The last few days and nights she got very little sleep as she feverishly prepared the dog circus performance and spied on the buried safe. Now she was exhausted. Almost as soon as the last dog pressed itself across her shoulders, she was asleep so deeply the dogs’ barks at coyotes scarcely roused her.
When the sun was midway overhead, the dogs began to get up, stretch, and go off to relieve themselves and drink. When only the crippled money-sniffer dog remained, Delena sat up; the warmth of the sun felt so good she wanted to lie down again and sleep more, but she knew they had to get going again.
She was curious about her pursuers so she brought out the Gypsy deck from the bag she wore inside her dress, around her waist, and spread the satin cloth over the sand to see what the cards had to tell her.
The Gypsy cards were oddly unmatched and had little to say about her pursuers; she realized then there must be only a few pursuers, maybe only one, and that was the reason for the cards’ meager information. The unusual disarray of the cards gave her suspicions of invisible intervention to protect her lone pursuer. He must be a fool to come after me and my dogs by himself. No wonder his ancestors took pity on him and tried to block the cards. Still, she could feel the golden threads of the radiance from across time that turned the cards and spoke the truth about her pursuer, like it or not.
The figure of the Owl was lying on its side against a blood red background; the Owl wore a gold crown and was tied to a branch with a golden chain. Too bad for her pursuer! The Owl’s position meant his plans will fail! She let out a shout of joy that brought all the dogs to stare at her. She remembered the message of the cards to the Sand Lizard woman, that greed would be punished—this Owl bound by a gold chain must be the Sand Lizard’s husband.
The figure of the Four-leaf Clover on dark purple lay on its side, the same as the Owl, and meant a misunderstanding, something her pursuer didn’t know, maybe about her or maybe about himself. Good, good, she whispered to the cards, and the dogs nearby wagged their tails.
The last figure was of the white Lilies upside. “Oh poor Sand Lizard girl, your husband is very confused.” The poor man was beset by useless doubts for no reason. Now that she knew who her pursuer was and his state of mind, she wasn’t in such a hurry. Even a good tracker would find it difficult to tell the difference between coyote tracks and her dogs’ tracks; their paws were callused like the coyotes’. She was careful to walk on hard-packed ground and in the sand to step from rock to rock when she could; on long stretches of sand she stopped from time to time to wipe away her tracks.
Her pursuer had to decide which way she went, and the fastest, easiest route to Mexico was straight south along the river to Yuma. Even if he guessed right and rode east, he still had to catch her; the most stout horse or mule would soon tire from toting a man that heavy; the mount would need water and food—a great deal more water than he’d find on the route she was on.
She and the dogs slept in the shade all afternoon, moving from one side of the wash to the other as the sun shifted. As the air cooled off before sundown, the dogs got up, stretching and sniffing the air. They managed to locate a nest of baby cottontails in the clay bank, but gobbled them all before Delena could get any for herself. “OK,” she said, “if you won’t share, then I won’t either”; she cut herself big pieces off the roast in her pack but gave none to the dogs.
She drank and washed her hands and face a last time in a rainwater hole the dogs hadn’t muddied. Before she set out again, she peeked at the Mexican cards in their pouch: she was happy and relieved to find La Estrella, the Star, on top of the deck. The stars were celestial beings, all related to the most beautiful and beloved star, the morning star. She never forgot the devotion in her homeland to the Shining One the Christians call Messiah.
Indigo was too excited to sit still. She opened the hatbox to give the orchid plants sunshine after the first night on the train, just as Edward suggested. Hattie said they were among the nicest plants he had. She must remember to give them morning sun but not too much water or they would rot. She checked to make sure the paper envelopes of seeds were still neatly tied so none spilled, and felt each little cotton sack of gladiolus corms to make sure they were still dry in the bottom of the valise.
Hours before the train approached Needles, she cleaned the monkey’s cage as she promised she would if Edward allowed her to bring Linnaeus along. She put down clean newspaper she saved after Edward finished reading it.
Out the window she saw the jagged dry peaks of the Paiute mountains hazy blue in the distance across the gravel and sand of the plain. As the sun got lower in the sky and they got closer, the mountains changed colors—light blue to violet to fiery red-orange as lovely as any flowers. Then as twilight settled over them, the fiery reds shifted to bright pinks that settled into lavender and finally dark purple. The window in the compartment was open only a bit but Indigo put her face to the rushing air and was delighted to smell the greasewood and the rocks.
It was not dark yet when the conductor called out, “Needles.” Indigo felt her stomach flutter and her heart beat faster. As the train pulled into the station, she saw the station lanterns were lit along the platform, where eastbound passengers and people meeting the train were gathered. She dreamed and imagined many times Mama and Sister Salt would be there in their place on the platform beside the Walapai and Mojave women.
