Gardens in the Dunes

by Leslie Marmon Silko

  Hattie could not get the superintendent’s words off her mind. What would happen to a child like Indigo, accustomed now to decent shelter and clothing and nutritious food? All the education she’d managed to get would be for naught if she came back to live here. Except for the vicious rock throwers, the reservation at Parker seemed lifeless; the few Indian women and men she saw had eyes full of misery. Indigo’s beloved little monkey and the parrot would likely be stolen or killed almost at once. Perhaps adoption would be best for Indigo; the superintendent implied he could authorize the adoption himself.

  Sister Salt recognized the old Walapai woman at the street corner in Needles and called to her. The old woman looked a long time as if trying to identify her, then suddenly a big toothless grin spread over her face and she called out and motioned for Sister to come over. First she wanted to see Sister’s baby, and pronounced the little black grandfather healthy and fortunate, then she asked if Grandma Fleet was still weaving those little baskets shaped like turkeys and frogs. Sister Salt’s face fell and she shook her head slowly; the Walapai woman knew immediately, and tears filled into her eyes. “And your mother?” she asked. “Is she still traveling with the dancers?” Sister Salt nodded, then asked if anyone had heard news of their whereabouts.

  How long had it been—two winters almost, wasn’t it? Sister Salt nodded. People here were afraid to dance because of the soldiers and Indian police. But if the people would just dance like before, then the Messiah and the dancers would return.

  Maytha and Vedna were waiting for her across the street. They’d come into Needles to buy nails and check the town dump for pieces of scrap wood or tin they might use for their new house. They paid to ride on the back of the freight wagon that carried the mail between Parker and Needles twice a week; it was a two-day ride from Road’s End to Needles, so they had to bring along their own water and food. The little black grandfather began to twist around in his bundle impatiently, and Sister Salt was about to excuse herself to go when the old Walapai woman put a hand on her arm.

  “Wait! I’ve got important news for you,” she said, “about your little sister.” Sister Salt’s heart pounded as she listened. Two days before, the Walapai woman saw Indigo get off the eastbound train; at first she didn’t recognize her because she’d grown so much, and she wore fine new clothes and shoes. But it was her! She carried a colorful caged bird, and a funny furry creature clung to one arm; she was accompanied by a rich white man and woman with a great deal of luggage. They left the station in a rented buggy.

  The woman’s Walapai sisters agreed; they’d seen them too. But other Indian women, mostly Havasupai and Mojave, came over to disagree with the Walapai women. They said not to listen to her; the old Walapai woman had been crazy since she was kicked in the head by a cavalry horse, and her Walapai sisters drank too much beer.

  Sister Salt politely thanked the old woman and her sisters; were they mistaken as the others said? Indigo was at boarding school in California, not with a white couple; she must have seen another girl. Deep down though, she felt hope and excitement; what if the Walapai women were right?

  Later Sister showed the twins the place along the river just south of town where their lean-to had been; the ring of blackened stones that marked their hearth was still there, but nothing else. On trips to Needles with Big Candy, Sister used to avoid the place; for a long time she couldn’t even bring herself to look directly at the high sandy hill above the riverbank where the Messiah and his family fled that morning. Instead she glanced at the hill from the corner of her eye, afraid that if she looked directly at it, she might cry.

  After the dancers were arrested, all the shelters were torn down and burned. The Walapai women and the others relocated to the dry wash behind the train yard, so they had the riverbank by the town dump to themselves. But now, with the little bright-eyed grandfather in her arms, she felt heartened to be at the place they last were all together and happy, even if it was Needles. In the midday glare of the sun, the sandy slope of the hill looked different than it had that morning after dawn when the raiders came.

  The days were shorter now, and the nights were cool. In a few more months the snowstorm clouds would return to the mountain peaks, and with them the Messiah and his family and the dancers. If the people gathered here and danced again, the Christ and the others would return, and Mama with them.

