Broken Promise

by Simon Toyne

  His words were bright but he had a slight tightness in his shoulders and a tiny trace of grime around the neck of his white shirt, suggesting he was at the end of a long shift. One of the cardinal rules of gambling that had popped into Solomon’s head as he’d toured the room was that you should never gamble when tired or drunk. Dealers never drank, but they did get tired. This was partly why Solomon had chosen this table, though there were other reasons. He placed one of his five-dollar chips on the betting circle in front of him and studied the other gamblers.

  There were five more players at the table, four men in check shirts and baseball caps who could have come here straight from the diner, and a woman, skeletal thin with watchful eyes. She had the most chips in front of her and she played with a sharp, quiet, unblinking focus.

  The dealer finished the deal. Solomon had a Five of Hearts and a Jack of Spades. Fifteen.

  The dealer had a Seven of Clubs showing and another card lying face down.

  One by one the men all hit and busted out but the woman drew a Nine of Diamonds, to add to a Queen, making her hand worth nineteen. Solomon also hit and got a Seven of Clubs. Twenty-two. Bust.

  The dealer turned over his other card. Four of Diamonds. Added to the seven it gave him eleven. He took another card and got a Queen. Twenty-one. House wins.

  One of the men rose from his seat and dragged his few remaining chips across the baize towards his bulging stomach. ‘I ain’t tipping you,’ he said to the dealer. ‘Not with the bullshit cards you been giving me.’

  ‘Better luck next time, sir,’ the dealer replied, his professional veneer as smooth as the coating on the cards he was collecting. ‘You have a good day now.’

  The man grunted and ambled away, cupping his chips in his large hands like he was carrying water across the desert.

  Solomon lost the next hand but the woman won with a five-card eighteen that helped to draw more cards from the deck than a usual deal. Solomon had now seen more than a full deck’s worth of cards dealt. He waited for the dealer to shuffle the shoe but he didn’t, he let it ride. Maybe he was tired, maybe he was just lazy. Either way this was the time to take a risk. Solomon looked at his two chips, ten dollars in total and, apart from the worn quarter in his pocket, all the money he had in the world. He didn’t have the time or resources to play it cautious and, besides, if he lost everything on the flop of a card there was another way he might repay Rita for her kindness.

  He pushed the two five-dollar chips into the betting circle.

  And waited for his cards.

  Chapter 10

  ‘What was all that about?’ Asha fixed Rita with her single-raised-eyebrow look, the one that made her seem about twenty years older than she was.

  ‘Ah, just Daryl Meeks waving his money around as usual. What you want for supper? Bear in mind this’ll be your last chance of free food for a while so knock yourself out.’

  ‘Anything I want?’

  Rita waved at the board. ‘If it’s up there and we got any of it left it’s yours.’

  ‘Cool. I’ll have a … cheeseburger. Fries. Chocolate shake. And vanilla ice cream on hot waffles to finish.’

  Rita smiled. ‘Good choice, though we’re out of ice cream and waffles.’

  She passed through the counter hatch and into the kitchen, threw a beef patty on the grill and dropped some fries in oil. The cook had already gone; she’d let him off early and they’d exchanged an awkward hug and half-hearted words about keeping in touch. It all seemed unreal somehow, the notion that this time tomorrow all of this might belong to someone else and she and Asha would be heading down the road to who knew where.

  She flipped the burger, shook the fries and thought about Meeks’s offer. Now she was no longer facing him and his smooth lawyer friend she didn’t feel so pressured or hostile to the idea of selling to him. She looked out at Asha, hunched over the counter and frowning at some game on her tablet, looking every inch an eight-year-old kid again. Why hadn’t she taken the deal? It was a lot of money. If it had been anyone other than Meeks she might have done. It was only his bullshit, greasy salesman routine that had made her act defensive, that and the way he had reacted so coldly when he’d seen what was on her phone.

  She pulled it from her pocket, the website for the University of Colorado still displayed on it. Why would he react at all unless he recognized the website and knew why she might be looking it up? But if Meeks had checked out the stranger’s story and discovered the land was more valuable, then so could she. She scrolled down, found the general number for the university switchboard and dialled it. The phone beeped in her ear and she checked the signal. Nothing.

