by Sue Hardesty
"Left. Russell still lives in the one on the right."
Loni pushed the screen door open to a screeching noise.
Carefully maneuvering the narrow plank board over the ditch running in front of the cabins, she made her way to the cabin and knocked. A very short and very round Papago woman, smiling sweetly, opened the door, five children stacked behind her like dominos. As she smelled the pot, joy wiped across her face. "Gracias! Muchas gracias!"
"De nada." Although Loni spoke a little O'odham, she was relieved to hear Spanish. She smiled at the children as she left, thinking she needed to find some toys in her grandma's toy box to bring them.
Bahb was soaping down a saddle in the barn. Three inches taller than Loni, he stood poker straight tall. He never changed, not even when a horse tried to roll on him. He simply stepped off and, while the horse was struggling to get back up, stepped back on. Saddened by anyone who beat and jerked horses into submission, he always gentle-broke them.
Loni glanced around at the familiar saddles on their wooden horses. Her favorite Porter saddle, freshly oiled and soft, still sat in the corner. Horseshoes lay in boxes on the two-by-four bench that sagged from years of use. Tack hung off the weathered walls, harnesses that her other grandfather used to grow alfalfa on the thirty acres out back. It was in feed grass now.
"Hey, Bahb, how come Shiichoo is mad at you?"
He snorted." Horses got in wet clothes on line."
"And?"
"Drug them around. Had to wash again. She still mad?" He looked up, a hopeful grin on his brown smooth face. Loni figured she already had more wrinkles than he did. "She said to tell you to eat outside."
"Do I have to sleep out here, too?"
Loni giggled with him and left him to his saddles.
Loni stopped by Willie's open door to tell him lunch was ready.
"Bahb still has trouble?"
Loni grinned back. "He might be sleeping in with you tonight."
* * *
Loni turned all the lights out in her loft so that she could watch the Fourth of July fireworks shooting up from the distant rodeo grounds this side of Caliente. Everything was black except the runway and a few twinkling lights in houses scattered across the landscape. She pulled a chair up to the window and waited.
Used to babbling voices surrounding her, the silence drove Loni crazy. When she lived with Maria, the phone rang off the wall, always an aunt, grandfather, cousin, relative, or friend calling for help. Even when it was only the two of them together, Maria was like a whirlwind, circling Loni with her affectionate chatter and help. She always held Loni close to her, always included her, forcing her to react with people. Alone again, Loni had lost the will to reach out. Loni wasn't sorry to miss the barbeque. Crowds made her lonely, even more so after losing Maria.
Earlier she had pushed a kava kava pill down Coco's throat so the flares and explosions wouldn't bother her. It probably wasn't necessary. Flashing guns and loud reports were part of Coco's attack training. "Pill must be working, huh, Coco?" She smiled as the dog didn't even open her eyes in response. Snoring, she lay on her back in the middle of Loni's bed, her long, brown, fuzzy legs straight up in the air.
Loni relaxed as she watched the fireworks, brilliant lights spiking into explosions of blossoms before the tendrils drifted down in the hazy smoke. They boomed and echoed until the frenzied finale faded as distant sparkling streams of light floated back to earth.
The dark left behind suddenly made her feel vulnerable. Moving away from the window, she turned all the lights on, making the room as bright as possible. Loni grabbed a cold green corn tamale out of the fridge and sent a quick email to Sandi.
FROM: Loni Wagner
TO: [email protected]
DATE: July 4
SUBJECT: Still not looking
Just finished watching the fireworks. They were good, though I miss the ones we watched with your family on the lake. I especially missed the kids' delighted squeals. Over the water adds so much more color.
Helped Shiichoo cook this evening. It's so hot in her kitchen, I'm really looking forward to her having the new stove. If she doesn't use it, I'm screwed. She'll never get better if I don't get her out of the heat.
I already told you I grew up on an Arizona ranch. You always did have a crappy memory. Anyway, I'm not going to get out of "playing copper," as you call it, to ranch. It's way too hard for such little money. My grandparents barely squeak by. They don't need to support me too, although it might help if they didn't support everybody else who came along. Every time I go to the ranch, there are new faces. Maybe it's time I talked to them about it. I'd really hate to arrest my own grandparents for harboring illegals.
Times like this I miss Maria to talk to about the case I'm working on. Well, not really working on, but I am. Never mind. I'll get back to you later and maybe tax your brain.
Love to you et al.
Loni
CHAPTER 5
July 5, 5:00 a.m.
LONI PROMISED BACON her firstborn if he would come in four hours early to cover her shift. She needed to leave early to help Bahb check on the mother cows at the Seven Mile Well. As soon as Bacon showed up, she drove straight to the ranch. The sun was just rising, but it was already hot on her back as she climbed down from her truck. The day promised to be a scorcher.
Ignoring Bahb's and Willie's grumbling, Loni herded Coco into the house and ran into her old room. As she slipped into one of her old Western shirts, she took a minute to feel the cool cotton. Thank god she hadn't gained that much weight. She could still fasten the snaps. Before she slammed out the screen door and trotted toward the two waiting men, she gave Coco a dog biscuit and told her to stay.