  The twins suggested they camp there until they caught the mail wagon back to Road’s End. As she lit the fire on the same hearth Mama and Grandma had used, she felt happy. But as the night wore on, she was saddened only the circle of burnt stones remained. Big Candy was gone, and with him went the help she needed to find Indigo. All the money she saved for the search and their return to the old gardens was gone. Damn money! She hated it but needed it too.

  God damn that Mexican woman and all her dogs! God damn the war that sent her their direction! Sister knew better than to talk to strangers, but Delena seemed so nice. Although Big Candy didn’t accuse her or the twins of aiding the thief, still in his mind they were connected, and that was enough. Even if Big Candy caught up with the woman and got back the money, Sister doubted she would ever see him again.

  So much for the Sand Lizard notion that sex makes allies of strangers. She had months of sex with Candy but lost him as her ally anyway; he went off crazy after that Mexican woman and the money. Money! You couldn’t drink it or eat it, but people went crazy over it.

  That night the little grandfather snuggled against her breasts and talked to her as she slept. When she woke herself answering him, she found his black shining eyes gazing at her; the approach of dawn was milky gray across the east horizon. He wanted to return to the old gardens. Money wasn’t necessary there—all the food the two of them needed could be gathered there. His little auntie, Indigo, would return there—she wouldn’t forget the way home.

  She pulled her shawl snuggly around them both, and adjusted the old blanket across her legs, careful not to wake Maytha and Vedna, both snoring softly nearby. As sunrise approached, she watched the light touch the slope of the high sandy hill, and imagined the Messiah and the others slowly descending the slope, ankle deep in the sand. But the angle of the sun was wrong—still too steep this time of the year—and she knew she could not see the Messiah and the others yet.

  The twins stocked up on the things they’d need to live at Road’s End—everything cost so much. The twins were good to her and shared their food without reproach or meanness, so Sister made herself useful by staying at their campsite with the little grandfather to guard the supplies the twins already bought. She bundled him onto her back and searched along the river for wild onions and watercress; she dug up cattail roots to boil for soup.

  She was grateful now for all the meat and grease Big Candy fed her because her fat made milk for the baby even if she didn’t have much to eat. He was getting so big and plump now and he could lift himself up and roll over; but the expression in his gleaming black eyes was still piercing and cranky, like that of an old man. He wanted to return to Sand Lizard country, away from the river dampness that caused fevers.

  Bright Eyes she called him one day when he was gurgling and smiling on his blanket—he loved to feel the air on his bare bottom. She wanted to buy cotton cloth and a wool blanket to keep him cozy the coming winter, but she had no money. When they got back to Road’s End, she would cut and soak yucca leaves and try to make little yucca baskets the way Grandma Fleet had—in shapes of turkeys or dogs; then she could bring the baskets to sell at the depot every two or three months. She practiced braiding and tying willow bark while Bright Eyes slept.

  The day before the mail wagon left for the south, while the twins were busy tying bundles and packing, Sister went to visit the old Walapai woman a last time. Road’s End was so far from any place—she didn’t expect to get back to Needles again for months, and she wanted to see if the head injury really had affected the old Walapai woman, the way the others alleged. What if Indigo had returned with the rich whi
te people?

  Earlier she heard a westbound train arrive, so Sister looked for the women on the outdoor platform of the station. But when she saw the tourists flock around the women to buy their strings of cedar berry seeds, three for a penny, Sister stopped.

  She was about to turn to leave when two tourists surprised her from behind and asked her and “the papoose” to pose for their camera. Sister started to turned away from them but out of the corner of her eye she saw a silver dollar between the white man’s fingers. She’d seen only lucky gamblers with silver dollars; the workers used to pay her for walks along the river with nickels and dimes. Sometimes it might take her two days to earn a dollar, but she had fun naked and laughing along the river with the men.

  She turned back to the tourist and nodded at the silver dollar in his hand. She gripped the silver dollar in her hand, her face hot with shame, and refused to look at the camera; instead she stared down at her feet. Hastily she pulled the baby’s wrap up around his ears and chin so the glass eyes of the camera could not see his face and steal his energy. When the tourist finished she felt so ashamed she hurried away without telling the old Walapai woman good-bye.

