I saw my slain sister, Buffalo.
I saw my slain brother, Condor.
Don’t cry, they told me.
Don’t cry.
A dancer sank to her knees moaning, then lay flat to embrace the ground; her companions pulled her shawl up to keep her warm while she visited with her dear ones. They stepped over her and the others who fell to the ground twitching and babbling, and kept dancing as the starry bridge of the Milky Way arched over them.
The dancers stood near the fires to keep warm as they rested before the last song; Indigo went with Sister to the lean-to to check on the baby and to see if Hattie and the pets were keeping warm. They all were asleep and snugly covered; Sister put a small piece of wood on the fire outside and they returned to join in the final round of songs.
As they sang and danced the circle, Indigo lifted her eyes to the high sandy hill above the river to the northwest, and sang with all her heart for Mama to come. Just as the morning star rose above the mountain horizon, Indigo felt her sister’s grip on her hand tighten before Sister Salt sank to the sand and lay crying softly and moaning. Indigo felt her heart pound with the drum until she was enclosed by the sound that shook the ground under her feet. Now the Messiah and his followers were near, prepared to come bless the dancers on the last night. She held on to the twins’ hands even tighter to keep her balance on the pulsating earth.
Winds dance
In the green grass.
Winds dance
In the yellow flowers.
They covered Sister Salt with a blanket while she lay motionless on the ground, and later helped her back to the lean-to to sleep. Visits left the dancers exhausted.
Indigo had difficulty getting to sleep and wanted to be up early when Sister woke to feed the little grandfather. If it was Grandma Fleet who visited Sister last night, did she have any news about Mama? It was still dark when she woke and heard the others snoring; outside a crack between the wood and tin, dawn was approaching behind low foggy clouds. Faintly, in the distance, she heard beautiful singing and realized the singing she heard was not from the encampment — all the dancers were asleep. The sound was in the distance but closer now. Careful not to wake anyone, Indigo took her shawl and stepped outside before she wrapped herself against the freezing air. On the high sandy hill she thought she saw some movement in the mist and fog.
As she began to climb up the deep sand of the slope, the fog and mist swirled down to meet her; now the singing was near and very beautiful — a song in the Sand Lizard language she’d never heard before.
Dance, little clouds, your sisters are fog!
Dance, little clouds, your brothers are mist!
Play in the wind! Play in the wind!
Mama was rocking her — she was so snug and warm. What a happy, beautiful song! Mama kissed her and held her so close.
Indigo woke in her bed and saw it was still dark. She felt so much love she wept; she knew then where Mama was and always would be. Dance, little clouds, dance! Play in the wind!
For an instant Hattie did not know where she was, then she heard the drum and the voices. Outside the soft yellow glow must be the approach of dawn; the lemon yellow light was the same color as the lost carnelian carved with the waterbirds. The crushing pain was gone and her head felt clear; all her senses were alert for the first time since the assault. Dawn was the time the Messiah and his family were expected to come. She wanted to see for herself.
In the soft light she could make out the sleeping baby, the quilt carefully tucked around him; the parrot and monkey both were awake in their cages and watched her put on her shoes. As she approached the blanket over the lean-to entrance, the light outside became brighter and more luminous — she recognized it at once and felt a thrill sweep over her. How soothing the light was, how joyously serene she felt.
She lost all sense of time and of how long she stood at the entrance, the luminous glow streaming in all around the edges of the blanket. She was too awed to step outside to face it.
The girls were surprised to find Hattie up when they returned to the lean-to after midnight. She told them how she woke feeling so much better and then noticed the beautiful glow outside the lean-to, so much like the strange light she saw before.
The light she saw was the morning star, who came to comfort her, Sister explained. How could she have seen the same light in the garden in England and in a dream on board the ship? Oh the Messiah and his family traveled the earth — they might be seen anywhere. Tomorrow he would come as the Messiah with the others and speak to them.
But on the morning of the fourth day, three white soldiers and two Apache policemen rode up; while the soldiers watched from their horses, the Apaches went around to question all the people about their assigned reservations. The policemen were polite, even friendly when they spoke to the dancers, but they let them know they must break up the gathering at once or be arrested.
Many wept at the news, and Sister and others pleaded with the police to let them dance just one more night — the Messiah and the others were so close now. But no, the Apache cops pretended they didn’t know what the people were talking about.
People started to cry as they realized they would not be permitted to dance home their ancestors and the Messiah that night. Sister Salt was furious and cursed the policemen and soldiers in English: Masturbators! Donkey fuckers! Maytha spat at them but Vedna brought out her Bible and waved it in the cops’ faces. The soldiers moved in on their horses to protect the cops but Vedna stood her ground and let the Bible fall open, then began to shout the words on the page: “Even though you make many prayers I will not hear you. Your hands are full of blood!”
The Apaches retreated quickly to their horses to confer with the soldiers; they were afraid the girl shaking the Bible might put witchcraft on them. Many people were crying and all appeared stunned; only the girl with the Bible appeared to resist.
Indigo cried and cried; now they’d never find Mama or get to see Grandma Fleet except in dreams. The Messiah and the others were so close, but now they could not come. Her tears were hot and bitter and burned her eyes, so she had difficulty seeing what it was Maytha was pointing at in the distance. A wagon! Was it more police coming to haul them away?
Hattie was shocked to see her father beside the Indian policeman in the doorway. His expression of joy at finding her quickly faded to concern over the bruises on her face. He hesitated before he stepped inside to kneel on the quilt beside her to get a better look. The parrot squawked loudly and the monkey screamed; the baby woke and began to cry. Hattie burst into tears — her father knelt and gently put his arms around her but she pulled away.
At the baby’s first cries, Sister Salt burst into the lean-to past the Apache cop and white man, to pick up the little grandfather. Indigo followed, and recognized Mr. Abbott at once and greeted him politely. The monkey and parrot calmed when they saw the girls.
Mr. Abbott said Indigo grew so much he almost didn’t know her. Sister held the baby close to her chest and stood ready to flee even after Indigo reassured her Hattie’s father was kind.
Now one of the white soldiers joined the Apache cop in the doorway; Sister spat in their direction and turned her back to them. Outside she could hear people pray, and some wept softly for the losses — their hopes to be blessed by the Messiah were dashed. How they dreamed and yearned to see beloved ancestors and dear ones passed on, and that was not to be.