Read Online Water Rites by Mary Rosenblum - Free Book Online Page A

herself into a long-haul convoy back there,” the man was saying. “She says she’s got enough saved for a down-payment on her own truck. I don’t know why she didn’t come tell you herself.” His tone was a shade too jovial. “Just short on time, I guess.”
    “That isn’t any reason.” Jesse’s face was stone.
    “Hey, come on, now.” The trucker scuffed his feet in the dust, trying hard to keep his cheerful tone. “I hate to lose my partner, but you know she’s always wanted her own rig, her own routes. I figure she’ll be back, Jesse. Come spring, maybe. You’ll see.”
    “We both know Renny’s not coming back, but thanks, Jim. Thanks for telling me.” Jesse turned away, walked past Dan as if he wasn’t there.
    Her face looked faded and slack, as if all the life had drained out of it. Dan watched her start down the dirt track, stumbling a little, moving stiffly, like an old woman. The reset of the crowd was catching up now, still wound up and full of themselves. They climbed onto the flatbed and the parked trucks. Jesse was still in view, but no one asked what was wrong, no one ran after her. Dust puffed up from under her feet, whirled away on the dry wind.
    Montoya asked, when he finally made it back to the truck.
    “She started walking home.” Dan stared through the window at the reviving beets. “Your wife didn’t come along.”
    “Nope.” Montoya started the engine.
    “What’s she going to do, after the Association puts you in prison or kills you if they can’t?”
    “I told her it wouldn’t make no difference, if they were gonna kick us off the land anyway.” He gripped the wheel. “We make it together or we don’t make it. I don’t think the Corps’ in on this. We got to get them to look at what the Association’s up to. We’re all scared, but we’ll stick together on this.”
    “You think so?” The truck lurched down the track, shrouded in dust. Dan caught glimpses of the riverbed up ahead, and the dry scar of the falls. “People don’t risk what they got. Not anymore. They don’t give anything away. My sister and I begged our way up from California. I wasn’t so little that I don’t know how she paid for what they gave us. This togetherness stuff is a dream. They’ll walk away and leave you for the Association, soon as they get pushed hard.”
    “I’m sorry,” Montoya said heavily. “About your sister. And you.” He gave Dan a brief look. “But I think you’re wrong. You gotta believe in something.”
    Dan looked away, a fist of pain clenched in his chest. “I stopped believing a long time ago.”
    “I know. You could try again,” Montoya said quietly. “Not everyone is like the folk you met.”
    Dan kept his eyes on the dun land passing. “I can’t.” A vulture turned in the dry vault of the sky and he wondered what had died. “I . . . did some things I’m not proud of. If I stay around here . . . I’ll probably end up in prison.”
    Montoya was quiet for a long time. “I thought card tricks was a tough way to make a living out in the Dry.” He looked sideways at Dan. “Better than what you were doing?”
    Dan shrugged, his lips tight.
    “Some day, you’re gonna have to stop running, son.”
    “From prison?”
    “From yourself.”
    Dan kept his eyes on the patient vulture and Montoya didn’t say another word during the trip.
    *
    Dan woke to darkness and the sound of wind. It took him a minute to get his bearings, to remember the feel of the narrow bed in Jesse’s house. The east wind was booming down the Gorge. Sand and dust rasped against the walls. Dan rolled onto his back. Something had awakened him. A dream? His chest ached and he kicked the sweaty sheets aside.
    A board squeaked, and light glimmered in the main room. Jesse? Dan raised himself on one elbow. She had come in just before dark, dusty and silent, and had vanished into her room without speaking to him.
    The bedroom door creaked, and Jesse walked into his room, a small, solar