  She vowed never to let that happen again, no matter how much money she was offered. Fortunately the baby was not affected, but she felt weak and slightly nauseous after the encounter with the camera. The eye of the camera was the worst! Preachers condemned the sale of sex, but Sister always felt happy after her walks with the men; they always told her she was the prettiest—way prettier than the mattress women, who cost more. Naked on the river sand she always felt as free and joyous as that River Girl character in the old stories the twins heard at Laguna. The River Girl walks with Whirlwind Man and the poor receive venison and deer hides; when she goes off with Buffalo Man during a famine, the buffalo agree to give the starving humans their meat.

  On the wagon ride back to Road’s End, she surprised the twins with the silver dollar, for her share of the expenses. Maytha asked how she got it, but Sister shook her head and avoided her eyes. Vedna pestered her to tell until she confessed. They were concerned about the weakness she experienced immediately after the photograph; they’d heard stories at Laguna about old people who died within days of being photographed.

  The people at Road’s End were Chemehuevi Christian converts who kept to themselves. The twins found sheep and goat droppings on one end of the land—evidence their neighbors had been using their auntie’s land in her absence; probably they hoped no one would claim it after the old woman died.

  The day after they got back with their supplies from Needles the three of them were struggling to get the hole in the roof patched. Maytha stood precariously on the roof to pull the rope while Vedna, on a ladder, and Sister Salt, on the ground, lifted and guided the sheet of corrugated tin up. Just then a kind Chemehuevi man passing by on the road saw their struggle and stopped to help them. He was not young, but he was able and strong as he climbed the old ladder and took hold of the end of the tin and guided it into place. He was on an errand somewhere, because he carried a rope halter, but he stayed and helped them lift the other piece of tin roofing into place and even showed them how to nail it down to prevent leaks.

  Late that afternoon, before sundown, the work was finished and they invited him for rabbit in amaranth soup, and he quietly accepted. He said nothing while they talked excitedly about how fast the old roof was becoming snug again. Now that the roof was on, they could welcome the winter rains, and not shiver.

  They each thanked the man for his help before he continued down the road, the rope halter over one shoulder. But the following morning they were shocked to see an angry wife and her two sisters walk into the yard, their walking sticks firmly in their hands, ready to thrash someone. They called the twins and Sister prostitutes and told them to keep their hands off other women’s husbands or else they’d call the Indian police to arrest them. They’d heard about the twins and their Sand Lizard pal going to jail in Yuma for stealing soap, so they better not steal anything else either.

  Edward was saddened to see Hattie and the child on the station platform waving good-bye to him; the sight of the little monkey frolicking on the child’s back brought tears to his eyes. He never imagined the marriage would end like this. Perhaps they were better suited to each other than to marriage itself. He had no regrets—he was accustomed to the single state. But he felt sorry for Hattie, who apparently suffered from the sort of nervous disorder recently reported in German scientific journals, an affliction found almost exclusively among highly educated women. In any case, they would remain cordial with each other; if Hattie later wished to petition for annulment, he intended to cooperate fully. She generously arranged a line of credit for him at her bank since time was of the essence in the purchase of the mining claim. Dr. Gates was negotiating with the prospector who owned the mining claim on the meteor crater site.

  As the train traveled farther east, the bleak plain of gravel and sand scattered with sagebrush gave way to the juniper and piñon of the higher elevation. Now the great majestic peaks of the San Francisco Mountains could be seen, pale blue in the distance; though it was only September, caps of snow gleamed on the peaks. He was glad he packed along his camera despite its bulk.

  Dr. Gates met the train and accompanied him to check into the hotel next to the train station. The following morning, after breakfast in the hotel restaurant, they set out in the buggy for the crater, some twenty miles to the southwest. The dry grassy plain was scattered with pale yellow sandstone ridges and occasional dark outcroppings of volcanic rock and crossed by a number of ravines that, though sandy and dry now, carried enormous floods of runoff during the wet season. The air was so clear the San Francisco peaks, snow-tipped and blue, stood out vividly on the horizon to the west.

