Mojave Desert Sanctuary

by Gary J George

“It’s not a matter of changing my mind. The people at the home were of a moralistic bent. In spite of the fact they had no qualms about making lots of money for their adoption services, they strongly encouraged us wayward girls to have a procedure so we could never get ‘in trouble’ again.

  Believe me, I didn’t need much encouragement. I let them sterilize me. I will not be giving birth to any children.”

  We were both sweating, so we started doing ins and outs again. But there was no joy in it, although I think it was a relief for Kiko that I couldn’t tell whether her face was wet from the river or from her tears. Our day had turned somber. In spite of the blazing, desert sun, the sky seemed dark somehow.

  We swam and sat and swam and sat without speaking until I asked a question that in retrospect I never should have asked.

  “Did you ever try to talk to your mom and dad after that day you left?”

  “I tried to call them a few times. Neither one of them would speak with me. I sent them a graduation announcement, but they didn’t come.”

  “Have you tried since then?”

  “What’s the use? Kiko no longer exists for the people who live in the little house on the edge of an onion field in Salinas.”

  “Kiko, your dad sounds like a hard man. An unforgiving man. But what about your mom?”

  “She will never disobey my father.”

  “Maybe not, but I’ll bet she thinks about you all the time.

  Do you think she loved you when you were growing up?”

  “We were very close when I was growing up. That’s why it hurts so much.”

  “So, she really doesn’t know what became of you?”

  “No.”

  “It’s probably not for me to butt in, and you can tell me to mind my own business, but don’t you think you should write to her? Even if it’s just a little note to let her know you’re okay.”

  “Father would never let her read it.”

  “Is he home when the mail comes?”

  “Sometimes, but not often. He’s usually at work.”

  “Well, there you go. Write her. She can either show him the letter or get rid of it, but at least you’ll put her mind at rest. It must be torture for her not knowing where you are.”

  “Let me think about that, Ade.”

  Kiko seemed to brighten after that. We swam and talked until the sun began to tilt to the west, and the heat abated a little. We packed up and drove across the dam and on west until we left Nevada. We continued down the dirt road and then turned south onto 95.

  I think the heat had taken a toll on Kiko. She fell asleep shortly after we got onto the highway, her head resting against the window, her Dodger cap low over her eyes.

  When we reached Arrowhead Junction, I pulled off the road and drove under the overhang at Mr. Stanton’s station. Kiko woke up. It seemed to take a moment for her to get her bearings.

  “Why are we stopping?”

  “I want to check on Mr. Stanton. I haven’t seen him in a while.

  Want to come in?”

  “No, you go ahead.

  By the time I got out, Mr. Stanton was coming down the steps.

  “Hiddy, Ade. Haven’t seen you in a coon’s age.”

  “Hello, Mr. Stanton. Your lights are usually out when I go by. I don’t want to bother you.”

  Mr. Stanton laughed.

  “Never a bother, Ade. I’m usually up late listenin’ to my radio. Just no need to keep the light on and waste all that ‘lectricity.

  You knock anytime, hear?”

  “Okay.

  So, how have you been?”

  “Fit as a fiddle! Feelin’ like my old self. How ‘bout you?”

  “Real good, Mr. Stanton. Real good.

  Well, just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’d best be getting on. I’ll stop next time I’m by if it’s not too late.”

  “You do that. Gets a mite lonely out here at times.”

  We shook hands, and I turned and walked back to the car. Mr. Stanton followed me. He stopped at Kiko’s door.

  “Hello, young lady. Didn’t know young Master Snow had a friend with him.”

  I could tell Kiko didn’t want to talk, but she made an effort to be polite.

  “Hello, Mr. Stanton. Aeden has told me about you.”

  “Did he tell you he saved my bacon?”

  “He said he stopped to help you one day. He didn’t make a big deal of it.”

  “Well, he’s a good’un, Ade is. If he hadn’t stopped that day, I’d be pushin’ up daisies.”

