At the End of Babel Read Free Page A

hesitated, then drew in her arm, pulling a little cloth-covered basket into view. Tabitha waved, friendly. The woman waved back, more unsure, but slowly she began to walk back down to the building. Red Rabbit relaxed a little, though he kept his hand close to his side. “We don’t want any trouble,” the woman said when she came near.
    â€œWe won’t give you any,” Tabitha said.
    â€œYou’re not lancer scouts?” The woman’s weather-worn skin was the color of old saddle leather, coursed over with crisp ridges and furrows. There were long needles of wood in the braided hair at the back of her head.
    â€œNot hardly,” Tabitha said. “Just hiking to the old pueblo.”
    The woman nodded, but a new expression had come over her face as she listened to Tabitha speak. “Do I know you?”
    â€œI don’t think so. My name is Tabitha Hoarse Raven.”
    â€œYou used to live on the mesa.”
    â€œI did,” Tabitha said, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice. “How did you know?”
    â€œI was young, but I remember your father when he was the chief.”
    Tabitha involuntarily cringed at the term. It reminded her too much of what the diya whites had done to her people. “My father was tsatia hochani. ”
    The woman looked as if she’d seen a ghost. “You can speak—”
    â€œKeresan, yes. Can you not?” Tabitha tried to hide it, but even she could hear something akin to hope in her own voice.
    â€œNo. I lived in the city back then. I know only English.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œI came to the pueblo only a few times. But I remember Gray Feather. He invited us out for some of the dances. I remember his daughter.”
    Tabitha fought to ignore her own emotions and Red Rabbit’s sudden gaze. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember you.”
    The woman had relaxed a little. “It’s okay. You were even younger then. My name’s Malya Prancing Antelope.”
    â€œAntelope Clan?”
    â€œI think my uncle told me we were Badger Clan. But that was a long time ago. There aren’t any clans anymore, Tabitha Hoarse Raven. There’s just people. One people. And you, of course.” She stuttered a little at that and turned from them, blushing. She addressed the building. “They’re not scouts!”
    There was noise inside, and the door opened inward. A young man dressed in worn blue jeans and a tattered gray shirt stepped into the sun. He was young—Tabitha guessed him to be perhaps twenty years old—with strong native features: tall, with red-brown skin over a face of long and sharp angles, a wiry build, and black hair tousled in careless mats. But while Tabitha found him ruggedly handsome in his way, most of her attention was riveted on the shotgun he was carrying in his hands.
    â€œMy son,” Malya said. “Joseph Man of Sorrow.”
    Joseph shouldered the weapon and offered his hand to Tabitha, who shook it at once. His long-fingered grip was strong. Red Rabbit, too, shook the young man’s hand. “We thought you might be scouts,” Joseph said. “There’ve been more of them around lately.”
    â€œWhy?” Red Rabbit asked.
    The younger man shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe they’re looking for you. Funny to hike with a revolver,” he said, nodding towards Red Rabbit’s pistol.
    â€œWe thought it best to be prepared,” Tabitha said before Red Rabbit could reply. “You never know who’s out here.”
    â€œJust us,” Joseph said. “No work in the cities this season. Came to the old farm.”
    Red Rabbit motioned to Malya’s covered basket. “What’s in that?”
    â€œSeeds,” she said. “I was going to plant.”
    â€œOh,” Red Rabbit said. And he looked away, out across the plain they’d crossed.
    Joseph turned to Tabitha, smiled. “You’re pretty far from the