At the open one-inch pipe framed horse trailer, Roanie stood impatiently, stomping his hooves and switching his tail as she reached out to feed him. Sandwiched between Paint and Buck, he stretched out his nose, competing for the carrot pieces in the palm of her hand. With a broad smile, Loni kissed each of them on the forehead and happily rubbed their sweet velvety noses as they pushed at each other and chewed.
Giving each of them one last bite, she breathed in deeply and stared around at the familiar scene. Horses bobbed their heads for more carrot. Stonewall stood stock still under his lean to, watching them. WPA fences ran for miles until they disappeared in the heat haze. Bahb and Willie waited in the ancient GMC pickup.
"Oh no, you don't!" Loni tried to pull Willie out of the pickup.
"No, no." Willie giggled like a little girl. His walnut colored Pima face grinned at her under long, spiked pitch black hair left over from an ancient crew cut that obviously needed a new trim. He got a crew cut once every two months whether he needed it or not or when he could no longer see, whichever came first.
"I'm tired of opening gates," Loni whined. "Your turn."
"No!" Willie kept on giggling as she pulled at his rock hard muscles under the blue-checked Western shirt. She couldn't budge him. They had carried out this ritual for as long as she could remember. Giving up, she got in and tried to close the door behind her. "What the —?" Loni stared at the bailing wire wrapped around the door handle.
"Lock busted." Willie leaned over her and wrapped the end of the wire around the window post. "Lock fixed."
Shaking her head, she didn't even ask how they closed the window. The handle was gone anyway. And so was the window, she realized.
As they pulled out, the horse trailer jerked the pickup a few times before it settled in and bumped along the ruts left by years of tires that banged and tilted on the desert road. Loni held on tight as worn out shocks nearly jarred them off their seats.
The pickup shuddered to a stop at the first gate.
"God, ol' man!" Loni shook her head at the state of the worn out pickup as she clung to the door, hoping it didn't fall apart around her. "Where you going thrashing next?"
"Think I thrash you now," Willie giggled again as he snatched at her braid. Ducking to avoid him, Loni whipped the wire off t
he door post and fell out the door. Sniggering, she picked herself up and ran to the gate. She struggled to pull the end post toward her, grunted the wire off the top, and dragged the gate off the road. Waiting for them to pass, she dodged Willie's outreached hand as they drove by. Locking the gate behind them, she got back into the pickup pushing against Willie as he pulled on her French braid.
They followed the fence across the desert floor. Loni wondered how old it was. "When did you say the WPA put that fence in?"
"In thirties," her granddad answered.
"We should have an eightieth birthday party."
Willie smiled at her suggestion. "For a fence?"
"You know anything better?"
"Party for me?" Willie grinned.
"When's your birthday?"
"Don't know."
Oh, shit, Loni thought, I forgot. "Do you remember when Paint was born?"
Willie brightened up. "Of course." Willie turned to Bahb. "Remember ol' Gabby? Wasn't Paint her foal?"
"Yi. Your dad's favorite mare," Bahb told Loni. "Bad time helping her foal. Shiichoo brought coffee and say it new year."
"Okay. From now on your birthday will be the first of January." She snickered at Willie. "How many birthdays do we have to make up for? Eighty?"
Willie shoved against Loni. "Maybe forty."
"Forty. Well. We better get started. I'll tell Shiichoo to bake a cake, and we'll have a party."
"Presents, too?"
"Don't push it." Loni grimaced as the next gate approached. "Damn, Bahb," she complained. "Are you ever going to get any cattle guards?"
With a sly smile he glanced over at her, his dark eyes dancing. "Shiichoo read somewhere it say paint black lines across road. Cows not cross."
"I buy paint for you," Willie volunteered with a perfectly straight face.
"Ha, ha," Loni answered as she got out of the pickup. She hauled another gate out of the way, refastened it, and got back in the pickup. Contented, she stuck her head out the window to cool in the hot, dry breeze as the windmill rose up through the heat haze and slowly grew larger. "Seven Mile Well. I haven't been here for more than eleven years."
"Not much change," Bahb responded.
"Don't look like it." Loni smiled to herself, amazed at how fast she picked up their speech patterns. "There's a few new patches on the tank."
Willie shook his head. "Lost a few head over that."
"We saved most," Bahb reminded Willie. "Got windmill fixed and water started."
"Spent the next three hours keeping them from drinking too much," Willie countered.
"You two never change," Loni teased. "Glass half full, glass half empty."
"So?"
"So nothing." Loni unwound herself from the pickup and circled the towering metal tank. "Hey, Bahb, they're still here."
"Yi."
