Leslie Silko - Gardens in the Dunes

Rain clouds from the northwest pushed into the sky, and the air felt cooler. The dogs fanned out and trotted ahead of them as they walked along; now and then one of them caught a scent, and they all bolted off yipping and barking, but the lame dog never left the woman’s side.

Sister Salt had walked farther than she realized the day before. They had walked for a long time, and only now could the ugly hump of the dam be seen off in the distance, rising toward the sky. Whenever Sister Salt needed to rest, they stopped; invariably the woman looked back toward the south as if someone was following her. As long as they spoke in soft tones, the little grandfather slept; otherwise he screeched like a heron if they talked.

Sister Salt was curious about the contents of the packs the dogs wore. Delena explained each dog had to carry its own water and food, and its circus costume. She was curious to know what happened to the dog’s legs; a dog might hurt one or two legs, or in a dog fight, injure three; but this dog’s legs all had been badly broken. Sister was curious to know about the long dark scar down her face, but she was too polite to ask.

Sister Salt took her time walking, partly because it was hot and she felt a little weak, but also to see how long she had to be missing before Big Candy noticed and sent searchers. They stopped a number of times to drink water, then to eat the last of the mutton jerky Delena bought in Yuma. How did she keep the dogs from going after the jerky in their packs? Good training, Delena said. Discipline is everything in an army — or a dog circus, she quickly added. The dogs hunted ahead of them and filled themselves with mice swallowed in one gulp; the occasional rabbits they caught caused all the dogs to fight until Delena stepped in to command them to stop. They weren’t upset with one another afterward; they seemed to enjoy fighting as a game. Although they were not big dogs, their strength and savagery with one another impressed Sister Salt; one dog must have nearly the strength of a man.

They had almost reached the river when the dogs stopped, their ears and tails up in alert: immediately both women dropped to their knees. The jolt caused the little grandfather to stiffen with anger but he didn’t cry out. Someone was up ahead on the wagon road; they could hear the hum of voices and the jingle and clink of bits and steel-shod hooves. A number of horsemen were riding north; the cottonwood trees and river brush blocked them from sight. Whoever they were, they were headed for the dam too.

Sister sat down while Delena and the dogs went to look at the tracks in the wagon road. She looked worried when she returned; soldiers — she could tell by the tracks and manure the horses were in military formation. Soldiers. The little grandfather twisted and kicked in his bundle; he didn’t like to be wet, but if she tore up any more of her skirt or blouse, she’d be naked. Her promise of a nice warm bath as soon as they got home seemed to quiet him.

They avoided the wagon road by following the old path that wove through the tamarisk and willows on the riverbank. From time to time the dogs splashed and played in the shallow water; Sister felt her excitement grow as she anticipated Big Candy’s reaction to the baby. She didn’t show the baby to the dog woman so Big Candy could be the first to see his son. The closer they came to the construction site, the more the little grandfather twisted and turned in his bundle. Off in the distance to the southwest, Sister heard the rumble of thunder and smelled the approach of rain. At the sight of the tents, Delena called her dogs to her; she wanted to stay with them down the river a bit, where they wouldn’t be in the way. Despite the gathering storm, Sister didn’t press her to come stay at the tent because that many dogs might go after the meat in Candy’s barbecue pit or stampede the mule teams that pulled the earthmoving machines. As they parted, Sister thanked the dog woman again for the water, and promised to come visit soon.

Business was booming as she reached the camp; horses she’d not seen before were tied to the willows and tamarisks all around the casino tent; there were workers, their faces streaked with grime, arms full of dirty clothes, lined up outside the laundry tent for warm baths. No more bottles of beer — Juanito dipped it straight from the barrel into the workers’ lunch pails. Soldiers in uniforms lined up with workers just off the day shift; overnight the number of customers for gambling and beer seemed to have doubled.

Big Candy smiled and nodded when he saw her but he was striding in his very-busy-in-a-hurry walk, both hands full with decks of cards and the casino strongbox. He didn’t seem to notice the bundle in her arms, so she called out for him to come see, but he disappeared under the flap of the casino tent. In the line that formed outside the casino, the men who rolled dice on the sand while they waited stared at her curiously as she began to cry. The little black grandfather peered up at her intently from his cloth cocoon as she wiped at the tears with the back of her hand. She could tell he did not approve of his father’s bad manners.

The old Mojave woman gave her a pail of clean warm water out of the back of the laundry tent without any questions. Carefully she unwrapped him on her blankets in the tent and gently wiped him down and dried him with part of a clean sheet she tore up for diapers. The thunder cracked and shook the ground, and raindrops clattered against the tent while the wind pulled at the canvas and rattled the cottonwood branches and leaves above them. “Good for you,” she told him. “Your rain cloud ancestors came to greet you.” If not properly welcomed, a baby that tiny might give up on this world and leave.

The rain came in gusts that slapped and sagged the tent roof; she pulled the blankets snugly around them and listened to the creak and groan of the old cottonwood in the wind. Lightning flashed the inside of the tent and and shook the ground, but as long as the little grandfather nursed contently, she was not afraid.

She left a lantern burning for Big Candy, but it was out of oil by the time he came to her tent. The wind and lightning had passed but it was still raining steadily. Big Candy shook off his hat and rain slicker — she felt some of the cold droplets on her face but said nothing. He fumbled to light the other lantern on the table, and put down the money sacks; they made heavy sounds on the table.

“Business was booming,” he’d say if she were up now. Why didn’t she get up then and show him her surprise? No, if he hadn’t noticed something different by now, then she wanted to see just how long it took him to notice something was different.

He went out again to get the beer and roast meat he liked to eat while he counted the money. The rich odors of the meat and beer made her stomach growl with hunger, but she did not get up. She listened to him chew and swallow to the jingle and clink of the coins he counted. He taught her gold pieces jingle but silver only clinks. Tears came to her eyes as she remembered his delight in teaching her these things before he got so busy.

“There’s plenty of meat here,” he said, but she pretended to sleep. Finally he got up and stood over her.

“What’s wrong? I thought you went to Needles with the twins.”

The sound of his father’s voice right above woke the little black grandfather with a start; he pulled his head away from her breast and twisted inside his cocoon as he gave out a loud cry.

“What have you got there?” Big Candy demanded as he knelt down next to her. He thought it sounded like a cat or bird, and at first couldn’t see what it was because the baby was so tiny.

“Ohhh,” he said in amazement before his expression shifted into concern.