by Sue Hardesty
"That because you not know my name."
"Oh, barf."
"Oh, barf? What that?"
Loni changed the subject, knowing she couldn't win this one. "What are you two doing?"
"Taking stove apart," Bahb answered, walking over to the old wood cook stove.
"And do what with it?"
"Put in barn for now. Maybe sell later."
"No, no, no," Loni and Shiichoo said together. "The stove stays."
"What?" Bahb said. "You no say that."
"I just can't let it go." Shiichoo was almost in tears.
Bahb hugged her. "Stove stay."
Just as they finished eating Loni's meal, she saw a flash of lightning through the kitchen window. "Willie and I saw ants uphill Monday," Loni told Shiichoo. "Gonna rain today."
Shiichoo jumped up from the table. "Why didn't you tell me? My wash is on the line." She rushed out of the house with Loni right behind her. They threw the clothes into a basket as the wind began to kick up. Loni took a long, deep breath and smelled rain in the air.
Shiichoo poked her. "You'll be sleeping on gritty sheets if you don't help. It's here."
"Dish'ah." Loni grabbed a group of towels off the line and ran into the house behind Shiichoo just as a few sprinkles started. Suddenly, torrential rain came sideways with the wind blowing anything that was loose or clanging anything poorly attached until it came loose. The tin roof sounded as if it was coming off in layers.
In a few minutes the downpour was over, leaving behind a glorious clean smell of wet greasewood brush that permeated everything. Loni walked into the desert, loving the feel of the cool breeze on her skin. She listened to the birds sing as they came out of their nests to bathe in small water puddles, especially the quail with their scurry feet and topnotch feathers bobbing up and down as they ran. She heard a white wing close by with that soft COO COOO three times repeated.
Loni collected Coco and got into her truck to drive home. The truck was even dirtier than she thought possible. Days of accumulated dust turned into mud. The boiling sun had melted the rubber off the windshield wipers, and the broken pieces fell off the blades in strips, creating streaks of dark brown goo. The water in the windshield reservoir was empty. She drove slowly back to the loft with her head out her window, nearly blind. Tomorrow, I'll clean it tomorrow.
FROM: Loni Wagner
TO: [email protected]
DATE: July 11
SUBJECT: Folks
Today had strange ups and downs. A friend rolled his car into a cholla patch and he looked like a pin cushion. He wasn't bad hurt, but he really looked funny. Then I had to go to a teenager's funeral. And I found out that another teenage girl was raped.
The rains have started, which means the six week grass on the desert will get green and the humidity will be unbearable and the water coolers will be useless. It's time to put a refrigeration unit in my window.
Give the girls big hugs for me. I really miss all of you, and belonging to a big noisy family. I don't have that here. I sent the kids puzzles. Clerk said they were good for improving math skills. Not a whole lot to choose from here so I hope they like them. The clerk said she thought there might be more coming in next Thursday's truck. What hurts me most right now is that Maria isn't there to watch her nieces grow. But then, I guess I'm not either.
Love to you et al.
Loni
She went to blessed bed to escape her painful memories. Finally, she slept fitfully in the warm, humid air from the water cooler.
CHAPTER 12
July 12, 1:00 a.m.
BAHB SAT AT THE kitchen table with Shiichoo and Willie while Loni passed around bowls of strawberry shortcake. She loved watching her granddad's eyes light up. Strawberry shortcake was his favorite, and she figured she needed all the help she could get with the next job she needed to finish. As the quiet settled around the clanging spoons on dishes, Loni knew it was time. "I need to talk to all of you about something," she blurted out. "My bosses like us to talk to our families in case something happens to us, you know?" Loni squirmed in front of the six dark eyes. "My end of life directive says if I'm brain dead or terminally ill, I don't want any heroic action taken. In other words, don't keep me alive," she insisted. "Understand?"
They all stared at her.
"Come on," Loni begged. "Tell me you agree."
The three gawked at each other and back at her. Finally Bahb spoke. "If you want, okay."
"Good." Loni nodded. "And now I want directives from the three of you."
"What?" Bahb said.
"She want to know how we want to die," Willie explained. He turned back to Loni. "I want same as you."
The other two nodded in agreement.
"Okay. How do you want to be buried? In the olden ways? Well, except for killing a horse. I refuse to do that."
Bahb grinned. "Old Buck not worth killing."
Not certain she agreed, Loni said, "Last question. What do you want buried with you? Shiichoo, tell me."
"I want to be buried in the graveyard out back." She stopped for a minute. "All I want are my weaving sticks. Otherwise do what you want."
"Bahb?"
"Wrap me in blanket from wall and bury under a rock next to Shiichoo."
"A large, flat tombstone do?" Bahb nodded in agreement.
"You won't get into trouble?" Shiichoo sounded worried.
"No. Law only says we have to be buried six feet or deeper to keep animals from smelling us and digging us up."
"That's a special image, child." Shiichoo frowned at her.