She was so excited she could hardly wait. Even before the train jerked to a stop, Indigo was ready; the cover of the parrot cage was on and Linnaeus was in her arms, his cage left with the other luggage. She walked ahead of Hattie and Edward, but the other passengers swept around her and she had to hold the covered parrot cage tightly in both arms to keep hold of it. Hidden inside, Rainbow endured the bumps and noise in silence while Linnaeus clung to her piggyback with his eyes hidden against her shoulder. Here she was at last! The smells of the burnt coal, tar, and hot axle grease of the platform were just as she remembered from years ago. As the crowd of passengers and others began to clear the platform, her heart pounded with anticipation. She had dreamed about this moment so many times—how Mama and Sister Salt would be shocked, and then come running to greet her.
She stopped until the surge of people passed around her, and lifted the cage cover a bit to give Rainbow fresh air. She heard Hattie call out to ask if she was all right, but she was intent on the end of the platform blocked by the crowd. But as the platform cleared, she saw that the place near the station door where Mama and Sister Salt used to sit was empty.
As she looked up and down the long empty platform, the burning ache in her throat hurt so much when Hattie reached her, she was in tears. Her sobs frightened the monkey, who gripped her neck tighter until she had to set the parrot cage down on the platform and take him in her arms. They were gone, they were all gone, and now she’d never find Sister or Mama.
At the hotel, Hattie tried to reassure Indigo as she helped her pull the bedding onto the floor the way the child liked it. At dinner Indigo refused to eat or drink anything; then as the meal was over, she insisted that the food on her plate be wrapped to take back to Linnaeus and the parrot. Edward, annoyed at her insolence, attempted to correct her but the child shocked them by telling him to go to hell, then refused to speak at all.
Hattie had anticipated a joyous arrival and expected Indigo to be in good spirits now she was in her homeland. The return of the child to her family had become the primary focus of Hattie’s attention, especially now that she and Edward agreed to separate. She realized she loved Indigo dearly—Edward’s deception and all the rest did not matter so long as she secured Indigo’s happiness.
Hattie again promised they would not leave the Colorado River until her sister and her mother both were found. But the child was inconsolable; tears rolled down her cheeks even as she arranged the parrot cage and monkey cage on either side of the bedding on the floor so she could touch them during the night.
In the adjoining room, Edward was at the table by the lamp, reading. He
marked his place with a slip of paper before he closed the book and looked up with a smile. Now that they had agreed to live separately, the tension between them was gone. Tomorrow Edward would take the train to Winslow for the buggy ride to the meteor crater while she and Indigo would begin the search for her sister and mother.
In Riverside they agreed neither of them was suited to the married state, and left it at that. No further mention was made of his reckless deception or his unforgivable defense of the Australian doctor. The child seemed to be calmed now, no need for concern. They said good night and Edward turned back to his reading as she closed the door.
She was still saddened Edward seemed so relieved by their decision; she must have only imagined Edward’s devotion to her just as she misread Mr. Hyslop’s attentions. In any case, she would not make that mistake again. Before they left Riverside, she wrote to her parents to announce the mutual decision to obtain a legal separation as soon as possible, but gave no explanation. They were bound to hear all the details from Susan and Colin.
She agreed to a generous separation settlement and made arrangements with her bankers in New York to arrange a line of credit for Edward until his mother’s estate and his debts were settled. She had no plans beyond the immediate goal of finding Indigo’s sister and mother, but she did not want to return to New York. Oyster Bay belonged to a previous life, dead and buried with her manuscript.
Perhaps she would return to England or Italy—she dreamed about the gardens often. Aunt Bronwyn’s old stones danced in one of her dreams, and in another dream, Laura’s figures of the snake and bird women sang a song so lovely she woke in tears.
♦ ♦ ♦
The wagon road above the riverbank was dusty and hot. The footpaths through the willows along the river were shady and cool, Indigo told Linnaeus and Rainbow. The buggy had a cloth top but it was black and held the heat. She amused herself by pointing out places along the river and telling Linnaeus and Rainbow about the escape she and Sister made downriver the morning the dancers were attacked.
She felt more hopeful today because, the night before, she dreamed she was with Sister Salt at the old gardens, which were filled with great tall spikes of gladiolus flowers in all colors of the rainbow. Sister Salt cradled Linnaeus like a baby and Mama let the parrot sit on her shoulder; even Hattie was in the dream—she carried water from the spring in a big gourd balanced on her head.
As they drove out of town, Indigo watched people on the street point and stare at the empty monkey cage on top of the pile of luggage, and Linnaeus in her arms. The sandy hills were green with grass and weeds—a sign of good rain weeks before, and good news for the terrace gardens in the dunes. The corn plants would be tall, the amaranth thick, and the bean plants and sunflowers fat with seeds enough to see them through the winter. She had forgotten how big the sky was and how blue it could be when there were no clouds. Sand Lizard girl, you are almost home now, she whispered to herself.
Just south of the Chemehuevi reservation, they stopped for the night at a small trading post called Road’s End, where the storekeeper’s wife accommodated overnight guests in a small back room. At first the wife was reluctant to allow the monkey and parrot cages indoors, but Hattie gave her an extra half-dollar and promised to keep them caged, a promise Indigo did not keep. There was scarcely room for the cages and luggage around the small bed they shared. All night Hattie tossed and turned, and each time she felt another horsehair poke through the bedding from the mattress. In the morning, Indigo kept scratching at her legs and when they looked they saw little red welts of insect bites.
