult time deciding what to do; he watched her from inside his cocoon. His eyes said, “You don’t want to go back there,” but she pretended not to understand.

Rain clouds from the northwest pushed into the sky, and the air felt cooler. The dogs fanned out and trotted ahead of them as they walked along; now and then one of them caught a scent, and they all bolted off yipping and barking, but the lame dog never left the woman’s side.

Sister Salt had walked farther than she realized the day before. They had walked for a long time, and only now could the ugly hump of the dam be seen off in the distance, rising toward the sky. Whenever Sister Salt needed to rest, they stopped; invariably the woman looked back toward the south as if someone was following her. As long as they spoke in soft tones, the little grandfather slept; otherwise he screeched like a heron if they talked.

Sister Salt was curious about the contents of the packs the dogs wore. Delena explained each dog had to carry its own water and food, and its circus costume. She was curious to know what happened to the dog’s legs; a dog might hurt one or two legs, or in a dog fight, injure three; but this dog’s legs all had been badly broken. Sister was curious to know about the long dark scar down her face, but she was too polite to ask.

Sister Salt took her time walking, partly because it was hot and she felt a little weak, but also to see how long she had to be missing before Big Candy noticed and sent searchers. They stopped a number of times to drink water, then to eat the last of the mutton jerky Delena bought in Yuma. How did she keep the dogs from going after the jerky in their packs? Good training, Delena said. Discipline is everything in an army — or a dog circus, she quickly added. The dogs hunted ahead of them and filled themselves with mice swallowed in one gulp; the occasional rabbits they caught caused all the dogs to fight until Delena stepped in to command them to stop. They weren’t upset with one another afterward; they seemed to enjoy fighting as a game. Although they were not big dogs, their strength and savagery with one another impressed Sister Salt; one dog must have nearly the strength of a man.

They had almost reached the river when the dogs stopped, their ears and tails up in alert: immediately both women dropped to their knees. The jolt caused the little grandfather to stiffen with anger but he didn’t cry out. Someone was up ahead on the wagon road; they could hear the hum of voices and the jingle and clink of bits and steel-shod hooves. A number of horsemen were riding north; the cottonwood trees and river brush blocked them from sight. Whoever they were, they were headed for the dam too.

Sister sat down while Delena and the dogs went to look at the tracks in the wagon road. She looked worried when she returned; soldiers — she could tell by the tracks and manure the horses were in military formation. Soldiers. The little grandfather twisted and kicked in his bundle; he didn’t like to be wet, but if she tore up any more of her skirt or blouse, she’d be naked. Her promise of a nice warm bath as soon as they got home seemed to quiet him.

They avoided the wagon road by following the old path that wove through the tamarisk and willows on the riverbank. From time to time the dogs splashed and played in the shallow water; Sister felt her excitement grow as she anticipated Big Candy’s reaction to the baby. She didn’t show the baby to the dog woman so Big Candy could be the first to see his son. The closer they came to the construction site, the more the little grandfather twisted and turned in his bundle. Off in the distance to the southwest, Sister heard the rumble of thunder and smelled the approach of rain. At the sight of the tents, Delena called her dogs to her; she wanted to stay with them down the river a bit, where they wouldn’t be in the way. Despite the gathering storm, Sister didn’t press her to come stay at the tent because that many dogs might go after the meat in Candy’s barbecue pit or stampede the mule teams that pulled the earthmoving machines. As they parted, Sister thanked the dog woman again for the water, and promised to come visit soon.

Business was booming as she reached the camp; horses she’d not seen before were tied to the willows and tamarisks all around the casino tent; there were workers, their faces streaked with grime, arms full of dirty clothes, lined up outside the laundry tent for warm baths. No more bottles of beer — Juanito dipped it straight from the barrel into the workers’ lunch pails. Soldiers in uniforms lined up with workers just off the day shift; overnight the number of customers for gambling and beer seemed to have doubled.

Big Candy smiled and nodded when he saw her but he was striding in his very-busy-in-a-hurry walk, both hands full with decks of cards and the casino strongbox. He didn’t seem to notice the bundle in her arms, so she called out for him to come see, but he disappeared under the flap of the casino tent. In the line that formed outside the casino, the men who rolled dice on the sand while they waited stared at her curiously as she began to cry. The little black grandfather peered up at her intently from his cloth cocoon as she wiped at the tears with the back of her hand. She could tell he did not approve of his father’s bad manners.

The old Mojave woman gave her a pail of clean warm water out of the back of the laundry tent without any questions. Carefully she unwrapped him on her blankets in the tent and gently wiped him down and dried him with part of a clean sheet she tore up for diapers. The thunder cracked and shook the ground, and raindrops clattered against the tent while the wind pulled at the canvas and rattled the cottonwood branches and leaves above them. “Good for you,” she told him. “Your rain cloud ancestors came to greet you.” If not properly welcomed, a baby that tiny might give up on this world and leave.

The rain came in gusts that slapped and sagged the tent roof; she pulled the blankets snugly around them and listened to the creak and groan of the old cottonwood in the wind. Lightning flashed the inside of the tent and and shook the ground, but as long as the little grandfather nursed contently, she was not afraid.

She left a lantern burning for Big Candy, but it was out of oil by the time he came to her tent. The wind and lightning had passed but it was still raining steadily. Big Candy shook off his hat and rain slicker — she felt some of the cold droplets on her face but said nothing. He fumbled to light the other lantern on the table, and put down the money sacks; they made heavy sounds on the table.

“Business was booming,” he’d say if she were up now. Why didn’t she get up then and show him her surprise? No, if he hadn’t noticed something different by now, then she wanted to see just how long it took him to notice something was different.

He went out again to get the beer and roast meat he liked to eat while he counted the money. The rich odors of the meat and beer made her stomach growl with hunger, but she did not get up. She listened to him chew and swallow to the jingle and clink of the coins he counted. He taught her gold pieces jingle but silver only clinks. Tears came to her eyes as she remembered his delight in teaching her these things before he got so busy.

“There’s plenty of meat here,” he said, but she pretended to sleep. Finally he got up and stood over her.

“What’s wrong? I thought you went to Needles with the twins.”

The sound of his father’s voice right above woke the little black grandfather with a start; he pulled his head away from her breast and twisted inside his cocoon as he gave out a loud cry.

“What have you got there?” Big Candy demanded as he knelt down next to her. He thought it sounded like a cat or bird, and at first couldn’t see what it was because the baby was so tiny.

“Ohhh,” he said in amazement before his expression shifted into concern.

“It’s so small.”

“He — he’s a boy.”

“He looks too tiny to live,” Big Candy said in a sad voice.

“Don’t talk like that to him!” Sister Salt said in low, fierce tones. She wanted to say talk like that could kill tiny babies, but Candy looked so sad she kept quiet. He didn’t know the first thing about Sand Lizard babies. His ignorance was more apparent when he asked her to unwrap him so he could get a better look. She pulled the bundle closer and arched her body over it as she shook her head. Later on when she gave him clean dry wrappings, Candy could see him; right now it was important to keep him warm so he could sleep.

Big Candy sat down at the table again; the beat of the rain against the tent was not as heavy now. He sat in silence and he didn’t touch the money. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted the child until he saw the baby was too tiny to live. He’d seen babies born too soon when he was a child — born to the housemaids, who brought them to the big kitchen to keep warm. He watched his mother help the women try to save babies born too soon — pitiful little things with legs and arms like sticks; they gasped like fish out of water for a day or two, then lay still. He had not thought about them for years, but now the tears sprang into his eyes and he choked up as he had each time the babies died. Poor girl! She doesn’t know any better — she thinks this baby will live. He rubbed at his eyes hard with his fist and cleared his throat. He didn’t want to add to her hurt so he didn’t tell her what he knew.

He’d be back soon; he just had to take the receipts to Wylie. What a mess in this rain! He pulled down the wide brim of his felt hat to better shed the rain, and turned up the collar of his denim work coat. If the rain kept up, the clayish mud would be knee deep and impossible for the machines and mules. Bad for the contractors, but good for beer sales and the casino, especially now the soldiers were in the area.

Wylie was still wary of the presence of the soldiers. For now they might be there to discourage sabotage by disgruntled farmers downriver and slowdowns by workers demanding shorter hours; but the boss had information from his contacts in Prescott his enemies meant to put an end to his strict control of the gambling and beer at the construction camp. Wiley was already through a fifth of whiskey when Candy got there. He grinned when he saw the money sacks Candy put on the table were too full to tie shut.

“They might close us down next week,” Wylie said with a grin. “By God we’ll make money hand over fist until they do!” He wasn’t worried. It was his job to control access to the job site to keep the work going smoothly — to keep the peace between the general contractor and all the subcontractors and their workers. He had to watch the federal inspectors who came from time to time, to make sure they didn’t become too cozy with the contractors.

