The Night Watchman(91)

U.S.I.S.




“What kind you got?”

“Lucky Strikes.”

“Oh, good. I mean, damn.”

Juggie handed a cigarette to Barnes and they sat in the kitchen, at the white enamel-topped table she used to knead bread dough right after dinner. Early in the evening, she’d popped the yeast-risen dough through the round of her thumb and first finger, all the while humming along to the radio. Now the pans of rolls were all nicely baked, resting under clean dish towels on her baking rack. The air was fragrant with new bread and crispy tobacco smoke. She’d turned down the radio but could still hear Johnnie Ray.

“This is the life,” she said, contented.

“This is the life,” said Barnes, sad.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“It’s no secret.”

The corners of his mouth drooped.

Goddamn everything about this man was probably drooping, thought Juggie. Glad my fellow doesn’t have this problem. Then she felt bad for thinking such a thing. And she wished how he wished her to feel: she felt sorry for him.

“Just give up,” she said.

“Easy for you to say. It’s your son who took Pixie from me.”

“Hay Stack, you have to listen now. Nobody steals the heart of a lady, especially one like Pixie. She decided on the man she wanted to give her heart to, and that’s that. Just give up.”

“You’re no help.”

“Look around you. Turtle Mountains is famous for beautiful women.”

“So I have been told.”

“Oh, don’t give me that crap, so I been told! It’s true and you know it. Just let your eye wander. You’re starting to look like a damn fool.”

“I don’t care.”

“Did you go out with Valentine?”

“I’m scared of her. She bites. Plus she’s laughed at me a couple times since the bush dance.”

“She’s my half niece.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Just go out with her.”

“She’s too sharp for me. She’d turn me down.”

“I’ll ask her for you.”

“Tell her not to bite me.”

“Big man like you? What a chicken.”

“I’ll get rabies.” He smiled. Maybe the biting was not so bad. Barnes put his cigarette out in the government-issue ashtray. Juggie picked up a heavy steel spoon labeled U.S.I.S. United States Indian Service. She stirred her tea with the giant spoon, waiting for his answer. He said nothing more, so she took that as a yes.



Valentine lived out on the main road. Her family had a little business fixing cars so the cars were scattered all around, available for parts. Juggie drove up and parked by a gallant old Model T that was sitting on a couple of logs. Her half brother, Lemon, came out the door of the pleasant paint-peeled house.

“Nice herd of cars you got,” said Juggie.

“At least they stay put,” said Lemon. “Not like Gringo last fall.”

Juggie laughed. “Old Gringo’s never been the same. Where’s Valentine?”

“How come you want Valentine? She’s due home.”

“I got something to ask her. I’ll wait.”

As they were walking across the beaten-down gray snow of the yard, there was the sound of an engine and Doris Lauder turned into the driveway. Valentine got out of the car, laughing, and waved her friend away.

“Is it woman business?” asked Lemon.

“Yep. Bye,” said Juggie, walking over to Valentine.

“Hi, auntie.”

“Hi, girlie. Hay Stack wants to ask you out.”

“Well,” said Valentine, pouting at her mittens, which she only wore when Doris or Pixie weren’t around, “I am tired of taking Pixie’s used men.”

“Pixie never used him,” said Juggie. “He’s brand-new, at least around here.”

“Never used him, but still. Secondhand.”

“For cripe sakes. You’re the only one who used him. Gnawed on him. He’s scared of you. And even,” lied Juggie, “he’s tired of that Pixie.”

“Is he?”

“Very tired of her.”

“Well then, he may ask me himself.” Valentine’s tone of voice was insulting.

“I don’t know why he would, Miss High Tone Jack,” Juggie said. “In fact, I don’t think he should get mixed up with you now. I changed my mind.”

Juggie stomped off to her car, muttering.

“Wait!” cried Valentine.

But Juggie punched the gas and roared off.



That evening, well after dinner, Barnes came around and offered Juggie another cigarette.

“Quitting,” she said.

“Just trying to say thank you.”

Barnes looked suspiciously cheerful. Juggie just looked suspicious.

“Valentine came over by herself and asked me out.”

“Well well well,” said Juggie, taking the cigarette. “My little half niece comes to her senses. That’s a first.”

“Don’t you go talking down my girlfriend,” said Barnes.

“Girlfriend! My my my.” She blew out a ring of smoke, then another right through it, and grinned with satisfaction. “You want my advice?”