  ‘Shit!’

  ‘I heard that,’ Asha said without taking her eyes from her screen.

  ‘Well you shouldn’t be listening.’

  She moved out of the kitchen and grabbed the old payphone from the wall by the countertop, keeping her eye on the burger and fries through the kitchen door as she dialled the number for the University of Colorado. The phone connected and an automated switchboard gave her a list of options. She chose one for the Center for Native American and Indigenous Studies and holding music started playing in her ear. She ducked quickly back into the kitchen, flipped the burger and dropped a square of Monterey Jack on it and was back on the phone again just as it connected and she finally got through to a human.

  ‘You’ve reached the CNAIS, can I help you?’ The woman’s voice sounded old and dry and reminded Rita of her old kindergarten teacher who’d spent most of her time telling the kids not to slouch.

  ‘Yes, could you put me through to a Doctor Andrea Thompson, please.’ Rita found herself standing up straight as she spoke.

  ‘Doctor Thompson is working from home today. I can put you through to her office extension so you can leave a message if you like?’

  ‘I really need to talk to her now if that’s possible.’

  ‘I’m afraid not. Let me put you through to her office.’

  ‘No wait, do you have another nu—’

  The line cut out and Rita listened to static and clicks as she was redirected. At least if this Doctor Thompson wasn’t in the office it meant Daryl Meeks couldn’t have talked to her either. So he’d been taking a risk, offering her ten thousand dollars above guide price to take it off the table. Though ten thousand dollars was hardly a risk for someone with his money.

  ‘Hi, you’ve reached Andrea Thompson,’ a soft voice purred in Rita’s ear. ‘I’m sorry I can’t answer the phone right now. Please leave your name, number and the purpose of your call and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.’

  There was a click and a beep.

  ‘Hi, yes. My name is Rita Treepoint. My people are Western Suma and I was hoping you might look at some petroglyphs I have on my land. I can send you pictures but I think someone from your department came out here maybe ten years back and took some then, so you should have them in an archive or something. Anyway, the name of the place is Broken Promise, West Texas, and my number is 555-89703. If you could get back to me urgently I would really appreciate it. The thing is, this land is due to be sold tomorrow morning and I need to know if the message changes the value. I’ll explain when you call back. Thank you.’

  She hung up and stared at the phone. If she could somehow get in contact with Doctor Thompson tonight and confirm the message on the cave wall was a genuine treaty between her ancestors and Cabeza deVaca then it would be worth cancelling the auction and re-listing it. Federally recognized Indian ancestral lands, with all the potentially lucrative things that came with it concerning gaming licences and possible casino development, would quadruple the value. More. She could always cancel the auction until after she’d spoken to her, though doing so this late would incur a penalty of two percent of the guide price plus tax – roughly twelve hundred dollars she didn’t have. She needed to talk to her tonight.

  She went back in the kitchen, swept the burger into a bun, drained the fries and tipped them onto a plate and to
ok it out to her daughter.

  ‘Borrow this for a second,’ Rita swapped Asha’s tablet for the burger and fries.

  ‘You want to play Minecraft?’

  ‘No, wiseass, I want to use the camera, it’s way better than the one on my phone.’

  ‘Everything in the world is better than your phone,’ Asha murmured, squirting ketchup into the bun and taking a big bite.

  ‘That’s because I’m an awesome mom who buys her daughter iPads instead of getting herself a fancy new phone.’ She held up the tablet and framed the photograph of the petroglyphs, making sure it filled the frame and was in focus before she took a picture. She looked at the image on the tablet. It was as good as the original, which meant it looked sun-faded and the edges fell away to darkness where the flash hadn’t quite reached. She’d always intended to go out to the caves one day to take better pictures. Now she had no days left. It would have to do.

  ‘How do I email this to someone?’

  ‘I can do it,’ Asha said. ‘Who d’ya wanna send it to?’

  Rita handed the tablet back and looked through the University of Colorado website on her phone for an email address for Doctor Thompson.

