River of Dust

by Virginia Pye

  "No, you did right, Ahcho," Grace said, hoping that her clarity might help him to regain his composure.

  It was very unlike the old gentleman to show emotion of any sort, much less to fall to pieces in her presence. She knew that he, more than she, would regret it later, and she wished to spare him the humiliation.

  Ahcho pulled one of the Reverend's handkerchiefs from his pocket and blew his nose with a harsh sound. "It tormented him and kept him searching when he should have been home with you and the mission."

  "Nonsense, he was a responsible father and had to keep up the search for as long as he was alive."

  Ahcho dipped his head lower, and Grace sensed something else in his silence, something unspoken.

  "Ahcho, have you more to tell me?"

  He did not lift his gaze, and his dirt-stained fingers fiddled with the amulets. Her voice remained calm, but her mind was humming from her jangled nerves, and she could feel her desperate pulse ringing louder in her ears. He knew something. He had known something all along.

  "Where did this skull really come from, Ahcho?" she asked.

  His head bent even lower. Grace looked at Mai Lin, but her face betrayed nothing as she sucked on her unpleasant betel quid.

  Grace pushed back against the pillows as her lungs ached. She took in short breaths and tried to ignore her frantic pulse. If she could only ignore her body's painful symptoms, she might be able to think properly.

  "Why would the robbers leave this skull behind?" she pressed. "And the question remains: where did it come from?"

  Ahcho finally lifted his head and stared at her with swollen eyes. "From the village of Yao dao ho not far from here," he said softly.

  Grace let out a ragged sigh. "You have known this all along? So may I assume that the Reverend knew this as well and searched that village for our son?"

  "Yes, many times."

  "But no clues arose from those visits?"

  "No."

  Grace tried to breathe evenly. After a long moment, she said, "Well, we must search there again. That is what the Reverend would have wished for us to do. I will do it in his name."

  She pulled back the covers and slipped her legs over the side of the bed for the second time that morning.

  "I will wear the Reverend's traveling coat," she said to Mai Lin as she stood and her shaky legs held her. She reached for the necklaces in Ahcho's arms and continued, "I never understood these strange talismans in his lifetime, but I believe I will wear them now. Perhaps they will protect me in some unexpected way."

  She lifted the leather ropes out of Ahcho's hands and placed them over her head. He did not help her, for clearly he did not approve. Grace no longer cared. She tried to focus on the camel bell's sweet sound as it landed against her frail chest. Even though the amulets around her neck were quite heavy, Grace thought she felt herself growing lighter, freer, just by wearing them.

  "You will take me there today," she said.

  "Oh, no, Mistress." Ahcho spoke up and took a proprietary step closer. "That is not wise."

  He was old enough to be her grandfather, and Grace suddenly sensed that he was of another time than she. Of course he would say no. That was what old people always said. But she was a young American woman, and modern times required that she take command of her situation. She began to cough again, but that reaffirming thought imbued her with confidence. "I will be perfectly all right," she said. "We will go this morning."

  She turned to Mai Lin for confirmation, but the old woman was shaking her head, too, and making those awful tsking sounds again.

  "Mai Lin, I ask you: am I not a grown woman, completely capable of making my own decisions?"

  Mai Lin offered a baffled shrug but had to agree. "Yes, Mistress is a grown woman."

  "And I have a right to live my life as I see fit?"

  Mai Lin's head bobbed from side to side as she considered this and finally pronounced, "Mistress must do what she must do."

  Grace thought she saw a trace of a smile on Mai Lin's face, and it warmed her to think that she and her amah still had an understanding.

  "Fate takes you where it will, and you must let it," Mai Lin continued. "This is the way of the river, even when it is dry and dusty. We must bend and flow, or we will be swept aside by dangerous desert winds."

  "All wrong, foolish woman!" Ahcho suddenly shouted, unable to contain his high-and-mighty opinions any longer. "We are Christian soldiers now. We fight against silly old ways. We are not overcome like a camel in a dust storm that lowers its head into the sand and waits to be suffocated. We must exert our will and not allow Fate to carry us willy-nilly. This is what the Reverend taught us!"

  "Quite right," Grace said, mostly to calm him. It was touching how precisely Ahcho quoted her husband. "Though," she could not help adding although her mind remained dizzy and somewhat confused, "in a way, isn't that what I am suggesting for myself? I am taking my life into my own hands."

  "But you are a girl!" Ahcho said.

  "Right again," she agreed with no intention of belaboring the argument. He was an old fellow, and she needed to preserve her strength for the journey ahead. "Now, let's carry on."

  Her words only inflamed the suffering man more. Ahcho turned to Mai Lin and began to speak in a rapid dialect that Grace had never heard issuing forth from his lips before. Mai Lin returned his fire with equal fury. Grace was shocked at the sounds. She had grown accustomed to the ever-changing dialects in this land, the inconvenient way language shifted from village to village. But apparently, the servants had had their own tongue all along, which they had somehow kept hidden from her. They argued rapidly back and forth now in words she could only vaguely understand. All these years when they had been speaking Mandarin to her and the Reverend, they had been perpetuating a ruse, as they also used another, more local dialect as well. What else had they been hiding about their true selves? Grace wondered. She was astounded and could not help chuckling, although the two continued to disagree quite vehemently.

