Curva and the Stranger
Curva collected hydras and planarians from nearby sloughs and slipped them into an aquarium where she could study them. She removed one of the planarians she’d named Cupcake from the water, placed it on a work table in the greenhouse, and cut it into pieces, murmuring lo siento, lo siento, Cupcake. After, she gently placed the dissected flatworm back in the tank, and every day she watched its progress in producing several little cupcakes, all fully formed, the process taking just a few weeks.
These creatures’ ability to recreate themselves fed Curva’s imagination. They seemed ageless in that they could continue to replicate. She realized humans did something similar when they had children and passed on their characteristics from one generation to another. She assumed she had done something similar with Sabina. But the hydras and planarians seemed able to not only reproduce but also to continue living indefinitely. Curva wondered how these creatures appeared almost ageless while humans—definitely more complicated—were not.
Curva mused on her experiments while wringing the necks of two chickens she planned to cook for dinner. She was standing in the yard, plucking their feathers and ripping out their guts, when she noticed the progress of a small plane as it dropped out of the sky, bumped across the field, and skidded to a halt in a cloud of dust next to her house. The sun reflected off its metallic surface, making it gleam and creating a halo around the plane. It looked like something from outer space.
Her first thought was, Oh my god, Xavier’s learned how to fly and wants me to join him.
She wiped her blood-spattered hands on the flour sack she used as an apron and headed toward the pasture, expecting either her brother or some god to climb out of the machine. When the pilot did appear, he wasn’t a god, nor was he Xavier, but he was different from los hombres she saw every day in their soiled flannel camisas and baggy pantalones.
Wearing neatly pressed khaki slacks and a jacket, he climbed out of the cockpit, an immaculate white Stetson planted squarely on his head. He wore a red kerchief around his neck, his skin tanned and weather-beaten—Hollywood’s idea of a cowboy.
The two of them reached the fence separating her house from the field at about the same time. He tipped his hat, reached out his other hand, and said, My name’s Shirley.
Shirley?
He laughed. Yeah, Shirley. Grandpa’s name. Those Englishmen had weird ideas.
Curva nodded: Si.
He waved his hand at the house. Nice spread.
She felt herself blushing, something she hadn’t done since she was an adolescente. He smelled of aftershave and wealth, speaking with the confidence of someone used to being in charge and having his way. A funcionario. It wasn’t her world, and she felt unsure of herself. At a loss for words.
Cat got your tongue? he asked and smirked, looking her up and down, his white teeth dazzling against his skin. His eyes lingered on Curva’s breasts, making her blush even more from both anger and embarrassment. The heat from her face seeped into her whole body until she felt she was on fire. He reminded her of one of the lobos that occasionally turned up in her yard. She wished she were carrying a gun or that Dios were there, but the dog had gone to school with Sabina.
Curva backed away from the fence, relieved that barbed wire separated them.
He laughed again. Don’t worry, I won’t bite. I’m from Montana. Sweetgrass. Have a big ranch there and I’m interested in buying more land. He extended his arms: I need to spread out. I’ve been meeting with your neighbors. Know of anything around here that’s for sale?
She should have known he was an americano. She’d run into many during her travels. Most of them she liked, but some hit her the wrong way. Shirley was one of those. Normally unflappable and self-assured, Curva found herself momentarily stumbling over inglés words. This smooth-talking stranger’s male authority made her feel flustered. She fiddled with her apron hem, which had come loose, and bleated, Land?
Yeah. That stuff you’re standing on. I want some. I also want the oil that comes with it. He motioned to the plane and said, Mind me parking here while I mosey around a bit?
Her confidence returning, Curva shrugged her shoulders, blurting out, Parking it is no problema. But your beeg flying machine might not be here when you get back.
My “beeg” flying machine? You gonna sell it? He took a package of Marlboros from his pocket and lit one. The cigarette dangled from one corner of his mouth, and smoke curled around his head.
Now back in control, Curva said, Maybe I’ll take it for a spin.
