Free Looks Over(Gives Light Series) by Rose Christo

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    "Who wants to play a road game?" Gabriel asked.
     
    "When I was a girl," said Mrs. Threefold, fanning herself, though it wasn't particularly warm, "we played good old-fashioned shinny and made do with it."
     
    "We have that now," Rosa said.  "In February."
     
    "Of course," Mrs. Threefold said.  "But men weren't allowed to play back then."  She stifled a sigh.  "I miss those days."
     
    I leaned against the window and watched the desert as it slipped past us, the lush brown hackberries and blossoming orange caltrops gritty but beautiful amid hills of burnt, bronze sand. 
     
    "You really like that desert," Rafael said, his chin on my shoulder.
     
    I pointed at a caltrop bush close to the highway.
     
    "I'll get you one."
     
    I turned my head and grinned teasingly.
     
    "I mean it," he said stubbornly.  "After the pauwau, I'll go out to the desert.  I'm not scared.  I've been there before."
     
    I might have kissed him if the car weren't crowded.  The urge was incredibly strong.
     
    "So weird," I heard Mary say in a mystified voice.
     
    Rafael leaned back and tossed her a sour look.  "What's weird?"
     
    "That you're so buddy-buddy with each other.  Our dad offed his mom.  Right?  Then his dad offed our dad--"
     
    "I didn't just hear that," Gabriel said.
     
    "Oh, sorry."  But if she was sorry, it didn't last for long.  "Hey, Rosa, didn't Dad off your mom, too?"
     
    Rosa's face took on several changes, one after the other; first, it was anguished; then, it was stone.
     
    "Mary," Gabriel warned.  For the very first time, I thought he sounded intimidating.
     
    Sideways, I glimpsed Rafael, his jaw square and taut.  Our hands were on the same seat, inches apart.  Discreetly, I draped my fingers across his.  He twined our fingers together firmly, chewing bitterly on a piece of licorice, but didn't look my way.
     
    The long car ride took three or four hours.  The journey was impeded with frequent restroom breaks, each one a request from Granny's friends.  Stopping at greasy gas stations and ramshackle restaurants was a lot of fun, truth be told.  I got a kick out of it whenever families put down their forks or tourists lowered their gas nozzles and they stared at us, slack-jawed, like we were from another world.  I guess it wasn't every day that a group of Native Americans in full regalia visited their pit stops.  At one point, I heard a snapping shutter and knew someone had taken our photograph.  At another, a group of biker girls at the gas pump tried to touch Gabriel's shoulders until Rosa stomped her foot and showed them her meanest look, which wasn't very mean at all.  She was precious.
     
    We got into the car for the umpteenth time, Mary listening to her headphones, Rafael and me practicing sign language together, and finally, by early evening, we reached the mountain range.
     
    I could see why it was called the Black Mountain Reservation.  The mountain peaks, rounded and craggy, had a faint black undertone to them, foreboding in some way I couldn't define.  A low wooden fence surrounded the settlement.  From the fenceposts stood an aged wooden sign:  In English, "Welcome to the Black Mountain Reservation!" and in Hopi, "Um Pitu?"
     
    Gabriel parked his SUV with dozens of other cars on the dry brown soil south of the gate.  Granny handed me baskets to carry as we climbed out of the car.  I saw thin white pillars of diluted chimney smoke still rising from the cottage roofs on the other side of the fence.  Small wonder:  It was chilly outside, and the stars had begun to appear above the twilight skyline of saffron and gray.  Rosa gave Gabriel her pink shawl to wear around his shoulders for warmth.  He laughed loudly, pulled her into a bear hug, and kissed her all over her face.  He actually wore the shawl, too.
     
    The area outside the reservation was filled with different tribes.  I recognized the Pawnee, plain and understated, and the Navajo, flashy and bright in