She wasn’t able to give Indigo a proper hug because of the monkey and parrot but she kissed her forehead and smoothed her hair. She was aware she was being watched and looked up to see the sister with the baby. Indigo’s sister didn’t trust her; that was apparent from the expression on her face.
Once they carried indoors all the parcels and bundles from the wagon, the one-room house was crowded; the tubs of new beer needed the warmth of the house now that the nights were cold. Hattie felt a bit more relaxed as the twins joked about having their own trading post now as they stacked the canned goods and sacks of sugar and flour, onions and potatoes along the walls.
Vedna teased Hattie about forgetting the sack of barley they needed for beer, and they all laughed except Sister. Indigo was delighted to find sacks of millet and sunflower seeds for the parrot, and a big bag of special biscuits for Linnaeus. Indigo unpacked the two new lamps, filled them with oil, and lit them before it was even dark.
Sister sat on her bedroll and nursed the baby while Maytha and Vedna fried up the onions and potatoes Hattie brought with the jackrabbit they found snared that morning.
Hattie waited to tell Indigo about Edward until they’d finished eating and the older girls went outside to smoke. Indigo was bedding Linnaeus and didn’t react to the news but continued to arrange the parrot’s cage. Hattie was embarrassed by the sound of her voice in the little room as she repeated the news of Edward’s death. Indigo looked down and shrugged her shoulders before she looked at Hattie.
“Are you sorry?” Indigo asked.
The question took Hattie by surprise, but she recovered quickly. Yes, she was sorry because Edward once meant a great deal to her. Indigo looked into her eyes as she spoke, and did not blink; she had not thought about Edward since they said good-bye at the train station. The world Edward lived in seemed distant from the world of Road’s End. Indigo recalled the day he gave her Linnaeus and how he showed pictures of parrot jungles and orchid flowers. Except for the big glassy eye of his camera, Indigo thought he wasn’t a bad man.
“Poor thing. I guess he was old,” Indigo said.
Hattie nodded and fought back tears. She was shocked at the awkwardness between them in a matter of only six weeks. What a fool she was! Indigo returned to the life and sister she had before she was taken away to boarding school. Hattie realized, oddly enough, she was the one who no longer had a life to return to. Although they would welcome her, she could not return to her parents’ house.
Hattie looked very tired so Indigo showed her how to make her bed with three of the new blankets — two on the bottom, roll yourself up in the top blanket. When Hattie took her nightgown from the train case, the book of Chinese monkey stories was under it. She held up the book for Indigo to see, and her face lit up with anticipation. She scooted close to Hattie on the blankets and looked down at the page. Now at last she and the child resumed their former ease with each other as she began to read aloud.
Awhile later, Hattie looked over and saw that Indigo was asleep; the girls were sitting near the doorway listening. The twins were curious to know more about the adventures of Monkey and his companions, but Sister Salt said nothing.
The next day Indigo took Hattie along on her morning excursion with the monkey and parrot along the water’s edge. Hattie was saddened at the sight of church steeple rising out of the water. Didn’t anyone ever tell the people here about the lake made by the dam? Indigo shrugged; they told the people the water wouldn’t come that high.
Indigo showed Hattie the sprouts from gladiolus corms; the corms sent up long green blades, but they wouldn’t bloom until after Christmas, when the days got longer.
The beans and black-eyed peas in the girls’ garden looked promising, but even with the amaranth and greens the garden seemed meager. Hattie thought some chickens and goats might be good for the girls, too, or one of those pigs her father raised. She did not want to antagonize Indigo’s sister on her first visit, so she made it short. The following morning Indigo and the twins walked with Hattie to the trading post, where the mail wagon took on passengers or freight for Needles. The mail wagon driver recognized the twins and was friendly enough as he took Hattie’s valise and helped her up into the wagon. The store man and his wife brought out the sacks of mail. They stared past Hattie as if she were invisible, even after she murmured hello to them. The twins whispered to each other and laughed out loud; the storekeeper and his wife stiffened their backs and glared as Indigo started laughing too. The driver clucked to the horses and the wagon creaked, and the harness jingled as they pulled away from Road’s End. Hattie turned on the seat and waved at the girls, who waved back until the wagon went over the hill.
The mail wagon driver was a talkative man who didn’t seem to mind Hattie’s reluctant replies. He asked if she was a missionary of some sort and if she planned to settle around there. He added non-Indians weren’t allowed to reside on the reservations without government permits, and only merchants, missionaries, and schoolteachers could obtain them.
To change the subject Hattie asked about farmland for sale in the area; the driver launched into a long account of locations and prices and availability of irrigation water or wells. If she didn’t mind being around Indians, the cheapest way to go was to lease Indian land from the Indian Bureau. Forty-year leases were cheaper than the ninety-nine-year leases and just as good, with options to renew for another term.
By the next day, the hotel clerk knew about her interest in land, and so did the bank manager when Hattie went to arrange another transfer of funds. The banker had a list of real estate, mostly farmland for sale and for lease, which he would be delighted to show at her convenience. By the end of the week Hattie had received two dinner invitations — from the banker’s wife and the minister’s wife. But before she could respond to the invitations, unsettling news came in a note from the bank. Her bank in New York indicated the amount of the cash transfer she’d requested exceeded the balance in the account.
“But that can’t be!” she said aloud, and began to fumble with the valise that held the account book.
Delena thought she must have reached the edge of the land of the dead or some kind of hell because a terrible howling wind stung her face with grit and dust. When she choked and coughed it hurt so much she knew she wasn’t dead. A moment later big cold raindrops began to slap her face and arms. She heard the dogs stir; they’d been without water longer than she had, and she feared she might lose some of them. Her arms and legs were so stiff they hurt to move, but she managed to roll over on her back. Her lips and tongue were swollen and cracked; at first the raindrops stung. She leaned her head back so the rainwater bathed her dried-up eyes; if eyes dried out too long they were blind forever.
The wind increased with the rain and carried with it grit the size of seed beads, then the size of peas; as the wind’s scream increased even pebbles the size of small acorns were blasted against her, and she felt her clothing about to be torn from her body. Then the deluge came as if someone was dumping water from canteens, then from barrels, and suddenly it was as if a river in the sky cascaded down; even the wind got washed away.
The rainwater ran down her face into her mouth; at first her tongue and throat were so dry she almost choked on the water. Before long she felt rain seep along the ground beneath her, and rolled over to put her lips to the ground to suck the glorious cool water until her thirst was satisfied.
After a while she felt the water rise, up to her ribs, then to her ears. She rolled over again on her side with her legs drawn up, shivering in the cold stream of water. Once moistened, her eyes began to burn; they felt swollen so she did not try to open them; she could wait to find out if she was blind.