St. Clair (Gives Light Series) (17 page)

ourselves..."

"A tractor could carry it," June Threefold said.

"My grandma's farm has a tractor. It carries about

thirty tons when you attach it to a four-by-two."

"Who here knows how to drive a tractor?" Stuart

asked.

Daisy and Aubrey raised their hands. Reuben

nodded.

"Ooh! Ooh! Me! Me!" Mary said. "Let me drive

it!"

Something told me her intentions were less than

pure.

"We'll see," Stuart said testily. "Anyway, if we

can fill up a thousand gallon tank of water every

day and drive it out to the badlands, that should be

enough to cause some alarm when the Bureau

comes back."

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," Holly said.

"No, you don't," Daisy said.

"But those tanks don't belong to us. The owners

aren't going to let us use them."

"I never said we were asking for permission,"

Stuart said.

"Oh yeah," Mary said, grinning like the devil's

cousin. "Grand Theft Water, here we go."

And it came to pass that every night, without fail, a

gaggle

of

overly

enthusiastic

teenagers

congregated behind Ms. Siomme's ranch with a

forklift and a tractor. In the stealth of the night, in

utmost secrecy, they loaded up the water tank on

the back of Mrs. Threefold's trailer and drove it

across the reserve. And it's been said that Mary

Gives Light, that champion of underdogs, could be

heard howling unto the night winds, a triumphant

litany that echoed across the badlands and

confused even the coyotes.

On the Nettlebush Reserve, if you want to get

married, you have to do it in November.

The practice actually comes from our longtime

neighbors, the Paiute. In the old days, the Paiute

were superstitious about everything from weddings

to geese formations to the position of the moon in

the sky. The Paiute believed that unless you got

married in autumn, the marriage was doomed to

end in failure. And because there once was a time

when the Shoshone intermarried heavily with the

Paiute--around the early 1800s--the superstition

transferred from their tribe to ours.

The problem is, Nettlebush had two different

officiators--and neither one wanted to share his

authority.

"
Please
stop yelling at my parishioners!"

Reverend Silver Wolf cried.

Reverend Silver Wolf and Shaman Quick stood

outside the little white church, arguing loudly in

both Shoshone and English. Those two very rarely

got along. Reverend Silver Wolf was a Christian,

and Shaman Quick followed the traditional

Shoshone religion, and one considered the other a

"traitor to the true way" while the other considered

his counterpart an ancient relic and a quack.

Granny and I stood outside the church doors and

watched the argument with interest. Granny

always found arguments interesting.

"Yokottsuku!" Shaman Quick bellowed.

I didn't know exactly what he'd just said, but it

must have been bad. Poor Reverend Silver Wolf's

face turned bright red.

"What's going on here?" Gabriel asked.

I turned and smiled, taken off guard. Rosa and

Gabriel were both wearing their traditional

regalia, Rosa in salmon orange elkskin and yellow

creosote leggings, Gabriel in russet and brown.

That could only mean one thing: Rosa and Gabriel

were here to get married.

Rosa looked like she wanted to say something.

She turned toward me, timidly. "May I speak with

you?"

I looked back at Granny and she approved with a

nod. I put my hand on Rosa's shoulder and

followed her to the side of the church.

For a moment I thought: Maybe Rosa found out

we've been sabotaging the lake. But if that were

the case, what would she really get out of talking

to me about it? It wasn't like I could talk back.

"Will you tug-of-war with me?" Rosa asked.

I opened my mouth. I closed it.

I tilted my head.

Rosa shifted nervously. She must have been five

months pregnant, maybe six, because her round

belly was starting to show. I kind of wanted to

touch it, but I didn't know whether that was

appropriate.

"When a Shoshone woman takes a husband," she

explained slowly, "it is traditional that her mother

and her mother-in-law fight over her in a tug-of-

war."

Oh, I thought. I knew why Rosa had come to me. I

smiled at her with a twinge of remorse. Rosa

didn't have a mother. The same killer who took my

mom from me twelve years ago took Rosa's from

her, too.

In that respect, we were bound beyond words.

Rosa must have realized that my smile meant

acceptance. Her face lit up; she took me into a

swift, soft hug. I laughed without sound and

returned it.

"Excuse me, now, I must go!" she said, and raced

past me to the little church, her fringe flying around

her elbows.

I went to Annie's house after the encounter, and we

candied yams and walnuts for dinner.

"I wonder what it's like to get married," Annie said

dreamily. "Daddy was quite a bit older than

Mom. Granddad never really approved, but he's

been good since Daddy had his stroke."

When you marry
, I signed,
can I be your best

man?

Annie looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

I guessed a Shoshone wedding was different from

what I was used to.

Dinner was more raucous that night than usual. All

the newly married brides were teased by the men,

who chased after them and offered them gardenias

and lilacs--a bawdy joke, because lilacs for the

Shoshone represent virginity. Dad gave Gabriel a

necklace of eagle feathers and Gabriel laughed

loudly, a thundering laugh, clapped Dad on the

back, and wore the feathers with pride. The

couples cut locks of each other's hair and tied them

together for a relative to place somewhere safe.