The Prescott businessmen had the hard liquor and the prostitutes in their wagon town within walking distance. Wylie didn’t stop them from running dice and card games outside the construction zone; if the men didn’t want to walk that far after work and preferred Big Candy’s barbecue, beer, and the casino tents along the river, well, that wasn’t Wylie’s fault. The construction zone and workers’ camp had to be kept in an orderly manner to prevent labor agitators and other safety risks. The only big complainers, beside the Prescott and Yuma businessmen, were the traveling preachers, who waved Bibles over their heads and condemned him to hell because he refused them access to the construction zone too. The wagon town suited the prostitutes, but the preachers wanted to reach the workers before they squandered their pay on beer and dice, or went to the women in the wagons.

Wylie barred the preachers on the grounds they might be labor agitators. Look at the uproar the preachers caused as soon as they arrived and went after the businessmen with the wagons of women. Wylie figured as long as the preachers and Prescott merchants quarreled with each other, he and Big Candy had nothing to worry about. Time and again, Wylie had watched the two forces squabble at the federal job sites he’d superintended. One of these days, Congress might get around to changing the law that gave the site superintendent such authority at government project sites. Wiley wasn’t concerned; he and Big Candy would be long gone by then.

Wylie wanted to retire by the sea in southern California, where it was warm; Long Beach suited him just fine. They’d done so well as business partners over the years, Wylie was reluctant to part with Big Candy. He tried to persuade Big Candy the weather in Denver was too cold and Negroes weren’t welcome, even if they had money. Now, in southern California they welcomed a man with money, whatever his skin color. Candy wanted a hotel and restaurant, but why not in Los Angeles? Big Candy was a Louisiana man; he’d hate the Denver winters. But Candy wanted to live near big mountains; Louisiana didn’t have big mountains, and neither did Los Angeles.

Despite the impressive receipts, Big Candy seemed subdued; Wylie asked if there had been trouble with a drunk in the casino the night before. Just from the way Candy shook his head, Wylie knew it was woman trouble. He poured them both another glass of brandy; how could that girl of a squaw make trouble for an ex — army Indian fighter like Candy? he wanted to know. Candy sipped the brandy and shook his head. The girl had a little baby — his baby — but it was born too soon and sure to die.

Wylie shook his head, then downed the brandy and poured more. The constant moving from job site to job site barred a man from a family; Wylie was glad of it — but he could see sometimes Big Candy was lonely. Wylie patted Candy on the back and poured him another brandy; he’d never known a man, white or colored, as honest as Big Candy. They never discussed how or why they got along — they had an understanding that developed effortlessly, at least Wylie thought so. He didn’t presume to know what effort it took for a colored man to get along with a white man. Maybe Candy put in more effort than he let on; maybe that’s why he kept talking about Denver. Wylie still hoped to talk Candy into southern California; that way he could eat Candy’s cooking anytime he wanted. It was a shame about the infant, and he had nothing against the Indian girl, but Wylie was confident his friend could do much better for a wife in California.

Wylie knew how to cheer up Big Candy. He complimented him on the pork ribs that evening. Then he talked about steamed Pacific blue mussels in white wine and mushroom sauce he once ate in San Francisco. Candy’s expression relaxed a bit and his eyes brightened.

“Scallops,” Candy said. “I’ve been thinking about sea scallops poached in white wine.” Candy knew this was Wylie’s way to try to persuade him to go to Long Beach instead of Denver. Wylie remembered all of Candy’s best dishes, and could describe each one in detail months, even years, later. Wylie’s appreciation of fine cooking kept Candy inspired.

The rain brought the first relief from the heat in months, and the sticky, slippery red clay mud gave workers the vacation their bosses had refused. The soil was too wet to work and the workers celebrated their holiday with pails of beer and loud whoops and yells at the dice and cards. A little later there were gunshots followed by cheers. The little black grandfather stiffened and twisted around in his cocoon at the first loud sounds and refused to nurse. He was angry too because his own father believed he would die. Each day the baby lived would persuade Big Candy that he was wrong. You have to be patient with your father, she whispered to the little fists jabbing angrily from the bundle.

Big Candy was wet and muddy from reburying the safe when he came to look in on her and the baby. He brought her a plate heaped high with pork ribs, corn, beans, and potatoes and gravy. Maytha and Vedna still had not returned from Needles, which left him without enough help now that the workers had a holiday. He looked at her and then at the bundle in her arms and she knew he was thinking about asking her to take the baby and help Juanito sell beer. But he knew better; instead he asked when she thought the Chemehuevi sisters would come back. She shrugged her shoulders; the noise of the workers on holiday increased around them, and the little one began to cry angrily because his father did not speak to him. Just then one of the white men who dealt blackjack called out for Big Candy to come — a fight had broken out and they needed him!

She rocked him in her arms until he took her nipple again, and then she ate; she left the ribs for last, hoping that he’d fall asleep and not scold her for eating greasy food. The ribs were well roasted and lean — not much grease — and she was so hungry; as soon as his eyes closed she took a bite of the crisp meat along the edge of the rib. I have to eat meat of some kind, she whispered to him as his eyes opened; all the grease is cooked out of this. The little grandfather’s shining black eyes watched each mouthful she took, but he kept quiet, distracted by the voices and shouts outside. The noise seemed to interest him now. She ate until she was full and still there were ribs left over on the big plate.

Now that the sun was up, the tent was getting warm inside. The coolness of the storm was giving way to the heat, though it wasn’t as fierce as before. She unbundled him to give him a dry diaper; at first he gasped at being uncovered. His legs and arms kicked and waved, but he didn’t cry. His little bottom was still skinny as an old man’s, but she thought his legs and arms looked a little more plump. “Little black spider baby,” she whispered to him, “let’s go for a walk.” She filled her gourd canteen and wrapped up the bones and the leftover ribs in old newspaper, tied with a string she wore over her shoulder, then gathered him up for a visit to the dog woman’s camp.

The rain left the air humid and warm even in the deep shade of the tamarisk and willows along the riverbank. She didn’t care; she was glad to get away. The little black grandfather fell asleep as soon as they got away from the commotion around the tents. Before long she could hear yips and barks in the distance — the dogs sounded excited. When she reached the sandy clearing under the big cottonwood trees, an amazing sight greeted her.

The black dogs were racing in a circle around the crippled dog, who stood with her tail wagging, giving them barks of encouragement. From time to time one of the racing dogs broke out of the circle to leap over the crippled dog’s back without interrupting the rhythm of the speeding circle. Suddenly the circling dogs began to leapfrog over one another and there were collisions — dogs sprawled and piled up on one another, and instantly all the dogs, even the lame dog, began growling and fighting fiercely with one another. Though these were not large dogs, Sister Salt saw immediately how dangerous they were together; when they suddenly stopped and turned in her direction, sniffing the air, she felt her heart pound. The pork ribs! If they started to attack, she’d throw them the ribs.

Just then Delena called out in Spanish from the deep shade where she was sitting and the dogs ran to her. After they gathered around her, she stood up and called out to Sister it was safe to come. The little grandfather’s eyes were open wide but he didn’t make a sound. Delena ordered the dogs to lie down; they obeyed but their noses moved constantly, savoring the odor of the ribs.

Delena plumped up a burlap dog pack for Sister to sit on; spread all around on the smooth sand were the other burlap packs and on top of them, the dog costumes made of brightly colored scraps of shiny cloth, decorated with buttons of all sizes and acorn-size tin bells. What a delightful morning they had! While Delena finished the pork ribs, Sister nursed the baby until he was asleep; afterward Delena divided the bones and fed the dogs, keeping a distance between each bone pile to prevent dogfights. Then they settled back in the shade to talk. Delena was full of questions. She wanted to know about the construction site, about Sister Salt’s tent, and about Big Candy.

It was good to be free of the school and the reservation at Parker; they earned good money doing the laundry and going with the workers. Delena’s eyes widened at the mention of money. Sister Salt shrugged; so the dog woman was just like others: money, money was all she thought about. So Sister bragged about all the money she and the twins had made in little more than a year. They made enough money to buy a little piece of land from their old Chemehuevi auntie upriver. They made enough money they didn’t have to come back to work ever unless they just felt like it. The longer Sister talked, the happier Delena became.

If money was what interested Delena, then she came to the right place because money was all anyone here ever thought of except for her. In the beginning even she was excited by the stacks of silver she earned; but she was tired of money, tired of the noise the boredom and the dust required to make money; tired of the worry money caused over thieves and floor safes buried in the sand. She had promised Big Candy never to mention the safe to anyone but somehow it just slipped out; the dog woman didn’t seem to notice anyway. Candy would never find out — he was too busy making money; even if he did, she didn’t care — he couldn’t stop her! She enjoyed telling Delena everything she wanted to know.

Sister described the tents in the shade of the cottonwoods where the workers and now the off-duty soldiers lined up to play at one of the eight tables in two tents. Her husband, Big Candy, was partners with the site boss and all the money they made off the laundry, gambling, beer, and meat, Wylie and Big Candy split fifty-fifty.

