Kelly smiled. “Exactly,” she said. “Now, tomorrow Amber and I will be leading a hike up to the ruins of Fort Bowie. But wherever you go tomorrow or later on, when you visit places like the Wonderland of Rocks or Cochise Stronghold, I want you to bear in mind that Anglos weren’t the first people here. I’d like you to look at the land around here and try to see it through some of those other people’s points of view.”
Abruptly, Kelly Martindale sat down. After that, Mrs. Lambert saw to it that the evening turned into the usual kind of campfire high jinks. There were games and songs and even an impromptu skit. Finally, a little after ten, she told the girls it was time for lights out and sent them off to their tents.
“It’s so early to go to bed,” Dora muttered, as she and Jenny approached their tent. “I never go to bed at ten o’clock. I’m going for a walk.”
“You can’t do that,” Jenny said. “You’ll get in trouble.”
“Who’s going to tell?” Dora demanded. “You? Besides, I need a cigarette. If I smoke it here, Mrs. Lambert or those two snooty college girls who think they’re so rad might smell the smoke and make me put it out because I might start a fire or something. You wanna come along?”
Jenny was torn. On the one hand, she didn’t want to get in trouble. On the other hand, she wasn’t ready to go to sleep yet, either. Not only that, their tent seemed to be far enough away from the others, that it was possible no one would notice if they crept out for a little while.
“I’ll go,” she said, after a moment’s hesitation. “But first we’d better climb into our bedrolls and pretend like we’re going to sleep.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll bet Mrs. Lambert will come around to check on us, that’s why.”
“Okay,” Dora grumbled. “We’ll do it your way.”
It turned out Jenny was right. Ten minutes after they lay down on their bedrolls, they heard the stealthy rustle of shoe leather approaching through dry grass. Moments later, the light from a flashlight flickered on the outside of the tent.
“Everybody tucked in?” Faye Lambert asked.
“Tucked in,” Jenny returned. With the tent flap closed, the stench of Dora’s body odor was almost more than Jenny could bear. She could hardly wait for their leader to go away so they could slip back out into the open air.
“Well, good night then,” Mrs. Lambert said. “I’ve made out the duty roster. The two of you will be cleaning up after breakfast. Is that all right?”
“It’s fine,” Dora told her. “I’m better at cleaning up than I am at cooking.”
The lantern light disappeared. Jenny listened to the sound of Mrs. Lambert’s retreating footsteps and then to the slight squeak as the door to the motor home opened and closed. Kelly Martindale and Amber Summers were sleeping in their own two-man tent. Mrs. Lambert would spend the night in the motor home.
“Shall we go then?” Dora demanded.
“Wait a few minutes longer,” Jenny cautioned.
Ten minutes later, the two girls cautiously raised the flap on their tent and let themselves out. Walking as silently as possible, they slipped off through the scrub oak. While waiting in the tent, their eyes had adjusted to the lack of light. Once outside, they found the moonlight overhead surprisingly bright. Walking in the moon’s silvery glow, they easily worked their way over the near edge of the basin. Within minutes they were totally out of sight of the other campers. At that point, Dora sank down on a rock and pulled two cigarettes out of the pocket of her denim jacket.
“Want one?” she asked.
Jenny shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she said.
“Come on,” Dora urged. “What are you, chicken? Afraid your mom will find out and put you in jail?”
For the second time that evening, Jenny was aware of the burden of being the sheriff’s daughter. She wanted nothing more than to be accepted as a regular kid. This dare, made by someone she couldn’t stand, was more than Jennifer Ann Brady could resist. “Okay,” she said impulsively. “Give me one. Where do you get them?” she asked, as Dora pulled out a lighter. She lit her own cigarette first, then she lit Jenny’s.
“I steal them from my mother’s purse,” Dora admitted, inhaling deeply. “She smokes so much that she never misses them long as I only take a few at a time.”
Jenny took a few tentative puffs, holding the smoke in her mouth and then blowing it out again. Even that was enough to make her eyes water.
“That’s not how you do it,” Dora explained. “You’re supposed to inhale—breathe the smoke into your lungs—like this.”
She sucked a drag of smoke into her lungs, held it there, and then blew it out in a graceful plume. Jenny’s game effort at imitation worked, but only up to a point. Moments later she found herself bent over, choking and gagging.
“You’re not going to barf, are you?” Dora Matthews demanded.
“I think so,” Jenny managed.