“This is Miranda. We’re going to Mr. Lucas’ to pick up something.” Indigo was quite careful not to say what she was going to the drugstore for, ’cause her mother had said not to say anything to anybody.

“Indigo, Mr. Lucas’ place way off from heah, don’t ya think?”

“Well, Uncle John, that’s some of it, but not all of it.”

Laying down his brush, pulling a stool from the other side of a fire where he was cooking either a chicken or a pigeon, Uncle John motioned for Indigo to take a seat.

“Some of it, but t’aint all of it, ya say? Well, I would be guessin’ the rest of it be a matter for discussion.”

“Yes, Uncle John. I want you to tell me something. I’m asking you ’cause you been doin’ what suits your own mind since I was born.”

“No, long fo’ that, chile.”

“Well, anyway, I want to keep on talkin’ with all my dolls. You know they my very best friends.” Indigo was talking so fast now, Uncle John started walking in a circle around her so as to understand better. “& Mama wants me to put ’em way ’cause now I am a woman & who will I talk to? I can’t seem to get on with the chirren in the school I go ta. I don’t like real folks near as much.” Indigo had jumped off the stool with Miranda in her arms, much like a woman daring someone to touch her child. Uncle John stood still for a minute, looking at the shadows of the rail cars on Yoki’s back.

“Indigo, times catch up on everybody. Me & Yoki heah been catched up by trains & grocery stores. Now you bein’ catched up by ya growin’ up. That’s what ya mama’s tryin’ to say to ya. Ya gotta try to be mo’ in this world. I know, it don’t suit me either.”

Miranda was crying, nestled in Indigo’s elbow. Uncle John mumbled to himself, & climbed in his wagon. Indigo stayed put. Folks said that sometimes, when Uncle John had said all he had to say, he got in his wagon & that was that. Other times folks said Uncle John would get in his wagon & come back out with something to keep your life moving along sweeter. So Indigo didn’t move a muscle. Miranda prayed some good would come of all this. They still hadn’t gone to Mr. Lucas’. Indigo could hear Uncle John humming to himself, fumbling in that wagon. He was looking for something for her so she could keep talkin’ & not have to be with them real folks & all their evil complicated ways of doing. The last of the day’s sun settled on Indigo’s back, warmed the taut worry out of her limbs, & sat her back down on the stool, jabbering away to Miranda.