Delena’s dark eyes lit up when Sister Salt described the canvas money-bags Big Candy delivered to the boss every day before dawn. Yes, this was the right place! Her dog circus would do well here, she was sure of that. Sister noticed the long thin scar down her face seemed to redden while she spoke.

Sister was enjoying the conversation and she didn’t want it to end.

“Now the safe’s buried somewhere only Big Candy knows.” She had the compulsion to mention the safe again, she didn’t know why. The safe had all their money — Wylie’s, Candy’s, and hers too; only Maytha and Vedna took their money out to buy land.

Delena watched her adjust the baby’s wrappings and casually asked what Big Candy thought of his baby. A lump made of anger and sadness pushed into Sister Salt’s throat. She shook her head and did not look at Delena.

“He thinks the baby is too small and will die.” She spoke in a loud whisper so the little grandfather couldn’t hear. Delena leaned over her sewing and gently patted Sister Salt’s hand.

The humid heat and all the answers to Delena’s questions left Sister Salt feeling drowsy, so she stretched out on the sand alongside the sleeping baby while Delena sewed satin ruffles. She did the talking now as she patiently threaded the needle; the dogs liked to tear off one another’s costumes during their performance, she said, and at this Sister laughed with her eyes closed. Audiences were excited by the spectacle of torn satin ruffles and little bells ripped off; they roared with laughter as the dogs pulled off their lions’ manes and tails of unraveled burlap, so she did not stop them but made it part of every show. Now that the pups had learned their routines, it was the repair of the costumes that required the most work.

Sister Salt had as many questions to ask as Delena had, but she was too sleepy. She wanted to know where Delena came from and what made that scar down the middle of her face. She wanted to know if Delena had children or any family or a husband somewhere. As she fell asleep she wondered where Indigo was, what she was doing at that moment, and Sister dreamed she was back at the old gardens; the apricot seedlings by Grandma Fleet’s grave had grown taller than she was and their branches were heavy with ripe fruit. The little black grandfather was no larger than he was now, but toddling, then crawling in the sand under the tree. From the direction of the sandstone cave and the spring, she heard voices, Grandma Fleet laughing and Mama and Indigo joining in. Oh how happy she was in that dream! They were so happy to see her they hugged her close, and they were delighted with the baby, who hid his face in her skirts and giggled each time Grandma Fleet tried to pick him up.

When she woke, the dog costumes and the needle and thread were put away; in their place, Delena had spread a square of red silk. In the center of the silk she was carefully arranging cards — not poker cards but cards with parts of pictures that made no sense. She checked on the baby, who slept peacefully, then watched Delena turn over the cards one by one. Now it was Sister Salt’s turn to ask questions about where Delena came from.

She glanced toward the south before she replied she came from a war in the south. Yes, Sister Salt knew about war. War was the morning the soldiers and Indian police descended on them and the other dancers to arrest the Messiah and his family. Delena looked up from the cards. In Mexico the soldiers killed everyone — even women and children; that’s why the people had to defend themselves.

Sister nodded. War explained the scar down her face; war answered the question of whether she had any family. What confused Sister Salt was why the Messiah didn’t stop the killers. The Messiah told the people here not to take up weapons but to dance until the great storm winds of heaven scoured the earth of killers. She did not like to admit she was beginning to have some doubts about the Messiah’s promises. Delena said they were lucky to have the storm winds do the work for them; in the south they had to do the fighting themselves.

Delena kept turning the cards. In the south everyone would be dead unless they defended themselves — Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe appeared not long ago and told them to go buy good rifles across the border in the United States.

Sister Salt’s eyes widened. This was the first news she had of the Messiah’s Mother. How long ago? This past January. Of course, Sister thought, during the cold weather. But where were the Messiah and the others? Sister Salt was disappointed she still didn’t know where Mama was, and now this stranger told her they were seen in the mountains of Mexico. She wanted to like Delena, but some of the things she said were a little difficult to believe.

They sat awhile in silence, though off in the distance the sounds of laughter and gunshots drifted downriver. Sister asked what she was doing with the cards.

Delena shook her head as if she could not talk right then; she kept her eyes on the cards, shifting them around in their places until some of them formed complete pictures. Sister Salt watched quietly for a while, but finally she asked how did the cards know anything — they were just pieces of paper.

These are Gypsy cards, Delena explained; the pieces of cardboard were specially blessed before they were painted, and the figures and colors and marks on them attracted certain powers or beings. These cards belonged to the kind woman who raised her. Sister Salt looked hard at the deck after she said this, but could see no sign of any spirit presence.

“They’ll answer questions and give warnings if you know how to read them.”

Gypsy cards! Gypsies! Sister Salt remembered when they lived in Needles how the news of Gypsy wagons approaching excited the town. Storekeepers locked their doors in the middle of the day because the Gypsies came in groups, always friendly and smiling, and tried to sell charms and trinkets to the storekeepers while their companions picked up merchandise, admired it, and asked questions all at once to confuse the store clerks while they walked out with items and food hidden in their shirts and under their skirts. Grandma Fleet said they didn’t hurt anyone — they only went after storekeepers who had plenty anyway — but some of the Mojaves feared Gypsy witchcraft.

“You don’t look like a Gypsy,” Sister Salt said, and Delena smiled. “I’m Yaqui,” she said, “but the Gypsies found me and took me in after my family was killed; that’s how I learned about cards.” She ran a finger down the thin scar on her face. “The soldiers left me for dead with the others.” Sister Salt nodded slowly and leaned over to shoo a fly away from the sleeping baby’s head. Now they were even; her questions had raised as many sad memories for Delena as Delena’s had raised for her; so to change the subject, she asked about the cards. What did they say?

“I asked the cards about you,” she said, and looked up at Sister Salt.

“See, this four-leaf clover is upside. It tells me things were green and growing, then suddenly uprooted — grief and disappointment.” Me and Candy, Sister thought to herself.

Under the cards was a bright patchwork of satin scraps and remnants; the colors of the patches made the cards more difficult to see. Sister managed to recognize half of an image of a Horse here; and half of a Bear, half of a Rooster over there.

Delena pointed to the first row of cards; up here means this happened in the past. Sister nodded; it was true that once the old gardens were green and growing before the starving people came. When they returned with Grandma Fleet once more green shoots appeared but Grandma Fleet died and again grief and disappointment.

In the same row of the past sat the cards that formed a blue moon’s upright image amid a golden shower of stars; she picked up the Moon card as her favorite even before Delena told her its message was a peaceful life of happiness. Yes, she and her sister and mother had so much happiness as long as they all were together — no matter if they were at the old gardens or along the river in Needles. The people one loved mattered most, but now Sister Salt saw how places forced loved ones apart.

Bright datura Moon, silver shower of falling stars, of course this card was good luck, but it was in the row called the Past.

In the next row Sister Salt saw the Owl’s feet first, upside down, and knew this picture spelled trouble too. Delena pronounced its meaning as failed plans, things that never worked out, though one waited hopefully. Right next to the Owl was the hindquarters of the Pig on its snout, a bad omen — Sister guessed this before Delena said it meant greed will be punished. Next to the Pig and immediately below the Owl was the Fish, belly-up — just like the poor fish stranded in holes when the river was diverted. Here was the worst message yet! Sister Salt felt certain. Would something bad happen on the river to leave more fish belly-up? More heavy rain and the embankments would weaken and break, and the entire campsite would be washed away in a flood. She heard a snuffling sound from the bundle and turned to see little dark fists punching into the air. She leaned down and put her face close to his to smell his sweet baby’s breath and to let him feel hers as a blessing. “Yes, you were right,” she whispered to him in Sand Lizard language, “this place isn’t safe much longer.” The upside-down Pig and even the Owl might be signs of the flood that would drown all in its wake.

Delena listened to her, then shook her head. The healthy Fish swam upside down, and even used this ability to escape trouble. This card, said Sister, would come out on top, after greed was punished. The fourth picture was a Scale on its side, which Sister did not recognize; Delena explained the Scale’s connection with justice; on its side, the image of the Scale meant you must keep your balance to survive. These pictures formed by the cards touched one another, which meant all these things were to happen about the same time, not far in the future.

Sister Salt did not pay much attention to the images after the belly-up Fish; neither the Scales nor the silver white Lilies on their sides mattered after she saw the position of the Fish. Delena tried to reassure her: The message of the silver Lilies was exceedingly good — heavenly happiness hardly imaginable now, she said, smiling. Everything will turn out all right! But Sister didn’t care if the dog circus woman said it was a good omen or not. The little black grandfather knew better; he wanted them to go away from there, partly because something was going to happen and partly because his father didn’t believe he would live.

Sister Salt gathered up the baby and gently brushed the sand from his wrapping; then she stood up and shook the sand from her skirt. She had to get back; maybe Maytha and Vedna would be there and they could discuss the meaning of the belly-up Fish. At least the Gypsy cards had more confidence in the baby than Big Candy did — they made no mention of death.

Delena and her dogs walked with her partway; next time they’d ask the other deck of cards — the Mexican cards, which Delena used only for herself. Sister Salt nodded; she wanted to ask the cards about Indigo and Mama. Before Delena turned back, she asked Sister to tell Big Candy about her dog circus. She wanted permission to put on a performance there.

