Gardens in the Dunes (68 page)

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Authors: Leslie Marmon Silko

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“Well you haven't seen anything yet!” his companion exclaimed as he carefully pulled back the remains of the feather blanket from the “head” of the meteorite to reveal a glittering “eye” in the lustrous black iron.

“White diamond!” he said triumphantly.

Edward spent a good deal of time on his hands and knees examining the object and its site. He regretted his camera was down below in the wagon and the ascent so difficult; otherwise he might have recorded the Indian burial of the meteorite. In the catalogue of North American meteorites he had been amazed to read about a three-thousand-pound meteor iron discovered in Indian ruins in northern Chihuahua in a room with human burials, wrapped in native cotton just like the others. The prospector wanted to removed it at once, but the doctor managed to persuade him to wait until Edward could see the wonderful object just as it was found. Edward hoped the prospector would agree to sell it at a reasonable price.

From the mesa top the doctor pointed southeast, where the circular lip of the crater easily could be seen; tons and tons more of diamond-bearing iron waited for them there.

The descent was made easier thanks to the rope their driver tossed up and the doctor secured around a sturdy boulder, but effects of the strain on his leg were evident. The pain subsided as long as he managed to keep the leg propped up straight in the back of the buggy during the remainder of the ride. Later that evening in the camp on the rim of the crater, the doctor examined the leg and the redness and swelling around the scar. He gave Edward a handful of morphine tablets to take as needed for the discomfort but saw no need for concern. The buggy driver was a retired railroad engineer who hired on to drive and to serve as the camp cook. That evening he prepared a brace of quail he shot the day before, and Gates brought out a bottle of fine brandy to celebrate Edward's arrival. The brandy enhanced the effect of the pills, and the pain subsided.

The prospector arrived after dark on a mule, towing a donkey loaded with his gear. He was a tall wiry man with a trimmed beard; he wore dusty overalls and a faded shirt, but his boots were new. His skin was sun darkened black as a Negro's but his bright blue eyes and long, pinched nose allowed no mistake, nor did his hair, sun bleached white-blond even under his wide-brim hat. The prospector was content to let others do the talking, but behind the wire-rimmed glasses, his blue eyes took in everything.

The following morning, despite the stiffness and swelling, the doctor
pronounced the leg safe to proceed. Edward swallowed more pills for the pain and eased himself up into the buggy for the half-mile ride to the bottom of the crater. The test drilling rig was in place to begin a first series of test holes and there were high hopes all around. The plan was to put down test holes to determine the locations of the largest deposits of the meteor irons.

The bottom of the crater was covered with strange white and gray silica flour—melted sand particles pulverized in the meteor's collision. The drilling rig was sidelined by water seepage into the drilling hole; the crater was a natural rain-catchment device. Heavy rains some months before had flooded the ponds they used to dispose of water pumped from the drill hole. Now long canvas fire hoses snaked out of the pond of standing water around the drilling rig. The mule team was hitched to a large cylinder that operated bilge pumps to clear the exploration hole of water seepage, but an equipment breakdown halted all activity.

Dr. Gates and the drilling foreman spread open the map to show Edward the distribution of meteorite debris, which suggested the main mass of metals would be found here in this northeastern quadrant. The prospector stood by patiently with the assay lab reports in his hand. They estimated the mass was buried under the southern wall some two thousand feet deep, and the meteorite itself weighed ten million tons.

Edward could hardly control his excitement as he read the assay reports. The most recent samples taken from the test hole proved to be almost pure cadmium with platinum, and traces of iridium, and palladium studded with white and black diamonds of industrial quality.

The following morning on their way back to the hotel in Winslow for baths and clean clothing, Gates confided the prospector was bored with the test drilling, accustomed as he was to roaming in search of mineral samples or Indian ruins to dig. The prospector decided to sell his mining claim, and offered it to the doctor first.

Naturally Edward understood the urgency of buying the claim lest a stranger buy it and gain control of the site. As soon as they reached the hotel and washed up, Edward sent a telegram to the bank in New York City for funds to be wired to the bank in Albuquerque.

