“Come with us, Mildred. The Tribe values family. They don’t seem to be holding a grudge, but just in case …” Father handed her the .22. “Project strength.”
Father’s trucks finally arrived at the plateau bordering Native Tribal Land. “Remove your hat.” Father ran his fingers through Milly’s tangled hair like a comb. Homestead men gathered at Father’s side: a tapestry of tan cotton, gunmetal, and grim looks.
The Tribe approached, also armed, with more people than Father had. They escorted a captured family of four — White folks, foreigners — dirty but unharmed.
“Are these really your people?” the Tribal leader asked Father. “They say they are. But they’re not dressed like you, Tan Man. We were about to send them back. We’re giving you all a chance here.”
“We have a lot of people.” Father looked at the family. “What’s your profession, again?”
The Tribal man glared with disdain. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Plumber,” the captured man said.
Father snapped his fingers. “Yeah, they’re mine. I recognize him.”
The Tribal man laughed. “Bullshit.”
The plumber looked back and forth between the two groups. He turned to Father. “I was looking for you, your Homestead — we got lost. There’s two towns named ‘Green River.’”
“You found me.”
The Tribal man addressed the plumber: “We had a misunderstanding when you didn’t pull over. I know you’re suspicious. But if you’re not already with them, you don’t want to be. We’ll put your family on the next bus and send you back safely with your things. I promise. There’s still time.”
The plumber turned to his wife.
She subtly shook her head.
Father pointed at the Tribe. “They’re lying. You’re not safe with them.”
The Tribal leader pushed both palms outward. “That’s projection.”
“We’re family-friendly,” Father said, smiling. He gestured towards Milly. “My daughter.”
She stood motionless in white, holding her rifle, hat in hand, face flat.
The plumber glanced at Milly, then his own daughter — similar age. He turned to the Tribe. “We’ll take your bus.”
Father huffed. “I’ll pay you for him.”
The Tribal leader grimaced. “Nice try, psycho.”
“OK, I’ll pay for the whole family.”
He glared at Father, then looked up to the sky while pointing at the ground. “Not sure where you come from, Tan Man”—the Tribal leader slid his hand along the curvature of the Earth at the horizon—“but you don’t belong here.” He squinted to Milly. “Or your spawn.”
Father’s men backed off; the Tribe watched them go.
“I’m serious.” The Tribal leader turned to the plumber. “You have my word.”
The plumber offered a handshake.
His wife was in tears, holding their kids.
As Father drove back to the Homestead, he said to Milly, “Well, it was worth a shot. We’ll find another plumber. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you. You should smile more.”
Milly didn’t reply, but she looked up “projection” in the dictionary at school the next day.
Was that the first time Milly saw another man speak to Father with such contempt? Did Milly understand the wife’s power? Had she seen the limit of Father’s? She’d seen another girl her age, from the outside world, dressed differently.
Judging by the subsequent increase in Milly’s rebellious behavior, that day must have been life-changing. Her new attitude did not go well for her, to say the least.
Father opened the cell door; slivers of light cut dust in darkness. Bugs crawled.
Milly huddled in the corner, filthy. “I’m thirsty.”
“Does that matter?”
“Can I have water?”
“I’m not sure why I would do that.” Father closed the door.
Several hours later, he opened it again. Father said nothing. Milly said nothing. He gave her water.
Another day passed. “I gave you life, Mildred. The gift. A chance. Yet you act so entitled. What do you want?”
Milly shivered. “To hunt. To eat. Go to school. To work the gates for you.”
As he closed the door, Father said, “You talk too much.”
The next day, he opened the door. “What do you want?”
Skin flashed white on Milly’s bare feet. She pulled them close, shivering, but stayed silent.
Father brought food and water. Silence continued. The cycle repeated.
He released Milly at sunset and allowed her to clean herself. At school the next day, she looked at a calendar, and her face dropped. She must have realized a whole week had come and gone, and within it — her thirteenth birthday.