As the sounds of the camp became louder, the little grandfather woke and began to squirm. “I know, I know,” she whispered to him, “but there’s nothing we can do now except move, and everyone is too busy to help us with the tent.” If Big Candy would only welcome his son, the baby might learn to tolerate the noise from his father’s casino and brewery.

Sister Salt was delighted to see the twins were back, but what were they doing? Maytha and Vedna were outside their tent, both of them bent over, tying bundles. As soon as they saw her, they came running; before they even spoke they pressed close to see the baby.

“He’s cute! He’s not that tiny!”

“No! He looks strong!”

Sister Salt felt so much love for her friends at that moment as they put their faith in her baby’s strength and health. That’s what Big Candy didn’t seem to understand — doubts weaken tiny babies. Think happily of the baby or stay away!

That Mojave woman was the one spreading the rumors the baby was too small to live; that woman was full of hate toward Sister Salt. The woman wanted to be rid of her and the twins to run the laundry as well as the brewery for Big Candy. She probably wanted Big Candy all to herself.

“She’s a witch,” Vedna whispered. The twins didn’t want to take any chances with that woman, so they were packing up. Big Candy offered them more money if they’d stay, but their minds were made up. They were going to live on the little piece of land their old auntie sold them downriver from Needles; Sister Salt was welcome to come with them.

Maytha went around the back of the brewery tent and brought them a lard pail of beer to drink for their going-away party. It was just the three of them sitting outside the tent as the night began to cool off. All the beer they drank dimmed the noise of the shouting dice players and drunks at the tents nearby. Maytha got so drunk she started to dance around and she stumbled into Vedna and they both sprawled laughing on the ground near Sister Salt. She laughed with them and drank more beer, but she was bothered to learn about that Mojave woman’s harmful intentions. She couldn’t stop thinking about the Gypsy cards of the overturned Pig and the belly-up Fish. Although the baby in his bundle was safely in the corner of the tent, barricaded with old blankets, Sister Salt checked on him often in case their laughter woke him. He slept soundly with his little fists up beside either cheek, as if ready to defend himself.

They finished off the first pail of beer, and this time Vedna went for more because Maytha was so tipsy she’d spill it all before she got back. The twins passed the pail back and forth to Sister Salt and talked about their new life. They’d sure miss all the men who paid them for sex — they joked the Chemehuevi men were all married and the wives bitterly opposed their return.

“It’s because our father wasn’t Chemehuevi,” Vedna said, and Maytha nodded. But their old auntie sold them the land, so the others were stuck with them.

Sister Salt told them about the dog woman, Delena, and the Gypsy cards.

“See! I told you! The Gypsy cards know about that Mojave woman!” Maytha said, and Vedna nodded in agreement. Fish could swim upside down, then right themselves; maybe Sister Salt was the Fish. That’s what Delena said too. Sister was beginning to see the good in the upside-down Fish, and she found herself feeling more lighthearted now, and reached for the pail of beer again.

The twins were more interested in the dog circus than the Gypsy cards. Damn! Maybe they should accept Big Candy’s offer to work another week just so they could see the dog circus perform. Vedna drank more than Maytha but she didn’t stagger and she never seemed drunk until she brought out the Bible with all the pictures. All three of them avoided the traveling preachers and missionaries who shouted and scolded, but they liked to look at the strange pictures in the Bible. Vedna read the words sometimes, but Bible language was different from the English they spoke, and pretty soon she’d give up.

Vedna closed her eyes and turned the Bible around and around in her hands, then let the Bible fall open on her lap and let her finger drop on a page — that was how good Christians told fortunes.

“Oh!” she exclaimed as she opened her eyes, and Sister Salt thought she must have got one of their favorites — the children in the fiery furnace or Daniel surrounded by lions. Maytha’s favorite was Jonah as he was swallowed by the whale. The picture was crowded with human skeletons and corpses, a few in shrouds, by the light of a full moon peeping out of the clouds, as the prophet looked down on them. The dead looked anguished and tormented, especially the skeleton at the lower right corner of the page who groped for his lost skull. They burst into laughter, and Maytha said, “Oh-oh! It looks like that Mojave woman and her friends!” So they laughed even harder as Vedna began to read: “The hand of God was upon me and carried me out and set me down in a valley full of bones—”

“That’s right!” Maytha interrupted. “We live in that valley!” Vedna frowned.

“Do you want me to read, or not?” Her tone was impatient and her eyes red from all the beer. She cleared her throat loudly and continued: “He caused me to walk all around them, and the bones were very dry. He asked me, ‘Can these bones live?’ I answered, ‘God, you know.’ And he said to me, ‘Prophesy concerning these bones and say to them, “Oh dry bones, hear the word of God!” ’ Thus said God to these bones: ‘I will cause breath to enter into you and you shall live. I will lay sinews and bring flesh upon you and over you with skin.’ ”

“Ugh!” Maytha pretended to be squeamish.

“Shut up!” Vedna commanded.

“She thinks she’s preacher!” Maytha said just before Vedna tried to kick her.

“So I prophesied as God commanded me and there was a noise, then an earthquake, and the bones came together, each bone to its joint. I looked and the flesh and skin covered them, but there was no breath in them. Then God said to me, ‘prophesy concerning the breath, say to the breath: “Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe into these slain that they may live.” ’

“So I prophesied as God commanded and the breath came into them, and they lived and stood up on their feet, an exceeding great army.” Vedna was about to close the book when Sister Salt asked to look; she plopped the open Bible in Sister’s lap and took the beer pail from Maytha.

Here it was even in the Bible — everything Wovoka said was true. With winds from the four directions scouring the earth, their slain ancestors would rise up into armies. The twins shared the last of the beer and argued over whose turn it was to go for another pail. Sister Salt felt the headache beer always gave her; she gathered up the sleeping baby to go to her tent. What the dog woman said must be true — the Blessed Mother of the Indians said to defend themselves, and don’t fear death.

Toward morning she heard Big Candy come into her tent and smelled the warm food he brought her, but he did not come kneel beside her to kiss her forehead until she woke, as he used to before the baby. This morning he set down the food and left. She listened to his footsteps recede and thought about going after him; but if he didn’t want to be with them, then she didn’t want to ask.

Sometimes those tiny babies lived for days, even weeks before they gave up the ghost; Big Candy’s mother used to say that was the cruelest thing those little babies did — stay alive long enough to give you false hope, and then break your heart. Poor mothers! Sometimes they held on to those babies for days after they died — one young mother even forced her nipple into the cold little mouth. The prospect of all that sadness and loss for a young girl who had already lost all her family made him feel exhausted and discouraged. It didn’t help that Wylie had a telegram from Washington that gave the military jurisdiction over access to the construction site in thirty days.

Big Candy tossed and turned without sleep; he knew he should be with Sister to comfort her, but she resented what he knew as inevitable. Better to let her have this time with her baby undisturbed. He lay thinking about the future and what they would do. Once the campsite was opened up to competitors, Wylie and he knew they’d see a big drop in their receipts; luckily they’d made hay while the sun shined, and he and Wylie were set. From here they each had enough to go anywhere and retire. He drifted in and out of sleep, aware of the shouts and occasional gunshots and laughter. He dreamed an elegant dining room in a fine hotel — out the windows all around were high mountains covered with snow. Wylie sat at the head of the table with men in military uniforms. They drank red wine from crystal goblets but no food had been served. In the kitchen Candy found a tiny black child wearing only a diaper by the stove, where it played with a black dog. The child was no larger than a baby but it could walk, and it smiled at him with a full set of teeth as it climbed on and over the dog’s back with strange agility. When he lifted the lids on the pots and on the roasting pans in the oven, all the food was gone, and only scraps, skin and bones, remained in the grease.

Even after he woke and struck a match to see the face of his pocket watch, Candy still felt agitated by the dream. He had to get more sleep or he’d feel weak and sick all day. He reached for the bottle of good bourbon he kept for medicinal purposes and took three big mouthfuls. The warmth of the spirits radiated out from his stomach over his entire body and one by one he felt his muscles relax until he felt himself drift weightlessly. He dreamed a small coffin partially uncovered, pushing up through the earth in a big military cemetery of identical white crosses. What was a baby’s coffin doing there? As he got closer he saw that the small coffin oddly resembled a floor safe. He woke with a start, his heart pounding. Had he reburied the floor safe deeply enough? Had he brushed over the disturbed sand and disguised the area under the tree well enough? He had been in a hurry and it was difficult to see by lantern in the dark. He’d have to check it later. The dream must refer to the baby’s death, though it had already survived longer than he thought it would. Sister’s baby was too small to live — even the Mojave women who tended the beer agreed about that.

Wylie complained he hadn’t slept well either. It was no wonder, with the soldiers bivouacked above the workers’ camp and more wagons arriving from Yuma and Prescott, even from Phoenix, in anticipation of the shift in authority over the construction site. Candy put the coffee on to boil first, then stirred the eggs into the batter and cut the bacon while Wylie sat in his long underwear at the table. Cigarette butts and spent matches filled a saucer next to an empty brandy bottle.

