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 do
ing 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, an
d 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.
Gardens in the Dunes Page 44