Gardens in the Dunes (57 page)

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.