The following morning, the table in the kitchen was set with only two places; their driver seated himself at one but when Hattie asked, the wife told her the Indian girl could sit in a chair out on the front porch. Hattie said nothing, but removed her plate and cup from the table and joined Indigo, who was already out on the porch playing with the parrot and monkey, the four pots of orchids out of the hatbox in the sun.
All morning Hattie felt out of sorts from the wife’s rude behavior, and exhausted from lack of sleep. The reflected glare of the sun off the metal of the horse’s bit temporarily blinded her but when she closed her eyes, the burning white flash remained and quickly developed into a headache. She managed to sip a little paregoric from the bottle in her purse and then leaned back and closed her eyes to try to sleep. Instead her thoughts swarmed around and around—her mother’s disapproval, her father’s disappointment, her foolishness in believing Edward truly cared about her. She tried to control her thoughts by visualizing the lovely carved gemstones from the spring at Bath, the bright orange carnelian carving of Minerva seated with her serpent at her side, a pale yellow carnelian of a long-neck waterbird standing on its nest with its chick, and the cloudy chalcedony of the three cattle under the oak tree.
Edward was reluctant to part with any of them, but felt obliged after she agreed to make the loan. He sorted through the gem carving and gave her the three he didn’t want. Perfect, she thought; I don’t want anything he wants!
Indigo called out and Hattie roused herself to see what it was; up ahead on the river was a large earthwork—the dam to feed water to Los Angeles. Indigo was amazed at the changes all around; the river was trapped, and only a narrow stream, muddy red, flowed south. The river was stripped naked; all its willows and tamarisks were gone, its red clay banks scraped; and exposed piles of white skeletons of cottonwood trees dotted the swaths of scraped red earth. The deep gouges made to build the dam had trapped rainwater and now were filled with weeds and sunflowers. Rows of army tents lined the ridge above the river, and nearby were clusters of wagons, their canvas covers painted with prices for lamp oil and tobacco.
As they continued south, Indigo noticed the cottonwoods and willows were dying of thirst because the flow of the river was so meager. Parker wasn’t actually a town; it was more like a stagecoach station at the edge of the reservation. A barbed-wire fence marked the entrance to the reservation. As they arrived, the children ran out to meet the buggy and they pointed at her and at the monkey and parrot and they shouted and laughed.
As they neared the superintendent’s office, someone—probably the older boys—threw rocks at the buggy until the driver turned on the seat and swore at them, with no apology to Hattie. Dirty animals, he called them. He was the son of the livery stable owner who kept a toothpick in the corner of his mouth, and he made it clear he thought Hattie a fool or worse. The driver let them off outside the office of the reservation superintendent and drove away without a word, in the direction of the trading post.
Indigo waited outside the superintendent’s office with the parrot on one shoulder and the monkey on her hip. She was careful to stand close to the wall around a corner where no one passing by the office could see her because she was afraid the children might hit Linnaeus or Rainbow with a rock.
Hattie was heartened by the reservation superintendent, who was new to the job but nonetheless located a file of correspondence written on behalf of Indigo’s older sister, named Salt. Hattie noticed on the file Indigo’s surname was listed as Sand. The last known address for the sister was in care of the construction site at the Parker Canyon dam. However, there were no records of their mother, but the superintendent admitted there were many more Indians along the Colorado River than were listed on the Indian Affairs census. The Indians moved a good deal. Apparently some of the tribes did not get along with one another and others complained the river bottom land wasn’t healthy.
The superintendent shook his head. He had just transferred here from Oklahoma two months ago. The Indian Bureau lacked the resources to hire more officers to keep them on the reservations and to track down those who drifted back into the canyons and hills. He hastened to add they posed no threat to white people.
He picked up the file on Indigo for a moment before he glanced up to ask if she intended to adopt the child. Hattie was so surprised at his question she felt her cheeks flush, and for a moment she lost her composure.
There was no reason to adopt the child if she had an elder sister nearby, was there? The superintendent shook his head and moved another file on top of Indigo’s file. The child’s elder sister had been jailed for theft by the previous agency superintendent. She might still be there if her fines had not been paid by a contractor hiring workers for the site of the dam construction. The superintendent’s face colored a bit as he added young squaws the sister’s age often resorted to prostitution.
Hattie gathered her purse in her lap and thanked him for all his help. He reminded her the child was under his jurisdiction; if she was not returned to the boarding school in Riverside, she must be turned over to him, under penalty of federal law. Hattie assured him that she understood the conditions and promised to stay in touch.
The driver had bloodshot eyes when he finally returned for them; Hattie was furious because he kept them waiting on the porch of the superintendent’s office for more than an hour, but the odor of liquor on his breath persuaded her to say nothing. Indigo’s excitement and happiness at the good news far outweighed the irritation of the rude driver. Indigo could hardly wait to get there to see her big sister; if they got going now there was still time to get to the dam before dark, so Hattie directed the driver to go back upriver.
Gardens in the Dunes Page 49