Now it was official: The lovers couldn't divorce

unless they found the locks and burned them.

"Skylar, c'mon!" Mary said.

I got up from the picnic table, grinning. Mary and I

grabbed Rosa's arms and began to fight over her.

Rafael's maternal grandmother lived on the Fort

Hall Reservation in Idaho, at least twelve hours

away, which was why Mary was filling in for her.

"Mukua!" somebody shouted.

The husband's side of the family was supposed to

win--the tug-of-war was just a symbolic formality-

-so after a good long while of jostling poor Rosa,

her hair flying and her eyes rattling, I let go and

she toppled into Mary, winded. Mary caught her

expertly, the crowd around us breaking into

applause.

I sat down with Rafael and Annie in time to catch

an uncommonly bright smile on Rafael's face, his

head ducked. He must have been so happy for his

uncle, the uncle who had raised him like a father

would.

"Let's have a song!" Gabriel said, his face

radiating with unparalleled happiness.

He got several songs. The whole crowd chimed in

for a couple of verses out of the Shoshone love

song. A few of the older folks sang O Morning

Star. The younger generation didn't really know

it. I played There She Sits on my plains flute and

caught sight of the nostalgic look on Dad's face. I

wondered whether he was thinking about Mom or

Racine.

"Uncle Gabe knows," Rafael whispered when I

had finished.

I gave him a confused smile.

"We went hunting together in the badlands

yesterday. We didn't follow the usual route, we

were looking for the elk. They go scarce this time

of year. Anyway, Uncle Gabe saw the water in the

gullies and stood staring at it for about ten

minutes. So I blabbed." He looked sheepish.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"Oh, don't be," Annie joined in. "It's for the sake

of the reservation, isn't it? I'm sure he can

understand that."

"I think so. He just laughed."

I looked out to the firepit, Gabriel dancing with his

new wife, Rosa's face glowing. That's what it

means to be Shoshone. No matter whatever

misfortune befalls you, you don't let it control your

life.

The weddings continued well into the month of

November. One Sunday, after mass, I had an idea

for a joke. I caught up with Rafael as he was

following Rosa out the double doors. I grabbed

him by the arm.

"What is it?"

I gestured between the two of us. I nodded toward

Reverend Silver Wolf, still standing by the pulpit,

with a wicked smile.

He grinned broadly, an innocent grin belying a

mischievous intent. He took my hand--I locked our

fingers together on impulse--and we started down

the aisle toward the altar.

"Reverend Silver Wolf," Rafael said. "We wanna

get married, too."

Reverend Silver Wolf looked up from the pulpit, a

soft smile shining on his kind old face.

He looked at the two of us and sputtered, a blush

spreading down his throat.

I waved.

"That's, um," Reverend Silver Wolf said. He

thumbed through his Bible with jittery fingers. "I

don't know if. I don't think that..."

The poor guy. I don't know that there's anyone on

earth shyer than Reverend Silver Wolf.

Rafael and I ran from the church and laughed, my

sides aching with laughter, Rafael's dimples

swallowing up his face. Either I was still holding

his hand, or he was still holding mine. Whichever

it was, neither one of us let go.

We stopped when we had reached the big

ponderosa on the edge of the windmill field. He

pulled me behind the tree trunk, his hands on my

hips, and kissed me.

I tasted the laughter on his lips; I grabbed fistfuls

of his shirt and felt the hard planes of his chest

beneath my fingers.

I was breathless when I sat down with my back

against the tree. Rafael sat next to me, his hands in

the grass.

"Hope he's not having a heart attack back there," he

said.

I laughed all over again.

Rafael lay on his back, his hands on top of his

belly, his eyes on the gray November sky. I

propped myself next to him, prone, and played

with his glasses. He shot me a quick, dark smile

and batted my hand away. When I wouldn't desist,

he seized my hand in his and held it to his chest.

His heartbeat felt like a familiar song, primeval, a

song I had known before I'd even known myself.

I watched the traces of his bashful, unapologetic

smile fade away from his features. I watched

contemplation usurp their place.

I nudged his shoulder questioningly.

"Why do you think people get married, anyway?"

That struck me as a peculiar thing to ask. I

thought: Because they love each other, that's why.

"Like, why the official ceremony and whatever?

Do they think they've gotta prove something?"

I didn't know that it was about proving anything. I

thought it was more like a promise of sorts. You

assume the person you're marrying is going to be

with you forever. You want them to know it.

It doesn't always work out that way. I thought

about Mom and Dad with a pang of regret. Even if

Mom hadn't died, their marriage probably wouldn't

have lasted. Dad's feelings for her had very little

bearing on that.

I wondered what made people fall out of love. I

thought it was a scary concept, that we as human

beings couldn't control the course of our emotions.

Somebody we loved one day, we might grow

indifferent toward the next. I didn't like that

concept. I didn't understand it. I loved Dad and

Granny; I could never imagine not loving them. I

couldn't imagine not loving Rafael.

I felt Rafael's eyes on my profile. I turned my head

and gave him a fleeting smile.

"I don't think people split up because they stop

loving each other," he said. "I think they split up

because their differences get in the way."