Sucking deeply on the cigarette, he asked, Have a pilot’s license?
Pointing at the sky, she said, No one will ask for my license up there.
Shirley laughed. Want a ride? I’ll let you steer.
Curva regretted her boldness. She didn’t want to go up in the air with him, even though she wished she could fly like her pájaros. Planes passed overhead now and then, and she always wondered what it would be like to soar among the clouds and leave the earth behind.
But concerns about this outsider buying up a lot of land and developing it held her back. Curva had seen big cities and understood the dangers of progress. She also often lamented the fate of Berumba. When she first visited the town, she had found it enchanting—suffused with joy and delight. The residents took pleasure in the simple tasks of growing, preparing, and consuming food. Even though men and women worked hard, they infused their chores with play, singing and dancing in the fields, creating fiestas wherever they went, finding time to pleasure each other between the rows of corn. Every moment became an eternity, and they refused to live by clock time. People hardly thought of it passing. Nor did they seem to age.
But Berumba and its inhabitants had lost their innocence because strangers like Shirley had appeared, sparking contact with the outside world and upending the bucolic community. Curva still mourned its passing. Buying up land would only be the beginning. The next thing would be expansion and trains. People would come from all over to settle in Weed, starting new businesses, causing friction with existing establishments and complicating everyone’s lives. Her little Eden would no longer exist. Let the americano bring progress somewhere else.
She said, I thought you were looking for land.
Plenty of time for that. First things first. If the little lady wants a ride, I’m all for seeing she gets one. Does the little lady have a name?
Angry at being called a little lady—she was as tall as he and around the same age—she felt her face flame again and refused to speak. “Little lady” were the words the americano had used when she was bidding for the farm. Shirley was the same hombre that had tried to buy the property she now owned.
Sounds like the cat has got her tongue, he said, staring at her intently. He motioned at the plane: You ready for some fun?
Curva turned away, concerned about the desire this brash visitor stirred in her. I have other things to do, she said.
Ah, come on. You’ve got a few minutes to spare. Let me take you for an outing. You won’t regret it. Is there a gate so you don’t get your pretty self caught on this barbed wire?
Her pretty self? As much as Curva distrusted this man and his motives, her head was in a whirl at being treated like a señorita. It scared her because she liked his attention, but she also was determined to resist him. Yet the thought of following the butterflies’ migratory path and experiencing flight herself weakened her resolve.
She pointed to the other end of the field.
He said, Meet you there.
After untying the apron and dropping it to the ground, she found herself at the gate, passing through it to the other side. Hand on her elbow, Shirley guided Curva to the plane’s interior. Most men were intimidated by her height and treated her as if she were one of them, so this gesture was a new experience. Curva almost pulled away, but she liked the warmth from his mano on her skin. An
d it wasn’t unpleasant to feel protected, even if he was an untrustworthy americano lusting after the land.
As they took off, the plane rocked back and forth several times, the motion making Curva’s stomach lurch. The turbulence gave her a good jostling, throwing her onto Shirley’s lap, her flailing arm knocking off his Stetson. He groped Curva’s leg and grabbed a breast. Curva slapped at his hand and fell back into her seat, enjoying the game in spite of herself. He laughed, though it sounded more like a growl, and pointed outside.
Curva wasn’t prepared for the view. The clouds swirled around them at times, then broke to reveal the landscape far below. She could look down on people and animals moving in the fields, the land a pastel patchwork of pastures that blended into the foothills. She gasped as they approached the snow-capped tips of the Rockies, on the same level as the plane. She didn’t need to think about gutting chickens or watching the niños or working in the greenhouse. She could have stayed there forever, time suspended. Did eternal life feel like this?
Shirley interrupted her reverie. Where’s this greenhouse I’ve heard so much about?
Greenhouse?
Hell, everyone I’ve run into is talking about someone named Curva and her greenhouse. They say it’s constantly changing shape.