  I was standing on the other side of the car with my door open.

  “Mr. Stanton, this is Kiko Yoshida.”

  He doffed his cap.

  “Charmed, I’m sure. Any friend of Aeden’s is a friend of mine. Y’all stop by anytime.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Stanton. I’m glad to meet you.”

  I got in the car, leaned across Kiko and said goodbye. As we pulled out of the parking lot, I could see him in my rearview mirror. He still had his cap off as he stood watching us go.

  When we crested the hill above Goffs, a crimson sunset was bleeding into the dark indigo of the early evening sky above the Providence Mountains. The dark shadow of the cinder cone southwest of the town bulked on the horizon. As we turned northwest and started down the hill toward the tiny town, a rocket arced into the darkening sky, followed quickly by two more. I pulled well off the road and shut down the engine. We sat for a while and watched as more small rockets went up, followed by Roman candles and fountains. Occasionally, we could see flashes from firecrackers, but we were too far away to hear the explosions.

  As we sat watching the Fourth of July fireworks show in the Lanfair Valley, the last of the color leached out of the sky. Night settled around and over us. Kiko spoke out of the darkness.

  “I’ve thought about what you said about my mother. I’m going to write her a brief letter as soon as we get to the ranch. Will you mail it for me?”

  I smiled. “It was my idea! I’ll be happy to mail it.”

  We sat in silence a little longer as the number of fireworks slowly dwindled.

  “I have a question, Kiko.”

  “Yes?”

  “Does it seem to you that John keeps trying to throw us together?”

  “In a way.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  “I think he just wants me to have a friend a little closer to my own age.”

  I took a deep breath and forged ahead.

  “Please don’t take this wrong, but is there anything going on between you two? That is, well … what I mean is...”

  Kiko laughed.

  “I know exactly what you mean, Aeden. And no, there is no John Stonebridge-Kiko Yoshida romance.”

  “You can see why I would ask, can’t you? I mean, he’s building a special room at the ranch just for you.”

  “I know. I didn’t ask him to do that. I even tried to discourage him because I don’t know how long I’ll be here. But now I’m glad he did it. I got to meet you and Joe, so now I have three good friends instead of just one.

  But John is building me the room because he’s a very lonely man. He’s out on his mountain by himself, except for the hands. I think he just wants someone to talk to about books and music and other things in the evening. According to John, those things don’t interest Phil or Chaco.

  And Aeden, I love it out there. I’ve never felt so at peace in my life. I wish I could stay forever!”

  “Why can’t you?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just can’t.”

  “Then tell me why you think John’s so lonely? I mean, he’s well-known, well-respected, seems to have lots of money. Why hasn’t he ever found a wife?”

  “You really don’t know, do you?”

  “Know what?”

  “Let me put this delicately. John is not attracted to women in that way. Not to me, not to any woman.”

  I didn’t respond.
/>
  “For goodness sake, John’s a homosexual, Aeden. He’s a wonderful man. He’s just a little differently wired, that’s all.”

  I was shocked. I knew there were homosexuals. I just didn’t think there were any out our way. It would be years before I found out there were indeed homosexuals in Smoke Tree. Some of them had been schoolmates of mine, and I had never had any idea. I can’t imagine how lonely they were while we were growing up.

  “How do you know he’s, uh, you know, that way? Did he tell you?”

  “He didn’t have to. I’ve been in San Francisco and the Castro District many times. Believe me, I don’t have to ask. Nor would I ever ask such a thing. I just know. And John knows I know. I can tell. And I think someday he may want to talk about it.”

  So John’s not the only one waiting for someone to let go of secrets, I thought.

  “Do you think anyone else knows?”

  “Out here? In John Wayne land? Goodness no. And don’t ever tell anyone what I suspect. It would destroy John’s reputation.”

  “I can keep a secret, Kiko, and I will.”

  I thought for a minute, turning this information over in my mind. I decided it didn’t make any difference whether Kiko was right or not.

