Gardens in the Dunes (69 page)

Sister stood up with the baby just as Indigo appeared in the doorway. For an instant she almost didn't recognize Indigo because she had grown so tall; now her features resembled their mother's a great deal. Indigo threw her arms around Sister and she put her free arm around Indigo and they embraced each other, while the little grandfather squirmed between them. They held each other and cried until the baby got angry at being squeezed and let out a howl that made Indigo step back.

“Oh Sister! A baby!” she said, tears still running down her cheeks. “Look at him! He's cute!” The twins stood in the doorway and watched them, but they kept glancing outside too. Finally Sister got curious and turned to look outside too; then Indigo remembered Hattie in the buggy and her pets.

“Come meet my friends,” she said.

They ignored the driver, who sat in the buggy and glowered at them as
they invited Hattie inside. They gave Hattie the crate they used as a table to sit on while they sat on their bedrolls on the floor. Sister and Indigo talked nonstop in a mixture of English and the Sand Lizard language.

At first Hattie and the twins listened while the sisters talked, but after a while Maytha got bored and asked Hattie questions about where they'd been and how they tracked down Sister. Hattie described the visit to the superintendent at Parker and the stop at the site of the dam. When she mentioned the kind woman with the little boy who directed them here, the twins exchanged glances, and Vedna remarked, “Oh I guess someone here doesn't hate us!” Then she laughed.

Outside in the wagon, the parrot began to call Indigo with loud screeches, which silenced Sister and the twins. Oh! Indigo jumped to her feet and looked at Hattie. They all went outside and Indigo handed the parrot cage down to Hattie and opened the monkey cage for Linnaeus, who climbed on her back; the empty cages were easier to lift. Indigo pulled out her luggage and the hatbox with the orchid plants from Hattie's luggage piled in the back of the buggy and handed them to the girls. The driver looked straight ahead, chewing hard on a toothpick, and made no move to help. Maytha nudged Vedna and they both made faces at the driver behind his back, then laughed.

Hattie saw the driver look around at the lengthening shadows, then glare at her impatiently as the sun settled toward the horizon. Finally as the girls took Indigo's luggage inside, the driver cleared his throat loudly, spat on the ground, and asked her if she was staying or going. She better decide—because
he
wasn't staying here tonight.

Hattie felt her face flush, and the palms of her hands were damp; her heart pounded and she began to feel light-headed. She told the driver to wait for her in a sharp tone of voice she hadn't used before, and scarcely noticed his scowl. She realized she hadn't prepared herself for parting with Indigo; she hadn't really believed they'd locate her sister so easily or so soon. She parted with Edward because it was the right thing; neither of them wanted the marriage to continue. But she loved Indigo with all of her heart; without the girl she didn't know what she would do.

Hattie watched from the doorway as the girls chattered happily inside, laughing all together. It was clear how much Indigo's homeland meant to her, and how she loved her Sister Salt. The two girls delighted in each other. She'd never seen Indigo's face glow with such joy. She scarcely would have recognized the laughing, chattering child as Indigo.

Hattie felt relief and pride too that she'd reunited the sisters, but another
sensation began to emerge—a dreadful sense of how alone she was. But that was silly, she scolded herself; both her parents were in good health, and Edward and she were not estranged; they would still correspond.

She had to get hold of herself for Indigo's sake. The two sisters were reunited, but what about their mother? If the mother could not be found, would the authorities allow Sister Salt to care for Indigo? The reservation superintendent said the law required Hattie to give him a full update on Indigo's whereabouts, the sort of family her sister had, and what school she would attend.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sister saw the white woman watch them from the doorway, and she wondered what the woman wanted. Why did this woman take Indigo away from the boarding school?

“Good-bye,” Indigo heard Hattie call and looked up from her unpacking.

“Oh! I thought you would stay longer,” Indigo said as she walked Hattie to the buggy. The other girls followed; Sister held up the little grandfather so he could get a good look at Indigo's white friend. Maybe tonight after they were asleep, the little grandfather would give her information on that woman. He watched his auntie and the white woman intently.