They’d made their stakes in the nick of time; these next few weeks they could coast along and still make plenty of money until all the others set up gambling tents and started to sell beer and barbecue. This was a good time to retire from federal projects anyway; Wylie’s political connections in Washington had been weakened by the scandal that followed the Panic of 1893.

Next year at this time they’d be retired and settled into their new lives — Wylie avoided mention of California or Denver because he still hoped to persuade Big Candy to settle on the West Coast with him. Wylie smiled to himself. He knew how to win over his friend — it was with the abundance of fresh seafoods not available before for Big Candy to prepare and serve. Wylie knew the fresh abalone steaks and butter clams were the way to Candy’s heart.

♦ ♦ ♦

At dawn Delena lit a fire to boil the water for coffee, then settled back to watch the pups. They woke up one after the other, and they yawned in unison. When they crowded around her, they leaped up at the same instant. They easily learned to run one after the other over barriers and kept their balance on narrow planks. When excited, they easily stood on their hind legs, so it didn’t take long to teach them to dance. She watched them tug and pull one another with a piece of old rope one of the dogs found; three pups tugged on each end and they whirled and spun around one another effortlessly.

The crippled mother dog stayed by her side, out of their way, because from time to time the pups fought over the rope. Their snarls and growls sounded terrifying; clouds of dust flew all around the knot of biting dogs as they tumbled over and over.

The first few times they fought one another like that, she feared a dog or two might be injured or killed. But when they finally stopped, the two dogs on the bottom of the heap emerged with nothing worse than bloody torn ears and dog saliva and dirt caked on their fur.

Later, with a tin cup of black coffee in one hand, she brought out the deck of Mexican cards. On the scraps of satin remnants she laid out the cards in the formation of the cross and the lance, then studied the figures and the dichos, or sayings, that belonged to each card.

The first card, La Rosa, the Rose, turned up to represent her! What good card this was! The Rose was the influence affecting her and its saying was “Rosa, Rosita, Rosaura”—“Rose, Little Rose, Rosiness”! The rose was a sign of the Señora of Guadalupe as well; roses were her blessing and sign to the poor Indians at Tepeyac.

The second card, which crossed the Rose, was the Barrel, but on its side, as if empty or dumped. The saying of the barrel was “Tanto bebió el albañal que quedó como barril,” or “The bricklayer drank so much he became the shape of a wine barrel.” As a card that crossed her card, the Barrel wasn’t much opposition at all! Any obstacles she might encounter would be overturned as easily as an empty barrel.

The crowning card was the Rooster card, reversed — a good card to reverse because it had an ominous dicho—“El que le cantó a San Pedro no le volverá a cantar” (“The one who sang for St. Peter will not return to sing”). Probably because he got made into soup. The fourth card stood for her foundation, her origin; El Pino, the great Pine, stands proudly. “Always cool, fragrant, and always beautiful,” was the saying that went along with this card. A solid foundation in the pine forests of the highest mountains was where the people fled from the army before Delena was born.

Behind her, representing the past, was the fifth card, the card with the red, white, and green Flag of Mexico, upside down, draped around its pole. A Flag reversed was a distress call; someday the poor would prevail over the government, and not one but many Mexicos would spring up overnight.

The handsome Guitar Player upside down stood for her immediate future; here was another card that was better reversed than upright because its saying was oddly phrased: “The musician’s rubber trumpet doesn’t want to play,” a silly saying about a limp penis. Reversed, this card might not be so bad — maybe the trumpet would play and success would be hers.

The seventh card indicated Delena’s position in the present instance, and here the accuracy of the cards gave her a chill because it was La Mano. The dicho called it “the hand of the criminal,” though luckily it was reversed, which meant the criminal hand was hers!

El Nopal, the Cactus plant covered with red fruit, the eighth card, represented her present home, but the card was upside down, to reflect the truth — she was uprooted like the Nopal, her homeland torn open by war. Its dicho was bitter: “All anyone sees is something to eat.” Plundered lands, the animals, even the people plundered. Even reversed the Nopal card was a good one, because although uprooted, neither the Cactus nor its fruit was destroyed; in fact the Cactus was able to take root again upside down, even broken apart, almost anywhere.

Her hopes and fears were represented by the ninth card, El Corazón, the Heart, with a bloodied arrow through its center. “Don’t banish me, sweetheart,” the saying went; “I’m returning by wagon.” Perfect. The Heart might mean romance but the bloody arrow was shot by a warrior. An arrow through the center of the Heart meant success at the heart of the matter — her sweetheart was the uprising in the south, and they would prevail. Yes, she would return with a wagon, loaded with supplies.

The tenth and last card represented the future, the outcome of the present enterprise, and here was La Sandia, the fat ripe Watermelon; its sliced, succulent red flesh meant success, success! The dicho said, “La barriga que Juan tenía, era empacho de sandia”—”Juan’s belly is glutted with watermelon.” Only the best conditions produced big ripe melons or permitted Juan to gorge himself — this card told her the conditions were perfect. Clearly it was time to take the dog circus to perform at the construction camp.

Despite the noise of the camp, and his father’s fear, the little black grandfather was growing. Now Sister teased him and called him Little Black Spider because his legs and arms seemed longer as he grew. He still fretted over the noise unless she held him and sang louder than the outside noise. Hour after hour she sang, and when she ran out of songs she sang sounds that were parts of words — Sand Lizard, Spanish, and English nonsense words seemed to calm him and drown out the noise best.

She bundled him onto her back, secured with her white cotton shawl, and took him for a walk away from the tents. As the earth was heaped higher across the riverbed, the dam resembled more and more one of the monster stories Maytha and Vedna learned from their father. This monster ate up all living things up and down the poor river. Upriver, the backwaters flooded the cottonwoods and willows; now they were beginning to die. The watercress and delicate mosses that used to fringe the river’s edge were submerged, and the silver green minnows disappeared. She sat at the river’s edge for hours and watched the slow currents move through the tall reeds and mosses while the little one enjoyed a deep sleep. She thought about Indigo and Mama then, and about the Messiah and the dancers. She was beginning to think they would not see one another again.

Later, Sister Salt offered to take Maytha and Vedna to meet the woman with the dog circus so they could ask the Gypsy cards about their future. Sister Salt wanted to ask the Mexican cards about Mama and Indigo. But the twins seemed reluctant; it was true the woman gave water to Sister right after the baby was born; still, one had to be careful of traveling strangers. Vedna had to laugh because soon they were going to be traveling strangers themselves. Still, they wanted to see the dog circus perform, and the decks of cards that foretold the future; so they decided to stay for a few more days.

Sister Salt intended to tell Big Candy about the Mexican woman and the dog circus, but she didn’t have a chance because he was so busy. The next afternoon as Sister and the twins relaxed in the shade with the sleeping baby, two black dogs suddenly appeared, dressed in patchwork capes of bright satins with little horned caps decorated with bells tied behind their ears — jokers’ caps copied from a deck of cards. The dogs were quite friendly and bells rang as they wagged their tails.

Juanito called Big Candy out of the brewery tent to watch the dog circus arrive. He was astonished to see a dark woman who wore a white cape sewed with bright red satin figure of the queen of diamonds over her dress; she was flanked by more black dogs that wore satin capes sewn with scraps of satin to form the figures of the king, the jack, the ten, and nine of diamonds. She didn’t notice Sister or the twins under the tree until Sister called out a greeting. Delena acknowledged them with a wave, but remained where she was, talking in a low voice to the dogs.

Slowly the dogs began to canter around the sandy clearing behind the tents, and as they gradually increased their speed, a small crowd began to gather. The dogs began to leapfrog over one another in a dead run; playfully the dogs began to tear at one another’s costumes, and bells and bits of the costumes began to litter the sand. Even the gamblers stopped to come take a look, and they laughed and laughed and cheered on the dogs while the woman in her odd costume watched.

When the dogs finally stopped their tug-of-war with the costumes and gathered around their mistress, Sister and the twins joined other spectators, who cheered to see more of the dog circus, but Delena ignored them. The exhibition was over. Gradually the crowd drifted away to the gambling tents as she praised the dogs in a high soft voice. She patted and spoke to each dog separately as she retied the bells and adjusted the capes, examining the damage to the costumes. When Big Candy approached from the gambling tent, she turned away from the dogs to straighten her queen of diamonds cape before she greeted him.

Sister Salt picked up the sleeping baby and the twins followed. They stood nearby to listen as Big Candy and Delena negotiated a price for the dogs’ performance. Candy said he had to consult Wylie before they had a deal, but he was sure the boss would go for it. Candy hadn’t smiled like that in days. He really enjoyed the spectacle of the playing card costumes — together they formed a royal straight flush, a winning poker hand that would be inspiration for his customers! Sister felt a pang of sadness as she realized the birth of the little grandfather brought Candy worry, not happiness; Candy seemed far happier to see a dog circus than his own son.

