by Sue Hardesty
"Easy," she whispered back. "If you want either of them to do anything, tell them they're too old for it."
Loni helped her grandma pull everything off the counters and out of the cabinets and onto the table and floor. "Lordy, Shiichoo. You have enough cooking stuff for five families." Loni picked up a cut glass bowl. "You know? I've been looking at this thing all my life and I still don't know what it is."
Swatting Loni with a dish towel, her grandmother took the glass bowl out of her hand. "It's a finger bowl."
"Have I ever seen you use a finger bowl?"
"Have I ever used a finger bowl? Let me think on that," Shiichoo made fun of her as she carefully placed the bowl on the table. "I keep it because it's your history."
"That dog have better memory." Bahb nodded at Coco who was underfoot. "Things from father side."
"Did I know that?" Loni felt confused.
"Only said thousand times."
"Where was I when you told me?" Loni took a huge plate from a tall stack. Shiichoo took the plate away from her and put it back. Picking up the stack, Bahb carried it to the table.
"What are those, anyway?" Loni remembered the dishes, but never saw any of them used.
"Chargers," Shiichoo answered.
"What do they charge?"
"If you don't get busy," Bahb warned her. "I'll charge you."
"Well?"
"Your great grandmother," Bahb explained. "She from back East where they had big dinners. Your dad remember from when little. Set other dishes on this one at time. Your dad hated how long just to eat."
Loni looked around at all the dishes. "You kept these for me?"
"Didn't keep them for me."
"Do you have anything from your family?"
"Can't think of any."
"Yes, you do." Bahb watched Willie returned with a tarp and two gallons of paint.
"What?" Shiichoo asked.
"Your mother's rug sticks."
Shiichoo gently smiled as she pulled out the last of the glass dishes and covered everything on the table with a plastic red-checkered cloth that had seen better days. "One of the few memories I have of her. Sitting at her feet keeping the wool from tangling." Shiichoo took one end of the tarp and helped Bahb cover the floor. She sighed. "Never got a chance to learn to use them."
"I thought you never saw your family again after you were taken to the boarding school." Loni spread newspapers on the counter. "Wasn't everyone gone when you went back to find them? How did you find the sticks?"
Bahb poured yellow paint in a small can. "Not ever'one," he said. "Remember your aunt Gate?" We visited her just before we went south to work."
Shiichoo's dark eyes stared into space. "Yes. She gave me the sticks. Good heavens. That was over fifty years ago. I still remember her tiny house leaning on the side of a deep arroyo." She turned to Loni. "They threw trash over the banks in the high country. I think I like that better than the trash hills they made on this desert."
Bahb laughed. "What I remember are the chickens sticking their heads up through the holes in her kitchen floor."
"I remember that." Shiichoo fussed at Bahb. "She really got mad at you and told us to leave. She thought you were kicking them in the head."
"I no kick. I feed them her... what that bitter stuff?"
"Acorn bread, I think. She didn't leach it very well. I don't remember you feeding those chickens."
"Well, I had to. They kept pecking my toes!"
Willie nearly fell off his ladder, laughing. Fortunately, Loni was sitting down painting baseboards when she fell over in a fit of giggles.
"She give you rug sticks when we leave." Bahb started rolling paint above Loni. "Bet old coot felt guilty she keep them."
"I remember those sticks now." Loni dodged Bahb's splatters. "They're in your closet. You never let me play with them."
"It was all I had from my childhood home. I wish we had culture to pass on to you like your gringo grandparents. I never even learned how to use her sticks."
Laying her brush down, Loni stood and gave Shiichoo a big hug, fighting tears. "You gave me a home, the best home anyone could have. Nothing else matters." She returned to her painting. "Why don't we find a way to display the sticks?"
With a pleased look, Shiichoo continued covering the counters with newspapers.
"Shiichoo. What was my mother like?" All anyone had told her about her mother was that she was sweet and pretty. And died giving birth to her.
"She not like you were." Bahb grinned down at her. "She easy to raise."
"I don't remember being hard to raise." Loni started to whine until she got another one of her grandma's famous skinny looks and changed the subject. "Bahb? You got anything left from your past?"
"No. They take ever'ting at Indian school. Never got anything back."
"You never told me about the school. How old were you?"
"I a teen before school. Don't know how old. Don't know when born."
"What it was like? Do you remember?"
"I never forget. Like yesterday. Big fence with barbed wire across top. Boys sit on ground crying in hot sun. Shaved heads and overalls." Bahb turned away. "Little ones so scared they wet bed at night." Bahb shook his head. "Army wool blankets so scratchy it hurt. So hot." Bahb was quiet a minute. "Little ones, they suffer so."
Loni had never heard Bahb say so much at one time. She stayed silent as Shiichoo began to talk.
"I remember when I came. I was only five. I must have cried for months." She smiled at Bahb. "At least my hair had grown back long again by the time you got there."