Loni lightly traced the cowboy drawings with her index finger, careful to not disturb the pencil carbon. She followed other drawings, mostly ink, as she continued around the tank. She remembered hunting in art stores with Maria, buying fine-point ink pens so Bahb's drawings would stand up to the Arizona sun. Maria had come home with her a few times over the years, but she never got to take her to see the drawings on the tank. She fought a few tears thinking about the things they never got to do. "Bahb's are still the best drawings," she said to no one as she listened to the squeaking of the ramp lowering and the stomping of the horses as they backed out.
"Damn!" Willie said. "Get off my foot, Paint!" The horse grunted. "Not waiting," Willie warned Loni. She heard Paint grunt again as Willie tightened his cinch. Loni knew he would wait.
She traced her grandfather Wagner's drawings next. His pencil drawings were all cowboy: trailing a cow, riding a fence, climbing over a hill, always alone, always in the distance. Bahb's, on the other hand, were up close and detailed, dancers in dress, each feather traced, each bead outlined, powwows, children playing. All of them were full of life.
"Gone!" Willie hollered.
Ignoring him, Loni looked for the old diary that someone had written in the twenties. It was almost faded away, but she had it memorized. Good thing. "J ne 2 o t of fo d. Ate t cs off dog. Ate snake. Look d for Indan wh t an mesq ite bean..."
"No, you not!" Bahb groaned. "Come."
Loni followed the voice around the tank to the windmill where her granddad was pointing "Shit." The pump rod lay on the ground.
"Looks like they back," he said. "This time broke pump rod."
Loni knew to keep her mouth shut while he studied what to do. Her granddad never hurried. "Too many mistakes," she could hear him say. "Only have to do it again."
One time she asked, "Why don't you read directions when you put something together?" It was that time he was putting together a table for Shiichoo, again and again.
"Directions no good. My guess good as theys."
He sighed and turned to Loni and Willie. "You find mother cows. I get rod off. Herm fix."
Loni untied Roanie and reached to tighten the cinch.
"Get that horse's head up."
Loni stared at Willie. "You tired of telling me that yet?"
Willie shrugged, walking Paint down the road. "Fall off with saddle. I care less."
"Roanie!" Loni warned the horse. Taking his time, Roanie finally lifted his head and turned toward Loni as she tightened the cinch.
They covered a couple of miles following tracks, the sun hot on their backs. Restless from the heat, Loni thought about the valve and the drug residue in the wrecked plane. "Hey," she said, "do I remember right? Did you tell me once peyote was only used to celebrate death?"
"Maybe."
"Your old village still use peyote?"
"Maybe. I youngen then, but remember my last."
"Last what?"
"Party." Willie searched for words. "We party death and cry over births. Suffer from birth to the ride home to happy ground." He paused. "It was medicine man who went home. Big party. Everybody high. They went fifty miles to find best horse. Belonged to some big rancher over on the Colorado." He was silent again.
"That horse was so butiful. Took five men to push it off." Willie's voice was almost a whisper. "At night I hear that horse scream. Took a long time to hit canyon bottom. I never go to 'nother party. Not even my pa."
"Nobody stopped them? Just let them walk away with a horse?"
"You want to tell bunch big Injin men no?"
Loni leaned over and broke off leaves from a greasewood. No longer oily, the bleached leaves shimmered in the wavy rays from the sun. Following Willie, she watched Paint step in the middle of a pissant hole on his way down into a small gully, his hoofs scattering the pissants into frenzied action.
Listening to Willie apologize to the ants, Loni asked, "How long's the top hole been open?"
"Two days."
"Damn! Rain in four days? Monsoon's coming."
"Yi." Willie watched one cow track separate from the others. Nodding at the tracks, Willie frowned. "Cow running hard. Horse behind. Better follow." He pushed Paint into a running walk. "Hear that?"
Loni heard nothing until they reached the top of a hill and saw the jumping cactus patch spread out before them. A bawling mother cow was trapped in the center of the needle filled plants.
"Damn!" Willie said. "That's Flossie. Had her long time." He slowed down, easing around the patch to find a way to clear a path to the cow as Loni stayed back, watching. A beautiful brindle, the cow was a cross between Brahma and Santa Cruz, a mix that could travel further to forage and water than most cows. Flossie didn't move, but she continued her terrified bellowing.
When she turned her head, the bile rose in Loni's throat. "Oh god, Willie! A ball's hanging in her eye."
"Maybe best shoot her." Willie mournfully got off his horse and pulled a long limb from a palo verde tree. Using the end as a broom, he carefully swept a path to the injured cow. "Bring me rope."
Loni untied the rope from her saddle and stepped off Roanie, dropping his reins. She
took the rope to Willie. Easing the loop over her head, Willie slowly led the cow out the cleared path. She stopped when he stopped.
Loni started babbling to get her mind off the ordeal ahead. "Did I ever tell you about the time I found a moose up on Mogollon Rim?" The sound of her voice kept her from crying as she dug tweezers out of her pocket desert kit and carefully pulled needles from Flossie's face. Willie grabbed two flat rocks a bit larger than his hands and began to pull the baseball sized yellow balls out of Flossie's skin, each ball filled with a million sharp needles. The cow moaned and quivered with every extraction, but she didn't move.