  The low silhouette of the ridge formed by the debris from the meteor impact was visible in the distance when the doctor directed the driver to turn the buggy into a sandy wash. They followed the wash some distance to the foot of a pale yellow-orange sandstone mesa forty feet high.

  The prospector made the discovery the previous week while digging for Indian pots. They walked forty or fifty yards from the buggy up a sandy slope to the foot of the sandstone formation, where a large crevice provided hand- and footholds to reach the mesa top. The doctor halted on a ledge below the final ten feet to caution Edward: here the Indians must have used a ladder of some sort because the sandstone was steep and offered few hand-or toeholds to a climber. Edward looked up and then he looked back; he had come this far and he did not want to stop. He nodded for Gates to proceed and watched his companion scramble skillfully up the sandstone, his fingers and toes barely braced in shallow indentations of the rock.

  Once on the top, Gates knelt and offered a hand to Edward, who took a deep breath and sprang upward, arms and feet seeking any means to hold long enough to propel him higher to the doctor’s outstretched hand. For a moment he feared he would not have the momentum to make it, but he threw himself with all his might upward and the doctor pulled him to safety.

  He was out of breath but exhilarated to reach the top of the mesa safely, and it wasn’t until he followed the doctor over the low mounds of grass and fallen stones that he realized he might have strained the muscles in the weak leg. He stopped then briefly to gently stretch the leg to prevent its stiffening.

  Gates led him to a mound next to a large boulder where the outline of a dwelling was visible. Next to the boulder Edward saw piles of freshly disturbed sand at the corner of a room. A large piece of canvas covered the excavation, which reached into the wall and under the boulder. Gates pulled back the cover with a flourish, and there in the stone cavity, Edward saw a most remarkable object: wrapped in the remains of a garment of feathers and cotton string was an iron meteorite. On one end of the iron were tiny stone beads once strung as a necklace, and nearby were two small pottery bowls. The doctor reached into one of the bowls and handed Edward a tiny pottery whistle in the shape of a bird.

&
nbsp; “Amazing, isn’t it?”

  “Oh quite wonderful,” Edward replied as he turned the little clay artifact over in his palm. The burial objects with the meteorite—the tiny stone bead necklace and the toy whistle—were intended for a child.

  “Well you haven’t seen anything yet!” his companion exclaimed as he carefully pulled back the remains of the feather blanket from the “head” of the meteorite to reveal a glittering “eye” in the lustrous black iron.

  “White diamond!” he said triumphantly.

  Edward spent a good deal of time on his hands and knees examining the object and its site. He regretted his camera was down below in the wagon and the ascent so difficult; otherwise he might have recorded the Indian burial of the meteorite. In the catalogue of North American meteorites he had been amazed to read about a three-thousand-pound meteor iron discovered in Indian ruins in northern Chihuahua in a room with human burials, wrapped in native cotton just like the others. The prospector wanted to removed it at once, but the doctor managed to persuade him to wait until Edward could see the wonderful object just as it was found. Edward hoped the prospector would agree to sell it at a reasonable price.

  From the mesa top the doctor pointed southeast, where the circular lip of the crater easily could be seen; tons and tons more of diamond-bearing iron waited for them there.

  The descent was made easier thanks to the rope their driver tossed up and the doctor secured around a sturdy boulder, but effects of the strain on his leg were evident. The pain subsided as long as he managed to keep the leg propped up straight in the back of the buggy during the remainder of the ride. Later that evening in the camp on the rim of the crater, the doctor examined the leg and the redness and swelling around the scar. He gave Edward a handful of morphine tablets to take as needed for the discomfort but saw no need for concern. The buggy driver was a retired railroad engineer who hired on to drive and to serve as the camp cook. That evening he prepared a brace of quail he shot the day before, and Gates brought out a bottle of fine brandy to celebrate Edward’s arrival. The brandy enhanced the effect of the pills, and the pain subsided.