"How'd they catch you, Bahb?"
"My pop die in house fire. Drunk. I stay in brush, hunting." Bahb climbed up a ladder and rolled paint on the walls as Loni finished the baseboards. "Still be out there but Ma take sick. Nurse turn me in." He climbed down and searched for missed spots. "Heard later Ma die."
Shiichoo walked over and kissed Bahb on the cheek. "The day you showed up was the best day of my life." Bahb hugged her in return.
"Good thing she there, too," Bahb said to Loni. "Hardest thing, no food unless learn names. Shiichoo would save me food."
"What food did you like?" Loni searched for happier memories.
"I liked the white bread in cold milk with a little sugar." Shiichoo smiled. "Only time we got sugar. I used to tear off the crust and put it in the milk and hide the center. I would put the bread in book to dry flat and pretend it was Indian bread from home." She grinned. "Sometimes it took the print off the pages. I often wondered what the next person who got the book thought."
"Not matter." Bahb patted her back. "Most of us not read."
"True," Shiichoo answered. "And even those of us who could played dumb. It would get them so exasperated; they would get tired of beating us and leave us alone."
"I remember this one teacher. Big man with bad temper and wet evil eyes. He break boy's arm that not move fast enough."
"I remember that. He was a sweet boy from my tribe. He was never the same after that."
Loni admired Willie, loving the way his black head looked against the pale yellow of the paint. "You missed a spot," Loni teased him.
"Only spot I miss is your face." Willie reached down and painted a swath across Loni's forehead before he dabbed dots down her cheek. "That better," he said with a straight face. "You good Apache warrior now."
It was dark before the kitchen got its last pale yellow coat and Loni headed out the door. Shiichoo loved her bright, open kitchen. That beautiful brown wrinkled face beaming at her was all Loni needed.
* * *
Loni watched the setting sun cast deep red streaks across the sky as she drove home thinking, There must be a lot of dirt in the air to create such vivid colors. Hoping a dust storm wasn't coming, she glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a motorcycle behind her. When she turned into the hangar, it continued down the road toward one of the airport houses and she lost sight of it. There were too many motorcycles around here. Rolling her shoulders
to relieve the tension, she climbed down from her truck, motioning Coco to follow her. A yellow blob of paint bobbed at the end of her wagging brown tail.
Coyotes yipped to one another in the distance. They were on the run, maybe about to share a supper after they took turns running a jack rabbit into exhaustion. Loni heard a high keening. Coco almost knocked Loni down as she bolted up the stairs. Grabbing the rail, Loni shook her head and followed Coco up the rest of the way. When she opened the door, the dog shoved her aside again and immediately leaped on the bed, curling up into a small ball. Loni had to laugh at her antics. "Maria used to brag about how brave and protective you were," she teased Coco. "She should see you now."
Sitting at her table, Loni opened her laptop and wrote Sandi.
FROM: Loni Wagner
TO: [email protected]
DATE: July 3
SUBJECT: Still not looking
Spent the afternoon painting my grandma's kitchen. I think she liked it. While we worked, they talked about growing up Indian. School, loss of family, hardships. It humbled me to think of what they gave up to move into the white man's world to raise me. My grandma's health really scares me. I swear if she turns sideways she'll disappear. I can only hope I'm doing the right thing by trying to make her a little more comfortable. Maybe give some of what I took back to her.
Coco still misses Maria. So do I. I'm so glad Maria has a sister like you. Someone to talk to who knew her and understands what I'm going through. I know you tell me to move on, but I can't.
Love to et al.
Loni
So tired that she felt she couldn't move another inch, Loni climbed onto the bed and pushed Coco's huddled body over, smiling at her behavior.
Until she remembered the motorcycle.
CHAPTER 4
July 4, 2:51 a.m.
BACK ON PATROL, Loni parked at one of her favorite speed traps. High in the sky, the still bright waning moon was a frosted light globe surrounded by tiny lights. A silvery luminescence settled on everything around her as she waited at a rest stop outside town. Restless in the quiet of the silhouetted greasewood and cactus, she stepped out of the SUV to lean against the warm hood. City noise and moving lights, once her norm, were gone. She poured coffee from her thermos for something to do. It had been nearly three hours and all she had counted was eight cars sporadically making their careful way home. On the Fourth of July weekend, there should be more. What happened to party time?
Lost in memories, she smiled to herself. Every holiday in Maria's family was an event, and Maria delighted in attending every birth, baptism, confirmation, wedding, birthday party, anniversary, and other gathering that had no reason. Going to one of them wore Loni out. Maria's older sister Sandi helped Mama cook while Maria conned Loni into helping her babysit all the grandchildren while the rest of the family played touch football in the huge backyard. Thinking about the parties in the quiet around her felt spooky.
Checking to make sure there was no traffic, she let Coco out to pee. "Where is everybody?" she asked the dog.