♦   ♦   ♦

At the construction site Hattie spoke with the army officer in charge, who could only tell her some weeks before a number of workers and others had left after a violent disturbance broke out. Indigo stayed in the buggy to make sure Linnaeus and Rainbow had plenty of shade. She was teaching
the two of them to get along with each other—Linnaeus learned to hold a sunflower seed in two fingers between the cage bars for Rainbow. As long she watched him, the parrot politely took the seed, but if she turned away, Rainbow tried to pinch the monkey's fingers with his beak.

The officer in charge consulted with his aide-de-camp, who left the tent to find the young Mexican, Juanito, who might know. The young officer insisted Hattie take his field chair and have a cup of water while they waited. He was from Pennsylvania and this was his first assignment out west. His face lit up when Hattie mentioned New York and Boston; the dust and the heat here were almost unbearable.

The aide returned with a young Mexican man, who listened to Hattie's description of the young Indian women she sought; yes, of course he remembered them, he said with a smile; they were a lot of fun. Hattie's cheeks colored and she looked away; the captain cleared his throat. Did he know where they went? Juanito nodded. The Chemehuevi girls bought land at Road's End and the other girl went with them.

Hattie asked if there were accommodations for travelers nearby; it was half past four, much too late to start out for Road's End. The captain consulted with his aide briefly, then offered her and the child his tent for the night, and invited them to dine with him. Gallant Captain Higgens even found space in a tent with enlisted men for the buggy driver, who declined the offer with a sullen shake of his head. Hattie was determined to replace the man as soon as they returned to Needles.

Indigo took the monkey cage down to the river to clean out and wash; the buggy driver muttered under his breath about “the stink of monkey shit and Indians.” She found a shallow puddle and washed out both cages even though Rainbow's wasn't dirty.

Later that evening, over supper, the captain alluded to the driver's rudeness and local resentment at the presence of federal troops. Of course, Arizona had been Confederate territory, and the captain suspected the locals resented the army's protection of the Indian reservation boundaries. He smiled at Indigo. She certainly was intelligent and well mannered, thanks, no doubt, to Hattie's efforts.

Hattie smiled and nodded, but she was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable with the captain's enthusiasm. Her wedding ring was in plain view but he may have assumed she was widowed. She told Indigo to get ready for bed, and the captain excused himself and said good night.

The army cot was terribly uncomfortable, and in the middle of the night, Hattie pulled the bedding to the tent floor next to Indigo. She fell
into a deep sleep then, and dreamed she was back in the hidden grotto in Lucca alone with a cleft oval stone, which began to softly shimmer and glow until it was lustrous and shining, too bright to look at directly. The light itself, not the stone, spoke to her, though not with words but feelings.

She woke still embraced by a sense of well-being and love; she wept from a happiness she did not understand. Later she decided the young captain's attentions, not surprisingly, had affected her sleep. In any case, the captain and his men were gone by the time she and Indigo got dressed and repacked. The captain's cook had set a table in the officers' mess tent for the two of them. Eat hearty, he warned them; Road's End was a long way from anything like real food. At the end of the meal Hattie asked if they might wrap up some biscuits to take along. Later the cook not only gave them biscuits; he rinsed out a whiskey jug and filled it with fresh water.

In the early afternoon the driver stopped to rest the horses under a lone cottonwood tree at the mouth of a gully near the road. Hattie and Indigo walked a distance away into the greasewood brush to relieve themselves; they took turns keeping watch for each other in case the driver followed.

They ate biscuits in the buggy in silence and did not try to offer the driver any. The young man fairly seethed with anger if Hattie even asked the distance they'd gone. Whenever he stopped to rest the horses, out came the knife to carve more toothpicks from green twigs off the nearest tree. The first few times she saw the knife, Hattie felt sick with apprehension, but gradually she became accustomed to his hostile behavior.

They reached the trading post at Road's End in the afternoon before sundown. An Indian woman and her little boy were browsing in the aisles of the store, but Hattie saw very little to buy on the dusty shelves; some dented canned goods, peaches and tomatoes, matches, lamp chimneys, nails. The trader and his wife seemed barely to recognize Hattie from their stop there night before last until Indigo peeked in the door with the parrot on her shoulder and the monkey in her arms. The couple scowled in recognition, and the trader's wife announced no animals in the store.

