Page 137
Story: Runaways (Orphans 5)
"That's not funny," Raven cried, hurrying after us. "Crystal. That's not funny "
Just over the hill, we saw a ranch house, a corral with horses, some chickens in a pen, a garage and a barn. It was an oasis in the desert, the lawn long and wide, some citrus trees in the rear and what looked like a brook running through it.
"We were so close and we didn't know it," Crystal remarked. The Indian policeman was talking to Butterfly and she was nodding. I saw him hand her the reins and show her how to tug and turn the horse. Her laughter was as refreshing as a cold glass of water would be.
When we reached the ranch house, he dismounted and helped Butterfly off.
"My name's Tommy," he said, "Tommy Edwards. It's just my wife and myself here. Her name's Anita. Right this way, girls," he said leading us up the steps and over the porch to the front door.
The aroma of something delicious hit us the moment we entered.
Tommy Edwards smiled at us.
"Bacon and eggs," he said. "Nita," he called. The four of us closed against each other. Crystal had a streak of dirt across her forehead. Raven's hair was wild. We were all still wearing three shirts. I was sure we were a sight to behold.
Anita Edwards came from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She wore dungarees and a light blue cotton shirt. Her hair was as long as Raven's and just as dark. She had the same dark eyes, too. Her features were small and about as perfect as any woman's nose and mouth could be. She had high cheekbones and a lightly tanned complexion. Despite her looking not much more than thirty, there was something old in her eyes, something tired, painful. She gazed at us with interest and looked to Tommy
"I found them by the rocks. Their car had broken down and they had walked a ways. They slept there last night," he explained. Before she could ask, he added, "I guess they must have gotten lost. They didn't realize they were on the reservation."
She stepped closer. Her lips were soft and full. There was a hint of a warm smile in them, but it was as if everything had to be kept tightly controlled, her looks, her words, her feelings.
"Come with me," she said, "and I'll show you all where to wash up."
"Great," Tommy said. He looked at us with a more official face. "Then we'll talk over breakfast."
"This way," Anita said, leading us through the house. The kitchen was in the rear, but the living room was on the left and the bedrooms on the right. We passed what looked like a den--office, too. The walls were covered with Western art, beautiful skins, woven blankets, ritual masks, guns, bows and arrows. On the floor were bowls and small statues. There was even Native American art in the bathroom.
"Go right in," she told us and then brought in some towels.
"Thank you," I said. She handed us the towels and told us to come to the dining room when we were finished.
"I'm going to jump into the shower," Raven said, eying the shower stall covetously.
"Be my guest," I said. I just washed my hands and face, as did Crystal and Butterfly, so we were out first, now wearing only one shirt each. Anita had already placed four more settings on the table.
"Sit here," she ordered, pointing to the chairs on the sides of the table. "Where's your friend?"
"She's taking a shower," I replied. She raised her eyebrows and came the closest to a real smile or laugh.
Tommy returned before Raven came out of the bathroom.
"I'm about as hungry as a bear," he said, winking at us.
Raven entered, looking fresh, her hair back. I pointed to her seat and she joined us just as Anita brought in the plate of eggs and bacon.
"You girls.hungry?" Tommy asked.
"Hungrier than a bear," Raven said.
He laughed.
"All right, why don't you tell us your names?" he said. We went around the table. As we did, Anita poured water into our glasses.
"Don't wait for me," she said, and returned to the kitchen.
"You heard her, girls, dig in," Tommy said, and we did.
"Thank you," Crystal said. We all followed with thank you's as we took from the serving dish. Anita finally sat and ate. She seemed to do it mechanically and not with any real appetite.
Table of Contents
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