Curva let loose with one of her belly laughs. It shook the plane even harder than the wind gusts, this time jolting Shirley from his seat and into Curva’s arms. He looked startled, his composure shaken. With no one at the wheel, the plane flipped. The two of them fumbled at each other, trying to right the lurching craft, the ground suddenly looming. Shirley cursed, grabbing the wheel, and wrestled with the aircraft until it leveled again.
A little close for comfort, he said, his voice shaking, strands from his carefully Brylcreemed hair flopping onto his forehead. You okay? he asked.
Curva didn’t hear his question. The ride reminded her of when the tornado had picked up her outhouse and hurled it through the air. She hadn’t felt fear then. It had happened too fast for her to feel anything except excitement in the pit of her stomach, not unlike sexual arousal. Nor was she frightened when the avion went topsy-turvy. Something in her thrilled at being out of control, neither here nor there, at the mercy of fate and natural forces.
It’s why the Old North Trail had appealed to her so much. While traveling on it, she had to react moment by moment to whatever crossed her path, and there was always something unexpected or threatening happening. Like the rattlesnake she surprised one day, sunning on the trail. Without thinking, she’d grabbed its tail and flung it into the bushes. Later, she chastised herself for being so reckless: Curva, Curva. What you did was loca. That serpiente could have killed you with its poison.
Shirley’s voice interrupted her thoughts: You’re a cool one, all right. I think you like being tossed around like a salad.
Curva glanced at him, realizing she’d run into another rattler and needed to be careful how she handled him. Nothing would be sacred to the americano. He would take, take, take and leave nothing in return.
She looked out the window again. They were now passing over her greenhouse. Excited, she pointed at the roof glinting in the sun. There it is, she said, the famous cristal house.
It attracted light like a jewel. The sun struck the slick surface from many angles, making it appear to be floating, its facade reflecting the surrounding sky, clouds, and mountains.
So that’s it, Shirley said, circling the building. He flew over several times. You think she’s inside it?
Curva pressed her face against the window, thinking she caught a glimpse of herself on the tierra below or maybe inside the structure itself. She shrugged her shoulders and said, You never know with Curva. She could be anywhere.
Shirley guided the plane for one last pass, appearing reluctant to leave. I didn’t realize it was so close to your place, he said.
Curva just smiled and changed the subject. Let’s fly over the town, she said. I want to see the Blackfoot burial ground.
Burial ground? In town? He laughed. Is the land for sale? Maybe I’ll buy it.
You crazy? The Indians have the government on their side. The burial ground belongs to them now. It’s shaken up the whole town.
She pointed to the earth that was dug up and piled in mounds. There, she said. See it?
He nodded, turning the wheel so they could loop over it again.
Seeing the heaps of dirt from this height helped Curva to understand Billie’s pasión for those bones and his desire to preserve them. It was clearer from the air that they belonged there as much as Weed’s newer structures or residents did. A door to the past, the bones not only gave Billie’s ancestors the importance they deserved, but they also promised a future that embraced the Blackfoot as well as an earlier age. And all were part of the collective memory, indigenous or not.
Shirley nudged her. Hey, old girl, getting airsick?
She nodded and let out a hearty laugh, the reverberations making the plane rock and roll again. Shirley clung to the wheel until the turbulence lessened and let out a deep breath. You know, you’ve got powerful lungs, woman.
They passed over the town one more time, and the school doors opened. Curva watched all of the niños pile out. She saw Sabina and Victor running down the road, heading for her place. Curva usually provided them with target practice after school.
Land this thing, Curva said. I’ve got things to do.
At your service, he said, banking the plane and making a wide circle. The unexpected tilt caused Curva to cling to her seat, and she whooped.
Shirley said, You’ll wake the dead.
You mean I’m in heaven now?
As close to it as you’re likely to get, he said.
I’ll be in heaven before you ever get there.
Shirley leaned over and kissed her full on the mouth, forcing his tongue between her teeth. She’d had better kisses. This one was too wet. But she felt a little thrill anyway to be in the sky with this powerful stranger and didn’t pull away. Nor did she slap him.
