Gardens in the Dunes (6 page)

At the mouth of the canyon she found them; Sister Salt was kneeling next to Grandma Fleet, who was resting in the shade of a big yucca, leaning herself against a gunnysack full of bundles. Indigo ran to them, her heart pounding wildly. She looked all around, panting; tears filled her eyes as she realized Grandma returned alone.

“Where is she?” Indigo demanded. “Where's Mama? Why didn't she come?”

“Is this the greeting I get?” Grandma Fleet teased as she opened her arms to embrace Indigo, who pressed her face hard against Grandma's bony chest and started to cry.

While Grandma Fleet rested in the shade, Sister Salt and Indigo took turns dragging the gunnysack full of bundles up the sandy path from the mouth of the canyon to the house. Grandma Fleet and one old Mormon woman were released from government custody. Grandma and the Mormon woman became friends on their walk down the river. They did not talk so much as they pointed out things to each other, then smiled and nodded to each other while they walked along.

Later, as she unpacked the bundle, Grandma Fleet talked about Mrs. Van Wagnen's cellar under the floor of the little stone house at Mormon Crossing. So much food put up in glass jars neatly arranged on wooden shelves! From muslin bags kept in big crockery jars, Mrs. Van Wagnen brought out dried apples and dried apricots and even dried venison.

From time to time Grandma passed them a muslin sack to sniff so they could savor the sweet, dry fruit odor. Beans. So many Indian beans! Mrs.
Van Wagnen had great success growing beans because her garden was near the river. Grandma Fleet did not want to take so much food, but Mrs. Van Wagnen had insisted. She could not eat all that food herself, she said, and then she started to cry because her husband and the other wives were arrested, and their children sent away to live with foster families in the new Mormon Church. Mrs. Van Wagnen stopped crying when she talked about the new Mormon Church; she became angry. The old church had been brushed aside by demons, she said. But Grandma Fleet thought maybe the other Mormons got tired of resisting the U.S. government. The government said only one wife, and now the new church said one wife, so the old Mormons moved to remote locations. For years and years, the U.S. soldiers chased Mormons when they weren't chasing Indians.

They thought of Mrs. Van Wagnen each time they ate the sweet dried apricots or boiled a pot of beans, and they hoped she was getting along all right. So many strangers forded the river at Mormon Crossing that a woman alone was not safe there. Poor Mrs. Van Wagnen! She was the first and now the only wife, but she didn't know if she would ever see her husband again.

All the talk about people lost made Indigo cry. Would she ever have her mama again? Grandma Fleet reassured her.

“I would know if something was wrong,” Grandma said. “I would feel it in my bones.” Even if their mother was arrested, the government usually kept Indian women in jail for only a month or two.

“Before hot weather comes, I'm going to visit my Mormon friend,” Grandma Fleet said one day. They had just gathered a great many succulent little plants that grew under the sand at the foot of the cliffs. More than two months had passed and they had heard nothing. Mrs. Van Wagnen might have some news.

“I'll just be gone overnight. You girls won't even miss me,” Grandma Fleet said.

“We could come with you,” Indigo said hopefully.

“Oh no.” Grandma Fleet shook her head vigorously. “It isn't safe for young girls to travel. If the Indian policemen find us, who knows what they might do with you?” Grandma Fleet eased two big gourd canteens of springwater over her shoulder and took up her walking stick. Sister Salt carried Grandma's gunnysack full of roots, seeds, and leaves—spices and medicines Mrs. Van Wagnen might need. After all that wonderful food she gave them, it was the least they could do.

“No one notices an old woman, but everyone sees a young girl,”
Grandma Fleet said as she started off briskly; she allowed the girls to accompany her as far as the big boulder at the intersection of the little wash with the big wash. Indigo tried not to cry but the lump in her throat forced out the tears; she made no sound and kept walking at her sister's side. At the big wash Sister Salt slipped the gunnysack from her back to Grandma Fleet's back.

They watched Grandma Fleet until she disappeared around the first turn in the big wash. Indigo sank to the ground and began to sob loudly. Sister Salt did not like the sound; it echoed off the sandstone on both sides of the canyon. Anyone—the Indian police or a miner or a cowboy—might hear that sound.