  "What is he saying?" she asked Mai Lin when the argument had slowed.

  "He says he forbids you to go. He is the big honcho around here now. Mr. Big Man."

  Mai Lin spat a long shot of tobacco juice into the spittoon. Grace had expressly asked her not to do that, but at this moment, it seemed precisely the right thing to do.

  "Explain to him that I will go with or without him. This journey must be carried out no matter what."

  Mai Lin rattled on, and Ahcho raised his voice and then his hands in another show of emotion Grace had never seen from him before. The ancient man was irate as well as heartbroken.

  "Tell him that I know the Reverend would approve of this mission," Grace said.

  Ahcho ran his fingers over his slicked-back hair and pressed his palm against his receding brow. Mai Lin let out a triumphant laugh.

  "He has agreed?" Grace asked.

  "He is an old fool," Mai Lin said and waved her hand in Ahcho's direction as she turned away.

  "That's not nice, Mai Lin," Grace said.

  Then she spoke to Ahcho directly in the formal tongue they had used for years. "I am terribly sorry to have upset you, Ahcho, but you see, I have nothing else to live for. I must go forward. There has to be something I can do, otherwise I am lost, utterly lost. Do you understand?"

  She reached a hand across and squeezed his bony arm under his tattered, dust-covered black robe. The poor fellow was trying so hard to maintain a semblance of what had been. But Grace could see plainly that it was no more. None of it was anymore.

  Ahcho appeared to have returned to his senses. His crisp posture made him tall again.

  "Yes, I understand," he replied and closed his hands together. "But Madam will find nothing in Yao dao ho. It is an empty village, all the people gone, and it is dangerous to travel anywhere now, even to the market in Fenchow-fu. Why risk a destination that has no purpose? Instead of pursuing this mad investigation, you must pray, Mistress Grace, and grow strong again. You are not well, a
nd you must ask the Lord to help you. Jesus heals the sick who are patient and good. Not those who gallivant about like wild women."

  He shot a harsh glance at Mai Lin, who let out a hiss of disapproval. Grace herself was taken aback by the sternness of his little speech. She had never heard Ahcho say so many words at once, and certainly none that carried such stern judgment.

  "You have always worried far too much, Ahcho," Grace said. "I appreciate your concern, but, as I have explained, if you are unwilling to join me, then I shall go alone with Mai Lin."

  Grace turned to her amah, and although she sensed the older woman's uneasiness to allow her patient to embark on this expedition, she also knew that Mai Lin was stubborn and would not allow Ahcho to win an argument.

  "I will go with you," Mai Lin said with her customary nod.

  "Thank you, Mai Lin," Grace said.

  Ahcho turned and marched from the room.

  Twenty-eight

  M ai Lin lugged a bundle after her over the cracked ground of the marketplace and up the road to the shop that in better times had been the heart of Fenchow-fu. She yanked it across the threshold and was aware of the old ones crouched on barrels and the young ones who lounged against the counter and lay splayed on the floor. She could not be bothered with such lazy bums and wanted only to do her business and get back to the compound. The mistress was waiting for her and most urgently wanted to leave for the unfortunate village of Yao dao ho. It was a foolish plan, but Mai Lin took it as her duty to help the young woman fulfill her destiny. The river was flowing fast now, no longer with water but with dust. Who were they to try to stop it?

  With some effort, she lifted the heavy bundle onto the countertop and untied a lace corner of the white linen tablecloth. American forks, spoons, and knives tumbled out. Ridiculous utensils, she thought, far too complicated and fussy. But the sterling silver was of the highest quality and had to be worth something, even in these bare times.

  A young fellow with a big swagger and a white scar under one eye stepped forward. He lifted a spoon and then let it drop again onto the pile with a clatter. The cocky man did not bother even to look closely or confer with one of the grandfathers who stood nearby. He simply turned away.

  "I know, senseless things," Mai Lin tried, "but you can melt them down. Real silver!" She lifted a spoon with a florid W engraved upon the handle and bit it with hard gums.

  One of the grandfathers shuffled closer and inspected a spoon. "Very fine," he said, and Mai Lin thought that at least the old man had not lost his sense.

  The younger man glanced again at the gleaming treasure— all of the Watsons' place settings sent to them after their wedding, mailed in a wooden crate all the way from the town of Cleveland in a province called Ohio. Mistress Grace had cried the first time she had shown Mai Lin how to polish it. Such a sentimental and homesick girl, her mistress had been back then.

  "What do you want for this junk, old woman?" the young swaggerer finally asked.

  Mai Lin bristled at his rudeness and sucked harder on her betel quid to keep from mouthing back. "A camel."