  ‘All the emails listed here are general enquiry ones for different departments. I need to send it to someone specific.’

  ‘Lemme see.’ Asha took her phone and laid it on the counter next to the tablet, her brow creased in concentration as her nimble fingers navigated the site. Rita felt an almost painful surge of love as she watched her. She never got tired of looking at her daughter. She was luminous and ever changing and beautiful, like staring into a fire at night.

  ‘They don’t have email addresses,’ Asha said, her fingers still searching the site. ‘Except for this one I found for the Dean. It’s just his name in small writing so I guess they’ll all be like that. Who d’you want to send this to again?’

  ‘Doctor Andrea Thompson.’

  ‘OK. I’ll bet they probably drop the doctor bit to keep it short.’ She opened up an email with the photo already attached and addressed it to andreathompson@coloradoU.com.

  ‘What’s the subject?’

  ‘Let me type it.’ Rita took the tablet back and typed ‘WESTERN SUMA PETROGLYPHS’ in the subject line and added ‘URGENT’.

  ‘I think you should add six or seven exclamation points,’ Asha said, ‘and maybe a shocked face emoji.’

  Rita smiled. ‘Let’s not overdo it.’

  She clicked on the message space and typed: ‘I left a message on your voicemail about the attached. Please get back to me as soon as you can. Regards, Rita Treepoint.’ She added her cellphone number and also the number of the payphone in the diner in case the signal dropped out, then she read it all through and hit Return.

  ‘If it pings back we know we got the address wrong,’ Asha said.

  They watched the tablet. Waited. Nothing happened.

  ‘Who’s Doctor Thompson?’ Asha asked.

  Rita pulled out a stool and sat down. ‘Someone who might tell us what the writing in Three Arrow Cave says.’

  ‘Cool!’ Asha frowned. ‘But I thought no one could speak that language any more.’

  ‘Apparently they figured it out.’

  Asha’s eyes went wide. ‘What if it’s, like, some kind of treasure map and we find a ton of gold and don’t have to sell up after all?’

  Rita smiled then frowned. ‘Don’t you want to get out of here?’

  Asha shrugged. ‘I guess. There’s not much to do here. Only thing that bothers me about going is …’ she paused and chewed her lip.

  ‘Your dad,’ Rita said. ‘You think if we stick around maybe he might swing through again one day?’

  Asha nodded.

  ‘Honey, I don’t think that’s gonna happen.’

  ‘You don’t know that. Maybe he will come back.’

  ‘Or maybe he won’t. Maybe he got a new family. Maybe he’s in prison. Or maybe …’

  ‘Maybe he’s dead?’ Asha whispered, her eyes clouding a little.

  Rita felt an ache deep in the centre of her body, the pain of having to tell an ugly truth to someone you loved.

  ‘Honey, it’s fine to have these ideas about your dad, who he might be and what it would be like if he came back. Every kid has them, even ones who have their parents around imagine they might really be the kids of kings and stuff like that. But they’re just fantasies and you can’t go hanging your life on them. When I told your dad I was expecting you, he promised me he’d look after us. Said he had all kinds of plans about fixing this place up and making a go of it together, though he never told me what those plans were. Then one night he headed out and never came back. I thought he might show up again once you arrived, that he might’ve worked out whatever crap was going on in his head made him take off like that. But that was eight years ago now. And there comes a point when you just got to let things go. We can’t keep waiting around here forever, hoping he still might show up one day. We need to move on with our lives. I need to move on.’

  Asha took a deep breath, nodded then looked down at the tablet. ‘That email didn’t ping back. Let’s hope all those exclamation points did the trick and she writes back. Maybe there will be treasure in those caves after all.’

  ‘Whatever it says, they’ll always be part of our history, our story.’ Rita looked around at the few customers still lingering, a new idea forming in her mind. ‘What say we close up and hike out to the cave one last time?’

  Asha smiled. ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘Me too. Finish your burger and go grab some warm clothes. And bring your tablet, I want to make sure we have some proper pictures of the cave. That way we’ll always have it with us, wherever we end up.’

  Chapter 11

  The last few customers were reluctant to leave, nursing their cups of coffee and bowls of chilli like condemned men dragging out final meals.

