Desert Wake ✔

Ch. 7, pt. 1: The Trials

Ro thinks he knows how to git through the harsh stretch of desert awaitin' us, but the problem is, it's gonna take a little time to make his plan happen. If it works at all. We got several more days here on the farm, at least, and that means several days to fear Orin's pa and his law friends showin' up.

"Reba and Nessie weren't never trained to be pack animals." I try my best to impress this point upon Ro as he finishes hitchin' the girls up side by side. He's got a sled ready and waitin' fer 'em made in haste out of an old sheet of tin that used to cover the north side of the shed. "They're just milk goats."

Ro's plan is to git the girls to do the hard work of travelin' by carryin' some of our supplies on their backs and pullin' us fer at least part of the way. Them goats are scrappy, and they're stronger than they look. So it ain't a bad idea, 'cept when you think about how you gonna direct 'em and keep 'em movin' forward. Ain't they gonna resist that on account of it's a lot more work haulin' water and people over the dust than what they're used to doin'? And by "used to doin'" I mean standin' 'round in their pen or, if they're feelin' particularly ambitious, breakin' through the fence so they cain destroy my lettuces.

It may be futile, but I agree to let him try. I know his ankle still gives him grief, though he won't admit to it. I think he's worried he'll slow me down out there, and the desert ain't no place fer taking' a leisurely stroll. We gotta go and go and go.

It's a good thing Ro's got them two goats wrapped 'round his finger. I don't know what it is 'bout him that calms them so, but they tolerate him tyin' ropes 'round them to create a sort of halter, a contraption they never wore before in their lives. 'Fore he attaches them to the sled, he takes the reigns and leads them 'round the yard. At first, they wanna stop every two seconds, whenever they spy something they think is edible, which fer a goat is purdy much everything. But he nudges them on and they comply. He awards them with a handful of our dwindlin' supply of grain, one of the many necessities Granddad failed to bring back from town all them months ago.

We take 'em through this same routine again that day, and three times the next. I do my share of guidin' 'em 'round, cuz if I don't make him, Ro won't rest that ankle nearly as much as he should. We go on like this fer a whole week, anxious every day that we've spent one day too long here. Finally, it's decided they gotta be ready fer the sled. Once he gits it attached, and that takes some doin' given the limit of our supplies and experience in sich matters, Ro hands the reigns over to me. "We should start them out slowly, build up to the full weight. You're lighter than me, May."

"Yeah, but they like you better." I imagine them goats flyin' every which way till they dump my ass in the dust. Still, I am curious as to how this is all gonna work out, so I set myself down on the sled and hold the reigns in my hand like I saw in one of them books about horses Pa gave me as a child. The girls don't go nowhere. "Now what?"

Ro looks thoughtful, which I take to mean that he ain't got no idea. After a moment, inspiration must alight inside him, though, cuz he sticks out his hand and gives Reba a little swat on her backside, then does the same to Nessie. "Go," he says. "Git."

"Did you just say 'git'?" Well I guess he chose his desert lingo correctly, cuz at that moment, I feel myself jerked back as the sled begins to move forward. "Oh my gods, Ro, it's workin'!"

I grab the edge of the sled to steady myself and try to keep hold of the reins as we thump along.

"Go," I say, "Git." I slap the reins against the girls, hopin' that it keeps 'em movin' without hurtin' 'em none. They stick with their forward momentum, even pickin' up speed a bit.

As we leave the yard and hit the used-to-be fields where the dust has nearly taken hold, the bumpin' and jostlin' lessen. It's gonna be a smooth sail over all them dunes out in the desert, I cain see it now. Ro jogs alongside the sled as best he cain, and I give him a big smile. I was right to trust him. There're some mighty fine notions in that head of his.