River of Dust A Novel

Twenty-nine



L ater that afternoon, they struck out, Mai Lin seated at the



front of the sorry camel and Grace holding on to her. She had

taken a chill, and the heavy hide felt good over her back. She even pulled the animal's jaw to cover her fallen bun and wore it like a hood. With each step of the camel's stiff legs, the bells and amulets slapped against her chest. She didn't mind being burdened so and even allowed herself to sway back and forth with the animal's stride.

As they passed through the open iron gate of the compound, Grace glanced back. The yellow brick buildings caught the light, and the yellow dust of the courtyard reflected it. All was golden and solitary. The swallowtail eaves of the nicest home in the compound rose as handsomely as ever. It was a beautiful, though melancholy, sight. How long would these buildings last, she wondered, with no one here to tend to them? No movement stirred, and with their departure this day, the mission was now empty.

It was hard to imagine that such a blank and monochromatic setting had once bustled with life. The children, Grace wondered, as she had so many times, where were the dear children? She turned front ward again and looked up the road to the desert, where she suspected they had lived all along.

Mai Lin hummed one of her toneless tunes and mumbled to the camel in some tongue that only they understood. Grace had given up trying to grasp what took place around her. Her mission was no longer to grapple with this barren world. She needed simply to find her son. She felt certain that some clue on the dry road and dusty plains ahead would lead her to him.

They had not gone far, with Grace dozing and Mai Lin muttering peacefully, when she heard a man's voice calling after them. Mai Lin's hearing was no longer reliable, so it fell to Grace to look back.

Behind them came Ahcho. He limped quite noticeably but pressed forward as best he could in their direction. He was a righteous man. Grace understood that now. He was her husband's most ardent follower, and she felt chagrined for having quarreled with him that morning when she had realized that she must make this trip to Yao dao ho. In her grief, she had behaved childishly.

"Mai Lin, stop!" she shouted.

The old woman pulled the reins and glanced over her shoulder. "We wait for him?" she asked.

"Of course we wait for him."

Mai Lin spat into the dust.

Ahcho was slow to reach them, but when he did, Grace reached down and took his aged hands into her own. "Bless you, Ahcho," she said.

He bowed, and she could see that he was much fatigued.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"I'm fine, now that I've reached you," he said.

"If you're not too tired," she asked, "would you be willing to escort us the rest of the way?"

Ahcho bowed and replied in his proper manner, "If you will permit it so."

"I would be most honored," Grace said.

Then Mai Lin reluctantly turned the reins over to Ahcho, and he began their slow trek onward. After a short while, the heaving of the camel's stride lulled Grace back to near sleep.

"Mistress," Ahcho said as his step slowed and he strode alongside the camel.

"Hmmm?" Grace asked from a dreamy place.

"I have prayed all night, and my prayers have led me here to join you."

Grace nodded. Such a good man. Such a good and honest man.

"I believe," Ahcho continued, "that it has fallen to me to tell you about the origin of the child's skull. I must be honest, even if it hurts me to bring you pain. This is what the Lord Jesus tells us we must do to achieve the gates of heaven."

Grace's eyes opened only slightly. Ahcho's gaze was upon the cracked earth, and his shoulders sloped.

"Don't worry so," she said. "Of course you may tell me, my dear man. There's no doubt that you shall see heaven when your time comes."

"But this is about the Reverend," Ahcho began, "and something he never told you."

Grace suddenly felt fully awake, although she did not show it so that he might continue. "Yes?" she asked, as if with vague interest.

"Years ago," Ahcho said, "when your belly was ripe with little Wesley, I accompanied the Reverend into the plains and hills on a visit to the outlying churches. He was intent on rebuilding them since their abandonment after the Boxer Rebellion."

So far he was telling her nothing she didn't already know, but Grace offered an interested sound to help him carry on. Ahcho seemed so uneasy, and yet what could he possibly have to say to warrant such nervousness?

"The Reverend Watson was most brave and determined as he tried to help the heathens know the great Jesus."

"Yes, he was quite zealous at his task," Grace said. "Go on, then, tell me what you recall."

And although her eyes remained shut, she listened most attentively. She let her head loll to one side and occasionally muttered an encouraging word so that he would continue. With each step, Ahcho revealed the tale of what had happened many years before in the insignificant hamlet of Yao dao ho.