  ‘End of an era,’ one trucker said as Rita all but pushed him out of the door. ‘Won’t be the same once this place closes.’

  ‘Ah, they’ll probably turn it into a McDonald’s or a Starbucks and you’ll forget I was ever here,’ Rita said, touched by his sentiments but equally eager to get him gone so she and Asha could set off for the caves while there was still some daylight left.

  She closed the door for the last time, twisted the key in the lock and turned the sign round so it said ‘CLOSED’. She listened to the tinkling sound of the bell melting away in the greasy air then took a deep breath and turned to Asha. ‘All set?’

  Asha held up a rucksack. ‘But if I get bit by a snake and die out there I’ll haunt you, like, forever.’

  Rita smiled. ‘I’d like that. Just stomp a little as you walk to drive the snakes away. You’ll be fine.’

  Evening was starting to bruise the western sky as they went out through the kitchen delivery door, the sun almost gone and the rapidly darkening land rolling away from them like a petrified ocean. They left the compacted dirt and cracked concrete of the parking lot and crunched onto the soft sand and grit of the prairie. Somewhere close by a tall flowering tobacco began to fill the warm evening air with its sweet, narcotic perfume and it struck Rita how, whenever she managed to escape the stink of chicken and bacon grease, she loved the smell of the land. There was something familiar and comforting about it, timeless and pure.

  When she was Asha’s age she’d thought she had some kind of special connection to the earth because of her heritage. But the older she got, and the more people she met, the more she realized it was something universal, something as old as the land itself, and that what she was experiencing when she breathed in the smells of tobacco and creosote, and felt the soft, warm wind on her skin, and the crunch of the dry earth beneath her feet, was simply a recognition of what we all were. Creatures of nature. Part of it, and not apart. Her ancestors had understood this truth. The only god they ever worshipped was the sun. It was one of the few symbols carved on the cave wall that everyone had agreed on.

  They walk
ed in silence for a long time, just the faint crunch of their footsteps breaking the rapidly deepening gloom.

  ‘When was the last time we came out here?’ she asked, trying to remember.

  ‘It’s been a while,’ Asha said. ‘I think I was seven maybe?’

  ‘Think you’ll miss it?’

  Asha went silent for a moment before answering. ‘I’m not sure. It’s hard to imagine missing a place when you’re still there. I don’t even know where we’re going. It might be somewhere awesome and I won’t miss anything. Or it might be a dump and I’ll miss everything and cry myself to sleep each night.’

  ‘Way to go with the guilt trip.’

  Asha smiled. ‘What about you? Will you miss anything?’

  Rita shook her head. ‘I don’t think I’ll miss it at all. The best thing about this place is you and I’m taking you with me.’

  The night was deepening now, the sun long gone and the sky becoming as dark as the land beneath. Rita could see Venus, rising to the east, brighter than anything in the sky, and used it to correct their route a little. She could see the rise up ahead, and from there she would be able to see all the way clear to the horizon and the jagged rock which marked the entrance to the cave. Asha saw it too and scampered ahead, remembering the way from the last time. She reached the top of the rise then stopped suddenly, her body tensing in a way that made Rita’s heart race. Rita moved faster and joined Asha on top of the rise. Then she saw what it was that had made her freeze.

  A faint glow.

  Still some way distant and low to the ground.

  It was by the entrance to the caves. A fire.

  Someone was there.

  Chapter 12

  Rita dropped to the ground and pulled Asha down with her so their outlines couldn’t be seen against the sky.

  She stared ahead at the flickering glow reflecting off the burnt earth. Rita was twitchy about fires. A few years earlier a bunch of hippies had camped out near the caves and lit a huge fire while out of their heads on mescaline and peyote. The resulting wildfire had come pretty close to the diner before the fire department managed to get it under control. Everything had smelled of smoke for months after and the desert had been left blackened and scorched. The last thing she needed was a fire the night before the auction. Who in their right mind would buy a piece of burning land? Whoever was up ahead was not only trespassing, they were also putting her property and therefore her daughter’s future at risk. And that pissed her off.