Hattie inquired about the three girls who recently moved there—twin sisters and their friend—but the trader shook his head while the wife turned away her face full of contempt. Don't ask them; ask the Indian agent.

Hattie pretended to shop but she wasn't sure she wanted to touch anything in the store; the thick gray dust on the shelves was peppered with rodent droppings. Finally she picked up a can of coffee, a can of peaches, and a can of cream corn, and asked where the sugar and flour were kept. The
trader indicated two wooden bins behind the counter where he stood and she asked for five pounds of each. As he poured the flour from the scoop into the paper sack on the scale, Hattie could see the tiny weevils wiggle. The last item she bought was a half-gallon tin of lamp oil, which she regretted almost immediately because its odor seeped out no matter how tight its lid. Hattie was surprised at how much these few items cost, then remembered this was the only store for miles. The bright-colored candy balls in the glass jar next to the cash register were the most appealing items in the store, so she bought a sack of them for a quarter.

The woman and her little boy stopped their browsing to watch Hattie, and the boy's eyes widened when he saw the big sack of candy balls. As Hattie passed them on her way out, she reached into the sack and gave the boy a handful of candy. The boy smiled and his mother nodded, and they followed Hattie.

Outside the boy and his mother watched with amazement as Indigo showed them the parrot and the monkey; they wanted to touch the monkey, so Indigo showed them how Linnaeus would shake hands. The little boy shook hands with the monkey, then looked at Indigo closely and asked if she was an Indian. His mother nudged him and whispered in his ear. “Oh,” he said and looked down.

Hattie explained Indigo was sent away to school, but now they were looking for her sister, who was living with two other girls, twin sisters.

The driver was annoyed at the delay and moved the buggy out from under the cottonwood tree to signal his impatience. Just as Hattie and Indigo were about to go, the Indian woman pointed east to the ridge above the river.

“See?” she asked, still pointing. Hattie squinted and looked in the direction she pointed, but could see nothing that resembled a house. She thanked the woman and got into the buggy after Indigo. She pointed in the same direction the woman had for the driver, who shook his head and exhaled impatiently as he picked up the reins and released the brake.

All along the river there were large fields with plows and cultivators parked nearby; melons, beans, and corn grew by the acre. There was another crop, which Indigo did not recognize at first glance—dark green bushes covered with small white flowers. Hattie pointed out the bolls of cotton Indigo mistook for blossoms. Here and there at the edge of the fields they saw little lean-tos for shade, but no people.

Above the river on an ancient floodplain, they passed a small wooden church neatly painted white amid a cluster of small wooden houses also
painted white. Each house had a little garden of corn and sunflowers; some had pens with chickens or goats.

Was the buggy high off the ground, or what? Indigo wondered, because everything seemed so small. So this is what happened to your eyes if you looked at white people's things too long. Hattie wanted to ask someone to be sure they had the right directions but no one seemed to be home. Indigo kept quiet; she knew no one would come out while the white man was there. They continued up the sandy road to the low ridge above the river bottom where the woman pointed.

Now that they were close, Indigo put both the monkey and the parrot back into their cages; her heart beat faster as they started up the last incline of river stones and sand to a little house of mud and stone with patches of new tin on its roof.

The clatter of the buggy wheels over the river cobblestones at the top of the ridge brought two heads cautiously out the doorway; they looked just alike—twins! This was the right place! She grabbed the sideboard and swung herself down to ground before the buggy was fully stopped, landing so hard her feet stung.

The sight of the loaded buggy, and a dark girl in a fancy blue dress who jumped before it even stopped, left the twins speechless for a moment. Inside Sister Salt was nursing the little grandfather but he let go of her nipple to listen, and ignored the drop of milk on his cheek. For an instant Sister was worried and gathered him up, ready to run; but Vedna turned back from the door, eyes wide, and nearly breathless. She said, “I think it's your sister!” then followed Maytha outside.

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