  That’s when I realized the rockets, Roman candles and fountains had stopped.

  I started the car, pulled back on the road and headed down the hill. As we drove, we could still see flashes from firecrackers.

  As we got closer to town, I pushed down hard on the accelerator.

  “Why are we speeding up?”

  “You’ll see when we go by the store.”

  As soon as we were past the store, I got on the brakes before we hit the railroad crossing.

  “I don’t get it. What was I supposed to see?”

  “Did you see a bunch of guys tossing firecrackers?”

  “Yes.”

  “Those were cowboys from the ranches out this way. They usually come to Goffs on the Fourth of July.”

  “So?”

  “Were they standing next to something big? Something white?”

  She thought a minute.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s the propane tank for the store.

  The cowboys come down here and drink all afternoon. When it gets dark, they go out and light fireworks. Of course, they’re pretty drunk by then, and it’s not long before they start daring each other to light fireworks next to the propane tank.”

  “Oh, Lord.

  What does the person who owns the store say?”

  He says, ‘Have another six pack, boys’.”

  When the pavement ended and we hit the graded dirt road, I slowed down. It wasn’t long before Kiko fell asleep again, her Dodger’s cap turned sideways as she leaned against the window. I don’t know what had tired her most: sunlight, swimming or sadness.

  She woke briefly when I slowed to turn off Lanfair onto Cedar Canyon Road. In the green light from the dashboard, she looked childlike and confused. After looking around for a moment, she smiled at me and went back to sleep. She didn’t wake up again until we turned off Cedar Canyon onto the ranch road.

  The house was dark when we topped the switchbacks and drove up the driveway. John had apparently been sitting in the darkness on the veranda because he lit one of the big carriage lamps and carried it out to the car as we came to a stop. He held it up for us while Kiko climbed out. I got the picnic basket and towels out of the back seat.

  When we reached the veranda, Kiko took the lamp from John and went into the house. John and I sat on the comfortable chairs in the darkness with our feet propped on the railing.

  For a while, neither of us spoke. There was no moon, and we sat looking at a million stars. The summer triangle was in the sky: Venus in the west, Cassiopeia, Mars and Scorpio to the south and southeast.

  “Good day?”

  “Yes. She liked the river. Wore her out. She fell asleep on the way home.”

  “Were the crazy cowboys at Goffs?”

  “They were.”

  “Around the propane tank?”

  “As usual.”

  John laughed.

  “Cowboys! One of these days they’re going to blow that place sky high.”

  As we sat enjoying the evening, I thought about what Kiko had told me about John and realized again I didn’t care. I felt the same about him as I ever had.

  “Do you think Kiko went to bed?”

  “Nossir. I think she went in to write a letter to her mom. Let her know she’s okay.”

  “Did you suggest that?”

  “I did.”

  “Well, you’ve had more luck on that score than I ever have. Good for you.”

  After a while, Kiko came back out with the lamp. She was carrying a letter.

  “Took me longer to find an envelope than it did to write the letter. That drawer in the kitchen is a mess, John.”

  She handed me the letter.

  “Please mail this for me, Aeden.”

  “I will.”

  “You’ll have to put a stamp on it.”

  “I think I can spare four cents.”

  I took the letter and started to the car. Kiko came with me. John stayed on the porch.

  When I opened my door, Kiko put her hand on mine, stood on tiptoe, and gave me a peck on the cheek.

  “Thank you, Ade, for being a friend.”

  “Anytime. When you want to go the river again, just let me know.”

  I got in and put the letter in the glove compartment.

  As I drove slowly down the switchbacks, I turned on KOMA. The station jingle came on: “Might pretty, in Oklahoma City.” I thought a commercial would follow, so I reached to turn it off, but the Shirelles came on singing “Will You Love Me Tomorrow?”

