When she woke again, a light rain was falling and the dogs were standing over her licking her face; one dog licked her eyes with special vigor, gently using its teeth to remove the matter that caked them. She reached out and felt the crooked legs of the mother dog, the money sniffer. She let the dog saliva work its healing power for a while and then she had to find out.
It was so dark at first she feared she was blind; then she realized it was only dawn, and the storm clouds covered the rising sun. Gradually she could make out light and darkness in the sky, but the light hurt and caused tears to stream down her cheeks. Still she could make out forms — all seven dogs were there and she could see the motion of their tails as they wagged to greet her. “Well we made it, after all, didn’t we?” she said, but was shocked at the croaking sound she made when she spoke.
All morning she and the dogs rested, getting up only to drink water from the standing pools; she tried not to open her eyes unless it was to see what little rodent the dogs caught. After the rain, the desert creatures all came out and the dogs made short work of any cottontails or rats they saw. She let them have the first three or four before she took a rabbit for herself; by that time the sun dried the grass and twigs enough she was able to kindle a fire; she was so hungry; she didn’t care who saw the smoke. A big man needed more water so her pursuer was probably dead before the rain came.
Delena and the dogs stayed as long as there were puddles of water, and she filled all the water bags while the water was fresh and plentiful and saved it for the journey. The dogs and she alternately rested and hunted rabbits and birds for the first few days, but as she and the money-sniffer dog regained their strength, she took the dog to the soggy pile of dog packs and the wet cloth of the bundles she’d opened as gifts to welcome the storm clouds. The fierce winds took away all the cards of both decks and all the currency; bless the silver and the gold coins, they sank in the wet dirt but stayed put even in the driving rain and runoff.
A short distance away, wedged tightly between two rocks, was one of the Mexican tarot cards, terribly curled as it dried out. This will be the last reading of my poor cards, she thought as she leaned down to pick it up. She was encouraged to see it was La Estrella, the Star, companion and guide, the one who brought the rain. She found another card stuck in prickly pear needles — El Tambor, the Drum; its dicho, “Don’t crinkle the old leather, I want it for my drum,” made her think of the father of the Sand Lizard girl’s baby; now he was wrinkled up and dead for lack of water. The Sand Lizard girl didn’t want to be married to him anyway.
A short distance from the card the dog sniffed out a $20 bill blown around the spiny base of the ocotillo, which wore small holes in the paper. Nearby the dog sniffed out two $5 bills. The storm winds swept the money and cards ahead of the storm in the direction of the mountains they’d come from. She and the dog searched every day, and by the time the pools of rainwater began to dry up, the dog had found all but $40 of the cash. She was not so lucky herself finding the cards, which were too stiff to snag on branches and rocks the way the currency did. She found the Deer, the Mandolin, and the Soldier, but not even one of the Gypsy cards. When she studied the cards, the appearance of the Soldier card with the Deer persuaded her the fat man was still alive. Oh well, he wouldn’t be in any condition to trouble her for a while.
The rainstorm left large pools of standing water all the way to Tucson. They kept to the dry washes and game trails to avoid soldiers and other criminals who might endanger the cash the dogs carried. Delena had not seen the desert so green in early autumn. Wild amaranth sprouted in stands as tall as she was in some places in the washes. The rains brought newborn rabbits and rats, so she and the dogs ate well too. Still, she was relieved to reach the safe house in Tucson to eat beans, red chile, and tortillas after so many little roasted rodents.
♦ ♦ ♦
The big baked ham had a thick shell of honey sugar glaze garnished with small garnet cranberries and fat brown raisins. All around the ham, side dishes brimmed with baby peas in butter cream sauce, candied yams in apple butter, baked pears in lemongrass pudding, and black-eyed peas in ham gravy, and a platter of biscuits puffy and light as clouds flanked with little dishes of strawberry, blueberry, and raspberry preserves.
There was no one in the room to serve him, but the ham was sliced and he was about to fill his plate when he realized what he really wanted was a drink of water; but the fine crystal goblets above his plate were empty. He circled the table but found no water or wine, which annoyed him enough that he opened the door.
Before him was a much larger room, a wonderful dining hall with high ceilings and big bay windows with snowy mountain peaks in the distance. The great long table was laden with racks of lamb and veal, a pheasant and a suckling pig, platters of crab legs and lobsters still hot, casseroles of wild rice, baby onions in walnuts, green beans with corn, and squash with pine nuts. Loaves and braids of bread — sweet fig bread, apple bread, zucchini bread, and spicy rolls — surrounded fruit pies and cream pies, and towering cakes iced in whipped cream and chocolate fudge.
The odors of the food were sublime but he could find no wine or water or coffee anywhere on the great table; now his hunger was exceeded only by his thirst. The snow out the windows looked so inviting! He would gladly forgo the tables of luscious food for a handful of snow, and looked for another door out of the room; but the only door led back to the smaller dining room. He would have to smash the bay window and find a rope or way to let himself down to the ground some twenty feet below.
He kicked the glass and was shocked to see the fragments splash and rain down like water; he tore loose a thick green velvet panel of drapery and tied it to the window frame before he let himself down to the ground. It was freezing cold outside but the stony ground was dry; he could find no snow, and he could not control the shivering.
The last he remembered was the animated voices in a heated discussion louder than the drumming he heard; they talked about him. The Africans and the Indians — all his ancestors argued whether they should bring him home or let him stay longer. He didn’t remember his ancestors or care about their feelings; yes, he was a good boy and loved his mama, but once a grown man he wasn’t worth a damn except for moneymaking. He didn’t remember the ancestors with even one drop of liquor or even corn pollen or a plug of tobacco. He abandoned the little grandfather, his son, to chase after money. That’s how he got himself in this predicament in the first place — so crazy over the money he didn’t carry enough water. Any human that weak might as well be dead.
Candy was saddened at the unfairness of the spirits, who seemed not to know that these days money was necessary to buy one’s freedom day after day. Part of the stolen money belonged to Sister Salt; he always intended to return it to her. He was the one who assured her the safe was better than a hole in the ground. His eyes would not open anymore, and he could hardly swallow; but he spoke to them silently: If it was too late to save him, what were they arguing over? He had almost crossed over and was relieved to be finished — life was certainly more difficult than death. The voices ignored him; maybe he wasn’t as far gone as he hoped.
No one was going to come along with water in time to save him — with the last of his strength he pulled the shotgun up beside his face. Now the drumming was so loud it deafened him and he no longer heard the voices; he felt the gusts of wind grow stronger until tiny pebbles stung his face and hands.
At first he feared the odor of rain in the wind was another hallucination, but a crash of lightning and thunder shook the ground beneath him.