place to go.
Ardyth LeConte had been living in Lander for almost a year, ever since she’d walked away from AIM last fall. “I don’t need any more of this shit,” she’d said. They were still in Washington, D.C., organizing cars for people to get back to the rez after the Trail of Broken Treaties, that had started with so much hope, had ended with so much pain. Liz had no idea how Ardyth had gotten back across the country. She hadn’t returned to Pine Ridge, and it wasn’t until Liz had moved back to the Wind River Reservation that she heard Ardyth was living in Lander. Got herself training as a nurse’s aid and a job in a nursing home. Become like them , that’s what Robert and Brave Bird, Loreen and Ruth and all the others said. Ardyth was whiteized.
They’d come to see her once, Loreen and Ruth and Liz. They’d wanted to see how she was making out, for old times’ sake, Ruth had said. After all, they’d been through a lot together, and what sense was there in letting it all go because Ardyth decided to become white? They could stop by, say hello, see what it was like in the white world. And who knew? Maybe Ardyth was ready to come back.
It was the beginning of June, Liz remembered, already hot, the wind blowing like a fan turned on high and the baby heavy inside her. Ardyth hadn’t been at home, so they’d hung around the yard awhile, sitting in the pickup with the doors open, feet dangling over the running board, eating the sandwiches and drinking the Coke they’d lifted off the convenience store, and waited. They were sure she’d show up, but now that Liz thought about it, Ardyth had probably been at work, because that’s what she did. She went to work every day, like a white woman in the white world.
Luna started making gurgling noises that Liz knew would progress from whimpering into full, panicked cries of hunger. The lights ahead were more distinct, like torches burning on the horizon. The gas needle lay flat on empty, but a minute ago she’d caught it jumping below, and there was something about the engine, the kind of hesitancy that meant it was about to stop. She could feel her heart thumping against her ribs. Just a little farther.
She drove around the bend into the edge of town. Streetlights flooded the pavement in front of the gas station and convenience store across the highway. Luna was crying, and the high, piercing wails almost masked the sound of the sputtering engine. Liz could feel the floorboard jerk beneath her. She shifted into neutral, coasted across the oncoming lane and rolled down the paved ramp to the parking lot in front of the store. When she shifted back into drive, the Ford jumped forward a few feet, which was enough to line up with the gas pump.
She opened the jockey box and ran her hand under the papers until her fingers brushed the cool pieces of metal. She scooped out three quarters, then leaned over and swept her hand under the seat. About sixty cents worth of dimes, nickels, and pennies. She checked the bottom of her purse, found another quarter, and pulled the dollar bills out of her wallet. Stuffing the wad of money into her jeans pocket, she got out. She lifted Luna out of her box, put the baby against her shoulder, and, patting the small back, headed into the store. “It’s okay,” she kept saying, trying to ignore the weight dropping like iron in her stomach. “Get All Your Supplies Here” flashed in red and yellow lights inside the plate glass window.
“Help you?” The man behind the counter laid a thick arm on top of the cash register, leaned sideways over the counter, and fixed her with watery blue eyes that looked as if he were weeping. He had hair that resembled yellow plastic, the way it stood out around his fleshy, red face. There were marble-sized pockmarks in his cheeks and across his forehead.
“You got baby formula?” Liz had to shout over the baby crying.
“Second aisle. I’ll walk you,” he said, swinging around the counter.
Liz
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