  When I was almost to Arrowhead Junction, I remembered what Mr. Stanton had said about getting lonely sometimes. I thought I’d check on him. But as I was approaching the intersection, the crossing gates went down on the Santa Fe tracks. A headlight pierced the night. The engineer blew for the crossing, and I heard the deep, heavy thrum of the three big diesels as they strained to pull the long string of cars up the grade. I stopped and watched the train as it crossed highway 95 between the intersection and Mr. Stanton’s station. The train was slowing down instead of speeding up as the uphill grade grew steeper. It was going to be a long wait. I was tired. I decided to visit Mr. Stanton next time through. I turned right and headed for home.

  Would that I had stopped. A lot of things might have turned out differently.

  Chapter 16

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  Smoke Tree, California

  And the open desert

  Between those two cities

  July 8, 1961

  Eddie Mazzetti called Thomaso Cortese’s room at noon. The phone rang for a long time.

  “Yeah.”

  “Eddie Mazzetti.”

  “This better be good, goombah. We was out real late last night. Feel like I just got to sleep.”

  “This is way better than good. The crumb we have in the post office in Salinas called.”

  “Yeah?”

  “The Yoshida’s girl’s parents got a letter from her this mornin’.”

  “What’d she say?”

  “Thomaso, this guy won’t steal a letter. Afraid he’ll lose his job”

  “What’s the return address?”

  “Wasn’t any. But he has a sample of her handwritin’. He says it’s from her for sure.”

  “What’s the postmark?”

  “Smoke Tree.”

  “Sonofabitch, you was right! And I was right to come out here.

  Meetin', your office, twenty minutes. I’ll bring Sal. You round up Clemente and Fiore.

  And Eddie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Have some coffee, tomato juice and Danish sent up. My head’s killin’ me.”

  The moral depth of the five men seated at the table in Eddie Mazzetti’s office could be represented by a flat line drawn with
a number four pencil on the very bottom of a sheet of black paper.

  Thomaso Cortese spoke with a mouth full of the Danish he was waving in his hand. Pieces of the flaky pastry flew out of his mouth.

  “Eddie was right all along. This little mignotta is somewhere down in that crap town. And you two,” he pointed at Salvatore and Fiore, “are gonna find her. And you’re gonna take her out in the middle of nowhere and make her tell you what she done with that money. And then you’re gonna cancel her ticket.

  But you’re gonna do it slow. Take one a them Polaroid cameras with you. I want pictures every step of the way, from the time she don’t have a mark on her until the time she’s dead.”

  “Are you sure that’s wise, Thomaso?”

  “Eddie, like I told you the other night, you’re a smart guy, but you’re gettin’ soft. ‘Wise’ got nothin’ to do with this. We need these pictures for a lesson, a whadyya call it,” he snapped his fingers,” a, a...”

  He looked at Eddie.

  “What’s the word I’m lookin’ for here?”

  “Object?”

  “Yeah! That’s the one. A object lesson. A lesson what happens to someone takes down a made man, steals from The Outfit.

  People who do that? They don’t just disappear. That’s too easy. They disappear ugly.”

  He pointed at Fiore and Salvatore with the remains of the pastry.

  “Do I make myself real clear here?”

  Both men nodded.

  He looked at Fiore.

  “I heard from Eddie how you did it in Smoke Tree the last time. With the gumshoe licenses and all?

  None of that crap this time. Go in with detective badges. Say this girl’s wanted for murder. Tell them she killed her roommate.

  And you shake this broad loose.”

  “Got it, boss.”

  Eddie spoke up again.

  “What about that deputy, came to my office?”

  “What about him?”

  “He gets wind of this while they’re in town, Salvatore and Fiore could be in big trouble.”

  Thomaso’s voice dropped to a whisper.

  “Listen to me. I ain’t worried about what some small town...”

  “County, Thomaso, not town. County.”

  Thomaso closed his eyes. The room went quiet. Salvatore, who had been pouring himself another cup of coffee, stopped with the carafe poised above the rim.