Leslie Silko - Gardens in the Dunes

The old man was already asleep in the barn as she checked the ties on the dogs’ packs a last time to make sure they were firm. Delena thanked the Tucson couple for the food and the safe haven but also for their tolerance of her dogs. The man of the house shook her hand and the woman embraced her. They prayed for the people and the struggle every day, and they would not forget her.

In the brightness of the stars at that hour, the silhouettes of the black dogs with their backpacks were plainly visible in the gateway; she heard the dogs pant eagerly for the signal to go. As she turned to go she said, “We will outlast them. We always have.”

♦ ♦ ♦

Just ahead of the storm clouds came more flocks of crows, followed by people in groups of three and four. The encampment was not nearly as large as the one before, but Sister said that didn’t matter; maybe with a smaller gathering, the authorities would leave them in peace to dance for the Messiah. So far no old-time Mormons showed up like they had last time; but who could blame them after their punishment?

Off in the distance on the road from town, the twins noticed a figure coming slowly their way. They thought at first it might be some old Mormon woman brave enough to join them, but as she came closer, Maytha recognized Hattie; so their prayers for her had done some good!

Vedna ran to tell Indigo, who instantly looked at Sister Salt for her reaction to the news. No one may be turned away from the gathering, Sister said; otherwise, the Messiah will not come. Indigo shut Linnaeus and Rainbow in their cages for safekeeping, while Sister bundled the little grandfather onto her back, and they went to greet Hattie.

Even from a distance they could see her face was bruised and swollen, and she moved unsteadily on her feet. Indigo was shocked at the swelling of her face — she hardly looked like the Hattie Indigo knew. She seemed to have trouble with her eyes and did not seem to recognize Indigo at first, but then she gave a shout and dropped the blanket and sack of candy to hug Indigo. The twins dropped to their knees at once to pick up the spilled candy balls and wipe the sand off before returning them to the sack.

Hattie started to cry and hugged Indigo so hard and long Indigo finally had to pull loose from her embrace, and left Hattie wobbling on her feet until Maytha and Vedna steadied her between. Sister Salt watched Hattie’s shaking hands and the difficulty she had focusing her eyes.

They nearly killed her, Sister Salt said bitterly after they helped Hattie lie down on Indigo’s blankets. Poor woman! She was in bad shape; she might not recover. She told Indigo to sit awhile with her until she got settled. Don’t talk about what happened — talk about good things.

Linnaeus sat on Indigo’s lap and watched Hattie solemnly; he didn’t even try to tease Rainbow by pulling his tail feathers. She held Indigo’s hand in hers and lay back with her eyes closed and moaned softly. Indigo began to talk about the crows and the snow clouds and the people who came to dance for the return of the Messiah.

Gradually Hattie’s grip on her hand relaxed, and Indigo saw her body relax as if the intensity of the pain was beginning to subside. Sister said Hattie should not have walked even a short distance, as badly hurt as she was. After Hattie fell asleep, Indigo gently slipped her hand loose from Hattie’s. “We will pray for you every night of the dance,” she said softly, then took the monkey and parrot outside to stretch her legs.

Outside the shack around the fire, they passed around the sack of candy balls Hattie brought them; big snowflakes began to fall and hissed in the fire. Hurt as she was, still she brought them a gift. Big tears welled up in Indigo’s eyes. Vedna offered to consult the spirits about Hattie; she took her Bible and closed her eyes and turned it round and round, then stuck her finger on a page, then read aloud: “Do you see this, O Son of Man? Turn around again, and you shall see greater abominations than these.

“Ezekiel,” Vedna said. “I don’t know — it doesn’t sound so good if it’s about Hattie. Maybe it’s about us — Ezekiel’s trying to warn us.”

“I think it means if we camp here too long they’ll come after us,” Sister said.

The girls shared a cigarette Maytha rolled, and watched the snow clouds push in above the river. In only a few more hours the two fires would be lit, and the dance would begin. Already they were applying the white clay paint to faces and hands, and a Walapai man shared the sacred clay Wovoka gave him and blessed each camp and lean-to with a pinch of the red dust. Sister watched the tall sandy hill above the river where last time the Messiah and his family walked out of the falling snow.

Sister went to nurse the little grandfather inside the lean-to before the dance started; he was bright eyed and nursed heartily but refused to fall asleep, as if he wanted to see the dance. You’re too little, she told him; I might see Grandma Fleet or someone and fall to the ground or drop you. She rocked him in her arms as she stepped over to check on Hattie. The skin was terribly pale around the swollen purple bruises on her forehead; Sister had to watch carefully a long time before she was even sure Hattie was still breathing. The swellings around her lips and cheeks were going down, but all she did was sleep. Wasn’t there anyone who cared about Hattie but them?

As the fires were lit, the snow seemed to fall faster — a sign the Messiah and his family were on their way. They did not all have white shawls — some shawls were burlap or old army blankets, but the Messiah would understand. They had to make do with what they had. Wovoka the Prophet could not be there because the soldiers wanted to arrest him.

As everyone prepared for the first dance of the night, Sister nursed the little grandfather and Indigo offered Hattie water mixed with a little blue cornmeal, which was all she could eat because her mouth was injured. She seemed more alert as she sat up; she watched Sister change the baby’s wrapping and noticed Linnaeus and Rainbow in their cages by the bed. When Indigo told her the first dance was about to begin, Hattie managed a bit of a smile despite her swollen lips.

Maytha and Vedna promised to look after the little grandfather, and to watch Hattie and the parrot and monkey if Sister or Indigo were visited by the spirits. What if they all were visited at the same time? That was not likely, Sister said, but if that happened, then the baby, Hattie, the pets — all would be blessed and protected by that presence.

The snow covered the ground and continued to fall lightly as the drum called them to the spirit house, where they sang the new songs, each in a different language — Sand Lizard, Paiute, Chemehuevi, Mojave, and Walapai — because in the presence of the Messiah, all languages were understood by everyone.

They all joined hands and moved in the direction of the sun around the circle of stones.

“Across the snowy stars,” they sang. More voices joined as they repeated the words, “Over the Milky Way bridge — oh the beloved return!”

They danced slowly, careful to trail their feet gently to caress Mother Earth. The wind was still but now the snow fell faster, and it was difficult to see the lean-to and the camps on the far side of the circle.

Bare cottonwood

Black with crows.

They call

Snow clouds on the wind.

Snow clouds on the wind.

As the snow clouds closed around them and reflected the light of the fires, Indigo noticed how the white paint transformed their hands and faces, and the white shawls wrapped around them made the dancers almost invisible in the snow.

We danced four nights.

We danced four nights.

The fourth dawn Messiah came.