"Willie?"
"I want whole bit. Sitting with head pointed south. Bury at night. No stay, just cover and go. Use my ollos to leave pinole and water. Tomahawk placed in my arms." He grinned at Loni. "You cut your hair."
"No, no," Shiichoo objected. "She will not!"
"Part of ritual."
"We're done here." Loni stood, picking up the dishes from the table and washed them in the sink. Grateful she had gotten that much out of them, Loni put off the paperwork until later.
* * *
Driving home, Loni knew she had one more job to do before she quit for the day. She pushed Coco into the loft, closing the door on her brown, furry, heartbroken face. God, she was good at guilting, Loni thought as she walked into the searing heat of midday. The high humidity popped sweat all over her body as she ducked her burning eyes against the blazing sun, wondering where she had left her sunglasses this time. The asphalt was so soft, she felt like she was slugging through it before she reached Dorothea's house and knocked on the door.
A small girl opened it. "Mama, somebody's here!"
Dorothea's pissed-off expression blossomed into a smile when she recognized Loni. "You've got news? Or maybe you changed your mind about the two of us?" She opened the door wider and eyed Loni up and down. "Let's go to the kitchen. I baked."
"No thanks. I'm on my way home to get some sleep." Dorothea ignored Loni's response and headed into the kitchen. Loni reluctantly followed her.
"It's quieter in there. We can talk."
Loni stood beside a round, retro 50s Formica kitchen table with bright swirly colors and chrome trim.
Dorothea sat a plate of cookies in front of Loni. "In case you change your mind." Loni ignored it as she watched Dorothea pour a cup of coffee and sit down at the table. She spooned in four sugars and stirred it before she sipped the brown liquid and refocused on Loni.
"Do you have any idea where Larry is?"
Dorothea was disappointed. "You want to see Larry?"
"Yes," Loni said flatly and stared down at her.
"Carl was by yesterday, asking me the same thing. I really don't know." Dorothea took another sip. "Sometimes he went to this private hunting lodge that has a landing strip. Talked about the all night poker games and all the money he won."
"Do you remember where?"
"Montana. Somewhere close to Lincoln, I think." Dorothea said. "I remembered that because of the Unabomber. Larry said his cabin was pr
actically next door."
"Thanks. I'll tell Carl." Loni pulled out a chair and sat. "Did Carl tell you about the three drug deaths from poisoned meth?"
Dorothea ducked her face and drank her coffee. "He talked around it, but he didn't outright say."
"You realize, Dot, that the next kid to die could be one of yours. You really need to talk to me."
Dorothea's head jerked up, and she almost spit coffee on Loni. Her chin quivered as she wiped off her mouth. "Damnit!"
Loni waited, watching Dorothea's face shift expressions.
"I saw Billy Joe build a fire in the barbeque pit out back and burn some plastic stuff. Asked him about it and he said it was salt-something that coach gave him to help in the heat at practice but he didn't want to take it. And that's it." Dorothea was adamant. "That's all I know."
"Okay." Loni decided to move on. "I have another reason for this visit."
"About us?" Dorothea's lips turned up.
Loni shook her head, mortified. "No! I need some hair with a skin tag from Billy Joe."
"Why? What has that little shit done now?" She stood, staring at Loni. "I can give you his hairbrush."
"That would work."
When Dorothea brought back a brush, Loni pulled hairs from the brush and dropped them in an evidence bag. "Thanks." Loni handed the brush back to Dorothea before she sealed and labeled the bag.
"He's quite a preener." Dorothea ran her hand across the soft bristles. "Spends more time in front of the mirror than I do." She grinned at Loni. "Don't say it." She playfully poked at Loni with the brush.
"You look good, Dot. You always did. When I learn more, I'll be back." Loni went out the back way and shoveled ashes from the barbeque pit into a plastic bag. Sealing the bag, she let herself out a side gate and walked back to the hangar.
* * *
At the loft, Coco made her usual circles of joy before she rushed outside for a few minutes. Loni made a tuna sandwich before she picked up her grandfather Wagner's diary. She needed something else to think about. Somewhere in her grandfather's notebooks, she saw some references to growing up and going to school. Seeing her home town through her grandparents' eyes might help her feel better about it.
We spent the summers under brush sheds. Ma had a stove, table and benches, and beds all out there. Very little ice and for sure no coolers. The water pump was just in back of the brush shed. You had to keep a toe sack to wrap the handle as it would burn the hide off your hands. There was room also under the shed for a marble game. Marbles were made of clay and weren't too round. We tied sister out on the ruff string of the jackasses just outside the shed. One bucked her off, and she sailed out thru the air like a butterfly, landed on her bottom like a sack of... She rite then hung up her surcingle for all time.