When they landed, she didn’t wait for him to help her out of the plane but jumped to the ground herself, Shirley following. She said, People around here don’t care much for strangers trying to buy up their land.
Curva turned away and strode off, disappearing minutes later inside the greenhouse.
He took off his Stetson and scratched his head, muttering, You don’t say.
Curva in Motion
The ride in Shirley’s plane not only gave Curva a new perspective, but it also put her in motion in other ways. She needed to reach her neighbors before Shirley did. Curva wasn’t going to let this gringo carry out his plan without a fight. One way to deal with snakes was to get down in the grass with them, to monitor their movements. She intended to keep a close eye on the americano.
The next day, a Saturday, Curva, headed into town wearing dark gauchos, a white shirt with billowing sleeves, and a royal blue poncho. Speeding over the gravel roads in her battered pickup, stones pinging against the rusted exterior, Dios in the passenger seat, she pretended she was piloting a plane. Clouds of dust followed her.
Curva hoped to catch many of her neighbors doing their weekly shopping or hanging out at the Odd Fellows Hall. Later, she planned to bring Billie and his workers a lunch of enchiladas she had made. Recalling how fresh everything had looked from the plane, she sang
De colores, de colores se visten los campos en la primavera
De colores, de colores son los pajaritos que vienen de afuera
De colores, de colores es el arco iris que vemos lucir
Y por eso los grandes amores de muchos colores me gustan a mí
Y por eso los grandes amores de muchos colores me gustan a mí3
It wasn’t just the feeling of renewal in the air and the respite from the long winter. She literally felt lighter, and, of course, she was. She didn’
t need to wear as many layers of clothing. She had more bounce to her step, and the days were getting lighter, too, the sky not darkening until well after 9 p.m. All of her plants, inside and outside the greenhouse, perked up as well, receiving more hours of sunshine each day, responding to her ministrations of fertilizer and water and song. It was time to leave hibernation.
Not that Curva hibernated exactly; she was too active for that. But she did live differently during the winter. She confined herself primarily to her farm, minding the greenhouse and animals, her trips to town limited to shopping, the occasional Saturday night dance, and practicing her midwifery and healing arts. Now it felt good to be flying over the country roads, free of winter’s weight and restrictions. She didn’t have to constantly dig out her truck and create pathways to her front steps, greenhouse, outhouse, or barn. Nor did she need to slow for ice patches.
At Smart’s General Store, Curva skidded to a stop. Her truck shuddered and rattled, all of its parts settling. Curva switched off the ignition and slid out the door, patting the exterior as if it were a horse. She waved at Inez Wilson, who carried a shopping bag and was wearing a rumpled floral housedress. Curva flashed her gold tooth, and the two women stopped to chat, commenting on the weather and the previous Saturday night dance, laughing at some remembrance. She leaned over and whispered in Inez’s ear, swinging her own hips and gesturing to them. The two laughed uproariously.
From inside the store, Nathan Smart hollered, The bloody clocks have stopped again. Curva’s nearby. It wasn’t just Smart’s Store that felt the effect. In houses up and down the block, not only did clocks stop, but also watches slid off people’s wrists, some breaking on brittle floors. Their interiors scattered under furniture along with dust balls, waiting to be collected and reassembled. Time temporarily stood still.
And that was fine with Curva. If everyone could get lost in the present, then Shirley didn’t have a chance, and she could stop worrying about him buying up land. But if all the Weedites could think of were future profits, of the dinero earned by sale and development, then the blight that had destroyed Berumba would hit Weed. However, she knew how fickle time could be and how transitory her powers were. Neither Curva nor anyone could control it. So she spoke to everybody inside and outside Smart’s General Store, as well as at the Odd Fellows Hall, warning her neighbors with passionate conviction that while Shirley’s offer might sound good, they would end up losing not just their land but also their souls.
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