Candy offered the dog circus woman empty crates, and kegs, even planks if she wanted them, for the dogs to leap over. A bit embarrassed by Candy’s enthusiasm, Delena nodded, and he immediately called Juanito to bring the items he requested.

“Ooh ooh!” Maytha said after Delena and her dog circus accompanied Big Candy to Wylie’s tent. Vedna squeezed her mouth and eyes shut tight in mock disapproval that made all three break into laughter. Sister announced she didn’t care if Big Candy went off with her — Delena was nice. Anyway, the little black grandfather still refused to forgive Candy for believing he would die. They were better off apart, especially the baby.

Before long, Delena and her dogs came back alone. Big Candy stayed at Wylie’s tent to start cooking for Wylie’s big dinner. His important business connections from Prescott and Yuma were coming day after tomorrow. Sister and the twins helped Delena pick up the pieces torn from the costumes. Delena wasn’t worried; she kept the bear and lion costumes for the dogs to wear until the diamond suits could be repaired. Now that they’d met her, Maytha and Vedna agreed with Sister; the dog circus woman was really interesting and she seemed nice.

Delena mentioned Big Candy had invited her and the dog circus to camp there next to the tents, then made them laugh as she repeated her reply: “Thanks but no thanks!” Her dogs would bark all night at the drunks stumbling around. She made it clear she wasn’t going after Big Candy even though he was interested in her — they all could see that. Sister had almost given up on Candy; still, she felt relieved Delena wasn’t after him; she and the twins liked her even more now. They told Delena she was right — the place was getting noisier at night now that the soldiers were camped nearby. That’s why Maytha and Vedna were leaving, and Sister might go too.

They all walked her and the dogs back downriver to her camp hidden in the tamarisk and willows. The dogs fanned out ahead of them, bounding along then stopping to sniff a rock or to urinate on a dry log. They hadn’t gone far when Delena stopped because there were only six dogs; the crippled dog was missing. They were about to go back to look for the dog when she limped out of a tamarisk thicket, her tail wagging.

“Ooh look! What’s that in her mouth?” Maytha exclaimed. The others bent down for a closer look; they were amazed to see a $1 bill in her mouth.

“Some drunk dropped his money!” Sister Salt laughed, and the baby let go of her nipple with a soft pop to stare at her merriment.

“We need that kind of dog!” Vedna remarked.

Delena smiled but said nothing as she folded the banknote into a tiny square and reached under the satin cape to tuck it down her blouse between her breasts. The seven black dogs were her army.

In her shady camp, they shared two bottles of beer the twins swiped from the brewery tent while the Mojave ladies were gone. No more green beer by the pail like the other night, they laughed; the hangovers were too brutal. The beer got Maytha and Vedna excited again about how amazing and funny the dogs’ performance had been. Just wait, Delena told them; that was just a little rehearsal. Wait until they saw the big show!

They sat awhile without talking, and the sudden quiet woke the little grandfather, who peered sternly at the young women until Sister offered him a breast. After he was nursing contentedly, Sister asked Delena to bring out the Mexican cards to see what they knew about Mama and Indigo.

OK, but first she had to understand the cards might bring bad news, Delena explained. The Gypsy woman — she called her Auntie — who took her in and began to teach her about the cards was strong, never sick. That winter in Chihuahua she came down with a cold; she wasn’t very sick — she still was up around the camp. Delena was still learning the cards then, and just for practice she asked the cards when her auntie would get over her cold. She shuffled the deck four times as she had been taught, then took the first card off the top for the answer. It was La Campana, the Bell, upside down. She had not seen that card reversed before, and was not sure of its meaning after she recited the card’s dicho: “The bell and you beneath it.”

As she was talking, Delena took the Mexican cards out of their woven bag and unwrapped them. She paused to look up at them before she continued.

“I took the card to Auntie to ask her how the reversed Bell should be read.” Here Delena paused and swallowed.

“Auntie said, ‘That’s my card, isn’t it?’ ” Now tears streamed down Delena’s cheeks, and the twins looked at each other and Sister.

“The Bell means good fortune when it is upright — the church bell rings and everyone dances under the bell at weddings and baptisms and other happy occasions. But reversed, the Bell lies upside down on the fallen beam that supported it; to be under the Bell, then, can only mean disaster.”

Sister glanced down uneasily at the baby in her arms, and Maytha and Vedna shifted their legs under them to restore circulation. Delena smoothed out the patchwork cloth of colored satin and shuffled the Mexican cards over it. Vedna tipped the empty beer bottles to her mouth one after the other for any remaining drops.

“She died?” Maytha asked in a soft voice. Delena nodded as Vedna elbowed her and whispered loudly, “What do you think, stupid!”

Sister shook her head at them both. Delena was laying out the cards, and Sister didn’t want the message of the cards affected by the twins’ quarrel. Now as Delena began to lay down the cards they didn’t take their eyes off them. All three inhaled sharply at the first card, La Muerte, the skeleton with the big scythe. Delena frowned and shook her head at them; their reactions might influence the cards.

“Yeah, be quiet!” Sister Salt warned them. “Don’t spoil the cards for me!”

So in silence they leaned close to watch Delena lay down the cards; each time the Bell upside down did not appear, Sister whispered thanks to the old ancestor spirits. When the last card went down and no overturned Bell appeared, she exhaled deeply, her heart pounding.

Delena studied the ten cards for a long time before she began to read them. The skeleton, Death, the first card, was gracefully covered by the Flowerpot of red blossoms, and both were crossed by the Sun. This looked very promising, indeed, she said, and both twins patted Sister on the back enthusiastically. La Muerte has a good dicho, she told them: “ ‘Death’s here, death’s there’—that’s nothing unusual. That’s the way life is; it means some sort of change.”

The dicho of the Flowerpot said, “One born in a flowerpot does not leave the room”; this was a reminder each being had its limits. “Cover for the poor” was the dicho of El Sol, the Sun card; all the poor have over their heads is the Sun, but that is enough because the Sun is a mighty presence. The Sun card might also be read as the Son of the God who shelters the poor in the world. This was among the best cards in the deck.

Sister was so happy to hear this, she leaned down to kiss the little sleeping grandfather on both cheeks.

Following those three cards was the Spider’s Web, which indicated a struggle but also one who refused to give up. The Web might look delicate but it wasn’t weak and didn’t give back anything entangled in it. The Cooking Pot card overturned meant some upset or trouble, but the dicho said it was “little”—the Spider’s Web more than balanced the Pot upside down. Sister wondered if this Cooking Pot card had anything to do with the big dinner Candy was preparing for the boss and his friends.

Above all these cards was the lovely card La Estrella, the Star. “The shining guide of the sailors” was its dicho, and it was the most important — it meant Sister would find her way back to her sister.

The Watermelon card — a fat slice cut from the ripe red fruit — came up again for Sister, with its tidings of abundance and success. Sister recalled the delicious melons they shared from the old gardens, and the wild melons she ate the day the little grandfather was born.

The Apache card above the Flag card and the overturned Rooster card meant the people hiding in the mountains from the soldiers would escape destruction. This was the only time Delena looked up from the cards to smile and nod at them. Sister knew she was thinking of the people in the south where she had come from, as well as the Messiah and the dancers here.

“The last card is the most important of all,” Delena said, tracing her finger over the ocean blue of La Sirena, the Mermaid. As Delena recited the dicho—“Don’t get shipwrecked by siren songs”—Sister realized it was some kind of warning; but when she asked her, Delena only shrugged. Maybe the card wasn’t hers; maybe it was Big Candy’s.

Edward was shocked, but he did not protest after she booked separate cabins and shared hers with Indigo. He wanted to explain, but each time he started, Hattie shook her head and turned away from him. There was nothing to explain. It did not seem to occur to him she wanted apologies, not explanations.

She occupied herself with Indigo; they were reading about gladiolus and they’d nearly finished the book of Chinese monkey adventures. There were moments when she forgot about the arrest, but then the awareness swept back over her, and she scarcely noticed the sun’s warmth against her face or even the refreshing ocean breeze. Sometimes she experienced an odd breathlessness while resting and could think of nothing else but the poor giant beetles suffocated under their bell jars at the Natural History Museum. Behind the glass she felt nothing, yet all was visible.

She experienced strange dreams that took her back to Laura’s garden of aloes and sand, where she was alone but did not miss the others or wonder where they were. Variations of the dream took her to Laura’s wild forest, where she always felt fearful alone and turned and ran back, to awaken bathed in sweat and shivering. She slept a great deal on the return voyage — often twelve hours each night. Awakening was the most difficult because she forgot and was happy for a moment before she remembered Edward’s treachery; then her heart raced and she felt her spirits sink into her stomach, where the flutter stirred a vague nausea. Fortunately she had Indigo along to remind her here was an opportunity to rearrange her life’s priorities. She scarcely thought of her thesis now; it was already part of another life, and another person, not herself.

