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“Glad, you feel that way”—Jack interrupted Prosper and clapped a hard hand on his friend’s back— “’cause when we move on? I’m asking her to come with us.”
Magaskawee sat on the tin roof of the trailer and looked up at the stars. Maybe for the very last time.
“You are restless tonight.” Magaskawee’s sister sat down close beside her on the cool metal roof. “I can hear you moving about.”
“Did I wake you?” Magaskawee looked at her with concern. Her sister worked hard as a waitress, picking up double shifts whenever she could. Tanka was twenty-three years old and engaged to be married to a boy who had left the reservation to go to medical school in Kansas. In the first few years Tanka heard from Ahanu regularly, and he made continual visits home to see her. But in the past year or so he had been coming back less and less frequently, and Magaskawee knew her sister was concerned. Tanka was afraid that, slowly but surely, Ahanu was beginning to forget her and the promises he had made.
“No, I couldn’t sleep either.” Tanka hesitated, then nodded towards the now empty road leading to the trailer. “The man on the motorcycle. Is he the reason you’re so restless tonight?”
“His name is Jack, and yes, he is the reason.”
Tanka waited.
“He’s leaving tomorrow,” Magaskawee said quietly, “and he’s asked me to go with him.”
Tanka put her arm around her sister, and Magaskawee put her head on her shoulder.
“I will miss you,” Tanka whispered.
“I haven’t decided whether or not I will go.” Magaskawee raised her head and looked into her sister’s dark eyes, so much like her own.
“Haven’t you?” Tanka smiled lovingly at her. “I think your little notebook full of license plates would be very disappointed if you didn’t.”
“Well, Iwouldlike to see the place called Cape Cod”—Magaskawee sighed wistfully— “but I am not going to leave you.”
“You won’t be leaving me.” Tanka smiled shyly. “Ahanu has sent a plane ticket. I am leaving Thursday to join him in California where he will begin the next part of his school journey.” Then she frowned slightly. “I was wrong to doubt him.”
“I am so happy for you!” Magaskawee cried out with heartfelt happiness. Tanka was the sweetest, most caring person in the world. And Magaskawee was so glad that she would have the happily ever after that she deserved.
“I have this for you.” Tanka placed a small wad of rolled up money in Magaskawee’s hand. “I’ve been saving up for a while, but Ahanu is doing well, and he will get a stipend and free housing with his residency. I won’t need this. I want you to have it.”
Magaskawee looked from her sister to the money and back again. “I can’t take this from you, Tanka. It’s everything that you’ve worked so hard to save.”
“And I can’t leave unless I know that you will be all right, Magaskawee. Having a little bit of money will give you the security you will need to live a better life. You have to go, sister, with this man or without him, because I will not leave you here. Take the money, tuck it away somewhere safe, and tell no one you have it. If you are unhappy, if you are wrong about Jack Winston, then you can use this money to get away and start over.”
Start over.
Magaskawee looked out over the barren, desolate landscape. The setting sun stained the sky in hues of deep crimson. The color of blood.
Start over.
This land seemed to have a life of its own. It was as if it had long, tenacious tentacles designed to slowly suck the life out of its prey. The quiet desperation took hold and never let go. Was it really possible to escape this place? Her mother had thought it was. Magaskawee wished she knew how that had turned out for her.
Magaskawee’s father had been a shadowy figure. He drove a big rig truck and would stop at the reservation a few times a year. With the exception of a quick hello and a few pats on the head, he never paid much attention to his children. He would stay a week or two then leave again. Sometimes their mother, Nazala, would go with him. She would leave her three children for months at a time with whomever of their extended family members were living in the trailer at the time.
On one of those trips, Nazala went off and just never came back.
Start over.
Magaskawee listened to the crickets and felt the evening breeze, cool and soothing on her skin. Maybe it was possible. Maybe it wasn’t. But Magaskawee Whitefeather decided it was worth a try.
Prosper Worthington scrubbed a hard hand over his face and squinted against the sunshine. They had been riding through the reservation for a while now, and with every mile, Prosper felt a new shockwave run through him: junked-out cars up on cinderblocks, broken windows covered with cardboard, ragged wash hung on loose lines from makeshift poles. It was like riding through a third-world country. Prosper was appalled that this was America.Land of the Free. Home of the Brave.He had seen less desolation and despair in the villages of Vietnam for Christ’s sake. Prosper’s doubts about Jack’s decision to take Magaskawee with them disappeared faster and faster as they navigated through the rutted roads lined with broken bottles, discarded rusted appliances, and shredded, stained mattresses. Jesus. The place looked like a giant landfill, only with housing.
Jack was right, Maggie deserved better, but Prosper still worried about Jack’s part in all this. Maggie’s obvious youth and inexperience and Jack’s fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants tendencies did not bode well for a future together. But they both seemed hellbent on making a go of it, so who was he to judge? Prosper decided that the very least he could do for Jack was to give him the benefit of doubt. Not only was it the fair thing to do, but Jack had had Prosper’s back more than once and at a time when it mattered the most. When they arrived at Maggie’s house, Jack went to the door to help her with her things while Prosper waited with the bikes. His mind began to wander back to the time when his friendship with Jack had begun.
They had been two men who had been forced to occupy the same tiny jail cell, and as such, could not have been more different. It was like throwing a fierce Rottweiler in a cage with a dopey Irish setter. At first, Prosper hadn’t been able to stand the optimistic motherfucker. But when Prosper had come up against Vargas and his crew in the jail yard, Jack had had his back big time. Prosper and Jack had ended up getting the shit beat out of them, but hell, it had been six against two and they’d given as good as they got. Prosper had come away bloody and bruised, but Jack had gotten the worst of it. His lung had collapsed from a knife wound and his jaw had been broken in two places. His mouth had been wired shut for months. Prosper used to joke that those months were the easiest time he did in jail, not having to hear Jack yapping his happy bullshit all the time. But really, Prosper had been impressed with what a tough bastard Jack had turned out to be and had been touched by his loyalty.
A man taking a knife in the gut and a kick in the teeth for you is no small thing.