“Crybaby!” Sister Salt hissed in her little sister's face as she jerked Indigo to her feet by her arm and pulled her along behind her.

“Shut up before someone hears you! Grandma went to find out about Mama,” Sister Salt said, and she was crying now too.

By the time they reached the house the sun was past midpoint in the sky and it was hot. After a drink and a bath at the spring, they crawled into the coolness of the dugout house and covered themselves with their wet canvas shawls they soaked in the pool. Indigo lay on her bed and stared up at the latticework of willow branches over mesquite poles. Why hadn't Mama escaped by now?

Indigo dreamed she was in Mama's arms, hugged so close and so safe, her face pressed against Mama's chest, breathing in Mama's warm scent of sage and earth. Mama's love surrounded her and rocked her gently. When Indigo woke, she looked around for Mama before she remembered, and some part of her deep inside broke open, and she cried so loud she woke Sister Salt. Indigo expected Sister to scold her for crying, but she put her arms around Indigo and rocked her, saying, “Don't cry, sister, don't cry. Mama will come back, she will.” Indigo felt something wet fall on her arm and realized Sister Salt was crying too. As Indigo began to feel more hopeful and stopped crying, Sister Salt cried harder. Indigo hugged her big sister as tightly as she could.

“Don't cry!” Indigo whispered, and patted her sister's back. Sister nodded and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes.

Indigo excused herself to go pee. She was surprised at how much daylight remained as she walked to the latrine below the dunes. The hot days would arrive in no time.

When Indigo returned, Sister Salt was far in the back corner where Grandma Fleet kept the big pottery storage jars. She heard the sounds of
Sister Salt removing the stone lids, and the rustle of dried apples and strips of dried meat in muslin sacks.

At first they were only going to sample the apples and the venison jerky. Indigo rolled the dry apple slice around on her tongue until it was moistened; she sucked on it for a long time until it was too soft and sweet to resist and she swallowed it. They took only the smallest flakes and slivers of jerky to chew and chew, and they had contests to see who could make the jerky last the longer. Indigo looked Sister Salt in the eye and took another piece of dried apple and another piece of jerky; before Sister Salt could stop her, Indigo stuffed both the apple and the jerky in her mouth. Sister Salt grabbed the jerky from her mouth and popped it into her mouth. Indigo laughed and took another piece of jerky. They shared a gourd of springwater and ate as many dried apples as they wanted and more jerky until Indigo began to feel too full and a little queasy, so she gave the half-eaten jerky strip to Sister Salt. Grandma Fleet would be furious when she found out the two of them had eaten enough food in one evening to last three people for a week. Sister Salt finished Indigo's piece of jerky, then she reached into the muslin sack for another and yet another piece of jerky, until the muslin sack was empty. Indigo saw Sister Salt glance in the direction of the back room to the food storage jars; she had never seen Sister Salt eat that way before, not even those times they were without food for days. Sister Salt did not seem like herself; the difference in her behavior made Indigo uneasy. Grandma would be home by this time tomorrow. Maybe she wouldn't notice the lids on the storage jars had been moved, Indigo thought as she drifted off to sleep.

Sister Salt waited until Indigo's breathing was slow and deep before she crept back to the storage jars. Her stomach was so full it felt swollen, but still the hunger raged inside her, demanding that she eat. She reached for the lid on the jar, but stopped herself short; she did not move for a long time. She knew she was full, she knew she didn't need to eat any more. Where did this hunger come from? If Grandma Fleet or Mama had been there they might have explained what the trouble was. She crept back to her bed and reached for the gourd canteen. She drank water until the hunger could barely make itself felt.

The next day they did not talk about the food they took from the storage jars. They gathered succulent green “sand food” from the foot of the cliff all morning, and saved enough for Grandma when she got home that night. The weather was warm; as soon as the first good rain fell, Grandma said, they should start planting.

Around midday time they went to the spring to wash up and rest in the shade. The spring, at the head of the canyon, looked down on the ridges and hills of fine sand that descended gradually to the dry wash that lead to the big wash to the river. Sister Salt wanted to hunt for pack rats' nests, but Indigo wanted to stay by the spring to watch for Grandma. From the vantage point of the spring, Indigo would be able to see her the moment she came around the bend in the wash.