After she refused to hear his explanations, Edward assumed Hattie simply wanted to put the incident behind them, and made no further mention of it. Though he was initially stunned by his arrest, his shock gave way to an odd sense of relief as if some dreaded task were now over. He was confident his contacts in the Plant Industry Bureau would persuade the customs authorities in Livorno to drop all charges. He was weary of plant collecting for others when the large profits lay in the propagation and sale of hybrids. Already he was developing a new plan.

The customs authorities seized all the twig cuttings, but Indigo was delighted to discover all the cloth sacks of gladiolus corms were intact; she’d counted them before and not one was missing. Likewise, all the little envelopes of seeds from Aunt Bronwyn and those from Laura were safe; and even she found the cloth bag of green and yellow feathers she saved whenever Rainbow dropped them. Now they were moving west with the sun, and Indigo began to feel a stir of excitement each morning when she woke: going home! Rainbow seem to sense it too, because he began to call her as soon as the sun rose. While Hattie sat motionless in the deck chair or slept in the cabin, Indigo talked to Rainbow about where they were going, and about their real home. First they had to return to Riverside to get Linnaeus and for Hattie to contact the boarding school superintendent. Then they’d all go on the train to Needles together; Hattie promised to hire a driver and buggy for the two of them to search for Sister Salt and Mama until they both were found. Rainbow would have to be patient and get used to Linnaeus little by little. When they got to Needles, both of them must stay close to Indigo at all times or someone might steal them or a golden eagle or big hawk might carry them away and eat them.

They enjoyed lovely weather over the Atlantic crossing; the days were sunny and clear, and they encountered no storms, only light rain showers. The fair weather had a tonic effect for Edward, though it did not seem to cheer Hattie much.

When they stopped to refuel in St. Augustine, Edward wired Susan and Colin to propose a final settlement of the estate, and a cancellation of all his indebtedness to them. The citrus groves around the Riverside house would be sold at once, but he proposed to lease the house from Susan and Colin until his new prospects began to pay dividends.

In New Orleans, Hattie and the child rested at the hotel before their departure on the train the next morning. Thoughts about the details of his new plan left him restless; were it not for this restlessness they might have stayed a few days in New Orleans, time enough for his sister and her husband to wire him their response to his offer. He sent a telegram to his new business associate, Dr. Gates, at the Albuquerque address he gave. Then, out of habit, he walked to the waterfront to search out curios and oddities and, of course, unusual plants.

Among pallets of green bananas on the dock, Edward saw pallets of burlap bags of vanilla beans, then noticed a pallet of bundles with delicate green stems pushing heroically through the burlap. On impulse he lifted a bundle from its pallet for a closer look. Here were dozens of Guatemalan orchids — robust specimens of Brassavola nodosa with huge white birdlike blossoms of a heavenly fragrance. They’d be just the orchid to win over the public. Sun priests of the Maya reputedly held the orchid sacred because it invariably bloomed on the autumnal equinox. Flowers of the gods! He could imagine the ads in magazines now. He was in such high spirits he bought bunch of bananas for Indigo to take to her monkey. He had to hire a cab to bring him and his purchases back to the hotel.

Hattie took one look at the orchids and bananas and thought perhaps he was suffering a breakdown of some sort, as Edward excitedly described the palletload of fifty Brassavola plants he’d managed to buy. She did not ask what he planned to do with the orchids because with Edward all comments led back to explanations, and she did not have the energy to listen to him then.

After he left to supervise the packing of the orchids for tomorrow’s departure, Hattie ordered a simple dinner — split-pea-and-ham soup and bread, brought to the room for her and the child. When Edward returned later, he asked if they would like to dine with him, but Hattie merely shook her head and turned back to the child’s sketchbook; Indigo’s drawings of the parrot and her sketches of gladiolus blossoms in color pencil were quite wonderful. Together they’d begun to read an English book about gladiolus culture that Laura sent along. There was a wonderful description of the first time a European saw the thousands and thousands of violet-and-white flower spikes of the wild gladiolus flourishing in the coastal desert of North Africa. Indigo began a sketch of the scene as she imagined it, but fell asleep with the sketchbook and white and purple pencils in her bed. Hattie carefully retrieved the sketchbook and the pencils, then pulled the bedcovers over the sleeping child. She was ashamed to admit that some part of herself hoped that Indigo was an orphan, that her mother and sister would not be found.

After a meal alone in the hotel dining room, Edward returned to his room, which adjoined the room Hattie shared with the child. He saw light from under the door but it was extinguished almost at once, as if Hattie heard him. She was exhausted from travel now, but after they got home and she had a chance to rest, he was confident she would understand.

Hattie and Indigo shared one sleeping compartment while Edward shared his compartment with the orchids he dared not trust to the baggage car. As the train left the coastal plain outside Houston, he sprinkled each plant once lightly with water, though rot was more of a threat to these plants than drought. He wanted to optimize their survival rate so he would have plenty of breeding stock. Though he still could not bear the heavy scent of gardenia or honeysuckle since his father’s funeral, the night scent of the Brassavola was so subtle and refined he could inhale it with pleasure. The orchid’s flowers resembled exotic white birds, wings spread in flight. He would create his own fragrant orchid hybrids to sell to florists from Los Angeles to San Francisco. The Brassavola nodosa with its dark green sticklike leaves was used to heat and occasional dry spells; it would tolerate the heat and dry air during shipping more easily than the hybrid Cattleya found now in florist shops.

His plan was to ship florists the Brassavola blossoms, plant and all; later, when the blossoms ended, the customer returned the plant to him. As Hattie listened to his new plan she realized a quality of tone in Edward’s voice had changed or perhaps her hearing changed. She no longer recognized the connection she’d once felt with him, perhaps because she no longer trusted her own judgment. The glowing light in Aunt Bronwyn’s garden and the disembodied mask she dreamed seemed more real now than her manuscript or her marriage.

Indigo was delighted with Edward’s gift for Linnaeus, and while she let Rainbow get a closer look, she was careful the parrot did not take a bite. The fruit was so fragrant and each day she watched the color of the smooth green skin change ever so slightly. She could hardly wait to see her dear little friend again and to give him the wonderful gift.

The days were still hot as the train left El Paso, but already the nights were cool; the days were growing shorter now. She and Hattie continued their geography lessons with the map, and Indigo counted the days, then the hours, before they reached Yuma. She missed her best chance months ago in Needles; this train they were on followed a southern route through Yuma; Indigo didn’t know her way around Yuma.

The moon was low in the sky; its first quarter shone brightly through the window of the compartment onto the bananas on the seat; in the strange light they reminded her of a giant severed hand. She could hardly wait to see Linnaeus to give him his gift. Just as she was going to sleep, she felt the train slow and heard the conductor call out, “Yuma.” Hattie did not stir despite the jerks and creaks of the train. Rainbow slept with his head tucked under one wing; she thought she saw one eye open at her from under the wing, then he went on sleeping. If she wanted to get away, here was her chance. She pressed her face against the coolness of the window glass: the sandy hills approaching the river were a dark blue silver from the moon. She tried to see if she could locate the place where the Indian police held her and the other children — the last place she had seen Sister Salt — but all that seemed so long ago; she recognized nothing. She looked at the bananas again — she promised Linnaeus she’d come back. How could she leave Rainbow behind? Yet she couldn’t jump off the train with him; he might be killed. Tears filled her eyes, and she felt swallowed by loss — Mama, Grandma, and Sister — all over again. Hopelessness paralyzed her and despite the voice in her head that told her to go now, hurry, before the train picked up speed, she did not move.

With her cheek cold and slippery against the train window, she cried herself to sleep. She dreamed Rainbow was perched in one of Grandma Fleet’s apricot trees and she sat in its shade while Linnaeus played in the sand nearby. But in the terraces between the dunes, planted among the corn, beans, and sunflowers, were bright swaths of red, pink, yellow, orange, purple, and black gladiolus flowers as tall as the tasseled corn.

The train arrived in Los Angeles a little past four that afternoon. Edward insisted the cab take them directly from the train station to the lawyer’s office, where they left him, but not before he instructed the cabdriver how to gently unload the orchids at the hotel.

Hattie removed her shoes and rested on the bed while Indigo played with the parrot on the floor. Tomorrow the train would return them to Riverside, and a house that was no longer theirs, if it ever had been. Fortunately she hadn’t had time to settle into the house, so she would not feel much loss. But she’d grown so fond of Indigo she wasn’t sure if she could bear to let the child go, especially now. She was determined to take the child out of the Indian boarding school and help her find her mother and sister. If Indigo was orphaned, then Hattie would spare no expense until she adopted the child.

Edward returned from the lawyer’s office with letters and telegrams and good news: All was well in Riverside. The monkey was healthy and played happily with the kitten; the two curled up with each other at night. Edward smiled at Indigo as he said this, and she returned his smile. Poor man, he wasn’t so bad — there were worse.