We had a little old mean mare called BoBo. Sis could ride or drive the old buggy more. Her and I made a trip up to the main road and mailbox. Got 100 lb of ice off a freight wagon. Starting back she wanted to hurry home so she hit the old mare with a line. The old mare had been on green feed. She throwed up her tail, backfired green second hand hay all over us and the ice. The dashboard was worn out so no protection. Her with a mini skirt on, Ma had to come out and swab her off as she was too embarrassed to go in to meet company.
Our grandmother Sutton was a half breed Choctaw Indian and half Jewish.
Surprised, Loni stopped reading and stared at the words. My god! Choctaw? James was part Indian? Boy, he would shit!
She stayed with us most all the time and was most necessary as ma was sick so much, lots of kids and sometimes many men to cook for. I can remember holding on to her skirt and sitten' on her lap many hours. I remember she left one time for a spell and I had gotten a mile from home when Mrs. Wish stopped me at the church and asked me where I was going. I told her after my grandma. Was pullen' my wagon which was the only toy you could buy in those days. I was five.
I hurt my thumb bad when I was five. Dr. Rubel had moved into a tent house on the canal bank as he had come down with tuberculosis back east. A remark he made scared me and I broke and ran down the canal bank. Brother Lem overtook me. Before I got back, grandma took over. She dared anyone to hurt or whip me. So Doc just put on some salve and wrapped it and sent us home.
Ma's sister Aunt Betty moved near us. She didn't seem to be too fond of some of us kids and Ma and Pa would leave us there sometimes. We couldn't talk, have a drink of water, and at the table we had to wait for the blessing and Uncle Knoll was way too slow. Around 1918, Aunt Betty knew she had professional daughters. Her son George didn't count and they were barely eeken out some groceries and had a Model T Ford. Uncle Knoll drove it in the barn, took the back wall out with him holleren' whoa. They moved on into northern California where Aunt Betty believed it would be a higher culture for girls that weighed 250 lbs and more. Uncle Knoll soon worked himself into the grave to offer all this for them that turned out common like most of us.
Our closest neighbors were the Newberrys who lived to the north on the main road. Mrs. Newberry's family were all lost when the Walnut Grove dam broke. When she got back from Phoenix she found the family all gone. Old man Newberry had drove in there with his freight wagons going to Fort McDowell. She climbed upon the seat and said wherever you go I guess I'll go also. Sometime later they married, her 15 but big and strong. They homesteaded there, but had a sale and left in 1917.
The Parks and the Newberrys never had a shed or trees to milk their cows under and lived on skim milk and most the kids were doggied, brittle bones that grew crooked. The Parks girls milked the cows while the old man studied the Bible. Their feet grew cooked and had to wear their shoes on the wrong feet. They had to travel in a wide path.
Loni remembered the Parks. She went to school with two of them. Third generation, she decided. They milked cows, but by then they had a barn. She didn't think they had brittle bones either.
We had good horses and grew more and better crops than anyone. Around 1918, we had a combine that took 16 horses to pull. No motor as was ground driven. That's all we farmers had to fix the breaks in the canal.
When I started to school there were around 25 kids. It didn't take many families to be that many kids. The style hadn't come in yet that if you had any kids not to have more than one. They had a hell of a time holding my brother Larse and me in school. It seemed so much a waste of time. I begged them not to send Larse because all they taught was to color and sing and that was about all one frail teacher knew. She lived on sterilized moonbeams. The principal was always called Professor because that was the way he wanted it. That way he didn't have to know much tho why aint that all right? The Wedge kids were many but never helped the enrollment as they took turns going to school. When Sister Gladys would start home, they had to head us off before we got back in the brush and send us back to the head start. The Robins and Edwards boys got their head start when Verde stole a schoolhouse from Arlton and moved it just east of the Verde store.
We got to school and other doins the best way we could. Some of us had to start a little sooner to get there on time. A donkey was always hard to ketch. So you had to start early. Anyone could have a burro if you could ketch him out in the wilds as there were plenty. You better get a young one as the older, the harder to gentle. Later years I've been invited on wild jackass cookouts or cookins. I never went. Not that they weren't good enuff to eat, but we weren't good enuff to eat them.
For one thing, if it hadn't been for the ass the three wise men mite not have ever found Jesus. If you wanted to win a race with a jackass, point him in the direction of home. It's great to know the burro helped Wickenburg and many more find the great gold strikes. I don't know about the Lost Dutchman. (Had to stop and pet my dog, Booger).
Many 4th of July picnics and rodeos were held in the Baxter cottonwood grove. The times made by those ropers, rider, and doggers could go to the pay window today. The corrals were made of cottonwood poles bigger than your leg and higher than your head. There were no score line, just lap and
top.
Sometimes there would be a ballgame but if you lost the ball the game would be over as one ball is all they ever had. There was no golf but lots of cow pasture pool if you could find a dry one, fresh wouldn't do. You'd see who with a stick could knock a cow pile into a tub six foot off. If you had a flower garden and brot your own tub, you could take your winnins home. There were sack races if you had a sack, and marble games of you had the marbles. Many games for first prize you got a red soda pop.