“She won't come until late afternoon. You'll have to wait a long time.” Sister Salt wanted Indigo to go with her. “I'll show you the palm grove.” Sister Salt knew Indigo wanted to go there.

Indigo followed her sister reluctantly. She wanted to see the wild palms in the box canyon, but she also wanted to be home when Grandma Fleet returned. Indigo kept looking back the direction they had come, and she checked the sun's position in the sky from time to time, determined to be home in time to greet Grandma and hear any news she had about Mama.

The trail followed the spine of the sandstone ridge for a distance before it turned sharply to descend into a narrow crevice. Sister Salt showed Indigo how to brace herself by wedging her legs and shoulders against the sides of the crevice so she could reach the footholds and handholds worn into the sandstone. In a few minutes they were down in the canyon. Indigo was amazed. Pale yellow sandstone cliffs rose all around them; the canyon had no outlet; the crevice they had climbed down was the only way in and the only way out unless you were a bird.

Indigo never imagined the palm trees would be so big. They were clustered together, some trees almost touching others; the larger, older trees were shaggy with dry fronds peeling away below the new green foliage. Dry fallen fronds covered the ground. Here was the place Grandma Fleet got her roof. Indigo rubbed her hands over the odd scales and nubby surfaces of the palms' trunks. She searched the trees' tops for the clusters of little fruit Sister described as sweeter than honey, but saw nothing.

Sister Salt paid little attention to the palm trees; instead she searched among the boulders and big rocks with a short stick in her hand. Indigo watched her; she used the stick to clear away thick barricades of cactus spines meant to protect the burrow. Sister exposed the squirrel's food cache; Indigo recognized the acorns and piñons piled on shredded leaves, but what were all those blackish lumps stuck together?

“Ummmm!” Sister said as she attempted to bite a blackish lump; the dried-up date was as hard as a rock. She took the date out of her mouth and reached for the gourd canteen around her waist. She dropped two dried
dates into the canteen to soften. They gathered all the dried dates but left the ground squirrel its acorns and piñons. The afternoon was warm enough to slip off their dresses to use as makeshift sacks to carry home the dried dates.

The sun was setting as they approached the sandstone formations above the spring. Sister Salt stopped and motioned for Indigo to keep still and stay put. Sister Salt listened intently. Soldiers and Indian police were loudmouths who could be heard for miles away. Sister Salt heard the crickets in the damp sand near the spring; she heard the sundown call of a mourning dove, then the cry of a nighthawk; the darker it became, the more numerous the crickets were. She listened for Grandma Fleet's voice, talking loudly to herself or singing a little song she had just made up a moment before, like the song about the baby tarantula Grandma sang last summer. Sister Salt listened until she thought she could hear the sounds of everything—slithering, rustling, rattling, stirring, chirping, whistling, barking, all the sounds descended around her and deafened her.

When Sister Salt stopped and stood motionless, Indigo did the same; she heard the nighthawks but nothing else. If strangers had been camped near the spring, the nighthawks would be gone. The twilight was bright from the sunset and from the half-moon shining off the pale sandstone and the sand dunes. The air was cooling off, and Indigo felt chilly in only her underslip. At first she thought Sister heard something she could not hear, but after a time, Indigo realized something was wrong with her sister. She touched Sister lightly on the back, and whispered.

“What is it? What do you hear?”

Sister Salt turned to her with the saddest expression Indigo had ever seen. She shook her head slowly, and set off walking again; they were only a short walk from the spring now, but Indigo wasn't fooled. Sister Salt knew something she didn't tell Indigo. Indigo ran ahead of her, past the spring and down the dunes. In the fading twilight, twigs and branches on the sandy trail resembled snakes of all sizes and kinds; Indigo leaped and swerved to avoid them.

Outside the dugout house, Indigo stopped. It was almost dark now; Grandma Fleet should already be home, but Indigo did not hear her stirring inside. Probably Grandma was tired from her journey and asleep already.

“Grandma, it's us, me and Sister. Grandma?” she said as she stepped down into the entryway, but no one was there.