Indigo turned to Rainbow in his cage and told him not to worry — she loved him as much as she loved the little monkey. Now they could all be together. She showed the parrot the bunch of bananas, the gift for Linnaeus. At first the two of them would have to become acquainted — Rainbow had to watch out the monkey didn’t accidentally hurt him; they had to be especially careful of the kitten Linnaeus adopted.

Edward gave Hattie the telegram to read for herself; Susan and Colin agreed to lease the house and gardens to them, but the citrus groves must be sold. Fortunately, orchid culture did not require extensive acreage. The sale of the citrus groves meant all the debts could be paid, with money left to build glass houses for the orchids.

He waved another letter at her; more good news! In a letter sent from Albuquerque, his Australian doctor friend reported specimens of meteor iron were obtained from a sheep herder who sold them to a prospector. When the assay laboratory in Albuquerque attempted to saw open the specimens, the hardest steel blades were quickly dulled, and finally a pneumatic spring-loaded chisel had to be used. Inside the nearly pure cadmium were threads of pure silver and gold; but more astonishing yet, the specimens were shot through with black diamonds that penetrated with great velocity! Dr. Gates urged Edward to come out to the Arizona crater site as soon as possible. Hattie could only nod her head; she would never forget the doctor’s long hands and that slow predatory examination during her illness. She swore never to be in the same room with that vile man again. She might have been able finally to rationalize Edward’s zeal to acquire the citron cuttings for the government, but his association with Dr. Gates was beyond the limit.

The journey by train to Riverside was not long, but the time seemed interminable to Hattie, and she was reminded of descriptions of purgatory and hell. She realized she no longer believed; if they existed at all, purgatory and hell were here on earth. She was exhausted but could not sleep as the train lurched along; her clothing felt untidy and she felt a sick headache coming on. Only when she looked at the child whispering excitedly to the parrot was her heart eased. The child was thriving; her dresses were a bit short and snug around the waist and she outgrew her shoes. Hattie found comfort in making plans for Indigo’s return. She would need proper clothes herself to travel in the sun and heat of Arizona.

Edward reread the letters and the telegrams; he was more confident than ever of success with the mining venture. Of course their new company would require funds immediately, and the settlement of the estate with Susan and Colin might take months. He felt confident he could persuade Hattie to lend the money, only until the estate was settled.

The sun had set but the twilight was still bright as they drove through downtown Riverside, past the businesses and the stately Mission Hotel, where the oil lamps were already lit along the entry promenade; from inside, music from a piano could be heard faintly as the coach passed. Once they’d left behind the downtown businesses and streets lined with houses for the farmland and orchards on the outskirts, Indigo pulled herself closer to the window and she began to watch for the Indian school buildings. Dim light shone from the windows of the dining hall, and her heart beat faster when she sighted two long lines — girls in one, boys in the other — marching toward the dormitories. She felt light-headed with relief once they’d passed. Last year at this time she had been one of those girls in line — pushed from behind and pinched by the others.

The coach had hardly stopped in the driveway when Indigo scrambled out; the instant her feet touched the flagstone driveway, she was off to see Linnaeus, the handle of the parrot cage in one hand, the bunch of bananas clutched in the other. The twilight was bright in the glass house as she entered; Linnaeus was angry and pretended he didn’t remember her. He ignored the fragrant gift of bananas she offered, and sat on his rope swing near the top of his cage and watched the cat climb to the top of the wisteria. Indigo didn’t blame him — locked in the cage the whole time they were gone. The cage door was padlocked so she left the bananas on the floor, pushed against the cage bars, where he could reach them while she went for the key. On the steps outside the glass house, in his travel cage, Rainbow heard her voice and began to squawk. As soon as she unlocked the cage Linnaeus would forgive her!

Edward greeted the household staff and the gardener; the cook had their dinner prepared, and though the table was set, he went immediately to unpack the orchids the coachman carried upstairs to his study. Later he would examine each plant and make note cards with numbers corresponding to numbers on small brass tags tied to each plant. In the morning the glass house must be swept and wood chips and light soil prepared for potting the orchids.

After dinner, Hattie went from room to room to open windows to rid the house of the odor of furniture polish and wax. The dark oak floors and oak paneling all around felt too close after the pale plaster walls and tile of Italy; even the stone walls of Aunt Bronwyn’s old cloister were more welcoming. Dark oak made her think of coffins. The lamps and cabinets were spotless, each in its place just as they had been when Mrs. Palmer was alive. She opened her valise on the bed to unpack the books and papers but could not bring herself to touch her manuscript notes.

Why bother to unpack at all? As soon as she’d obtained the information and the permission to return with Indigo to Arizona, they would be off again. In any case she did not wish to remain in the Palmer house any longer than necessary. She was relieved Edward’s attention was fixed upon the orchids; he slept in the small guest bedroom on the third floor to be closer to his laboratory and the orchids.

Indigo was delighted the next morning when Edward brought her Linnaeus to watch while the gardener and helpers dismantled the monkey cage and moved it out of the glass house to a shady corner at the end of the long arcade. Edward did not want to risk damage to the orchids in the event the clever monkey managed an escape. It took all day for the cage to be moved and reassembled, so Linnaeus ran freely from garden to garden, chased by the kitten.

That night Hattie told Indigo Edward was not inclined to let them take Linnaeus along. Arizona would be difficult enough for a woman with a child and a parrot in tow. Indigo could tell just by the way she said it, Hattie wanted her to have Linnaeus. Indigo wiped a fist across her eyes and swallowed back the hurt; she pretended to accept the decision even as she was making a plan. She brought Linnaeus upstairs to her room and let him crawl under the bedcovers and play with his cat in the trunk and valises that she’d begun to pack.

Those last weeks in Riverside, Indigo kept Linnaeus with her constantly; Hattie even allowed her to keep him in the bedroom, where he slept curled next to her under the covers all night. If Edward noticed, he said nothing despite complaints from the cook about fleas and disease. Linnaeus rode on her right hip, his arms around her waist while Rainbow perched high on her left shoulder out of the little monkey’s reach. As their departure day neared, she told herself, Don’t be afraid, you know what you can do. All day she held Linnaeus and let him play with her fingers and nibble the edges and lobes of her ears. Rainbow was terribly jealous and inflicted the first attack, driven by jealousy, after the monkey’s long tail snaked around behind the bird and startled him. Indigo cried when she saw the blood, and held Linnaeus close the rest of the afternoon while Rainbow sulked in his cage.

The last few weeks before their departure were filled with tension. Edward did not understand why they could not travel to Arizona together; the meteor crater was only three days’ travel by coach from the Colorado River Indian reservation. He saw no reason for the haste, and could easily accompany them if only they’d delay the departure until he had the new orchids securely established. They’d scarcely been home a week, and now Hattie wanted to be off again.

Hattie refused to discuss her plans — why should she, when Edward never bothered to consult her? What was she to say to him anyway — their marriage was a mistake. If it was money Edward wanted for the mine venture, then she would arrange a letter of credit for him. In any case, she vowed never to set eyes on the Australian doctor again. But Edward continued to press her — he wanted to show her the mine site at the meteor crater. Finally she had to confront Edward again about the doctor’s lewd conduct during her illness.

Edward listened and nodded his head, but Hattie could tell by the expression in his eyes, he thought Hattie must have dreamed or hallucinated. He refused to believe the doctor behaved improperly; again he tried to suggest it was the nature of her illness that caused her to mistake the doctor’s medical examination for an assault. This time she slammed the bedroom door in his face as he followed behind her attempting to explain.

The longer she cried, the better she felt — the numb misery washed away in the tears; it was as if her old self molted away as she cried, and with it went the disappointment. She slept soundly until dawn, when a shaft of light came between the curtain and the window and illuminated the wall above the bed. She lay back on the pillow to watch the dust specks glitter, rising and falling in the light. How beautiful and perfect it was — there was no need for anything more, certainly not her attachments to the past. She was up and dressed in no time; she didn’t bother about her hair. She shut the valise without giving the manuscript another look. She wanted to get outside before the others were up. The air was fragrant and cool; the wrens and sparrows chirped, still roosting in the tree. She took a spade from the gardener’s shed and walked toward the sun, past the last rows of lemon trees at the edge of tall weeds and the sand of the desert. A few inches down, the sand was dark and sweet with moisture and she was able to easily dig a resting place for the valise.

As the day of their departure approached, Edward went out of his way to be kind to her and the child; he gave Indigo four hearty specimens of Brassalova nodosa with signs of developing buds despite their long journey. Edward did not press her to wait and travel with him, but he talked about where they should meet: Flagstaff, he thought, because it was halfway between the meteor crater and the Indian reservation on the river. Then one evening over dinner, Edward surprised them with the announcement that he had reconsidered his earlier decision: Indigo should have Linnaeus after all. Further he decided the gardner could tend the orchids without him; his bags were packed. He asked if he might go with them. His change of heart moved Hattie to relent: yes, he might travel with her and the child but only as far as Needles.

As the packing and last-minute arrangements fell into place, Hattie felt a flicker of anticipation and excitement at setting out for Indigo’s homeland in parts unknown. It was just the change she needed.