Hattie hugged Indigo once and then again; she'd be back to check on her next week, and maybe have some news for the girls on the whereabouts of their mother.

“You could stay here if you wanted,” Indigo said, glancing at the driver, then looking Hattie in the eyes. They both knew what she meant.

“I'll be fine, don't worry,” Hattie said, but she was too upset by their parting to worry about the driver. She doubted there would be any trouble because he was in such a hurry to get to Needles. He started the horses almost before she was seated, but Hattie had to smile because the girls all made faces at him for her benefit. Hattie was beginning to have a plan for the weeks to come; it all revolved around Indigo and her sister.

Indigo gave the twins the smelly can of lamp oil and the bundle of canned goods, sugar, and flour Hattie bought at the trading post. She opened the valise of seeds and gladiolus corms only long enough to remove the tin of seeds and grain to fill the cup in Rainbow's cage, and filled the other cup from their water bucket with the flat sandstone lid.

“Oh candy balls!” Maytha called out as she held up the paper sack.

“Too bad she didn't buy us some lard or coffee—we could have had tortillas
and coffee for supper!” Vedna said as she stuffed two candy balls into her mouth. They all helped themselves to the candy.

Indigo took out her color pencils and her notebook to show off her drawings of flowers to Sister while the twins lifted the fine linen underwear and petticoats from the trunk. They oohed and aahed over the chambray dresses trimmed in satin ribbon, and joked with one another about how much money they could sell them for—enough to eat for months, they laughed.

Indigo unpacked her two other pairs of new kidskin slippers and held them next to Maytha's bare feet; the shoes were too small, but Maytha and Vedna didn't care. They stretched the kidskin and forced the slippers on their feet, and wore them proudly.

The little grandfather was in his bundle propped up in the corner of the room so he could watch. Sister opened the big hatbox and lifted up a pot of orchids for a better look. Indigo cautioned her sister to be careful with the plants, which irritated Sister.

“You think I don't know what a flowerpot is?” She put it back in the hatbox just as she found it. Indigo saw Sister's hurt expression and felt terrible; she apologized over and over until Sister told her it was all right. Indigo tried to hand her the hatbox of orchids—she insisted she take them, but Sister shook her head; she knew nothing about these plants; she'd only kill them.

Indigo hated herself for hurting Sister's feelings—she loved her more than anyone, as much as she loved Mama and Grandma Fleet. If Sister didn't want the orchids, then Indigo didn't want them either. She tossed the hatbox out the door; it landed with a thud on the sand, and all the pots overturned, dumping bark, orchids, and all. Later Sister took pity on the poor orchids and scooped them back into their pots and gave them a place on the windowsill.

It was getting dark now and Maytha filled their lamp with oil; they hadn't bought lamp oil in so long they didn't bother to replace the lamp chimney after it shattered. They used a piece of rag for the wick, and Vedna lit one of their precious matches; a lovely orange-yellow flame glowed in the dark room. Without the proper wick or chimney it gave off puffs of sooty smoke, but they didn't care.

They finished off the candy balls but had no way to open the tins of peaches and corn. Sister laid down the sleeping baby and took the cans and the axe outside. Whack-whack-whack, they heard, and a moment later Sister
returned, both hands cupped around the can dripping sugary peach juice. Indigo shared her portions of the peaches and the corn with Linnaeus, then put him to bed in his cage next to Rainbow. After they finished off the can of corn, the twins and Sister took the tin of tobacco and rolling papers outside for a smoke before bed.

Indigo realized then she had no bedding, no blanket, so she arranged her wool coat and raincoat on the sandy floor near Sister's bedding. For covers she used her nightgowns one on top of the other, and slept in her clothes as the other girls did.

♦   ♦   ♦

Hattie noticed the buggy driver was acquainted with the trader and his wife; all the white people here seemed to know one another. “Strength in numbers,” she supposed, since whites were outnumbered by Indians here. The driver probably stopped there overnight each time he drove to Parker or Yuma. Hattie smelled fried chicken and biscuits, but the woman said nothing about food. She wasn't really hungry anyway; she was worried about Indigo. Maybe she was wrong to leave the child at Road's End. Indigo's sister and her friends seemed nice enough, but they'd created a good bit of notoriety for themselves along the river.