  The fellow let out a deep laugh that echoed against the empty shelves. His friends in the back of the store paused over the gambling table, but when they saw that their leader was only dealing with an old woman, they returned to their mah-jongg.

  Mai Lin placed her eye upon the young man, and although it took a few moments, he stopped his foolish laugh and grew quiet. He placed a finger to the white scar under one eye. It glistened, and Mai Lin knew that it now burned. She stared harder, and Swagger blinked several times.

  "I have a camel," he said. "But it's not for sale."

  "I will borrow it, then," Mai Lin said.

  He started to chuckle again, then caught himself. As he considered her proposal, she reached into one of the deep pockets of her skirts and pulled out the child-sized skull. She placed it on the counter and turned it to face him.

  "What is that thing, you witch?" he asked as he shifted so the hollow eyes would not find him. "Get it away from me."

  The grandfathers moved closer. They nodded and muttered to one another, but none reached out to touch it.

  "Fine," she said. "I will put it away."

  And she did. The grandfathers watched her carefully now, and Mai Lin wondered why none of them spoke up and told the young man who she was. They knew, the elders knew, but they were cowards, every one of them.

  She had seen the pistol tucked into the young man's belt. That thing wasn't worth her concern. Her time had not come yet, she knew this. But these grandfathers had lost all of the old understanding. They were too intimidated by the new generation to teach them as they needed to be taught. No wonder the young thought they could rule, when really all they could do was swagger.

  "I will borrow your camel for one day in exchange for all this silver," she announced.

  The young man, finally coming to his senses, looked at the elders. Although still mongrels and rogues, they nodded their approval.

  "Good," Mai Lin said.

  Then she turned and started toward the door, avoiding the indolent women sleeping on the floor. She had barely noticed them on her way in and now could see that they were not worth seeing. Pathetic creatures who sold themselves for men's pleasure, they deserved to be spat upon, but Mai Lin refrained. Several lay sprawled on a thick carpet of fur. Mai Lin paused and knelt down to touch the flea-bitten hide. Her ancient eyes did not deceive her this time.

  "Get away from us, you old hag," cried a girl who showed too much flesh.

  Another said, "Don't let her touch you with those disgusting hands!"

  Mai Lin chewed on her lips to keep from spewing forth at the nasty girls. She sensed young Swagger standing over her now, his hand on the pistol. Mai Lin pushed herself to stand, and of course the rude fellow did not help her up.

  "I want this wolf hide, too," she said.

  "You want this, you want that," Swagger said, pointing the gun at her. "You better leave before you get something you don't want."

  The girls tittered at this, but Mai Lin studied the young man with calm eyes. She could see that his time was soon to come, maybe not this day, but soon. She shuffled over to one of the other empty counters and yanked a satchel off her shoulder. She reached inside with both hands and poured out onto the dusty wood many bars of lye soap. On top of the heap, Mai Lin tossed wads of toweling material torn into small squares. Washcloths, the Americans called them.

  "What useless things are those, old one?" young Swagger asked. He laughed, and the girls laughed, too.

  "You smell worse than cattle," Mai Lin said.

  Swagger stepped toward her and puffed out his chest. "You are one to talk, foul woman."

  "That's right, I am an foul, old woman. Not a handsome young buck like you, who should not be covered by filth and lice."

  He glanced down at his pistol and spun the cylinder, but Mai Lin could tell he was listening.

  "And these lovely ladies," Mai Lin could not help spitting that incorrect word in their direction, "they should not be disgusting like me. They are not rancid old women. Not yet, anyway."

  "All right, all right," he said. "I will keep the bars of soap. Now, get out of here before I decide you have lived too long."

  Mai Lin glanced at the grandfathers and grandmothers who slouched on the barrels and benches around the edge of the room. None of them even looked up, that was how far things had gone in this land. Mai Lin turned back to Swagger.

  "I will take the dead animal hide for the soap and rags. That is a fair trade."

  He raised the pistol and pointed it directly at her forehead. Mai Lin did not flinch or turn away or say a word. His hand trembled ever so slightly, not enough for the others to notice. After a long moment, she reached out and gently pushed the gun aside.

  The young man waved it toward the girls reclining on the rug and shouted at them, "Get up, lazy bitches. Bath time outside, now. Move!"

  Their robes fluttered after them as they scur
ried out the door.

  With his pistol, he pointed at the hide. "You can see by the bullet holes that it didn't do what it was supposed to do. My idiot brother thought this mangy thing would protect him. He was a romantic fool and got what he deserved. Go ahead, take it, old witch."

  "And you will get what you deserve, too," she could not help saying.

  Then she sucked on her quid and made herself stop speaking. Instead, she hobbled to the hide, grabbed a tattered corner, and dragged it over the dusty floorboards.

  Outside, she gave the last bar of soap to a boy who helped her up onto the camel. His thin arms strained as he heaved the wolf hide over the emaciated animal's back. As she set off for the compound, she glanced back and saw that the boy was biting into the lye. There was no end to human ignorance, she thought. It was rampant all around and surely meant to drive her mad.