Leslie Silko - Gardens in the Dunes

She looked both ways before she continued down the alley, which was cluttered with trash and debris — rotting garbage and overturned barrels — filthy just like the town and its people. She caught the odor of horses and saw corrals up ahead; manure and old straw were piled outside: it was the back of the livery stable. Her heart began to pound wildly; she could turn back and go down a side alley, but she crept closer, careful to remain in the deep shadows as she listened and watched. The horses were calmly chewing their hay and paid no attention as she crept up.

What a disgusting stinking mess outside the back door — she stepped over dirty rags and manure. Straw and hay were strewn everywhere. The smell of rotting urine and manure was terrible as she peeked around the corner of the wide barn door. She listened and watched, but no one was there. Inside it was almost dark, but she could see the buggies and wagons parked along the far wall; above them big metal hooks held the harnesses. Everywhere the floor was littered with hay and straw; along the near wall by the door were the haystack and burlap sacks of feed, and a workbench. Something familiar caught her eye and sent the hair on her neck straight out: among the scattered tools was a big steel vise, and clamped in it was a meteor iron partially sawed in half. She saw other fragments of meteor iron among the chisels and saw blades on the bench. She shivered — from the cold or from the sight of meteor irons, she didn’t know.

She knew exactly what must be done; the crumpled cigarette papers flashed under the match; all the starch in the handkerchief caused it to flare up nicely in the loose hay on the floor. Little wings of flame gave off a lemon yellow glow that recalled the lost carving of the waterbirds. What a lovely light the fire gave off as she warmed her hands over it; but as the rivulets of fire spread to the haystack, the heat drove her outside.

At the corrals, she let the terrified horses run free, and followed them to a hill east of town, where she watched — amazed and elated by the beauty of the colors of the fire against the twilight sky. As the flames snaked over to catch the roofs of buildings on either side of the stable, the fire’s colors were brilliant — the reds as rich as blood, the blues and whites luminous, and the orange flame as bright as Minerva’s gemstone.

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By the time they got everything packed and took down the lean-to, it was too late to get very far downriver. Even with the help of the twins it was a struggle to get all their belongings, the pets, and supplies to the road where they could catch the mail wagon the next morning.

Indigo still cried when she thought of Hattie lifted bodily into the buggy, though the twins reassured her Hattie was strong; she’d been blessed by the light of the morning star. Sister Salt was still too angry to speak; only the little grandfather’s laughter at the antics of the monkey softened her fierce expression.

They made a little campfire just as the sun went down and shared cold tortillas and bits of mutton jerky in silence. The turmoil left them exhausted. Rainbow noticed the flames to the north first and flapped his wings and squawked excitedly as he clutched Indigo’s shoulder.

All night the flames lit the sky, and they sat bundled in blankets and quilts to watch. At first they didn’t know what was burning, and Maytha joked the town dump must have caught fire, but later the flames went so high, Vedna said it had to be the town that was burning. At first they didn’t mention what night this was to have been or that somewhere in the mountains the Messiah and the ancestors still waited and loved them.

The next morning a line of blue-gray smoke still rose above the town, and Vedna joked whatever else happened, at least they got to watch the white town burn to the ground. Or maybe it was only the town dump — they didn’t know until they flagged down the mail wagon and loaded their belongings. The driver said it was no joke — half the town of Needles burned that night, though no one was injured.

Maytha and Vedna came to visit in the early spring before it got too hot. They found their way back without any trouble, although they’d been there only once before to help the girls move to the old gardens.

The twins arrived around midday. Even from a distance the bright ribbons of purple, red, yellow, and black gladiolus flowers were impossible to miss, woven crisscross over the terrace gardens, through the amaranth, pole beans, and sunflowers.

Sister warmed rabbit stew for them while the twins teased them about the waste of precious garden space and rain on flowers. Remember how outraged their neighbors were when they found out Indigo’s plants produced only flowers?

They brought Indigo the two orchid plants she had to leave behind. They teased Indigo they’d kept the two biggest plants for themselves. They had grown and filled their pots nicely despite being thrown out the door last year and nibbled by Rainbow.

The little grandfather was shy and hid his eyes from them at first, but then he began to play peek with Vedna, and Maytha finally persuaded him to toddle over to her so she could pick him up. What a big boy he was now!

With the gourd bowls of stew, Sister unwrapped red amaranth tortillas, cold but freshly made earlier that day. The little grandfather took a bite from his tortilla, then offered some to Maytha; he was more shy with Vedna; then he handed Linnaeus a piece of tortilla and gave Rainbow the rest. He was too excited by the visitors to eat; he began to bring out his toys — his corncob doll and a small gourd dish of round pebbles.

The twins remarked what good stew it was. Sister motioned with her chin at Indigo, who smiled proudly. They asked the ingredients beside rabbit, but she would only tell them, “A little of everything.”

The twins brought all kinds of news from Road’s End, and a letter for Indigo from Hattie. The envelope was covered with strange stamps and a smeared postmark from England. Inside Indigo found a lovely tinted postcard of Bath and a folded blank sheet of paper that held a folded $50 bill and a glassine envelope of postage stamps.

The postcard showed the big pool at the King’s Bath dotted with the tiny figures of white men wading and swimming. They took turns looking and laughing at the picture before Indigo read the message.

Hattie sent her love to Indigo and the girls and, of course, the little grandfather. The weather was too cloudy and cool for anything more than pussy willows, snowdrops, and pink ladies.

Next week they would take the train to Scotland to visit the old stones. In September they’d cross the channel and go by train to spend the autumn with Laura in Lucca.

Indigo broke into a big smile. What a relief it was to know Hattie was all right. She unfolded the money and the girls passed it around. They’d never touched a $50 bill before. The stamps Indigo would use right away. She would write Hattie and send the reply back with the twins.

Now for the news from Road’s End, Sister teased the twins. Were they at least pregnant or engaged yet? They all laughed and shook their heads. It sure was good to see one another again. Yes, the news was they’d managed to save up enough money so they didn’t have to live in a wallow of green beer anymore. Rumors had it they were about to be arrested for bootlegging anyway.

They used the money to buy two milk goats, six turkeys, and two dozen chickens. With egg and milk money they bought peach and apricot seedlings out of a California mail-order catalogue. Only thing was, now when they wanted to be gone more than a day, they had to hire a neighbor to sleep at their house to care for all their livestock.