Coco barked one sharp retort. Loni had no idea what it meant.
Working at using up more time, she opened the door for Coco to get back into the car and pulled out, slowly driving south. She drove over to the freeway, hoping to stop a few speeders on their way to California. All she saw were a few fireworks way in the distance. Finally her time dragged to an end. She was glad to sign out and be done for the day until she met Chief coming in the entrance.
"Follow me," he barked out of a contorted face, limping on down the hall.
Oh, shit! Loni cringed. Here it comes. She quietly followed him into the office and started to sit down. Tully was in the other chair with the usual smirk on his face.
"Don't," the Chief frowned, "sit." He stared at her a moment through blue faded eyes that popped out of his hanging face. There was an unhealthy purple tinge to his skin. "What's this crap about drugs?" He punched her report with his finger at every word. "Tully didn't find no drugs."
"He didn't look."
"That was rhetorical." He punched the report again.
Loni kept her mouth shut, waiting. It was probably the only four-syllable word he knew.
"State called. Your drug sample came from a batch they're tracking. They're coming to work with us. You will not say one word to them. Not one word!"
"Yes, Chief." She wondered what he would say about the money.
After a long pause, the Chief picked up the report, tore it in two, and threw it into the trash can. "You're off this case now." He sat back in his chair. "Give everything back to Tully and get back on patrol."
"Chief." Loni had to say it. "What about Rene's murder? And the bullet that just missed my head?"
"There weren't no murder yet. This here valve on your report don't prove nothing. Your bullet sounds like a random robbery gone bad." Chief leaned back and crossed his arms on his belly. He stared at Loni while she backed out of the office.
Loni quickly collected her notes with the copy of the receipt for the money and dropped them on Tully's desk. "Wait till Chief sees the money that went to State," she said to herself. "Wonder if I'll have a job tomorrow? Wonder if I care?"
* * *
Hoping for peace and quiet, she headed toward the ranch. It didn't turn out that way.
"Hey, Shiichoo, why are you cooking?" Loni asked. "It's hotter in here than outside!" She recognized the smell of mixed hot spices in the menudo when she lifted the lid from a pot filled with rolling dark stew, white and green pieces swirling around in the liquid. Sniffing, she smelled garlic. A great hangover cure, Shiichoo always told her. Would it help a lack-of-sleep hangover? Sticking her nose back over the pot, she decided just smelling it would cure anything.
"So, whose dog did you cook this time?"
"That wasn't funny the first time I heard it." Shiichoo gently slapped Loni's butt as she pushed around her to put wood in the stove. "A sick and hungry family came in earlier. Menudo's good comfort food."
"How long have the beef tripe and pigs' feet been boiling?"
"About three hours."
"You made Bahb quarter the pigs' feet and cut up the tripe, right?" She tried to stare Shiichoo down. "Right?"
Shiichoo stared back.
Loni picked up her grandmother and carried her into the living room. She stood her on one of the rag rugs, turned her around, and held her shoulders. "You! Sit! I'll finish." Loni glanced down, recognizing one of her old school dresses in the rug and chuckled to herself as she went back into the kitchen.
"Don't burn the bread!" Loni heard her grandmother shout as the door swung closed behind her.
The pots and pans had been hanging on the board above her head as long as Loni could remember. She reached up and lifted down a fry pan to put on the stove. After she greased the bottom with butter, she poured a cup of batter into the pan. When she whirled around to pick up the spatula, she nearly knocked her grandma down. Shiichoo had slipped back into the kitchen and was opening the stove to shove in another piece of wood.
"You're putting more wood in the stove? It's already 200 degrees in here! Bahb!" Loni yelled for support. "We're getting heatstroke in here." Nobody said anything. She turned back to the stove muttering to her grandma. "Wait till Thursday."
"Shush. I don't want a new stove. They don't cook right," Shiichoo said.
"Listen," Loni said soothingly. "The old stove's staying. You can cook with it when it cools off." Loni fanned herself, complaining, "Sidog! Sidog!" Fanning faster, she groaned, "Too hot to even eat."
Shiichoo gave her one of her don't be silly looks. "How was work?" she asked.
"I'm really beginning to hate Chief Bubba." Loni put the dishes on the end of a long wooden counter. "Really, really beginning to hate him!" She reached into the ancient freezer for tin cans of frozen tea. "Think I'll stick my head in here and stay." She rubbed her face with the side of a can as she reluctantly closed the freezer.
"You haven't been home long enough to qui
t yet. Give it time," Shiichoo said philosophically.
"Where's Bahb, anyway?"
"Out," her grandma spat. "And I don't want to talk about it. Take this pot to the second cabin. And on your way back, stop at the barn and tell him he can eat supper outside, too."
"What did he do?"
Her grandma didn't answer.
"Second cabin on the right or left?"
