The Personal History of Rachel DuPree_ A Novel - Ann Weisgarber [31]
“Mary?” I said. She had the best eyes in the family. Isaac liked to say she could spot a stilled rabbit a half mile off.
She stood on her tiptoes, her eyes almost squeezed shut. “Mrs. Fills the Pipe,” she said, her words coming slow. “Those are her horses. Three people up front, and I think maybe one’s a boy. Somebody’s in the back. He’s leaning over the side.”
“You sure it’s Mrs. Fills the Pipe?” I said.
“I’m sure.”
A woman. And one what wouldn’t expect to stay for supper. Indians never did.
“Been awhile since she’s been by,” I said. “Don’t know when.”
“This spring,” Mary said. “The cottonwood was just leafing.”
“That’s right, it was.”
Mrs. Fills the Pipe lived at Pine Ridge Reservation, a two-day journey southwest of our ranch. I recalled how on that day when the cottonwood leaves were a fresh green, Mrs. Fills the Pipe had been on her way northeast. She was going to her brother’s at the Rosebud Reservation to care for her sister-in-law sick with tuberculosis. Since then I hadn’t given her a thought; Indians came and went along the road every week or so. Before the drought, when Indians stopped to rest under the cottonwood, I’d go down, or send Mary or John, and tell them they were welcome to drink from the well behind the barn. But it wasn’t always that way. When I first came to the Badlands, the Indians scared me silly. When I saw them on the road, I hid in the dugout and latched the door.
“They’re harmless,” Isaac had told me then, “but keep a sharp eye. If there’s a pebble on the ground they think you might want, it’ll be in their back pocket.”
“Where’re they going?” I asked him. “All this traveling.”
“Who knows? Probably to another reservation. They’re all related to each other in some complicated way. Only God knows how. Clans and tribes and bands.”
“Why don’t they all live on the same reservation then? That’s what I’d do.”
“Army split them up awhile back,” Isaac said. “Keeps them docile.”
Isaac was right. The Indians were harmless. I had even gotten to know the names of some of them.
Mary rocked up on the balls of her feet. “Think that’s Inez with her, but I don’t know the boys.” She stretched her neck. “But that’s Inez and her mama all right. Maybe the others are kin.”
Kin. The word was like a spark. Excitement rose in my chest, covering up my tiredness. Mrs. Fills the Pipe wasn’t kin, far from it. But she was a woman, and all at once, I wanted in the worst way to be in the company of a woman. I longed for a visit. I longed for a chance to talk and to share worries. Mrs. Fills the Pipe was a squaw, but she was a woman and she was handy.
“Liz,” I said. My skin nearly tingled, I was that perked up. “Get Rounder in the barn; his barking’ll scare them off. Alise, you stay with me. Mary, go meet them on the road. Ask them up for a visit.”
Mary looked at me, her eyebrows puckered. I knew what she was thinking: Daddy wasn’t going to like this.
“Never mind that,” I said. “Go on now.”
She gave me one last doubting look before turning to go. Then I thought of something. “Wait,” I said. “You too, Liz.” They turned back, Liz’s hand on Rounder’s collar. “Don’t—” I stopped. I could hardly find the words for what I had to say. The girls looked at me, puzzled. I couldn’t meet their eyes. “Don’t ask for anything,” I said.
“Like what?” Alise said.
“I’m talking about refreshments. Like how folks do in Chicago.”
“Refreshments?” Mary said, and I felt foolish. This was not Chicago.
I said, “Like how we always do when company comes. Something to eat and drink.” There was no easy way to put it. “There’s not enough for everybody. You can have a little water, but that’s all. Don’t ask, and don’t take even when others are having. Company’s served first.”
“Water?” Liz said. “You’re giving them our water?”
“They’re company.”
“That’s our water.”
“Liz. That