Alice’s expression changes. “You know that for sure?
There’s relatives here that want her back?”
Annawake touches the pad of her index finger into the sugar on the table, making a perfect circle, deciding how much to tell. “Yes,” she says finally. “I could have told you, before I knew anything about the specifics of this case, that somebody here was missing that child. And it turns out I’m right. I found out just recently as a matter of fact, more or less by accident. At a hog fry. People talk about things here, and it comes around.”
“Well,” Alice says, glancing around, nervous again.
“It doesn’t really change anything. The law is still the law, Turtle’s adoption is invalid, whether relatives come forward or not. Our job is to figure out what’s the next step.”
“Does Turtle have any say-so in all this?”
“Sure she does. And I’m sure she would say she wants to stay with Taylor. I understand that.” Annawake begins pushing the sugar into another shape, making a point on the bottom of the circle. “We’re not going to decide anything today. The best we can hope for is just to get acquainted.”
Alice takes the offensive. “What happened to your mama, after the boarding school?”
Annawake stares at the heart shape she has drawn in sugar on the table, wondering what in the world it is doing there.
“Bonnie Fourkiller,” she says. “Tried hard to be an all-American girl, but she had none of the assets and all the liabilities.
Pregnant at sixteen with my brother Soldier, who they tell me was born blue and died pretty quick. She married a Kenwood kid with less talent for making money than she had for conceiving boys. Three more brothers, then me and my twin, Gabe. What I remember is Dad always somewhere tracking down work, and Mama begging us for mercy and drinking seven days a week. Lysol on Sunday mornings, so she wouldn’t smell like liquor in church.”
“Lord,” Alice says.
“She was institutionalized at the age of thirty-five. But I was lucky, I had lots of people looking after me. My dad and brothers, and mainly my Uncle Ledger. He’s a medicine man.
Not a doctor. Kind of a minister. Have you heard of the stomp dances?”
“I’ve seen those turtle shells. Looks like that would be a chore, to dance with all that on your legs.”
Annawake laughs. “It’s work, but it’s not a chore. I did that. But Uncle Ledger decided I would be the one of us who’d learn the white world. My brothers could do their reckless things, but I had to learn to listen to my head, every time. He made me speak English, and he pushed me to do well in school. He thought we needed an ambassador.”
“The ambassador? That’s what you are? Whatever you told my daughter Taylor scared her to death. She’s a mess, all uprooted, and now she can’t even make her payments.”
“It didn’t cross my mind that she would pack up and move.”
“Well, she did. Last time I talked to her she didn’t sound like herself. She’s depressed. It’s awful what happens when people run out of money. They start thinking they’re no good.”
“See that guy over there?” Annawake points across the street to the hardware store where Abe Charley is standing out front in his horsehide suit, talking to Cash Stillwater.
Alice leans, to look. “What’s that, a cowskin he’s got on?”
“Horsehide. There’s a rendering plant over toward Leech where you can get horse leftovers pretty cheap. Abe made that suit himself. He’s pretty proud of it.”
“Taylor’s boyfriend wears some odd getups, from what he’s told me. But to tell you the truth, not as bad as that horsehide. Taylor just bought new school clothes for Turtle instead of paying her bills. She was scared to death of Turtle looking poor at school. You know how it is.”
“Luckily I don’t. I mean, growing up here, you don’t have to bother much with pretending you’re not poor.”
Alice is tracking Abe Charley’s flamboyant hide as he crosses the street. Annawake refines the point on her sugar heart. “People say Indians are ungrateful welfare recipients, but what they really mean is we don’t act embarrassed enough about being helped out. The young people like me, the radicals, we’ll say it’s because we had everything stolen from us and we deserve the scraps we’re getting back. And that’s true, but it’s not the point. The old people around here, they’re not thinking about Wounded Knee, they’re just accepting what comes their way. For us, it’s the most natural thing in the world to ask for help if we need it.”