Grandma Fleet explained the differences in the moisture of the sand between the dunes as they slowly made their way up the sandy path between the dunes. Grandma steadied herself with a hand on each girl’s shoulder; they made their way slowly past the bare terraces where the sweet black corn, muskmelons, and speckled beans used to grow. Grandma explained each of the dunes and the little valleys between them had different flows of runoff; some of the smaller dunes were too dry along their edges and it was difficult to grow anything there; in marginal areas like these it was better to let the wild plants grow.
Grandma Fleet explained which floodplain terraces were well drained enough to grow sweet black corn and speckled beans. The squashes and melons were water lovers, so they had to be planted in the bowl-shaped area below the big dune where the runoff soaked deep into the sand. Wild gourds, sunflowers, and datura seeded themselves wherever they found moisture.
The following afternoon, big rain clouds gathered along the southwest horizon. Grandma Fleet greeted the clouds with tears in her eyes; their beloved ancestors returned to them as precious rain. The morning after the rain, Grandma was up before dawn to unpack her jars of seeds; Indigo and Sister Salt woke to her singing.
“The dampness is sweet on the earth, smell the rain!” Grandma Fleet sang in the old Sand Lizard language, but the girls understood some of the words and got the meaning of the song from Grandma’s voice. She was so excited by the arrival of the rain, she told the girls they would eat later; she wanted to be planting the first seeds as the sun appeared. The coolness of the breeze across the damp earth surprised Indigo; she shivered, then broke into a run up the path past the first dune.
Grandma Fleet walked, with only the aid of her cane, at an energetic pace; she seemed to be her old self again. Sister smiled; she had been worried about Grandma’s health, but all the old woman needed was a good rain. Grandma Fleet knelt in the damp sand with her digging stick and showed the girls how deep and how closely to plant the seeds. They planted all morning and part of the afternoon with only water from the spring and a few handfuls of dried pumpkin seeds to eat.
Again the swollen blue-violet clouds gathered in the afternoon, and as the rain fell, Grandma told the girls truly they were blessed.
“We are the last remnants of the Sand Lizard clan,” Grandma Fleet explained. “So many of us have died it’s no wonder clusters of rain clouds gather over the old gardens.” The Sand Lizard people of the old gardens were never as numerous as their cousins who lived and farmed along the river before the reservations were made. When Indigo asked why the Sand Lizard people stayed there, if it was easier to grow plants close to the big river, Grandma Fleet laughed. Sand Lizards did things differently than other people. Sand Lizards didn’t mind if others found them odd; that’s how they distinguished themselves from others. Farming was easy along the river but getting along with the authorities was not.
The Sand Lizards preferred to rely on the rain clouds and avoid confinement on a reservation. Yes, the other people laughed at the Sand Lizards, and it was true their kind was disappearing, but they were proud to be known for their contrary ways. Yes, the Sand Lizards were different! Long ago, when the Apaches used to raid the Sand Lizards’ villages, the Sand Lizards fought back fiercely until they were beating the Apache, but then, instead of fighting to the end to crush the Apaches and make them slaves the way the other tribes did, the Sand Lizard people used to stop fighting and let the Apaches get away. Other tribes called them crazy for this, but the Sand Lizards didn’t have much use for slaves; they were just more hungry mouths to feed, and slaves had to be watched all the time.
Yes, the Sand Lizards were different. They were stubborn; they refused to allow the churchmen to touch their children. The churchmen were liars; they claimed Jesus Christ died in a faraway country, long ago. They claimed to speak for Jesus Christ; they said Jesus didn’t want to see women’s bare breasts no matter how hot the summer day was; if the others wanted to pay such a high price to farm along the river, that was their choice.
Grandma Fleet said they did have a few cousins who lived on the reservation at Parker. The girls never met them because the authorities punished the reservation Indians for any contact they had with the renegades.
“If anything happens to me, you girls stay here. You belong here. Your mama knows she will find you here. Otherwise, how will she ever find you? If you need something, go ask our friend Mrs. Van Wagnen. Watch out or the authorities will catch you two and ship you off to school.”
The location of the old gardens and the spring was known to the authorities, but they still were safest there, because the journey from the river to the old gardens was difficult for the horses. Miles of deep sand that exhausted the horses were followed by fields of sharp black lava so hard that the horses’ shoes wore thin and broke. After they left the river, the horses were without water for two days. Now, as far as anyone knew, the old gardens were abandoned; even if someone did come, the cliff swallows would signal their approach by circling nervously around their nests. All sounds in the canyons were amplified by the sandstone formations. The flash of the sun off metal, the clinking sounds of bits, spurs, carbines, lids of canteens, and the coughs and sneezes of the men and the horses gave plenty of warning.
The sun broke through the clouds in the west and warmed them even as the last raindrops fell. How sweet the air smelled after the rain! Indigo was hungry. She raced Sister Salt down the winding trail, down between the sand dunes to the dugout house. They were at the house only long enough to get dried fruit and a bit of jerky. Grandma Fleet said once farmers finished the planting they might eat a bit of meat. Sister Salt pointed at the empty muslin sack folded neatly at the bottom of the storage jar; Indigo nodded. Next time Grandma sent them for more dried meat they would have to confess the greedy feast they enjoyed while she was gone.
Now that the seeds were planted, they slept in the dunes above the gardens to protect the seeds from rodents. In the heat of the day, when the birds and rodents were less active, they returned to the cool dark dugout house to rest until sundown. Once the seedlings were up, they pulled weeds in the coolness of the moonlight.
On the highest dune, near the spring, Grandma Fleet dug herself a little pit house in the fine sand right below the mound where she planted the apricot seeds. At first Indigo and Sister Salt paid little attention because their grandmother liked to dig down into the sand to find the coolness; but then Grandma Fleet arranged willow branches in a latticework to hold more willow branches to form a roof over the dugout. Now Grandma Fleet no longer bothered to walk all the way back down the trail to sleep at the house; the girls passed the heat of the day alone in the old dugout house. Grandma insisted her burrow below the apricot seedlings was just as cool as the old house, and it saved her energy; the walk up the trail between the dunes was too difficult for her now.
“These baby apricot trees need me close by,” Grandma Fleet teased. “Look at them! Aren’t they lovely?” The dark green seedlings were knee high by the time the baby squash and baby beans were ready to eat.
Grandma stayed with the gardens, while they went to gather the prickly pear fruit, and later, the mesquite beans. Grandma showed them how to boil the prickly pear fruit into a thick, sweet paste which she dried in the sun. The mesquite beans had to be dried then roasted and stored carefully; otherwise, the little bugs would eat them. After the girls had finished their chores, they played games, made contests to see who could hit the target with a rock or stick from the greatest distance. They made targets out of precarious stacks of flat stones or with piles of kindling wood. They both squealed with delight at a direct hit as the stones or branches fell.