The trader's wife put her in the same room as she and Indigo had shared the night before last; the sheets on the bed had not been changed. She brought out the bottle of paregoric syrup Edward gave her for emergencies, to help her sleep. She pulled the bedding to the floor off the horsehair mattress, and wept because this was Indigo's custom, to sleep on the floor. Blankets! Indigo had no blankets, nothing!

Hattie rolled over and sobbed facedown in the pillow, so the others did not hear. She took two good swallows of the paregoric and lay back with her eyes closed, listening to her own heartbeat. Gradually her heart and her breathing slowed and the anxiety over Indigo without blankets gradually passed. Her sister and the other girls would take care of Indigo; it was plain how much her sister loved her, and the other girls seemed very kind. Hattie would simply buy Indigo blankets and other necessities the girls might need and return to Road's End next week, but this time with a new driver. She drifted away to sleep as she imagined warm white wool blankets piled next to the parrot cage in the little mud house.

She dreamed the bright orange carnelian carving of Minerva seated with her snake was a life-size sculpture in a fantastic garden of green shady groves and leafy arcades. Next to the path stood a life-size waterbird and her chick carved from pale lemon yellow carnelian. In a thicket of holly she
heard rustling and twigs cracking as if something large were approaching. Oddly, she wasn't afraid when she saw the old tin mask rolling down the grassy path as if it were alive.

She woke and struck a match to see the clock: half past twelve. She lit the lamp on the table and opened the trunk and brought out the little carvings. She arranged them on the nightstand so they were at eye's level from her pillow, and thrilled at their lustrous surface and transparent glow. Where were you in my dream? she asked the milky chalcedony carving of the three cattle. She took a sip of water and put out the light; oddly, the tin mask no longer seemed threatening.

Hattie ate the breakfast the woman served them, and was surprised at how good the eggs with biscuits and slices of smoked ham tasted. She was relieved the others at the table ignored her; nothing she could say or do would change their opinion of her: white squaw. Fortunately, her year of graduate classes prepared her for obnoxious conduct.

Now that she had decided her course of action, even the ride back to Needles seemed shorter. As the buggy passed through the business district of Needles she noticed a large mercantile and dry goods store on the corner; tomorrow she would shop there for Indigo's blankets and the others things the girls should have. She needed to visit the local bank to arrange for a transfer of funds from her account in New York.

The hotel desk clerk studied her signature after she signed the guest book and handed her a letter from Edward, postmarked Winslow. Edward described the campsite at the bottom of the meteor crater and the sorry condition of the equipment, especially the drilling rig, which broke down more days than it worked. But all that would be corrected very soon. He and the doctor were about to board the train to Albuquerque with the latest discovery—a wonderful meteor iron studded with white diamonds—to have it assayed. New mining equipment would also be purchased on this trip, and he hoped he did not have to exceed the credit line she arranged for him.

He described in colorful detail the mesa climb and mentioned “a slight stiffness” in his leg, but devoted the remainder of the letter to a description of the Indian burial—the “baby,” or meteor iron, wrapped in layers of feather blanket, wore a tiny necklace and matching bracelet of tiny beads. Funeral offerings of food and a toy whistle were carefully arranged in the stone cavity with the meteor iron.

That night Hattie dreamed Sister Salt's live baby was in the stone cavity, but Edward and the Australian doctor insisted on using a large steel pick
and heavy shovel to excavate the baby. She woke soaked with sweat and shaking; in her dream one of them struck something and Edward yelled. She saw blood spurting everywhere and a tiny severed leg; but the infant in the stone cavity was unharmed, even smiling.

She just finished dressing when there was a knock, and a telegram envelope was slipped under the door. Her heart beat furiously in those moments before she opened the telegram. It was sent from Albuquerque and all it said was: “Urgent. Come at once. Your husband hospitalized.” It was signed by the chaplain of St. Joseph's Hospital.

If she packed only one bag and hurried, there was still time to make the eastbound train to Albuquerque. She felt light-headed and had to sit down on the edge of the bed.